stopped following her ever since Zamara.” Kira sensed the moment slipping away. “I don’t worship elementals anymore!”
“Oh?” Ryon wrapped his arms around her, but his hands were light on her hips. “Who do you follow now, then?”
“The creator! He can’t be dead,” Kira blurted. “He answered my prayer and sent Felix right when I was sure we were going to die. And you follow him, right?”
Ryon tilted his head. “That’s not a decision to be made lightly. You should choose for yourself.”
Kira gripped his tunic tight and willed him to understand. “I have chosen.”
Ryon’s gaze smelted into pure desire. He pursed his lips as if to control them. “Let me meet your parents first.” He released her but slipped the fingers of a bandaged hand between hers. “You should be more cautious, balemba. We haven’t known each other that long. You never know—I could be a thief or a liar or something.” His grin was that of a fox.
A frown battled across Kira’s face and lost. She willed herself back down to reality. “I think I’ve got you figured out.”
Ryon started up the ramp again, then seemed embarrassed when he realized they weren’t alone—dozens of people hurried up and down the path beside them. Apparently such displays of affection were no longer uncommon in the razed city.
“So, you finally figured out what balemba means, besides ‘butterfly,’ then?” he asked.
Kira tore her mind from the moment she’d never forget, pouting like a child taken from her favorite toy. “What? Have you been calling me a caterpillar this entire time?”
He laughed. “No! It’s pretty much slang for ‘beautiful girl.’”
So it does mean “babe!” Of course. Kira rolled her eyes. “But you called me that from the beginning.”
“You were beautiful from the beginning.”
Her hand tingled in his, and her spirit warmed, but if he wouldn’t kiss her again, she refused to be teased. “Okay, you’d better not turn into a schmoozer.”
She stepped onto a new platform filled with buildings taller and more elegant than any treehouse should be. One in particular towered over the others with a mahogany roof, its own parapets and twin guard towers and heavy fortifications. Men in dark cloaks and azure masks guarded massive double doors.
“Looks like the Great Hall wasn’t damaged.” Ryon pulled her toward it. “With this many defenses, Brooke’s gotta be inside. And I’d bet my mask Tekkyn’s there too.”
47
RYON
Ryon had never found it so difficult to control himself. Thank the lands above and below they had something else to focus on as the guards opened the doors to the Great Hall. After Kira had just lost one brother, she must be paranoid about the other.
Ryon wasn’t about to let anything else hurt her—he couldn’t squander this chance. Kira actually wanted him after all he’d done to ruin her farm girl way of life. So he was determined to marry her before she could realize that he was just a run-of-the-mill moron. Felix must really be the deity of luck, no matter what he said about not being a god.
The Great Hall buzzed with noise. Its grand table was cluttered with papers, books, and tools. Brooke stood at the bottom of the stairs in soot-stained armor, arguing with nobles. Her brown braids looked singed, as if she’d quenched the fires herself. She looked more like an angry, disheveled young mother than the chieftess. As usual.
“. . . of your soldiers named Ryon,” a voice was saying.
Ryon heard his name and sidestepped around the table to find Tekkyn bound and on his knees. He spoke urgently to an azure mask who stood over him with a hand on his sword hilt. “I gave the letter to him—”
“Tekkyn!” Kira cried, lurching toward her brother. Ryon caught her arms and held her back, wincing at the pain in his hands.
All eyes landed on them. Ryon released Kira and bowed to the chieftess. “Strength and humility.”
“Strength,” Brooke returned, her brown eyes analyzing Kira. She whispered something to the nobles, who protested, but she waved a hand at them and strode toward Ryon.
“You’re alive. Thank Aeo.” Brooke frowned at the bruises peeking out from Ryon’s shirt. She smelled of smoke, and the bags under her eyes assured him that she hadn’t slept since the first explosion. “And this must be Kiralau of Navarro.”
“Yes.” Kira gave an awkward bow. “Um, are you the Jade. . .”
Ryon flinched. Don’t say it!
But only exhaustion haunted Brooke’s features. “I am Brooke, granddaughter of High Chief Torvyn. Chieftess of the Katrosi people. Head of the Tribal