Mikoto and the Reaver Village (Amaranthine Saga #4) - Forthright . Page 0,33
the circle, Noble was safer back in Mikoto’s pocket. He kept a hand on the pup, fondling one perked ear as he strolled along the edge of activity.
Wardenclave’s citizens mingled with the crowd, greeting returnees and guiding newcomers. Mikoto’s sisters barely acknowledged him, their fleeting glances holding little more than exasperation. Reprimanding him for arriving late. Reminding him that his pain was theirs, and then some. Hadn’t they known Father better, loved him longer?
Shame seeped into the set of his shoulders.
A firm grip at Mikoto’s elbow halted his progress, and he raised his gaze. Resplendence Starmark searched his face, firmed her grip slightly, and murmured, “Well met.”
As she moved off, Mikoto was jostled on his other side by Reena Duntuffet, who cuffed his shoulder and winked before hurrying forward to heft a young girl’s travel cases.
His people. His friends.
Hannick Alpenglow patted his cheek in passing. “Someone’s trying to get your attention.”
Like the sudden pivot that can throw an opponent off balance, Mikoto’s perspective shifted off himself. Familiar faces dominated the crowd. Many turned his way with grins, waves, and greetings. Chin bobs and hand signs from other battlers. Friendly remarks upon his increasing height. Teasing remarks about his tiny companion.
Mikoto found he was glad to see them back.
He began offering the same kinds of assurances he’d received. Touching an elbow. Clapping a shoulder. He spoke the names of those he knew and offered his name to new kids. As he patiently worked his way along, he felt fresh stirrings of certainty.
She was here.
Even though he couldn’t explain it—not that he’d ever try—Mikoto always knew when Lupe was near. The pull that made his heart leap. The scent of summer that left him giddy. The way she always knew when to turn, where to look. Like she was as aware of him as he was of her.
But it was really quite hard to impress a girl who sees you as a little brother.
Mikoto worked hard, trained hard, tried hard. Wanting her to notice the man he was becoming. Catching up with something other than years.
Four years was an epoch for young reavers.
On her last year at camp, instead of flying home at summer’s end, Lupe had journeyed to a port city with Priska, boarded a ship, and sailed to some far-off island where a new husband waited. She’d been eighteen, going on nineteen. He’d been fourteen and tongue-tied and inconsolable.
His only tiny sliver of hope was that they weren’t a good match. Maybe Lupe would do her duty to the In-between and leave her island husband behind, making a second marriage possible.
Mikoto had done the math a thousand times over. Enough to understand the mathematical impossibility of grasping at that particular straw. To give Lupe time to fulfill her progeny quota, he’d have to figure out a way to stay single until he was twenty-seven. At least.
Glint might accept the plan. Well, maybe. If Mikoto could get Radiance to back him.
But deep down, Mikoto knew his plan was doomed. Lupe was so warm and accepting. She’d give her contract husband every chance to win her heart. And love him back with all of hers. That’s just the kind of person she’d always been.
Mikoto still wanted to find a way of telling her how he felt, even though it would probably come to nothing. If she was safe and happy without him, he’d let Glint choose a bride with a good bloodline and secure Wardenclave’s future.
It dawned on him then that in all his years of clinging to an impossible wish, he’d never once considered leaving Wardenclave. Not even for Lupe. Did that mean he didn’t love her enough? Maybe. And maybe that didn’t matter anymore. The decision was out of his hands. It always had been.
But if Lupe was even the littlest bit unhappy, he’d give her an alternative.
A whisper of wind flirted around his ankles and tugged at his hair, carrying a sense of summer’s sweetness, drawing his attention to the second-to-last bus in the long line-up. It was always like this. The knowing part. He could always find her. As if they’d forged a connection eight years ago, and they shared it still.
He lengthened his strides.
She stood a little away from those mingling beside the bus, smiling skyward. A breeze caught her long, black hair and flipped the airy fabric of her skirt. Vastly different from standard reaver attire, but maybe they did things differently on whatever island Priska had chosen for her. It was pretty.