Mikoto and the Reaver Village (Amaranthine Saga #4) - Forthright . Page 0,55
moved carefully and listened close. She was actually pretty good at stalking these little creatures, though Papka had gently pointed out that she also attracted them. Ephemera were part of the Amaranthine world, rarely seen by unendowed humans. Mum considered them pests, since they flitted about, fitting through every crack and crevice, nosing their way into food bins. Papka warded Stately House’s grounds against wild ones, but Lilya liked them. They were small, harmless, and cute.
She softly clicked her tongue as she pushed aside leaves. Adding a coaxing song she and Kyrie had invented. Baby nonsense. And it attracted something, all right.
“Is that Japanese?” Glint was crouched right behind her.
Hushing him with a finger, she whispered, “Something’s here.”
His nostrils flared, and he nodded. “We do get some interesting creatures in these woods, but they mostly avoid humans.”
“I know about Ephemera,” she grumbled, lifting aside another clump of foliage.
Glint asked, “Is one of your parents a reaver, then?”
“Both.” She felt a little foxy, not telling the whole truth. “I know it’s hard to tell. Sorry about that.”
With a perplexed expression, he looked between her and the bushes. “Not sure what to make of either of you.”
Before another word could be spoken, something streaked into the open and wrapped itself around Lilya’s neck. She started, but held very still, trusting Glint to deal with the threat if there was one. As she waited and watched him, Glint’s eyes slowly widened, then went all misty.
“Child,” he said softly. “Where do you find your courage?”
She reached up to tap his nose. “Here.” And because she couldn’t see what was tucked snug around her neck, she asked, “What did we find?”
“Something … new?” Glint’s nostrils flared. “An unfamiliar scent. But I suppose it must be an Ephemera.”
Lilya’s fingers found silken scales. But also fur. “Who are you, please?” she murmured.
“Yes. We need a better look at you.”
So saying, Glint gently worked a finger under the critter. When it tightened its hold, he lapsed into crooning, but Lilya didn’t know much Old Amaranthine. Mostly just the lullaby that Uncle Argent used to sing. And a couple of endearments.
She tried one, letting it roll of her tongue, and wished her soul wasn’t quite so locked away. Calming little ones was so much easier when they found her lovely.
“How many languages do you know?”
“Fluently?” she countered, not really wanting to admit to more than she already had. “Four, I guess. Bits and pieces of more.”
Glint gave her a sidelong look. “You remind me of my best friend.”
She knew he must mean Waaseyaa, but she doubted a newcomer to Denholm was meant to know about him. So she simply asked, “I do?”
“The first thing we ever did was learn each other’s languages. He knows dozens.” Finally disentangling their mystery creature, he murmured, “You were right. He does look a bit like a dragon.”
Lilya’s confusion must have shown.
“That is what you called him in my language.” Glint repeated the endearment, then translated. “Little dragon.”
The creature wasn’t anything Lilya had seen before, which was amazing, considering how extensive Uncle Argent’s collection was supposed to be. It wasn’t very big—probably as long as Lilya’s forearm, with most of its length only as thick as her thumb. Fine scales shimmered slightly, the soft gold of sunlight, but with a faint bloom of pink low on its chest, right above his first set of legs.
“Showy little thing.” The critter twined around Glint’s fingers, not exactly trying to escape, but not exactly happy to have been dislodged.
Lilya amended her original impression. The creature’s first set of legs was its only set of legs. The rest of its body was more serpentine, with a mane of creamy yellow fur tapering towards the tip of its tail, which ended in a thorny spike.
“Poisonous?” she asked.
Glint shook his head. “Nothing toxic in his scent.”
The little one lifted a narrow muzzle to sniff at the air. There was a prominent tuft of fur on top of his head, which flexed and fanned, almost like the crest on a cockatoo. Then he butted Glint’s big knuckle and reached for Lilya with dainty claws.
Chuckling, Glint said, “You are the one he wants, and I see no harm in letting him have you.”
Lilya reached back, and the little dragon grabbed her thumb, coiled around her wrist. His eyes were dark gold, without whites, and exhibiting the narrow pupils that were characteristic of both the Kith and the clans. But not Ephemera. “You really don’t know what he is?”