Page 106 of Fumiko and the Finicky Nestmate
Juuyu inclined his head. “I have seen his name in the lineages. Soren Reaver was a ward of considerable talent.”
“He was kind.”
Perhaps that was of greater import.
“Fumiko is asleep,” he pointed out. “And she needs the rest more than any of us need tending.”
Zuzu shrugged. “I am the one who makes it rain.”
“Who do you intend to favor?” Zuzu flitted from one to another of them, so it was difficult to tell if she had a favorite.
“Everyone. I can reach anyone inside Portia’s wards.”
Affecting an entire zone was a service sometimes performed by cossets. Diffusion kept the influence within the realm of safety. Some clans employed reavers specifically to lend a pleasing ambiance to special gatherings. Or they were brought in to soothe crochety babes, convalescents, or expectant mothers. No matter their role, cosseting took exceptional control.
“You will be careful?”
Zuzu’s smile was coy. “You might never have noticed if you were not already so close to Sister.”
Juuyu got the distinct impression that Zuzu approved of the casual nest he currently shared with her twin. Which was immeasurably better than any tree’s disapproval. Still, he chose not to acknowledge her remark. “Perhaps you should share your plan with Portia. Or Jiminy. They can guide your efforts and provide safeguards.”
“I will.” And with a knowing look at the book in his hands, she breezily added, “So that you can read.”
He wanted to protest that his interest in the novel was academic, but she was already gone.
Minutes later, Juuyu sighed as the first blissful hint of power touched him. Delicate as down, it brushed against his awareness, lifting his spirits. He read on, though he shifted several times, slouching lower, adjusting his long limbs, getting comfortable.
The book concluded well, and Juuyu closed it with a giddy sense of rightness.
Folding his arms around Fumiko, he whispered against her hair. “You are right. This is terrible and terrifying.”
THIRTY-SIX
Brought Together
The smell of cinnamon pulled Akira from sleep, and it took a moment to remember why he was in Moon’s room. He’d been too keyed up to relax, and his stomach lurched when he remembered why. “Am I late?” he croaked.
Denny Woodacre, who’d been waving a cardboard tray from Dinky’s Doughnuts in the vicinity of Akira’s nose, grinned. “It’s early, but gaining. These are from Rafter with his compliments. And a request.”
“What does he need?” Akira sat up and reached for a doughnut hole.
“Cooperation.” Denny nicked one for himself. “Don’t so much as poke your nose through the gate, young sir. You need something, you holler for me or Buzz. Got it?”
Akira nodded, though he couldn’t help wondering at the squirrel clansman’s solemnity. “Why?”
“Here’s the thing.” He dipped into his shirt pocket and urged, “Hold out your hands.”
When he did, Denny spilled a skimpy pile of red petals into them.
They were fresh, and they smelled like home.
Akira asked, “Where did you find them?”
“A little here, a little there. Someone’s been looking for us. Or you.”
“How close did he get?”
“A fair few were in Rafter’s sweepings.” Denny searched his face. “Did you ever tell your mysterious friend where you’re staying?”
