Twineshaft’s Dragon

Sinder had been drifting in that pleasant haze of relaxation that means you’re coming off a good long sleep. There’s this little window of cozy comfort, when your stomach hasn’t begun rioting yet, driving you from bed in search of food. But something had changed, and it was concerning enough to push Sinder closer to the waking world. What … was … wrong?

Someone was petting his hair, but that was fine. Totally normal.

Except that when he burrowed closer to the warmth and scent of safety, it wasn’t Juuyu.

Sinder wove his fingers more snugly into thick fur and knew it would be black, but he didn’t really want to think about why. And just like that, he realized where he was … and what was wrong.

“The rain stopped.” He stirred, trying to orient himself, looking for a window.

His companion kept right on playing with his hair—methodical, maybe even meditative.

Sinder cleared his throat, and said, “Hey, Fend.”

Utterly relaxed, the feline silently searched his face. There was a hint of amusement in orange eyes that reminded Sinder eerily of Hisoka’s. It was a look that usually meant he’d done something silly. Or betrayed secret knowledge. Or rambled on about things his boss was too ancient to get.

Belatedly, Sinder caught on. Because he’d been clutching it for who knew how long. “Oh, shit. Sorry about your tail.”

He tried to disentangle himself, but Fend didn’t let him get away. Wriggling down until their noses were bumping, he pressed their cheeks together—one side, then the other. Sinder figured it was forgiveness. Or maybe courtesy? Fend wanted to make peace, but his motives weren’t exactly pure. All kinds of warning flags were waving because Timur’s beast was bent on world domination. Or … well, on saving the world, at least.

“Ohhh, lovely one,” Fend murmured. “I wanted you for Timur, but you are too distracting.”

Sinder wasn’t sure what he might have done to deserve criticism, but then Fend was nudging and nuzzling and … okay, this was new. Fend was kissing him, unhurried and sorta … soft. It was certainly nicer than being chomped on, but it was also vastly more confusing.

When Fend stopped, Sinder braced himself for mockery or some kind of I told you so.

Best he could tell, the cat was waiting for something, too. A complaint? A rebuff? Swearing was probably called for, but Sinder wasn’t inclined. Honestly, that worried him a little.

Fend seemed at least as surprised as he was. A barely audible purr revved up between them, and Sinder began to wonder if Fend was going to kiss him again. Sinder had always been sort of curious about things like this.

“Too distracting by far,” the cat decreed.

“Sorry …?”

“You needn’t be. Dragons are said to inspire reckless devotion.”

Sinder rolled his eyes. “Whoever said that was probably a dragon.”

Fend’s eyes took on fresh shine. “You’re probably right. Wily beasts, dragons. Nearly impossible to tame.”

“Are you calling me tame?”

“You’re Twineshaft’s dragon. Culled from the heights despite your youth. Given reach and sway and access to every secret. I’d call you intelligent, intuitive, even impetuous. But tame? Not you.”

Sinder wasn’t immune to compliments. One problem with working among other elites was … nobody was ever really impressed. Amazing was expected. All part of the elite brand.

Fend said, “Not tame, but I know both your strength and your weakness, and that gives me sway over you.”

Reality reasserted itself. “You want to use me.”

“I want to give you purpose. To shift your understanding of what it means to be Twineshaft’s dragon. And then I want you to become Timur’s dragon.” Fend nosed his way toward Sinder’s throat, which was all kinds of disconcerting, but after a lengthy perusal of Sinder’s scent, the only damage Fend did was a tiny nip to Sinder’s earlobe. The feline whispered, “Let me have my way.”

“I don’t know how you know how much I know, but … look. I won’t betray Hisoka’s trust, no matter what you say. Or do.”

Fend apparently took that as a challenge. Or maybe an invitation. Because he laid gentle kisses on Sinder’s face, each punctuating brief remarks that added up to a report. “You slept for eight days. This is the first of December. Twineshaft remains a recluse. Rhomiko sings like an angel and speaks like an oracle. Kyrie returned from Keishi with the Changing Winds in tow. Argent has been poisoned. Opal’s star is Zeriel of the Beckoning Sky. Also, Juuyu has been summoned.”

Sinder’s heart leapt and lurched and panged and pounded, for each piece of news was monumental. He needed more information, but Fend pressed into his mouth, and Sinder had a deepening kiss to navigate. He was beginning to see what all the fuss was about.

Then Fend drew back with a soft oath. “No. You are meant for Timur.” And swiftly touching his lips to Sinder’s mouth, jaw, and throat, he gruffly warned, “And he has returned.”

A warning rap preceded Michaelson into the room. Dishes made a faint clatter, which suggested a tray, but Sinder couldn’t bring himself to turn … or even to look away from Fend. In the privacy afforded by a Reach’s ability, he flung his words in thought-form. “I don’t want to be used, but I like being trusted.”

Fend’s responding thought had a bitter tone. “I have little choice but to trust you, lovely one. You’ve found me out.”

“I know your strength and your weakness, too. Is that it? So you’re under my sway as well?”

The feline’s heart leapt to a quicker beat, and his lips parted. “Are you challenging me?”

“Somebody has to.”

Oblivious to the silent conversation underway, Michaelson lowered himself onto the mattress at Sinder’s back and touched his shoulder. “All right there, Damsel?”

“Sure. I’m good. Never better.” Not until Fend lowered his gaze and melted from the bed did Sinder turn. And frown. “Uhh … interesting fashion statement. I’m no expert, but I don’t think that’s a good look for you.”

Timur laughed. “This is a wolvish baby carrier. Ideal for skin-to-skin contact. Or skin-to-stone, in this case. I did have Gregor in here earlier, though, while Ninook was teaching me how to rig myself. This little guy’s a bit heavier. I might put him to good use and do some squats.”

Sinder pushed onto his knees, noticing for the first time that he was drowning in a too-large Camp Wardenclave T-shirt. But most of his attention was on the green crystal strapped to Timur’s bare chest. “Hello again,” he murmured, touching living stone. “I know Argent wanted to get these to Michael. Did your dad foist this one on you?”

“In a roundabout way, it’s Rhomiko’s fault.”

Fend had dropped that name earlier. Something about angels and oracles. “Who’s this Rhomiko person?”

“One of our newbies. I guess Hisoka-sensei brought them home, but nobody’s really explained how they’re connected. Only that they’re definitely connected.” Slipping into that teasing tone where he let more Russian into his accent, Timur suggested, “Shall we find out? You be Fend’s spy. Uncover Sensei’s secrets for him. And I will tell you about the typhoon you slept through. Is good, yes?”

Sinder remembered then. “The rain stopped! Which means it was raining. Hold up. Fend said something about Changing Winds, and … a typhoon? Are we talking eldermost storms, here?”

“Very good. Papka explained while he was fitting me out.” Timur patted his crystalline passenger. Then his gaze sharpened, and he carefully cupped Sinder’s cheek, sliding a thumb across his lower lip.

Sinder stopped breathing.

Timur softly asked, “Do I need to take my partner to task?”

“Uhh … what for?”

“You look very kissed.” And with obvious concern, he asked, “Did Fend overstep?”

“I’m pretty sure this was just good morning in cat.”

“And you’re conversant in cat?”

“Well, nooo. Unless you count Twineshaft. But he’s not a very catty cat.”

Timur hesitated a moment longer, but he nodded and moved on. “Do you have an affinity for crystal?”

“Sure. Nothing extraordinary, but better than basic. I mean … dragon.” Tapping the stone, he said, “I helped collect these four.”

“Well, this one’s ours.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yours and mine. According to Rhomiko, we’re the key to helping this little guy hatch. Or emerge. Or whatever it is baby rock imps do.”

Okay. So a lot had apparently happened while Sinder had been doubling down on the trans-oceanic crossings and sleeping late-ish. “I feel like we need to back up and start over. Because I missed the memo or the meeting or whatever. Since when am I this rock’s daddy?”

“Maybe you’re the mommy,” suggested Fend from across the room.

“Do I look like Sonnet?” And locking eyes with Timur, Sinder said, “I can think of a dozen people more qualified. No, two dozen! In fact, just go to Sonnet. He’s one hell of a mother.”

“Easy does it.” Timur’s soothing tone held an undercurrent of amusement. “Nobody’s forcing you into anything. I won’t obligate you, but … can’t you feel it?”

Sinder looked between the man and the wardstone and even risked a glance at Fend. “Not sure what you mean. What do you think I should be feeling?”

“There’s a resonance whenever I … well … ahh.” Timur looked vaguely sheepish. “I noticed something when I was treating your abrasions. There was a lot of salve. I used spikenard, since you favor it. And I suppose there was a bit of tending involved.”

“Okay … so you took care of me. It’s no different than last summer. Except this time it was sand. Took off a layer or two of skin. Hurt like you wouldn’t believe in salt water, but less so with scales, so I mostly stuck to … truest … form ….” Sinder cocked his head to one side. “Is that you?”

Timur turned toward him. “Yes. Let me in?”

“For tending? Sure. Why not? It’s not like we’ve never … uhh. Okay, that’s new. I see what you mean. Definitely picking up some resonance.” Resting both hands on the swaddled stone, Sinder scooted closer. “You like that, huh? But why? And why’s it gotta be us?”

“Not really clear on that,” Timur said with obvious caution.

Sinder wanted more info. “Who has the other wardstones?”

Timur said, “Papka has one, and one’s apparently meant for Isla.”

He frowned. “One each? But we’re supposed to be in this together.”

“Oh, they’re paired off, too. In a manner of speaking. “Isla and Lapis Mossberne. And Papka is going to have to talk to Hisoka-sensei.”

“Huh.” Sinder cut a look in Fend’s direction.

Timur said, “So each duo includes an Amaranthine and a reaver with some level of crystal affinity.”

“Okay, yeah. There’s that.”

The cat shot him a private aside. “He can be so dense.”

“Does the fourth wardstone follow the pattern?”

“No. Or not yet. Rhomiko hadn’t assigned it to anyone, but we have plenty of crystal adepts hereabouts. Kyrie, for example.” Timur leaned forward. “Would you be willing to stay with us while Papka sorts out what to do?”

“This is perfect.”Fend’s thoughts held the snap of authority. “Agree. Now.”

“I travel a lot for work.” Not that Sinder wanted to go anywhere.

Fend spoke up then so Timur could hear. “Hisoka probably needs you close. And he’s in a similar position. So stay. I’ll tuck you in with Timur every night.”

“That would give us time to interact with our imp.” Timur looked so hopeful.

Sinder wanted to agree, but was that the best course of action? It was difficult to think clearly when the things he wanted most were giving a baby impression reasons to sing.

Timur set his hand over Sinder’s and smiled. “At least one of us likes the idea.”

Fend stole up, draping himself over Timur’s shoulders. “Do as you’re told, lovely one. You were meant for this. You’re ours now.”

“Look, you …!” But Sinder’s protest fizzled before he could give it form. In more subdued tones, he said, “Look, I’ll talk to Hisoka first. After that? We’ll see.”

Nuzzling Timur’s cheek, Fend said, “He means yes.”

Tugging at the Kith-kin’s ear, Timur grumbled, “Give him room to decide for himself.”

“Why should I?” argued Fend. “He’s perfect.”

Timur gave Sinder’s hand a small squeeze and let go, but not before saying, “I think so, too.”