exactly broken it. Fend had seen him slip away.
Leaving his shoes among the roots, Kyrie touched the tree, which was so big, it was almost like facing a wall of wood. The surface wasn’t rough bark, but smooth and rippling. Like the tree’s trunk was made of many smaller ones that had twined together as they grew, folded together like the braids Aunt Sansa often wove into Lilya’s hair.
If he used the grooves for footholds, he wouldn’t need to dig his claws into the flawless surface of the wood. It would be a shame to leave marks. Probably rude, too, since this tree was special.
He searched for the best starting point, only to discover hoop of metal jutting out of the wood. It must have been there for a long time, because the wood seemed to have grown around it. Kyrie tested it. Definitely a rung!
Peering up, he spied another and smiled.
Someone else had been climbing this tree. Quite possibly in secret, or at least in private, since the hoop was set with a crystal.
Wards didn’t work very well against Kyrie, especially when their anchor was purple. He touched the soft lavender crystal, which seemed to whisper its welcome. Reavers favored stones from the amethyst range as wardstones, but Kyrie had discovered that purple stones liked him best. They forgot what they were doing if he was nearby.
Barriers let him pass right through unless they were reinforced with sigilcraft to exclude him. But that only happened at home. And not so much anymore, since he was old enough to respect boundaries.
Balancing on the hoop, Kyrie reached for the next. Whoever had created this path was taller, so he had to stretch and scramble until he made it up among the limbs. Then his options multiplied with every branching path. And he began to search.
The song had ended, but a scent pulled at him. Stronger now, as if one of the barriers had been holding back the fragrance that teased him onward and upward.
Heedless of how high he’d come, Kyrie searched for the flowers, wanting to know their shape and their color. Then he could tell Ginkgo all about them. Maybe even add a tree like this to their garden at home. That way, he could enjoy this scent all the time. Or at least as often as the tree was in bloom.
He accidentally found the flowers by walking into them face-first.
They were unlike any blossoms he’d ever seen before—cupped petals like bells, cascading in clusters. Vividly orange and heavy with pollen, sticky gold dust that tickled until he sneezed. The noise sent several Ephemera zipping away like startled fish. But they came drifting back, as enamored of the flowers as Kyrie was.
He liked Ephemera. Dad’s glass garden was filled with all kinds.
But these were new. And wild, of course. So when he offered his fingertips, they scooted away. With a whole summer ahead, maybe he could tame one. Bring it home to give to Dad. Ginkgo would probably help him.
Six-legged lizards nuzzled into the orange flowers, like they loved this tree.
Such a lovely tree.
Being here made Kyrie feel fuzzy and warm and glad … and a little bit sleepy. So he found a forked section right up among the flowers and lay back. Just for a little while.
Such a lovely tree.
Kyrie was so relaxed, he didn’t notice that there was someone else nearby until he spoke.
“You are a long way up.”
“It is a big tree,” he pointed out.
The stranger balanced easily on their shared limb. “You like big trees?”
Kyrie nodded. “Especially this one.”
“And why would that be?”
Inhaling deeply, he sighed his contentment. “Feels good.”
The stranger glanced around, looking unconvinced. “So you say.”
“You cannot feel it?” Kyrie asked.
“No.” Peering around at the eager Ephemera, he quietly confessed, “I never could understand the appeal.”
“Too bad. This tree is lovely.”
That earned him a smile. “And you love it?”
Kyrie hardly needed to consider. He shyly admitted, “I think I do.”
“Will you steal these flowers and bottle their pollen?”
“I would rather come visit every chance I get.”
The stranger hummed approvingly. “Sensible boy.”
Slouching a little further into his seat, Kyrie mumbled, “Feels good.”
“It will not feel good if you topple.”
Kyrie turned his head to check how high he was, but looking down tilted him sideways.
“Ope, ope, ope. None of that!” The stranger made a grab. “Messy business, cleaning up fallen boys.”
All of the sudden, Kyrie realized that he was being cradled like a child, which wasn’t such a great shock. He was a child. But not