Mikoto and the Reaver Village (Amaranthine Saga #4) - Forthright . Page 0,113
do with what happened?”
He met her gaze. “I blabbed a secret, and he overheard. It was about his biological father.”
“Why would that be bad?” She risked a look at Timur, whose expression was unreadable.
Sinder sighed. “How much should I say?”
“Now you weigh your words?” asked Timur.
“She’s just a kid.” When Timur offered no guidance, Sinder looked ready to be sick. “We’ve been training battlers to hunt dragons. Because there’s this one dragon. He’s a very bad person.”
Lilya helped Sinder into a clean shirt. “Kyrie’s actual dad is some kind of criminal?”
“The worst kind.” The dragon whispered, “Terrible and terrifying.”
She rested her hands on his shoulders and firmly said, “That’s not your fault.”
“But I told …!”
“The truth.” Lilya knew Kyrie better than she knew herself. “He would always rather know the truth. Secrets bother him almost as much as lies.”
Sinder looked like he really wanted to believe her. But didn’t trust her. Or himself.
Suddenly, she knew what to do. “Timur, go get water for tea?”
Her big brother grunted and hauled himself out of his chair, carrying Gregor out.
To Sinder, Lilya said, “Don’t tell.”
His brows shot up when she pushed her knuckle between his lips and past his teeth. “Li’ya?” he mumbled around her finger.
“Hush. There are so many wards, I can’t hurt you. It’s safe. Papka made sure.”
A muffled warble. He was uneasy.
“Tending will do you good.” She pressed firmly. “This is the only way past the seal, so bear with it. And don’t worry about Timur. He never stays grumpy for long. He’ll still be your friend.”
Sinder slowly bowed his head, letting it come to rest on her shoulder. Lilya felt him give in to trust. That’s when the first hot drops splashed, and she knew he was crying.
“Don’t be afraid.” She petted his hair. “You have good friends.”
They pulled away from each other when Timur returned. He’d turned Gregor over to someone else, and he carried a tea tray. “I made it extra strong,” he said grimly.
Swiping at wet lashes, Sinder adopted a meek posture. “Thank you.”
Timur’s anger fled, and he sank to his knees beside the bed. First checking Lilya’s work with the bandages, he relented completely. “Lilya’s right. It’s not your fault that Kyrie’s father is a monster.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You will apologize to Kyrie, yes?” Timur ordered.
“I will.”
“Go on, then. Get back to it.”
Sinder stilled, and Lilya blushed.
Timur blandly said, “You think I can’t tell when a beacon is bestowing a blessing? It’s fine. She needs the practice, and you need the heartening. But first … tea.”
Choking down his dose, Sinder allowed them to chivvy him into a more comfortable position, sitting against the headboard, propped on pillows. Lilya sat with him, tucked against his side, going through the motions, even though Papka’s and Uncle Argent’s sigils regulated everything.
After a scant half hour, Sinder removed her finger and kissed the knuckle. “Better stop there. Staying close is enough.”
She knew from Papka that some Amaranthine withheld themselves from direct tending. A pleasant atmosphere was enough to lift their spirits. Cossets were especially good at that sort of thing. So was Aunt Tsumiko, according to Kyrie. Except that Uncle Argent was forever shuttering his beacon, keeping her all to himself.
“Don’t go falling in love with me.”
“Same to you.” She was relaxed. Eyes closed. Calm.
A few beats later, Sinder tentatively said, “I’m much better at getting people to hate me.”
That was probably an exaggeration. “Like who?”
“The battlers, since I make their training a misery. Your brother, since I hurt someone precious to him. And don’t even get me started about Fend. Was that cat always a menace?”
Lilya giggled. “You’re rivals.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve been sleeping with him, yes?”
“Who can sleep? Timur snores worse than a seal with a stuffy nose.”
Sinder was sounding more like himself, which was a relief. She pointed out, “But that’s his usual spot.”
“He’s jealous?”
“And territorial. And temperamental.”
“Lilya?” called Timur, an odd note in his voice.
She opened her eyes, arched her brows. “What?”
Timur’s brow furrowed.
“Maybe he’s jealous?” suggested Sinder.
“Of what?”
“Good point. But he definitely thinks I’m up to mischief.”
“You can’t do mischief. You talk too much to get away with anything.”
“I could give you a list of all the people who agree with your assessment. But here’s the thing, Lilya. While I’m probably always talking, it’s not always out loud.”
She turned enough to study his face.
Sinder’s lips quirked. “Took you long enough.”
He hadn’t opened his mouth, yet his voice carried just fine. “Why can I hear you?”
“I think we’ve accidentally narrowed down your classification. Congratulations, Miss Lilya. You’re a fellow.”