So he lives here. Ryon stared back, not believing his good fortune. In a way, it made sense—the Navakovrae settlers had been trading with the tribes for years, but they hadn’t seen the island of their own heritage in generations. Tekkyn’ashi’s Phoeran accent was harsh, but he was fluent; he obviously hadn’t learned it from parchment. And the “Tekkyn” part of his name was distinctly tribal, as if he’d been named after a tribesman.
A tingling spread through Ryon’s jaw and slid down his throat. The pain in his shoulder began to ease with a strange numbing sensation, making the herb’s bitter taste suddenly worthwhile.
How could he turn down such an offer? Navakovrae was a Phoeran word meaning “friends from the east,” after all. Perhaps that could remain true for now, regardless of a brewing war.
Ryon swallowed and dipped his head toward the Malaano soldier. “It will be done, friend.”
Tekkyn’s eyes narrowed. “Is granting my request within your authority as a white mask?”
“No, but if the time comes, the chieftess will never betray an ally.” Ryon returned Tekkyn’s gaze with a set jaw. “And I give you my word that I’ll do everything in my power to protect your family.”
7
KIRALAU
Kira’s knife sliced through a wheel of aged cheese with enough force to snap bone. She glared across the kitchen and into the crowded dining room, where soldiers laughed and consumed enough rice cakes to feed twice as many men. Lieutenant Sa’alu sat at the head of the table as if he were the emperor himself.
“Kiralau,” her mother called from the simmering stew pot. “Go fetch a jar of jam from the root cellar.”
“They’ve already gone through two.” Kira dumped the white cheese crumbles from the cutting board onto a plate. “I’m going to bring Tekkyn some dinner, since he’s apparently not going to eat with us.”
Inowae’s lips pursed as she dumped another round of meat into a boiling pot. “You may after you fulfill my request.”
Kira clenched her teeth in an attempt to keep from blurting out her thoughts. Her mother must have forgotten how difficult it was to feed their own ranch hands during a drought. The root cellar looked gaunter than it had in Kira’s memory, and yet Inowae had cooked up a calf and emptied their stores for these soldiers without batting an eye.
Kira tossed a rice cake and chunk of cheese into a checkered cloth and folded it, keeping an awkward but firm grip on her knife. If Tekkyn wanted jam or meat, he’d have to actually come home for it.
Kira shouldered out the back door, and a night breeze that smelled of cherry blossoms and the smoldering fire pit welcomed her. Normally the garden’s vibrant green in a sea of dusty yellow soothed her spirit, but in the darkness, the overgrown tomato leaves clawed at her like a witch’s fingers. She ducked under a melon trellis and grabbed the metal handle of the root cellar’s trap door. It opened for her with a familiar groan.
Tekkyn’s vanishing smile replayed in her mind’s eye. The moment he’d arrived, it was like he’d returned with all the vigor and tough love she remembered. But just a word from that lieutenant snatched it away like their hope for rain.
Kira took the creaking steps down slowly, waiting impatiently for her eyes to adjust. The luminous mushrooms that grew on the root cellar’s walls didn’t begin their glow until night had fully fallen, but the largest caps were already awakening with a faint aqua light. Kira snatched a jar of cherry jam from the shelf and stared at the emptiness left in its wake. If her father didn’t come back home soon with full officer’s pay, they’d have to let another ranch hand go for sure.
She returned to the back door, opened it just wide enough to drop the jar on the kitchen counter, then slammed the door shut behind her.
She’d probably get another lecture for that. And for once, she probably deserved it. She didn’t want to appear like a petulant child, but if she kept her anger bottled up, she’d explode. Maybe her mother could take tyranny with a smile, but it burned and itched and writhed inside Kira like acid in her veins.
The barn loomed on the nearby hill as Kira hurried for it. At least she couldn’t hear the prisoner’s screams anymore. Her stomach protested as she jogged, but she had no appetite while Sa’alu smiled like an eel in her mind’s eye.
She decided against knocking. The sliding door rattled open faster than it should have.
The lantern’s dim light revealed Tekkyn’s back to her as he stood near the prisoner. Very near, as if they’d been whispering.
Tekkyn jumped back at the sound of the door. His stature stiffened, then relaxed as he spotted her in the doorway. “Kira.”
What was he doing? Kira took a hesitant step inside. If her brother was continuing Sa’alu’s work by himself, she’d never look at him the same way again.
“I . . . thought you might like some dinner.” She moved to the table, avoiding the bloodstain as she unfurled her cloth. The rice cakes and cheese looked entirely unappetizing next to it.
“Thanks.” Tekkyn’s voice was smooth behind her as he approached.
Kira’s hackles rose. Her knife sliced the cheese in two, and she snatched the smaller chunk and a rice cake as she dodged to the side.
The prisoner was watching her with eyes like simmering embers. Just as terrifying as in the forest but somehow quelled. She looked away and swallowed, forcing herself to take a step toward him. He’s tied up like a wild hog. He can’t hurt me.
“What are you doing?” Tekkyn asked behind her.
Kira suddenly felt even more foolish. “Are you starving him too?”
Her brother was silent long enough to make her skin crawl. “Be careful.”
Kira stepped forward, putting her gaze on anything except the prisoner’s eyes. The trickle of blood down his stomach. It had dried over his chiseled muscles—nope, better not look there, either. She stared at the food in her hands, cursing herself for this stupid idea.
“I’m sorry about this,” she whispered.
He didn’t respond. Only the sound of Tekkyn chewing behind her disturbed the still barn.
Kira realized she’d spoken in her own language. “I’m sorry,” she blurted in Phoeran.
Silence.
Kira glanced up. He was staring at the food.
“Um, here.” She brought the rice cake up to his mouth in an awkward jerk. Please don’t bite me.
The prisoner grabbed the cake between his teeth and somehow got the whole thing in his mouth. He barely chewed before swallowing. “Sorry about your chickens.”
Kira blinked as she translated. Hesitant relief trickled through her as she cut a reasonably sized bite of cheese from the chunk and held it out.
He snatched it just as fast, wincing with the movement. He chewed slowly and closed his eyes.
Kira glanced over her shoulder at Tekkyn, who raised an eyebrow at her as he popped a bite into his mouth.
She felt herself flush and turned back around. “What were you doing on our land?” she whispered in Phoeran.
He didn’t respond. He seemed to savor the cheese before he swallowed.
Okay, bad question. I’m not interrogating him. “What’s your name?”
His eyes opened and found the rest of the cheese in her hand. “That’s really good.”