Page 147 of Mikoto and the Reaver Village
“Almost nothing.” Mikoto said, “I am sure my father keptapprised of the situation, but there has been little time to ….”
“Of course,” interrupted Ginkgo. He twisted enough to placehis hand over Mikoto’s heart. “I’m an idiot for forgetting. Sorry.”
He shook his head. “All I really know is that Wardenclave issafe.”
“Okay. Short version.” Ginkgo’s ears flattened to eitherside. “Uncooperative dragons are almost impossible to track, catch, and keep.The rogue is a murderer and a rapist, and Kyrie just found out that monster’shis sire.”
Mikoto slowly inclined his head. “Understood.”
Ginkgo faced forward and slumped into him. “Not the nicestof lineages.”
He grunted.
“Which is whereyoucome in.”
“What can I do?”
“I found out today that your mother’s a Hajime.” Ginkgo dredgedup a wan smile. “So was Kyrie’s birth mother. So was mine, for that matter.”
“Are we related?”
“Probably distantly. But I’m hoping Kyrie will take comfortin the connection.”
“Better me than the rogue?”
“That’s the idea.” Ginkgo quietly asked, “Do you mind?”
Mikoto shook his head. “I am more than happy to claim youboth.”
Kyrie didn’t trust himself to speak, so he retreatedinto silence. Evading Waaseyaa’s gaze, he escaped into the guest room, hidingunder the coverlet. He downed Timur’s tea without complaint, and he turned hisface to the wall.
By some miracle, Timur let him be, and the door clicked shutbehind him.
If only it could last. Kyrie didn’t want anyone. Exceptperhaps Ever. Ever would cry for him and hold him and promise him thateverything would be all right.
“Merciful dragon?” came a tentative voice.
Kyrie reluctantly turned to face Zisa.
With a soft noise of distress, the tree joined him on thebed. Swiping with his thumbs, Zisa chased the tears that Kyrie couldn’t holdback any longer. He sobbed, and the tree gathered him up, cradling and rockingand crooning. And even though Kyrie had been so sure a moment ago that hewanted solitude, he clung gratefully to Zisa.
“I want Dad,” he admitted brokenly. “I want my dad.”
Zisa went still and turned his head. “Someone new is coming.”
Kyrie’s heart leapt, even though it couldn’t possibly be hisfather. He dared to ask, “A fox?”
“No.” With a kiss to soften the blow, Zisa whispered, “Doyou want me to help you hide?”
“Please?”
An instant later, Kyrie was outdoors, surrounded by rustlingleaves. “That is a good trick.”
Zisa smiled. “I know.”
They were in some kind of shallow nest, high enough inZisa’s branches that they were swaying slightly. Breezes found him, theircaresses filled with gentle questions, and his nose cleared enough that hecould smell the flowers hidden among the leaves.
From far below, a sharp exclamation carried.
