Page 30 of Mikoto and the Reaver Village
With a delighted smile, he said, “And you are at mine,little dragon.”
THIRTEEN
Each Alluring in Their Way
Kyrie came to himself in a tub of water.
Ginkgo cradled his head, but his attention was jumping all overthe place, as if there were too many people in the room.
A man with gentle hands and kind eyes was washing Kyrie’sface, so he noticed right away. “I have washed away the pollen,” he saidsoftly. “How are you feeling?”
Then Ginko filled his view, upside down. “Don’t suppose youcan sneeze on command?”
Kyrie had never considered trying.
“You got a snootful of fresh pollen, little bro.” Ginkgosmirked. “Let’s not tell Dad.”
The man with the washcloth repeated, “How are you feeling?”
“Fuzzy.”
Ginkgo quietly said, “He’s Waaseyaa. Guess you met his twin.Zisa brought you down.”
Kyriehad, but all backwards. One didn’t usuallyoffer declarations of love before even knowing the other person’s name. “Zisa.”
“Here.”
A finger trailed along his arm, then lifted his hand. Theperson from the tree smoothed his thumb over its back. Or rather, over one ofthe patches of the lavender-edged scales that showed up in different places on Kyrie’sbody.
He stirred uneasily and realized that they’d put him in thewater with all his clothes still on. That was a relief. Kyrie didn’t like forpeople to see all the ways he was different. Mom called modesty a virtue, buthe wasn’t sure he was behaving in a praiseworthy manner. He didn’t want to beteased any more than he wanted to be feared. His mother thought him beautiful,but she was his mother. It almost didn’t count.
Zisa was talking to Waaseyaa, eagerly recounting the rescue.
Without the haze of pollen, Kyrie noticed more details. Likethe lack of fangs and claws. And the usual pointed ears and slit pupils. Moreinteresting was the faint pattern of fine lines that decorated his skin likewoodgrain. He wanted to touch it. Maybe for the same reason Zisa’s thumb stillstroked across the back of Kyrie’s hand.
Suddenly, Lilya barged her way between the males and wavedsome sort of vial under his nose. The smell wasn’t familiar, but it was potent.He sneezed. So did Ginkgo. Twice.
“His clothes,” she groaned. “Where are our cases?”
Zisa asked, “Do you still love me without the pollen,merciful dragon?”
Kyrie felt heat creeping into the tips of his ears.
The man with the bar of soap repeated, “I am Waaseyaa, andthis is my brother Zisa. You are in our home, which will be yours during yourstay in Wardenclave. Your brother has been explaining how you found your waypast the barriers. This time of year, we try to contain the pollen. Otherwise,it would make everyone … fuzzy.”
“This is nothing,” interjected Zisa. “A token show of color.Hardly worth mentioning. You should see me on a fifth year in full bloom.”
Waaseyaa murmured, “Yes, you are a sight worth seeing. Butthe barriers are in place for good reason. Too much of a good thing.”
Yes, the scent of Zisa’s flowers had been good. Such alovely tree.
Kyrie took slow, deep breaths, willing the wind to bring himanother whiff. In his mind’s eye, he could see the cascading blooms, thick withgranules of pure gold, fluttered on every side by Ephemera. Kyrie didn’t wantto forget the scent.
Was this what it was like for others? For the people whocouldn’t resist his words? Kyrie wasn’t sure he liked being both helpless andhappy about it.
“Are you all right, Kyrie?” asked Waaseyaa.
He stirred to fuller attention, tried to remember what he’dbeen about to say. There had been a question. Ah, yes. Kyrie sought the tree’sgaze and solemnly answered, “Yes, Zisa. I still love you.”
