Silverblood Read online

  Except there was no resistance. The tribesmen were weak—first because of drought, then the Emberhawks’ arson, and now this. Many had nothing left.

  Kira bit the inside of her cheek and urged herself to stay strong. They would survive this, just like they’d survived everything else. Aeo had already provided a safe haven in this very same cave Ryon had planned their last date in. She could still vividly recall the sky paint he’d made in radiant lights above the crystalline waters.

  Now the space was huddled with homeless people in shock and mourning. Some gazes full of horror, others dead and blank. They just wanted to get out of this cursed city, some said. The Jade Witch’s curse had spread to Jadenvive itself.

  She had to be strong for them. Joyful for the children. Reassuring for the traumatized. Trusting for Ryon. Hopeful for his return, because she refused to imagine any alternative.

  A shout of joy sounded from the lookout at the cave’s entrance, and Kira nearly dropped the second bowl as Tekkyn filled it. She craned her neck for a better view, stretching the scar from Zamara’s hand she hadn’t yet grown accustomed to.

  An azure mask stepped through the breach—one of the few Katrosi combatants who’d survived. Behind him was a man of stature with an unfamiliar face, followed by a second azure. Kira’s spirit leapt as Ryon emerged, looking dead on his feet.

  He no longer wore the small gray cloak on one shoulder that bore the five-pointed star of the Tribal Alliance. The other man bore it instead.

  Kira’s gut knotted as the people cheered—loud enough to possibly compromise their location, even so far underground.

  The man with Ryon’s cloak bowed as Ryon stepped forward and raised his voice. “We still have not found Brooke, but she offered Ulysses the position of vice before the invasion. He accepts it now!”

  “At your service.” Ulysses’s bow dipped lower as he fell to one knee. “Strength and humility. Justice and mercy. Discipline and joy. Between great sacrifice and great love shines the creator’s glory.”

  The echoing cheer made Kira certain they’d all be caught. But considering the drastic change in the atmosphere, perhaps it was worth it. Life returned to the defeated as swiftly as a rising gasp from deep waters.

  Kira glanced at the twin piles of furs where Vylia and Sousuke still slept soundly. The teen elementalist sitting nearby gave her a goofy grin and a thumbs-up.

  Is he preventing them from hearing the noise? Kira wondered. Either the teen was really talented or he just wanted to impress her and got lucky—the princess and her guardian were so exhausted and weak they probably could have slept through a harpy attack. Regardless, Kira smiled back and nodded her thanks.

  “I will only assume the chiefdom until Brooke can be found,” Ulysses said as the people gathered around him. “There is another holdout in the merchant’s quarter. I will be moving back and forth between these two locations, coordinating . . .”

  Kira tuned him out as Ryon caught her gaze and headed in her direction. She set the forgotten bowls of chili down and hugged him tight as he crashed into her.

  “Thank Aeo you’re safe,” she muffled into his leather armor.

  “Thank Aeo that Ulysses is safe,” Ryon whispered through her curls. “I was more likely to die from stress than from being caught by a Malaano patrol.”

  Kira pulled back and admired him. She removed his dirtied lenses and rubbed the glass with her tunic. “Good thing you’re a professional scout.”

  “Spy.” Ryon winked.

  Kira narrowed her eyes at him. “You’ve lied to me about your job so many times I’m about to believe you’re actually a circus monkey.”

  He shrugged with a lopsided grin. “That too.” He took her hand, leading her beside him toward an empty spot by the water. “That’s why I make a dragon’s stash of rupero, balemba.”

  Kira would have rolled her eyes if she wasn’t so happy to see him. “Okay, so did you find anything besides Ulysses on your scouting spying monkey mission?”

  “Lots of things. One you’re going to need to sit down for.” He squinted down at the water’s edge and hesitantly sat on the rock. “But first, can I just . . . lie down for a bit?”

  “Of course,” Kira said as he stretched out on the stone and closed his eyes with a raspy exhale. “Are you hungry?”

  “I’m a lot of things.” Ryon rubbed his eyelids. “Mostly grateful for Ulysses right now. Thank the stars I don’t have to play chief any more.” He peeked an eye open under the crook of his arm. “And you. Aish, you’re gorgeous. How’d I get so lucky?”

  Kira felt heat rise in her cheeks and smirked. “Felix must have rubbed off on you.” She noted how a clasp on his shoulder strap tightened as he stretched. She set his lenses down beside him and worked to loosen the leather. “When was the last time you slept? I can’t keep track of what time of day it is down here.”

  Ryon grunted and closed his eyes again. “I can sleep when I’m dead. Which probably isn’t too far off.”

  “Not without my permission, you won’t.” Kira pulled hard on the leather strap and was rewarded with a release of tension, both from the buckle and from Ryon. “Oh, I almost forgot!” she said. “I saved a couple of chicken eggs for you.”

  Ryon gasped and beamed up at her. “Really?”

  Kira chuckled. “Yeah, I couldn’t help but notice you love eggs. And you get me gifts all the time, so . . .”

  “You love me!” Ryon grabbed her around the waist and pulled until she lost her balance, squeaked, and fell over him. He nuzzled into her shoulder and made a purring noise.

  Kira grinned and enjoyed the awkward embrace. “Okay, okay. Let go so I can make them for you.”

  Ryon released her but took hold of her forearm. He pushed up into a sitting position. “I need to ask you something.”

  “Oh?” Kira remembered his lenses and handed them back. As Ryon slid them in front of his fiery eyes, she regretted not having done it herself.

  “Our evadír isn’t technically over yet, but . . . I’m not technically Katrosi, and neither are you.” He grinned sheepishly. “Do you want to marry me?”

  Kira’s thoughts and breath eloped, leaving her to stare at him like an astonished statue. “I . . . Are . . . Are you proposing? Because of eggs?”

  “No! I mean yes. Well, kind of.” Ryon’s olive skin flushed in the dim light. “If I were, what would you say?”

  Kira swallowed in an attempt to fix her pitchy voice. “I would say yes.”

  Ryon’s smile stretched wide. “Good, because we aren’t promised tomorrow, and I don’t really like waiting.” He scratched his neck awkwardly. “Do you?”

  A small “no” was all Kira could manage.

  “But I mean, I want to actually ask you in a better place than this. Because anywhere is better than this, and I have plans. And I have to ask your father, too.”

  Kira’s joy dimmed. “My father is in the barracks in Navarro. And I’m not sure what he’ll say.”

  “He already gave permission for me to evadír with you. I’ll do whatever it takes.” Ryon’s expression transformed in a way she couldn’t discern. “But he’s not in Navarro. He’s much closer.”

  “What?”

  “He led the invasion,” Ryon whispered. “Commander Oda’e is now the imperial governor of Jadenvive.”

  Lysander couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. Maybe Felix looked on from afar, or maybe Heron’s presence was grinding a hole through his sanity.

  They were close now—closer than anyone realized. The forest grew tangled with dangling vines, the humidity thickened, and branches burst with tropical flowers. Even this far north from the coast, and despite the recent drought to the east, the jungle flourished.

  Lysander might have been able to see Coriander’s camp through the vegetation if it weren’t cloaked by Phoera light-benders. Maybe the elementalist guards were the source of his unease. Maybe they wouldn’t reveal themselves to him since he led such a strange group.

 
What’s wrong? Nariellyn’s voice broke through his mind as she urged her xavi to trot alongside Sorrel.

  Lysander scolded himself. My mental shields obviously aren’t working.

  No, you’re improving quickly. Just keep practicing and you’ll be out of the rookie phase in no time. He could feel Nariellyn’s gaze on him, but he didn’t meet her gaze. Why are you so . . . anxious?

  Lysander considered brushing her off, then decided it probably wouldn’t hurt to tell her. We’re very close to our destination. I’m reconsidering letting Soaring Heron in.

  Why? Nariellyn asked.

  Because he’s untrustworthy.

  She inclined her head out of the corner of Lysander’s vision. That’s probably true.

  Lysander appreciated that he wasn’t the only one who disliked the arrogant Darkwood prince. Is there a way with thought magic to prevent him from knowing the camp’s location, or . . . ?

  Nariellyn’s xavi tossed its head and bobbed its thick, pointed tail. Advanced thought-readers can create false memories, but they can’t erase real ones. She leaned forward and patted her mount’s neck. You could just assassinate him.

  Lysander snorted, then realized it might give their secret conversation away. He yearned to glance back at Brooke, wondering if she were listening in. He barely resisted the temptation to pry into her thoughts.

  I never take a life without good reason, he thought.

  Uh-huh, Nariellyn’s thought-voice was flat. So, you should woo Brooke with intellectual stuff. Like philosophy or riddles or whatever. You know, boring stuff that smart people talk about.

  Lysander nearly fell off his gryphon. What?

  Normal flirting won’t work on her—she’s heard it all because of politicians trying to suck up to her. So gifts and compliments and stuff don’t really mean anything because it’s almost always followed by someone wanting a favor.

  Lysander didn’t know how to interrupt her without tipping Brooke off to a conversation he really, really didn’t want her involved in.

  He gathered himself for a straightforward response. Thanks, but I’m obviously not interested in pursuing her. She’s engaged, in case you hadn’t noticed.

  He’s a pile of dung, in case you hadn’t noticed.

  Lysander grunted. There’s nothing I can do about it.

  You could talk to her.

  I already did, and she doesn’t want me, okay? Something between shame and defeat corkscrewed into his heart. I appreciate your aether training, but I didn’t ask you for advice. If you want to play matchmaker, she’s the one you need to bother.

  He didn’t hear a response from Nariellyn for so long that he assumed she’d fallen back in line with the others—he didn’t want to look to check and risk burning her with his glare.

  She does want you. You’re just too dull to realize it.

  Lysander sat up straight in the saddle and whipped his neck around to find Nariellyn, but she was already giggling at something she whispered to Brooke, who rolled her eyes and smirked.

  A growl vibrated in his throat, and he didn’t care if it was too loud. Nariellyn must have no idea he’d already been forward with Brooke and taken a brutal rejection. Starry-eyed girl.

  Dimbae replaced Nariellyn at Lysander’s flank as their mounts crashed side-by-side through the brush. The bodyguard said something Lysander couldn’t discern, so he asked Dimbae to repeat it, and watched his lips carefully.

  “I sense Phoera,” Dimbae mouthed slowly.

  Lysander pulled on Sorrel’s reins and held up a hand to signal that the group should stop. The trees looked familiar, especially the giant one with the black scar down its middle where it had survived a lightning strike years ago. Wasn’t that tree inside the camp the last time he’d visited?

  He patted Sorrel’s soft neck as he squinted into the jungle before them. The tree canopy above remained still—too still. Phoeran magic choked the air, surrounding them and clouding his senses.

  “I am Lysander, firstborn of King Brynn!” he yelled. “We come in the name of peace. I have brought the Katrosi chieftess to aid your cause!”

  The jungle shifted and shimmered. Vines seemed to move and light dimmed, then abruptly, the group was surrounded by men dressed in furs and painted with camouflage. A dozen arrows and spears targeted Lysander’s chest.

  He slowly raised his hands as a familiar face pressed through the line of warriors and barked something at them. Their weapons lowered as his little brother took a proud stance and grinned.

  “I know who you are,” Coriander signed, then bowed to Brooke. “Welcome to the rebellion.”

  Brooke gazed in fascination as the Phoera invisibility dissolved all around them, revealing a camp nestled into the jungle. Walls of rough-hewn spikes surrounded tipis camouflaged with giant leaves. Curious children watched from a fire pit in front of an expansive lodge as green-splotched soldiers awaited a command from their leader: a pale-skinned Lysander lookalike who could only be Coriander.

  The brothers embraced and slapped each other on the back—hard. “Hey, has your voice finally dropped? I can’t tell,” Lysander quipped.

  “Hey, you finally hobbled your way here. Did you make yourself a cane yet?” Coriander signed as he spoke. “You know, I hear the newest thing for people your age is called dentures—false teeth—so you can eat solid foods again! I have some old broken nails you could use.”

  Lysander huffed a laugh. “A cane would probably be a good idea to remind you who’s stronger. And better-looking.”

  Humor relieved Brooke. She hadn’t been convinced that the brothers would be on friendly terms. Although that still wasn’t entirely clear.

  A noise of awe slipped from Nariellyn. Brooke glanced over her shoulder to find her friend gaping as the spikes they’d nearly trotted into became visible.

  Dimbae caught Brooke’s gaze with a question in his eye. She motioned for him to stand down despite the dozens of nervous weapons that surrounded them.

  “Yes, the healer’s hut should have whatever you need,” Coriander was saying. He turned his eyes to Brooke. “Chieftess.” He approached her xavi and bowed with a flourish of his leaf-colored cape. “What a pleasant surprise. Welcome to my little home away from home.”

  Brooke nodded, impressed that he could recognize her without her headdress and war paint. Well, it was only a guess between her and Nariellyn, after all. “I apologize for the intrusion,” Brooke said. “I have urgent business to discuss with you, Your Majesty.”

  Coriander’s dark brows raised as he glanced at Lysander. “Well, I’m not sure that title is fully earned yet, but I have a feeling that’s what you’re here for.”

  Brooke tugged on the reins of her xavi as it pawed the ground, cracking fallen vegetation underfoot. Perhaps it would be best to state her intentions outright and answer the question in his expression. She got the feeling that he didn’t mind discussing such matters in front of his men, and having weapons sheathed would be an improvement.

  “I am here to support your claim to the throne in hopes that you will join the Tribal Alliance.”

  Coriander’s face brightened with a roguish grin that reminded her of Ryon. “You are very welcome indeed,” he said as his men whooped. “As soon as the rest of the Emberhawk recognize my leadership, it would be my honor to join the Alliance and finally bring lasting peace to our two peoples.”

  Brooke returned his smile as a flicker of hope lit in her heart. That was. . . way too easy. Maybe the Elder of Aether wasn’t crazy after all.

  “We can discuss details over a feast tonight,” Coriander declared in a raised voice, and his men cheered again. “But first, I’m sure your journey was exhausting. Let me offer you a place to rest.” He motioned to a soldier and whispered something, then turned on his heel and waved them into the belly of the camp, where Brooke felt like a bonfire was missing in the center of a collection of dozens of mats, crude benches, and chairs. Perhaps they only had this small fire pit because any more smoke would give away their
location.

  Soaring Heron pulled his mount alongside Brooke’s as they slowly moved along a foot-path, now greeted by waves from tent flaps and squeals of delighted, dirty children.

  “So primitive,” Heron murmured. “Are you sure these people are worth allying with?”

  The first good news in days and of course he had to squash it and insult their prospective allies before a deal was struck. “You know this is a rebellion, right? They should be in a translucent gold palace.” Brooke said, not caring to hide her annoyance.

  “I don’t see any gold,” Heron muttered. “How long do we need to stay here?”

  “As long as it takes,” Brooke said as she kicked her xavi forward.

  Coriander led them to the stables, where the mounts were refreshed with water and feed. As Sorrel began to preen herself on a bed of straw, a young woman with a round belly appeared with two young children in tow. She approached Coriander with a kiss, then hurried to Brooke with a curtsy. “I am Iraleth, Coriander’s wife—”

  “Queen,” Coriander corrected as the little girl and boy each clamped onto one of his legs. He bent over and tickled them with a playful growl.

  Iraleth grinned. “Allow me to show you our accommodations. If the women would follow me, please.”

  Heron moved into Brooke’s shadow. “I will sleep with my fiancée.”

  Brooke’s heart leapt into her throat. “No,” she blurted before her mind could catch up. “I will room with Nari.”

  Heron’s lips pursed. He opened his mouth, but closed it again a moment later. Coriander led the men down a winding path through the encampment, and Heron followed.

  Brooke didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until Heron fell out of sight. A touch on her arm jolted her back to reality. She found Nariellyn’s angry gaze beside her.

  “You look like you woke up in a d’hakka’s nest and just realized what it’s gonna do to you,” Nariellyn whispered.