Page 83 of Mikoto and the Reaver Village
His thoughts returned to the Amaranthine Council.
In due course, probably for his induction ceremony, Wardenclavewould likely play host to some of their members. Yulin probably already knewthe schedule. And the guest list.
The council had expanded its membership to fifteen with theinduction of Krail Basqwend during this past spring’s celebration of theEmergence’s anniversary. Krail spoke for a people remembered by humanity as theNaga, making him the first representative from one of the so-called fabledclans. Small and secluded, yet equal to every other voice.
Would someone someday speak for the trees? Or for any of theother lost clans?
Maybe if Hisoka Twineshaft really did show up in Wardenclave,Mikoto could ask. If anyone knew the answer, surely it was him.
Mikoto studied the glowing lines that decoratedSinder’s scales. They were a practical necessity, but Mikoto suspected that Timurhad taken the time to be pretty about it. Even Kyrie had contributed a coupleof sigils. They were small and simple, but they burned even brighter thanTimur’s. Was it because he was part dragon? Maybe his soul resonated more closelyto Sinder’s, and that made their bonds stronger.
Kinship.
“Will the sigils hold when he takes speaking form?” Mikotoasked.
“Should do.” Timur stepped back to admire his handiwork. “Youawake enough to try, Sinder?”
The dragon lifted the lid of one eye.
Mikoto studied his pupil and murmured, “Was my dose toostrong?”
“Not even close.” Timur came to stand beside Mikoto. “He’scontent.”
They’d eased his pain, bound his wounds, and lavished hisscales with fragrant oils, massaging it in until they were all redolent of spikenard.And throughout the whole process, Mikoto had encouraged the rapport that wouldallow Sinder to take from Mikoto’s strength.
He’d also been keenly aware of Kyrie’s presence—neatlycontained, closely warded—and of Ginkgo’s enjoyment. The half-fox sprawled onthe grassy bank, hands behind his head, ankles crossed, and a half-smile on hisface.
“I wouldn’t budge either, if it weren’t for all those fishwe caught.” Ginkgo sat up and rumpled his wild hair, then slapped his own cheeks.“You’re easy to take, Mikoto. Thanks for the pick-me-up.”
“My pleasure.”
Ginkgo moved toward the jumble of kindling he’d collected ina shallow pit near the shore. “I’ll get this going. Make with the shifting,Damsel. There’s no way we’re feeding you in truest form.”
A moment later, Sinder was kneeling in the protective circleof Timur’s arms.
“Steady on,” said Timur.
“I’m feelingmuchbetter, thank you. Stop fussing.It’s insulting.”
But the burly battler didn’t leave off until he’d checkedevery sigil still gleaming faintly against Sinder’s pale skin. Once satisfied,he unceremoniously thrust a too-large hoodie over the dragon’s head and went tohelp Ginkgo. “Food will do you good. You’re hungry, yes?”
Sinder struggled to pull the length of his hair free of thehoodie and came to sit beside Mikoto. Kyrie hurried forward and quietly set towork braiding. Sinder sat still, head bowed, and let him.
Curiosity brought Noble sniffing, and Mikoto scooped up hispuppy.
Timur returned, this time with a squat thermos. “Get thisdown. It’s a restorative. It’ll clear your head.”
Sinder made no move to take it.
So Timur unscrewed the lid himself, releasing a burst offragrant steam. Citrus and spice. Mikoto caught another, richer scent and knewthat Timur had added a generous splash of liquor. By the look of things, enougheggs had been added to make it more custard than liquid.
“Do you have a spoon?” asked Mikoto.
Kyrie immediately volunteered, “I can feed him.”
Sinder grumbled, “Give a guy a chance. He pollinated me, youknow.”
“This will clear your head,” Timur patiently repeated. Andto Mikoto, “Make sure he takes every drop.”
