the Elders?” Tancho made a face. “Bold choice.”
Crow wasn’t sure who else it could be. “If she didn’t strike the blow herself, she ordered it to be done.”
“You didn’t like her?”
“She smiled as though she intended to rob us blind.” Crow shrugged. “Everything about her felt wrong. The smile, the gesture, the fake surprise at your four riders returning with the message of invaders.”
“You think she’s a part of it?”
“I’d bet your kingdom on it.”
Tancho raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t bet your own?”
“No, I like mine.”
Tancho laughed, and the sound of it flooded Crow’s chest with warmth. He found himself smiling despite his sullen mood. He found himself staring at Tancho’s beautiful profile in the moons’ light, his delicate nose, his cheekbones, jaw . . . and when Tancho caught him staring, he tilted his head. “What?”
“Nothing,” he replied quickly. “I’ve just . . .”
“You’ve just what?”
Trying to avoid seeing his beautiful face and uttering some embarrassing truth, Crow found himself looking up. “I’ve never seen the stars from here.”
Tancho smiled as if he knew it was a lie but had the good grace not to call him out. “Do they look different?”
He searched the clear night sky, marvelling in its familiar beauty. “No. I mapped enough of the stars in my studies to know I’m not at home, but it’s not too different.”
“Is that disappointing?” Tancho asked. “I’ve never seen the stars from any lands but my own. I think I’d be disappointed if they looked the same.”
He scanned the sky and the blanket of stars above them. “No. It’s a comfort. Something familiar when everything else has changed.”
Tancho’s gaze fell to Crow then; he could feel the burn of his stare. But he daren’t look at him. He wasn’t sure his heart could take it.
“I think the meat is almost cooked,” Tancho said, eventually. “If you’d prefer more alone time, I’ll have them leave you some.”
Crow met his gaze then. Was he so transparent that Tancho could read him so easily?
Tancho smiled. “Though I can make no promises about what will be left. Kohaku likes to eat.”
He watched Tancho walk back to the fire, and after a moment, Crow followed. He couldn’t sulk all night, as much as he wanted to, and truth be told, he felt better after their little chat. It was proof they could actually have a conversation without trying to kill each other.
Their dinner was a combination of fire-roasted rabbit and fresh berries, and although it wasn’t a huge meal, it was tasty. Tancho made sure the two sleeping guards had some put aside, and Kohaku basically picked every bone clean.
He and Soko clearly got on well, both appreciating the other’s sense of adventure and humour, and Crow was happy to let them do most of the talking. He caught himself staring at Tancho across the fire a few times, and he caught Tancho staring back a few times as well.
But eventually the conversation quietened, everyone lay down, and the night was filled with crickets chirping instead. If Crow listened hard over the sound of the fire, he could make out the gentle trickle of the river and perhaps some critters that came to drink from it.
When he heard Tancho wake the guards for their change of shift, Crow closed his eyes.
The burning pain in his wrist woke Crow just as the sun was rising. He sat up to find Tancho gone from where he’d been sleeping. Kohaku was still snoring, Soko still splayed on his back, and the two guards were saddling the horses. Karasu was sitting up, mixing something in a bowl. But Tancho . . .
Came walking back from the river. He looked tired and genuinely sorry. “Apologies. I forgot,” he said. “I was still half-asleep and thought fresh water sounded like a good idea.”
Crow scrubbed his hand over his face. He couldn’t even be mad, because lifelong habits were ritual, and these blasted birthmarks had been joined for what? Two days? It felt so much longer.
“Fresh water sounds like a good idea,” Crow said, his voice rough. He got to his feet, and together, he and Tancho walked down to the river.
The water was cold and so clear Crow could see every tiny pebble on the bottom. He knelt by the edge and splashed his face, then cupped his hands and drank. “How much time do we have?” he asked.
Tancho shrugged. “We should be leaving soon if we want to make Yura by tonight.”
“What’s Yura?”
“A village. There’s an inn that