Mikoto and the Reaver Village (Amaranthine Saga #4) - Forthright . Page 0,3

partners. Or the opening crack of quarterstaffs. Or … well, it was their version of a fist-bump, really.

In truest form, Colt Merl Alpenglow was all muscle, a thickset draft horse who shared his sire Hannick’s coloring—a coat of butterscotch gold, lightly dappled with the same rich ginger of his mane and tail. In speaking form, Merl was fair-skinned, and he pinned his pudding-hued hair in a bun that was more practical than fashionable, at least by horse standards.

“How are you?” Merl’s wideset brown eyes were dark with sadness.

Mikoto shook his head, but said, “Better.”

“May I beg a concession?”

“This once,” he mumbled. Permission to touch.

The colt’s arms enfolded him.

Merl had to be at least eight hundred years old, but when it came to Amaranthine, age had little to do with affection. Mikoto couldn’t remember it clearly, but Father had told the tale often enough. Apparently, Mikoto had been a quiet kid. Always running off to play alone.

Probably to get away from a houseful of sisters.

But little Mikoto had taken a liking to Merl. Pretty soon, running off had turned into running here, to visit the camp’s healer, whom he began referring to as his big brother. Everyone else treated it like a child’s game, but Merl had taken the four-year-old seriously. Treated it as an honor.

Since Mikoto was welcomed, his family encouraged the fixation. He learned how to plant seeds and harvest flowers. About herbs and remedies and the best way to wrap bandages. But soon after he turned seven, Mikoto arrived earlier than usual and inadvertently buckled a barrier, badly startling the colt in the midst of a battle dance.

Everything changed.

After that, Mikoto also learned how to stand and how to fall. About wrestling holds and sticks and staffs and staves. Next came bladed weapons and drawing bows. And the knowledge that disrupting barriers was a useful skill in battler games.

Merl brought in more wardstones, worked with Mikoto’s control, and guided him through the basics of tending. He recommended the best courses to take with each successive camp, then scheduled even better ones. Maybe Merl had been mentoring him, even then. But Mikoto never once felt like an underling. They’d simply been holding onto each other’s secrets.

One a tribute.

One an heir.

The summer Mikoto turned fourteen, he joined a course taught by the head of the Thunderhoof clan. Mounted battle tactics, straight out of the history books. Riders with lances, with spears, with bows. Jumping to and from a moving horse. Standing barefoot on bareback. Keeping your seat on steep slopes. Knowing when to rein in and when to risk a leap.

While the registered campers all rode out on Alpenglow Kith, Mikoto competed as Merl’s rider. As two halves of a greater whole. As equals.

And everything changed again.

The familial bond was there, for they’d begun as brothers. But Mikoto didn’t need Merl the same way he had when he was four or seven. Now, they were sparring partners and comrades-in-arms. That summer, the colt had become something more—his best friend.

“How are your sisters?” asked Merl, already herding him up the walk.

“All home.”

“All,” Merl echoed. “Wren and Lily, too?”

“Yes.”

“That must be a great help at a time like this.”

Mikoto supposed it was. If only because they kept each other occupied.

Wren and Lily were his half-sisters, daughters of Lingering Light, who had been his father’s first wife. That had been many years ago. In fact, those sisters were both in their sixties. Later in life, Gabriel had remarried. Probably at Glint’s urging. Mikoto’s mother, Sora, had come to Wardenclave from Japan. An arranged marriage.

Mikoto’s full-blooded siblings were three older sisters.

Hikari had married and lived nearby with her husband and four daughters. Both Koharu and Hana still lived under the same roof, as did their daughters. Koharu served in the guard. Her three girls had been born under contract. Hana, who was closest in age to Mikoto, also had a little girl. With all the family pulling together, the females had more than tripled their numbers and noise level.

Which left Mikoto. And Yulin.

Mikoto stopped and looked back. “Coming?”

Yulin lingered at the gate.

Merl reinforced the invitation. “Come along. You can help make sure he gets enough to eat.”

The moth clansman’s gaze turned speculative. “How is your appetite, young noble?”

“I do not have one,” he fibbed.

That decided Yulin, but it didn’t get them through the door.

“Here you are!” boomed a voice everyone in Wardenclave knew. Glint Starmark walked toward them, three young Kith cavorting around him. The pups looked for all the world like over-sized golden