Mikoto and the Reaver Village (Amaranthine Saga #4) - Forthright . Page 0,23
so little that he wanted to be babied. He would have said so, but he was distracted by his rescuer’s hair, which was sprouting leaves of the greenest green, as vivid as the ones that surrounded them. His smile was nice, and his scent was lovely.
That’s when Kyrie made a vast leap of logic. “Are you a tree?”
“I am this tree.”
Struggling up, Kyrie brushed his lips against the underside of the tree-person’s jaw, just the way Dad had taught him. It took quite an effort. Sagging back in limp delight, he said, “You are my favorite tree.”
“Do you love me?”
Such a lovely tree. “I think I do.”
The tree tapped his nose. “You are adorable.”
A voice called out somewhere below.
“Come, and I will introduce you to my brother. Since you will be visiting me every chance you get, he will want to meet you.” His eyebrows lifted slightly. “What name should I give when I introduce you?”
“I am Kyrie.”
The tree caressed his hair. “What a beautiful name.”
“My name is a prayer for mercy,” he explained. Because an Amaranthine usually wanted to know.
With a delighted smile, he said, “And you are at mine, little dragon.”
THIRTEEN
Each Alluring in Their Way
Kyrie came to himself in a tub of water.
Ginkgo cradled his head, but his attention was jumping all over the place, as if there were too many people in the room.
A man with gentle hands and kind eyes was washing Kyrie’s face, so he noticed right away. “I have washed away the pollen,” he said softly. “How are you feeling?”
Then Ginko filled his view, upside down. “Don’t suppose you can sneeze on command?”
Kyrie had never considered trying.
“You got a snootful of fresh pollen, little bro.” Ginkgo smirked. “Let’s not tell Dad.”
The man with the washcloth repeated, “How are you feeling?”
“Fuzzy.”
Ginkgo quietly said, “He’s Waaseyaa. Guess you met his twin. Zisa brought you down.”
Kyrie had, but all backwards. One didn’t usually offer declarations of love before even knowing the other person’s name. “Zisa.”
“Here.”
A finger trailed along his arm, then lifted his hand. The person from the tree smoothed his thumb over its back. Or rather, over one of the patches of the lavender-edged scales that showed up in different places on Kyrie’s body.
He stirred uneasily and realized that they’d put him in the water with all his clothes still on. That was a relief. Kyrie didn’t like for people to see all the ways he was different. Mom called modesty a virtue, but he wasn’t sure he was behaving in a praiseworthy manner. He didn’t want to be teased any more than he wanted to be feared. His mother thought him beautiful, but she was his mother. It almost didn’t count.
Zisa was talking to Waaseyaa, eagerly recounting the rescue.
Without the haze of pollen, Kyrie noticed more details. Like the lack of fangs and claws. And the usual pointed ears and slit pupils. More interesting was the faint pattern of fine lines that decorated his skin like woodgrain. He wanted to touch it. Maybe for the same reason Zisa’s thumb still stroked across the back of Kyrie’s hand.
Suddenly, Lilya barged her way between the males and waved some sort of vial under his nose. The smell wasn’t familiar, but it was potent. He sneezed. So did Ginkgo. Twice.
“His clothes,” she groaned. “Where are our cases?”
Zisa asked, “Do you still love me without the pollen, merciful dragon?”
Kyrie felt heat creeping into the tips of his ears.
The man with the bar of soap repeated, “I am Waaseyaa, and this is my brother Zisa. You are in our home, which will be yours during your stay in Wardenclave. Your brother has been explaining how you found your way past the barriers. This time of year, we try to contain the pollen. Otherwise, it would make everyone … fuzzy.”
“This is nothing,” interjected Zisa. “A token show of color. Hardly worth mentioning. You should see me on a fifth year in full bloom.”
Waaseyaa murmured, “Yes, you are a sight worth seeing. But the barriers are in place for good reason. Too much of a good thing.”
Yes, the scent of Zisa’s flowers had been good. Such a lovely tree.
Kyrie took slow, deep breaths, willing the wind to bring him another whiff. In his mind’s eye, he could see the cascading blooms, thick with granules of pure gold, fluttered on every side by Ephemera. Kyrie didn’t want to forget the scent.
Was this what it was like for others? For the people who couldn’t resist his words? Kyrie wasn’t sure he liked being both