Emberhawk - Jamie Foley Page 0,16

heart hammered against her ribs. She set her lantern down gently, thankful it didn’t crackle any dying foliage. Neither did her first tentative step toward the light. Nor the second.

Ryon’s silver hair reflected the clearing’s scattered moonlight more than it did his campfire. He fiddled with something in his lap that Kira couldn’t see over a thick bramble of vines.

Then he ducked his head and settled his arm into a makeshift sling with a new assortment of grunts and growls.

A sliver of pity trickled through Kira. This whole situation was arguably her fault, or at least partially. What had she been planning to do once she found him, anyway?

Ryon leaned his head back against a trunk and closed his eyes. He breathed like he’d just finished a race.

The change in his posture revealed what his sling was made of: the checkered pattern of her mother’s handkerchief. The same one she’d used to bring him dinner. He’d shredded it and tied the pieces together in sloppy knots.

Kira gritted her teeth and withdrew a throwing knife from its sheath on her thigh.

This man had hurt her brother, who could be dead by now if the smoke burned his lungs badly enough. And even if the ranch could recover from losing their stores of hay, they’d have to sell off the majority of their cattle come winter. Their prize breeding bulls would be slaughtered like pigs.

And the skins Lee had prepared would have to buy something other than their mother’s medicine. It had been hard enough to scrape together extra goods to trade for her last hope. Her final chance at healing had also gone up in Ryon’s flame.

Trespassing. Theft. Arson. Murder. He’ll pay with his life.

Kira controlled her breathing as she raised her blade, balancing its tip as her father had taught her. Goddess, let my aim strike true. She reared back and let it fly.

The knife thunked into the wood beside Ryon’s head.

Ryon jumped. Fiery eyes turned, focused on her, and vanished from existence.

Kira grabbed her second blade as terror mingled with bloodthirst in her veins. So what if he could bend light; she’d still be able to hear him if he moved, right?

“Kira?” Ryon’s voice sounded from the direction of the fire. “What’re you doing out here?”

She didn’t move from her ready stance. Sweat trickled down her arm. Come closer. I dare you.

Something thumped on the ground to her left. Kira threw her knife before she’d finished blinking. Her blade cut through the darkness and skittered across the ground.

“The Gnarled Wood is no place for a girl in her pajamas.”

Kira grabbed her last knife and turned to the right, where his voice originated. She cursed herself for falling for it—he’d probably just thrown something. She wouldn’t release her last knife until she heard him speak within striking range.

“You will pay for what you’ve done,” she said.

A moment of quiet passed. “Sorry, that jerky looked too delicious to resist.”

“You could have killed my brother!” Kira snarled. “He might have died already. You burned down our barn—you destroyed our entire livelihood!”

Silence fell for so long that Kira thought Ryon might have ghosted away. Then he appeared on her right, startling her into nearly dropping her throwing knife.

His silver brows furrowed. “The barn caught fire?”

Kira threw her blade straight at his heart.

Ryon held a hand out, and her knife plunged into the white-streaked wooden mask he held. The same mask he’d worn when she’d first chased him into the forest. The carved demon-like grin would haunt her dreams.

Ryon’s expression above it looked far more human. Almost regretful. “Sorry about that.”

Sorry wouldn’t cut it. And now she was defenseless.

Kira lunged forward, reaching for the hilt of her blade lodged between the eyes of his mask.

Ryon pulled it back, out of her reach. “Hey, I’m not gonna”—she used her momentum to lash out at his throat, but he sidestepped with a motion as practiced and fluid as a river—“fight you,” he finished. “I’d give you my coin purse, but that lieutenant emptied it.”

Kira grabbed his mask, yanked her knife out, and slashed at him.

Ryon gripped her arm before the strike could land in his throat. “That’s enough.” His eyes lost their friendly glint.

Kira tried to rip her arm away as desperation and panic flooded her. He was too strong, despite his wound. She struggled but could only watch as he used his injured left arm to turn her wrist until it opened without her permission, relinquishing her blade to him. He slipped it into his