if walking might keep him from listening well. He was all smiles and nods, with questions that had her spilling out more of the story. All the way up to her discovery of Rifflet.
“Should we stop by Zisa’s and see if Sinder’s awake?” he offered.
“It’s late.”
“He’s Amaranthine,” Tenma pointed out. “And don’t you think he’ll want a look at your new friend?”
So she let him lead her to the little house beyond Waaseyaa’s.
Tapping on the door, he opened it partway and quietly called, “Is everyone decent?”
“By whose standards?” sang out a familiar voice. Zisa appeared, wreathed in smiles.
Kyrie skidded in his haste to reach her side. “Lilya?”
Inside, Timur was lofting crystals. In their soft light, she could tell that Kyrie had been in bed with Sinder and Timur. Hurrying forward, her big brother quietly demanded, “Trouble?”
“Peace.” Tenma’s posture matched his words, which helped to calm everyone. “Lilya-chan has a question for Sinder.”
The dragon grumbled something, and Mikoto left the other bed to offer his arm. Sinder shook his head and stayed on the edge of the mattress. “I’ll hold audience from here, if you don’t mind.”
Kyrie caught Lilya’s hand, pulling her around Zisa and drawing her inside. “Damsel was hurt, but Timur is a good healer.”
Timur reached for her but pulled his hands back when Rifflet lifted his head. “Sinder?” he called. “Are you seeing this?”
“Can’t be.” Sinder looked from Lilya to Rifflet with an expression of utter bewilderment. “That’s a wind dragon.”
“Is that what he’s called?” It was nice to have a proper term.
“They’re extinct.”
Lilya knew better, and she could tell Sinder did, too. His wonderment only multiplied when Rifflet’s voice chimed sweetly in both their minds. Damsel.
THIRTY-SIX
Secret Apprentice
Ginkgo had been so sure that Dad was joking when he referred to this summer as his eldest son’s proving journey. A bad joke, at that, given the monumental disaster that had been Argent Mettlebright’s first foray into the wider world.
Betrayal. Capture. Enslavement.
Looking back on all those dreadful memories, Ginkgo often wondered how Dad had managed to survive. Except … now that things were better, he thought he knew the answer. Argent had toughed it out because he’d had a kid to protect. All those centuries. More than a millennium. He’d dug deep and kept going because his son needed him to.
Maybe it was easier to see now because Ginkgo felt the same way about Michael’s and Sansa’s kids. His first brush with a real family. His first time really belonging. They’d quietly encouraged the attachment, and he’d taken every last one of them to his heart.
Darya, Timur, Isla, Annika, Lilya, and Vanya may have been born into Rilka’s hands, but she’d promptly handed them off to him. Like an honorary uncle. Or a big brother. Not until later did he learn that it was an actual thing. Fostering.
Their kids were his in every way that mattered.
So he understood, now, just how far a parent would go for their child. And that scared him more than anything. Because Kyrie was Dad’s in every way that mattered.
The worldwide threat that the rogue represented was intensely personal to Argent. Sure, that murderous dragon kept eluding the trackers, but what were years compared to millennia? Argent Mettlebright knew how to dig deep and keep going. He wouldn’t stop until he stopped Kyrie’s sire.
All without Ginkgo. Or maybe it was fairer to say, without endangering Ginkgo.
Unless this really was a proving journey. Maybe he’d go home better equipped and able to help. Somehow.
Chasing Salali through the treetops, Ginkgo drummed up the courage to ask, “Are you my mentor?”
“Up to you.” The squirrel crouched on a limb and waited until Ginkgo settled beside him. “Not everyone wants this sort of thing getting out.”
“Because I’m a crosser?”
Salali snorted.
“Is it a clan thing? Am I not supposed to learn the squirrel clan’s secrets?”
“Closer.” He tipped his hat back and grinned. “People like you and I don’t usually advertise the tools in our kit.”
“So I’d lose the element of surprise if folks found out I’d picked up some seriously squirrely tricks.”
Salali offered his hand. “Traditional secrecy aside, this is an apprenticeship. I’m willing to teach you everything I can. I’m interested in the possibilities represented by your unique heritage.”
Ginkgo grimaced. “Guinea pig time, huh?”
“Sensitive on that score?”
“Can you blame me?”
Salali sighed. “Untuck your tail, Ginkgo Mettlebright. To me, you represent untapped potential. I’d like to see if there are any new tricks up your sleeve. Do you want an advocate to make sure I don’t take unfair advantage of