Page 47 of Mikoto and the Reaver Village
NINETEEN
Snow
Although Kyrie’s father gave every impression ofhatingthe idea of sending his sons to Wardenclave for the summer, he’d also been thefirst and fiercest to banish all of Kyrie’s qualms. “You are unique. They willbe intrigued. Use that to your advantage.”
Father was often blunter than Mother liked. But Kyrie likedbeing trusted with plain truths.
“Only indulge the bare minimum of curiosity. In most cases innocuousfacts will suffice.”
Kyrie had asked, “Am I forbidden to speak of home?”
“Not necessarily. However, choose what you say—and towhom—with care.” Father smiled thinly. “Questions do not constituteobligations. And we have much to protect.”
Since this was true, Kyrie agreed readily enough. Butanother point was harder to confess. “I doubt anyone will wish to befriend me.”
Father had wreathed him in all his many tails and repeated,“Not necessarily. Use your judgment, which is sound. And bestow your trust,which is precious, when the time seems right.”
“How will I know what is right?”
“If you were more like me, I would speak of scents.” Tappinghis nose, Father murmured, “Because it is you, I would say … listen closely tothe whispers of your conscience and also to those of the winds who seek yourfavor. Neither has ever led you astray.”
Kyrie liked the simplicity. It meant that no matter where hewas, he would still be himself. And being sure of himself would make everythingeasier, even if that was theonlything he could be sure about.
First Day wasn’t so bad. Even when the leaders divided thegirls from the boys, Kyrie was more interested in what he’d learn than in worryingthat he’d be parted from Lilya.
Now, he was conscience-stricken, for he could see fromacross the green that Lilya was tense and pale.
The moment their instructors released them for an afternoonof free time, Kyrie worked his way toward the sister of his heart. He knew herso well, he could tell she was trying not to run in order to get back to him. Andhe could tell tears were threatening.
Catching her hand, he redirected her off the path and intothe shelter of trees. Ducking under the trailing limbs of an ancient conifer,he hugged her close and offered one of the warbling trills he’d learned fromLapis.
Lilya held him so tightly, it almost hurt. But Kyrie onlycrooned and waited her out. What had overwhelmed her? A second possibilitycaused him to blurt, “Was someone mean to you?”
“Everyone is nice. Very nice.”
“Then … why?”
With a wan smile, she confessed, “You were gone.”
“Not far.” He twirled a lock of her hair around his finger.“I am right here.”
“But you won’t always be.”
Kyrie sighed. “That may be true. And we need to get used tothe idea.”
“A little at a time?” There was a smile in her voice. Shealways did bounce back quickly.
“Is that not why our parents let us come?” Because it was,at least in part.
Lilya took a deep breath and let go. Squaring her shoulders,she lifted her chin, “That sounds like something Uncle Argent would say.”
Kyrie giggled. Because they both knew that what Father saidand what Father meant were often two very different things.
“What should we do?” asked Lilya.
He tried to think what would please her most. “Explore theforest. Look for Resplendence. Take pictures for Ever.”
She nodded in an indecisive way, then suggested, “Check tosee if Ginkgo and Gregor missed us?”
