Mikoto and the Reaver Village (Amaranthine Saga #4) - Forthright . Page 0,114

the Sky

Sinder spent the next few days effectively confined to quarters. It was no use trying to argue that there was a mission at stake. Not with Hisoka Twineshaft backing Timur. So Sinder was forced to endure a full course of remedial teas and handholding.

Sure, they said they needed time to revamp their strategies, but the suspension still felt like punishment. Sure, the rookies would’ve taken a break anyhow, what with the long holiday for Dichotomy Day, but did they have to ban Sinder from the woods?

He was restless.

He wanted to run.

Lilya came as often as her courses allowed. Kyrie came even more, since he slept less. Moon was scarce. Family stuff, no doubt. Hisoka’s visits came at odd intervals—brief, intense, and all business. Everyone had other places to be, other things to be doing. They were moving forward, getting on, busy elsewhere. Only Timur ever lingered. Usually to reinforce the whole bed rest thing by snoring in Sinder’s ear.

He needed air.

He wanted a look at the sky.

Easing out of his healer’s clutches, Sinder stole barefoot across an extravagance in tapestries Timur had strewn across the floor. The man had transformed Zisa’s home into a sanctuary fit for any dragon, and Sinder appreciated the pampering. But not tonight.

He wanted something else.

He needed something more.

Dawn was still an hour or two off, and the humans were all abed. He tiptoed through the hush, half expecting Zisa to swoop in for a surprise snuggle. But the hush held.

Dew beneath his feet. Breezes tugging at his unbound hair. Stars adding luster to a moonless sky. He wished he could touch them. He thought he could hear them.

Snatches of a song caught and held him, winding him up inside.

“Hey, Damsel.” Ginkgo tossed him a wave from where he was lounging among Zisa’s roots. “Nice, huh?”

Sinder drifted over, hugging himself against the chill, even though he was too warm.

“Strangest music I ever heard. Or almost heard. Reminds me of a meteor shower.” He drew a line in the air with one finger. “There and gone in a wink, but a nice surprise. It was clearer the other night. Probably because there were so many of them. All the fragments became a line, and the melody was sorta … otherworldly.”

He hadn’t heard their chorus. Not this time. Which only meant it hadn’t been for him. But Novi was close, and he was in a tuneful mood. Definitely a portent.

“Something wrong?” asked Ginkgo.

“Not sure.” Sinder pivoted and strode away.

“Where are you headed?”

“Into the open. Out from under these branches.” He kept right on walking. “I want to see that star. I want to run.”

Footfalls. Ginkgo caught up and matched his pace. “I usually run with wolves, but I like a change of pace. Mind the company?”

He was rattled.

He was desperate.

Sinder was barely holding it together, which made it easier to admit the truth. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Ginkgo’s ears dipped and flicked, but his manner was as casual as usual. “Not a problem.”

So Sinder ran, could only run.

Headlong, as if there were a pack at his heels.

But he couldn’t outrun the haunting melody that seemed to howl and shriek against his bones. Ignoring the slap and sting of needle and thorn, Sinder plowed on. He needed to silence this wailing need, but where was relief?

He wanted Juuyu.

He needed help.

“Damsel? You blundering idiot! Sinder!” Ginkgo swung into his path, lifted him off his feet, and bullied him into a broad tree trunk, caging him there. “What’s come over you?”

Sinder could only swallow thickly and shake his head.

“What’s going on. Talk to me,” he ordered sternly.

“Feels strange.” Sounded strange, too. He could barely hear his own voice, what with the ringing in his ears. He rolled his shoulders and winced at the bite of bark against his back.

And Ginkgo’s whole expression cleared. “Hey, okay,” he said gently. “I get it.”

He did? Sinder tugged at his shirt, desperate for answers. “What is it?”

“Hang on a sec.” Ginkgo half-turned and raised his voice. “Who goes there?”

Kyrie slipped out of the shadows. “Here I am.”

“What’s up, little bro?”

“The winds woke me.” He frowned slightly. “And the stars. What are you doing to Sinder?”

“Helping him. I hope.”

Sinder warbled miserably, and Kyrie answered with a gentle trill.

Ginkgo asked, “Which form is best for wings? Because there’s not much room here.” And when Sinder didn’t answer, he pressed, “That’s what this is, isn’t it?”

Was it?

“You’ve been tended by a beacon for how many days? And Timur and Tenma before that. And Waaseyaa’s influence is