Page 51 of Mikoto and the Reaver Village
Timur guessed his family was as close-knit as any reaverfamily could be. His folks were unusual in that regard, and they’d set a highstandard for their own children. To choose for love. To nurture the nextgeneration. To cherish the bonds of blood.
But Papka and Mum hadn’t seen the progeny projections and heardUncle Sergei’s grudging admission that the Order of Spomenka was a dying breed.Timur had seen the villages, entered the enclaves, tended to dragon lords andtheir harems. Nobody had pressured him, but the facts were compelling.
Maybe they’d guessed he would offer.
He knew they’d been hoping.
Timur fulfilled his first short contract when he was nineteen.Quietly, but not off the record. Because pedigree was everything.
The following winter, he accompanied Uncle Sergei and a healerfrom the Canterbelle herd to a remote village belonging to members of the Orderof Spomenka. Long days of training. Brief sessions as a one-man stable. Byspring, he had more than fulfilled his contract, but he’d had enough. Becausein the end, he wanted something more like what Papka and Mum had chosen.
So he’d told Uncle Sergei to refuse any other offers.
Instead, he watched for likeminded women. And he’d begun todream about the children who were growing up without him.
Finally, he’d written an inquiry to the registry atWardenclave, wanting to know how many sons and daughters he could claim. And ifpossible, to learn their names.
What he received in return was a mixed blessing. Ten sons.Fourteen daughters. And a plea from Glint Starmark himself. To meet a woman namedManya. To help her fulfill her obligation to the In-between.
She was exceptional—single digit ranking and an intellectual,a crystal adept specializing in cutting and tuning. But she would be reportingunder protest. And with conditions. Because like most of the elite, she waschoosy.
Manya required a top-class ward, but there were none ofsufficient rank in Glint’s stable.
However, Timur’s record had tempted her out of seclusion. Battlerthough he might be, he was the son of the First of Wards. She would have himand no other, in the fervent hope that Timur would pass along his father’sgenes.
Timur had done it before. He could do it again. And thebonus he’d receive would set him up nicely for the future. The only problemwas, he wanted a better future than this. So he’d drafted a response with hisown set of conditions.
He wanted to live with Manya for as long as it took toimpregnate her. He wanted them to remain together for the duration of herpregnancy. He wanted to be in attendance at the birth of their child, alongwith Mare Rilka Withershanks. And he would take full responsibility for thechild. Their baby would be his to keep.
Naively, Timur thought that with all that time andcloseness, he’d be able to win Manya’s affection. On paper, they seemed suited.She could become the one true love he’d share his life with.
She accepted all his terms, provided she’d have a workshopon the premises.
Quarters were arranged at an enclave famous for both itshealers and its crystal mines, and from the start, she was cool toward him.
Manya had little patience for closeness or conversation. Hetried a range of thoughtful gestures and cautious flirtation, but she rebuffedeverything. Most of her days were spent closed up in her workshop. She employedtests to determine when she was ovulating. What intimacy they shared was bothscheduled and monitored for success. It had only taken three attempts before apregnancy test showed positive.
All that remained was the contracted waiting period.
Little by little, Timur’s hopes grew stale and crumbled. He’dnever been lonelier in his life. That’s when he finally confessed to Papka—wherehe was and what he’d done. That very night, he’d been visited by the silver foxwho’d loomed large in his childhood. Argent Mettlebright whisked into his room,pulled him into an embrace, and let him cry.
The next night, Deece had arrived with Fend, who’d been bornto Minx’s first litter. Timur remembered when that set was born, had playedwith the cubs. Fend had been his favorite. Apparently Timur had been Fend’sfavorite, as well, and was demanding a pact.
From that day forward, Timur was never alone.
Argent or Ginkgo would come. Sometimes Deece. Even Suuzu andAkira had shown up once, when the rest of the family were caught up with theirmany obligations. And Fend was a constant.
His exile ended the day Manya went into labor.
Mare Withershanks kept him close, talked him through thestages, plied him with the same teas she brewed for Manya. Before he was fullyprepared, the healer placed a squirming baby in his hands. And there was a tinyperson squalling angrily at him.
“Your son,” Mare Withershanks said. And with a doting smileand a familiar inflection, she asked, “He is beautiful, yes?”
Timur laughed and cried and babbled nonsense to his son inevery language he knew. He was awestruck and happy, and when he looked up tofind Manya watching, he said, “Thank you.”
She only nodded. But it had been a nice sort of nod. Likemaybe she agreed with Rilka about their son.
The very next day, she left. He stood awkwardly by the door,babe in arms, heart in his throat. “I’ll miss you,” he managed.
