Glimmer

 

Hanoo said, “Let’s try this again.”

Tenma had all but forgotten his fear. Either this whole taming thing worked fast, or Lapis was acting as some kind of counteragent. A wave of calm settled around him, and he could tell Hanoo was the source. Cocky. Carefree. Then came a gentle shower of golden happiness. Tenma smiled and reached for Ploom’s hand, which rested on his shoulder.

Ploom had gotten closer, but not physically. Tenma could discern him as an individual—steady, loyal, and loving. He treasured his parents, his packmates, but especially Yoota. It was as if he and Ploom were two parts of the same person.

What had it been like for these wolves, leaving behind their packmates and crossing an ocean, only to be divided further? Had it been hard for Ploom and Yoota to be in different triads? Such courage.

Tenma’s gratitude welled up, and Ploom uttered a low sound. Then he really did get closer.

“You guys ever meet Ever?” Tenma asked.

“Quen’s kid brother? Nope,” said Hanoo. “Haven’t had the privilege.”

“Fair warning. He likes to ‘sniffen’ people.”

“Same.” Ploom sighed contentedly against the nape of Tenma’s neck.

He was curious what his classmate was looking for. “Can you smell fear?”

“Not at the moment,” said Ploom, whose mood set off another golden cascade. “You’re doing great.”

Could wolves catch the scent of a soul in the same way he could detect colors and feelings? If so, he hoped these wolves found his presence pleasant.

Fear had faded, and weariness dragged at his senses. Tenma felt safe and warm and liked. Maybe even a little bit needed. A small, insignificant part … but still a part. Turning his thoughts further inward, the next time Tenma felt Ploom’s surge of happiness, he responded with gratitude and affection.

Ploom made another soft noise.

Surprise?

Tenma could tell he’d startled his friend, and he could feel an accompanying uncertainty. Not wanting to worry him, Tenma searched for a better way to express himself to the kindhearted wolf. But his thoughts were drifting now.

Fingers drummed on his chest. Lapis inquired, “What was that, unsealed boy?”

Tenma stirred enough to mumble, “What?”

“Are you conscious of what you just did?”

“Sorry, I was mostly asleep.”

The dragon asked, “May I?”

“Huh?”

“My turn, little glimmer,” said Lapis. “I want you to show me what you showed Ploom.”

Tenma asked, “Is that safe?”

“Are you threatening me?”

He fumbled until he located one of the heavy stone bracelets around the dragon’s wrist. I thought these were to keep reavers at a safe distance.”

Lapis’ low trill carried a note of impatience. “You are not a reaver.”

“I’m not registered,” he said, not sure how he’d ended up on the other side of their earlier argument. “More importantly, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then I have nothing to fear.”

The three wolves had a rushed exchange in English before Hanoo spoke carefully. “Frankly, Tenma, Lord Mossberne is more a danger to you than you are to him. I’m not sure what would happen if your little bit of shine got snuffed.”

Lapis frowned. “I cannot deny my former excesses, but I have never harmed a soul.”

Tenma tentatively asked, “What does it mean to be Broken?”

“He’s an addict,” said Yoota.

Ploom’s voice held sympathy. “Were you mishandled?”

The dragon’s low chuckle had frayed edges. “Nobody likes a sad story. Better to delve into the mystery in our midst. What do you say, unsealed boy? Can you trust a tattered and tainted soul like mine?”

“Sure. As long as it can’t hurt you.”

Lapis said, “Our trust is mutual, as is consent. Now, show me what you showed Ploom.”

Tenma nodded even though he had no idea what he was doing. He wasn’t even sure he’d actually done anything. But maybe if he began the same way he had with Ploom, Lapis would gain some clue to the source of his … glimmer.

So he closed his eyes and turned his attention inward, searching for the brittle blue that defined the dragon. Lapis held very still, but that wasn’t right. Ploom had reached for him, found his hand, welcomed their connection. “Mutual trust,” Tenma mumbled.

Lapis didn’t move.

“Lord Mossberne. Lapis.” Tenma wasn’t sure how else to ask. “Are you afraid of me?”

“Preposterous.” But the dragon curled in more tightly on himself. “I am afraid that you will prove me wrong.”

Tenma had no idea what he meant. “What happens if you’re right?”

“A miracle.”

“I don’t understand what you expect from me,” he said, touching the dragon’s shoulder, then tugging him closer. “But I’ll try.”

Lapis found his hand, threaded their fingers together, and took a more optimistic tone. “I am often right.”

Tenma laughed. Back on the roof, he’d wanted Lapis more than Hanoo, but he hadn’t been in any fit state to wonder why. Now, he weighed that impulse. Was it instinct? Had some mysterious part of his soul decided that he needed more than a dog and a monkey in his life? Cracking a smile, he asked, “Are there pheasant clans?”

Hanoo said, “Sure there are. Why?”

“Never mind.” Tenma redirected his wandering thoughts. Lapis had been friendly, interested, curious … but remote. Harmonious was the one who’d confronted Tenma’s loneliness and banished it. Hadn’t the leader of the Starmark pack done the same for Lapis?

Well, he had tried, but it must not have been enough.

So what did Lapis need?

And in a moment of mind-boggling clarity, Tenma’s perspective flipped. He really had no business thinking so highly of himself, but he was sure he was right. He was drawn to Lapis because the dragon needed him. Desperately.

So while Yoota made comforting noises and Ploom murmured encouragement, Tenma reached for Lapis in intangible ways and was met partway. This was trust, and he tried to reciprocate. Not in words, but in impressions. Like adopting a helpful posture or extending an upraised palm.

Lapis made an odd little hiccupping sound.

Hanoo threw an arm around both of them, humming deep in his chest.

And Tenma found little ways to keep Lapis close. Awash in blue, he did his best to warm what was cold, to soften what was brittle, to mend each fracture and tear. The dragon’s soul whispered to him of regret and respect. Here was devotion and damage, hesitation and hope. Tenma found the shreds and gave them shape, soothing away the sorrows and bolstering what was brave.

The dragon exhaled on a fluttering note that breezed straight through Tenma, like breath across embers, kindling fresh flames.

“Is he taming him?” asked Yoota.

“Who’s taming whom?” whispered Ploom. “I can’t tell.”

Hanoo cautiously asked, “Is that taming or tending? Because I think they’re both gaining.”

Yoota ventured, “Does it matter? Seems to be doing them both some good.”

“Of course it matters,” said Ploom, whose happiness shone in Tenma’s periphery. “Now hush. I don’t want to miss the miracle.”
 

Tenma jolted awake with a yelp of fear.

“Shh, shh, shh,” soothed Hanoo. “It’s just us, remember?”

But Tenma’s alarm was ramping up.

Low voices came from the direction of the door. “ … personal wards must have spared you. A mercy. She is not one for delicacy.”

“How did that Icelandic waif fare?”

“Ask him yourself. Harmonious wants everyone back at the compound.”

Tenma twisted around to see who had come. Lapis and Yoota stood at the door, talking to a newcomer. Recognition made him feel foolish. Lord Mettlebright, one of the Five, was gazing at him with so much skepticism, Tenma lowered his gaze.

“Bad dream?” asked the fox in patronizing tones.

Hanoo took up his defense. “You spooked him. Ease up.”

“Fox,” said Tenma, swallowing hard. “I haven’t been close to a fox before now. Not to know it, anyway.”

Argent Mettlebright held up a finger to forestall whatever Lapis was about to say. Moving to the edge of the heap of furs, he crouched. “Subaru-kun, why are you afraid of foxes?”

“Because one tried to kill us tonight. Or was it last night?” He couldn’t tell how long he’d been asleep. “Inti and I barely escaped.”

“Really? Because nobody else has been able to confirm the presence of a pursuer—no scent, no sound, no trail to follow.”

Argent’s casual tone didn’t match the outrage Tenma was picking up on.

“Most are dismissing the whole story as a foolish monkey’s prank.”

“It was real,” Tenma insisted. “It happened.”

Argent shook his head. “You enrolled at New Saga from the human community. How would you know?”

“I can tell.”

“You claim to be an unregistered reaver?”

“Not exactly. Well, maybe. I don’t know!”

“Even if I were to acknowledge that unregistered reavers might be at risk, you do not fit the profile of the kidnapper’s usual prey.”

Tenma sat up a little straighter, wanting to be taken seriously “The fox wasn’t after me. She wanted Inti.”

In the sudden silence, Argent’s voice was dangerously soft. “She?”