Page 66 of Mikoto and the Reaver Village
Kyrie had to paw through fur, but it was there, buried. “Takethe shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the fiery dartsof the wicked one.” And wrapping his hand around the offending bolt, he jerkedit free.
Sinder yelped and shuddered.
All of the sudden, the barrier was gone, and voices wereshouting. Ginkgo reached them first. “Hold still, Damsel. Let us pull a few ofthese slivers before you try to move.”
Timur crashed to the ground beside Sinder and spoke rightinto his ear. “Donottransform. Hear me? Not until I say it’s safe.”And to Kyrie, “Keep him calm. This will hurt.”
So Kyrie stroked the angles of Sinder’s face and made soundslow in his throat. Ones he knew meant peace and home and brotherhood. Becausethey were the very things Lapis knew he craved.
Timur was talking, too. A growly harangue that sounded morelike vows. “No more battle games. No more night maneuvers. No more experimentalweapons. No. More.”
Kyrie babbled on, telling Sinder about the garden at homeand about nearly falling from Zisa’s branches. About Lilya making him sneezeand the mysterious scent of flowers that the winds brought to tease him.
Then Ginkgo was back. “Their healer’s here with supplies,and Timur’s ready. Nice and easy, Damsel. We’ve got you.”
In a whirlwind that only partially hid a groan, Sindershifted. On his knees before Kyrie, he reached for him, pulling him againstskin that must have hurt—battered and bloodied and bruised.
Kyrie crooned and kissed his cheek, then used his sleeve toblot tears.
“Let me through,” grumbled Timur. “We need to stop thebleeding.”
Once he was sure Lilya’s big brother was close enough tocatch him, Kyrie let go of Sinder. Next to Timur, caught in the light of Ginkgo’scrystals, the dragon looked pale and frail.
Sinder tugged at Timur’s vest, his voice was cracked andhoarse from screaming. “Tell them I’m sorry.”
“Zolottse,” Timur murmured, gathering Sinder close. “That’sexactly what they asked me to tell you.”
TWENTY-SIX
Free Day
Lilya woke to find Gregor in Kyrie’s usual spot, whichwas nice in its way. She enjoyed having her nephew all to herself. At first. Butbreakfast was a spare affair, with only Waaseyaa—who gently suggested she callhim Uncle—for company. And his attention was mostly taken up with Gregor, who wascontent to be spoon-fed his portion of porridge with berries.
“Are you missing your brother?” Waaseyaa asked.
Prodding at her breakfast, Lilya only shrugged.
He wasn’t offended. “My brother has always been as near ashe can be. I would be lonesome without him.”
Lilya stole an envious peek. “So you’re never lonely?”
He smiled a little. “Do you understand the differencebetween us? It is similar to the difference between you and Kyrie.”
She shrugged again. “Lifespan.”
“A tree’s years are many. And so are mine.” Waaseyaa focusedon Gregor, as if not wanting to meet her gaze. “I am sometimes lonesome forthose who have gone away. And for those who have … gone before.”
Lilya pushed her bowl away and let her chin drop onto foldedarms. “Like who?”
“My children. Their mothers. My grandchildren. And theirchildren in turn.” His dark eyes were soft and sad. “And friends. Like you andyour brother. I am glad you came to us, Lilya.”
“Do we make you less lonely? Ormorelonely becausewe’ll go away later?”
Waaseyaa’s smile was nice. “Both.”
Lilya indicated Gregor. “You like children.”
“I have raised many.” With an impish smile he confessed, “Ipretend to lose count, but it is a little joke between me and Zisa. He likes toremind me of their names.”
