Mikoto and the Reaver Village (Amaranthine Saga #4) - Forthright . Page 0,31
from the rooftops. Or to share some rare treat smuggled from the nearest convenience store. Which was a long way away.
Tenma missed those little breaks from the monotony of protection. The excitement of a secret friendship. But he was also glad those days were over.
Traveling with Goh-sensei was so much better. Tenma felt less like a prisoner, even if he did still have to stay a stranger to everyone he met. Safe distances and secrets kept him safe.
“What have we here?” A hand touched Tenma’s shoulder. “Do you often stray so far from your protector’s side?”
“Salali?”
The whole reason Tenma had come down to watch the arrival of campers was because of what Salali had said. That there was someone like him, and that she was coming. Didn’t that mean she was on one of these buses?
Indicating the hundreds of milling people, Salali said, “This will take hours to sort out. Hours we could spend in pleasanter pastimes.”
“What …?”
Shushing him with a finger to his lips that triggered a burst of color before Tenma’s eyes, Salali scooped him up and streaked away from the hubbub. Inti often resorted to this kind of thing. So did Goh, for that matter, so Tenma simply kept his eyes shut and held on tight.
If Salali Fullstash was part of Wardenclave’s security, he had to be trustworthy.
But even more persuasive than role or reputation, Tenma was relying on the splash of blue that ornamented the squirrel clansman’s soul. Gent was an avian, and from what Tenma knew about his former classmate Suuzu, the blue jay’s high opinion of Salali could only mean good things.
Maybe Salali was only teasing again. But Tenma wasn’t alone anymore. And he was grateful.
“Do you have trouble with heights?”
Tenma thought it a little late to be asking, since they had to be dozens of stories over Wardenclave. At least, that was the impression he’d gotten during Salali’s final soaring leap into a tree that had appeared out of nowhere. Now, Tenma was surrounded on all sides by rustling leaves and gently swaying branches, for the squirrel had deposited him in what amounted to a rustic nest.
“Goh-sensei is from the monkey clans,” said Tenma. “I learned to like heights a long time ago.”
Salali tipped back his hat and smirked. “You really will go along with anyone’s plans.”
“Is that so bad?” Tenma reached into the leaves closest to his face, lifting them aside to reveal a delicate cluster of orange flowers. “I’ve seen more than I could have imagined because other people wanted to show me things.”
“Not everything in this world is good.”
Tenma’s hand came away streaked in pollen. “I know. I’ve seen.”
“What have you seen?”
Closing his eyes, Tenma took a slow breath. What a pleasant scent.
“What have you seen?” Salali held up a finger, silently commanding eye contact. “I want to know.”
Why the sudden urgency? Tenma reached out, inadvertently smearing pollen across gray freckles. He shook his head. “I don’t have any deep, dark secrets. I’m the secret.”
Salali bit his lip, then gruffly said, “You’ve touched the Broken.”
That was the label given to Amaranthine who’d become addicted to the hit of power they received by touching a reaver’s soul. Some from constant indulgence. Usually tied to a quest for power. But Tenma had encountered several Amaranthine whose Broken status was a result of subjugation. Under certain circumstances, tending could be used as a means of control.
“Yes. They come to me, or I go to them.” Tenma started tapping fingers, counting up the years. “It’s all I’ve done since graduation.”
“So you would know.”
Tenma shook his head. “Know what?”
“If someone was nearly there.” Salali seemed pale under his freckles. “Near to breaking.”
“Is that what you’re afraid of?”
Salali scowled. “I’m no coward.”
“What do you want to know?” asked Tenma. “I’ll help if I can.”
“You? You are so very young.”
Funny. That’s what Tenma had been thinking, looking at all those little kids getting off the buses. “And here, I was feeling old.”
“Mister Subaru, you cannot comprehend old.”
“I can,” he protested. “I love old souls like yours. Try me, and you’ll trust me more.”
Salali tweaked his nose. “Trust is meant to come first. And a proper reaver waits to be asked.”
“I’m not really a proper reaver.” Tenma quietly repeated, “Try me.”
The squirrel clansman grumbled under his breath, then sketched sigils in the air over their heads. A puff of wind cleared Tenma’s head even as a barrier shimmered into place, holding the scent of flowers at bay.
“Do you understand what it means if I tell you that my