beside her, not quite touching. His warmth and familiar wood-sweet scent would have been comforting, had he not obviously had something to say, something that left him awkward and nervous.
“What is it?” she asked, after a few moments of listening to him draw breath but not speak.
“I—” He swallowed. She’d never seen him so nervous. “I know how hard a time this is for you. I’m sorry.”
She swallowed an unkind reply—his parents had died when he was young. Maybe he did know.
“Thank you,” she said instead. “And thank you for taking us in.”
He shrugged it aside and took her hand, his broad palm engulfing hers. “Zhir, I know this isn’t the best time, but…”
“You want help from Cay Laii? I’ll do whatever I can, but I need to talk to Mau—”
“No, no.” He cut her off as her chest began to tighten at the thought. “I mean, yes, we’d welcome any help Laii can offer, but that’s not what I want to ask.” His hand tightened on hers, and the heron ring dug into both their flesh. “Zhir, would you marry me?”
She opened her mouth, closed it again, and turned to stare at him. A lattice of light fell over his face, caught splinters of gold in his eyes. “Are you—You’re serious.”
“Yes. When this is over. If I don’t get killed by the Dai Tranh or the Khas.” His lips twisted. “Not the best marriage offer, I know, but will you consider it?”
Would she? Dizzying, to realize that the choice was hers alone. She’d always assumed her mother would make a match for her when she finished her apprenticeship, had considered it as inevitable as the tide. But now she had no mother, no master. And now that the Khas knew her loyalties, she had no one to hide from anymore.
Jabbor watched her, brow creasing as her silence stretched. A month ago his proposal would have left her giddy.
“I will,” she said at last. “I mean, yes, I’ll marry you. But I need time, Jabbor. First Vasilios, and now my mother, and I don’t know what Clan Laii will say—”
“Of course, of course. I don’t want to rush you. I just wanted you to know how I feel, before—”
She nodded and leaned in to kiss him. He wrapped his arms around her and she sank into his warmth. But the cold, hollow feeling in her chest wouldn’t go away.
The Ki Dai left Cay Lin before dusk, changing their route in case the Tigers were waiting. The gibbous moon had already risen, a milky ghost through the clouds. Xinai and Phailin had spent the day making charms, weaving owl and night-heron feathers with night-vision spells. They’d turned to nightjars when they ran out of larger birds, but every witch and warrior with them could see in the dark now. Safer than smuggler’s lanterns, though they carried those as well.
They could never reach all the wards in one night, but hopefully they wouldn’t need to. If they could destroy enough of them, the circuit would be sufficiently weakened for Selei’s invocation at the cauldron to work. Or so they prayed.
Xinai tried not to stare at the sullen glow of the mountain as they worked.
She ended up teamed with Phailin and the young boy who’d been reluctant to fight the Tigers. The wards closest to the Kurun Tam were their task.
The boy, Ngai, might have been too young to shave, but he knew his witchcraft. The three of them picked at the web of magic until it weakened, then dragged the post from the earth. The spell made a sound like a snapping silk cord as it broke.
They grinned when the first ward fell, but by the third they were sweating from the effort as well as the humidity, and worked with silent frowns. Closer and closer to the walls of the Kurun Tam they moved, scanning the jungle as they crept from post to post. Through gaps in the trees, Xinai saw a plume of smoke smudging the sky over the city, nearly lost in the low clouds. The first distraction was under way.
They were close enough to the Kurun Tam to watch the second begin.
She heard the warning shout first and looked away in time. A heartbeat later flame blossomed inside the walls. Glass buoys filled with oil made lovely firebombs. The flames had spread by the time they ripped down the last ward. Shouts and cries and the screams of horses carried from the courtyard.