Page 103 of Mikoto and the Reaver Village
That remark was even more telling than the last.
The boy could see right through him. Had weighed Mikoto in abalance and somehow found him worthy. But Kyrie was also baring somethingvulnerable. People feared this gentle child? Flinched away or thought him ugly?Mikoto felt a surge of indignation, of protectiveness.
Kyrie shuffled closer. “We are becoming friends …?”
“Wearefriends.” Mikoto pulled him into an embrace.“And not simply because you are beautiful.”
The boy practically melted into him, which was such anAmaranthine thing to do. It put Mikoto back on familiar footing. How many coltsand bucks and pups had he carried and cuddled? And the whisperlings of theDimityblest clans, who flocked to his side as if he were their flame. Childrenneeded this.
He gradually became aware that they were alone in Zisa’slittle house, even though sunlight still angled sharply through the eastern window.A breeze puffed past sheer fabric, stirring the tiny chime Timur had added. Mikotohad the sudden impression that the puff of wind had been looking for him, whichwas probably his imagination. Even though it riffled through his hair.
Kyrie was watching his face. “I am curious about you, too.You are the only other person I know who is loved by wind.”
“You are? Because you are a dragon?”
“I used to think so, but … no. I have come to believe that Iam loved because I listen. I was born with ears to hear.” Kyrie tipped his headto one side, as if catching faint sounds. “In stories, only a few rare soulsever win the trust of the lost clans. Moonbeams are only ever caught by those whocan cherish them, and stars only set their feet upon the earth when lovecompels them.”
Mikoto dared to ask, “What about wind?”
“The most elusive of all impressions.” Kyrie pulled himselfup onto Mikoto’s lap. “Did you know that sigilcraft would not be possiblewithout the wind’s cooperation?”
He shook his head. He’d only really paid attention to thestories of fabled weapons and epic partnerships between reavers and their Kith.Battler stuff.
Kyrie’s fingers traced through the air, pulling luminousstrands into a pattern. He gave it wings and blew it a kiss, and it twirledinto action, dancing around Noble’s ears like a butterfly.
“We write upon tame winds, or so the stories say.”
“I did not know.”
“Not all winds are tame, of course. Most are fickle, but Ihave always been able to make friends.”
“Because you listen.”
Kyrie nodded. “The ones that like me best will bring methings. Scents or sounds or secrets. Sometimes, I know how they feel.”
Mikoto couldn’t bring himself to ask. He didn’t need to.
“You make yours happy.”
“I did not know,” he mumbled again. “How could I know?”
The boy nodded. “That is why you need a dragon. Because awilling wind can be captured by their words. If that is your wish.”
Mikoto had been wishing along an entirely different line.But he wanted to know more. “Are there stories besides the one Sinder told?”
“Yes. Quite a few.” Kyrie said, “Woo an ethereal one to yourside, and feel their kisses. Teach them your form, and you shall find pleasurein theirs. Twain lives, thus entwining, bring new light and life. For such arethe ways of love.”
It was suggestive enough to make Mikoto blush. “Are you nota little young for this kind of thing?”
“Yes. But you are not.” Kyrie folded his hands together. “Yourwind has been trying to catch your attention. Have you begun to notice, nowthat you know she is near?”
Mikoto glanced toward the windchime, which stirred enough tooffer one daintyping. “What am I supposed to do?”
Kyrie calmly studied his face. “You could release her.”
“How?”
“Reject her. Winds hardly ever settle or stay. Most scholarsbelieve it is not in their nature.” He hesitated, then added, “Something thatmakes her attachment noteworthy.”
