Kira kicked at the edge of the circle of dirt Ryon had cleared around the fire. “So what were you doing on our land?”
Ryon paused his whittling for only a moment. Otherwise, he didn’t respond; then he continued his work.
Kira frowned at the awkward way he held the stick between his boots, letting his injured left arm rest as he carved a knot from the wood with his right. Of course he wouldn’t tell her if he were a spy. What if he were an assassin? Or just a lowly scout?
No, that didn’t line up with the white paint of his mask. She’d heard that Tribal Alliance soldiers were marked by colors that indicated rank by the heat of flame.
“Your mask is white. Doesn’t that mean you hold a high rank?”
Shick. Shick, shick. Ryon focused on the splint as if he’d lost his hearing.
Kira pursed her lips. “If we’re traveling together now, surely that imparts some level of trust—”
“See if this’ll work.” Ryon flipped his blade inverse in his hand as he held the makeshift splint out to her.
Kira sighed and took it, admiring the smooth wood. If only she had some volcanic bubble-rock for sanding off the sharp edges, it would have been perfect.
She set the splint against her swollen ankle, comparing its curvature and length. “It’d be fine if my ankle wasn’t the size of a feathermane egg.” At least the burn on her hand wasn’t blistering, which hopefully meant it would heal quickly.
Ryon pulled at the edge of his cloak and began sawing the serration of his blade against the thick cloth. He steadied the cloak with his left hand, not hiding a grimace as he worked.
Now he’s putting himself in pain to make me a stupid brace? What manner of crazy is he? Kira stared as Ryon sheared off a thick slice one finger’s length of cloth at a time, forming a long ribbon. Maybe he has one of those double minds I’ve read about.
She considered her next words carefully. “You seemed like you didn’t know that the barn was on fire.”
Ryon’s grimace became a wince. “No. I honestly didn’t mean to do that.”
Kira watched him warily. “Oh?”
His dagger sliced in a clean line as it caught a smooth seam. “I burned through the rope that tied me, but I forgot to put it out. The embers must have caught the rafters after I left.”
Kira didn’t understand how the Phoera element worked enough to decide how plausible a story that was. She didn’t even know her own Malo element—only the wealthiest Navakovrae could afford the training to become wavesingers.
She narrowed her eyes. “Did you accidentally attack Tekkyn and the other soldier too?”
“Nope.” Ryon’s blade cut through the dirty edge of his cloak. He sheathed it and inspected the ribbon. “Tekkyn planned that.”
Kira couldn’t prevent a scoff from tumbling out. “Really? Did he also give you the reins to our oxen and foxtail flowers for luck on your journey?”
“No, but he gave you all his sarcasm, apparently.”
Kira wished her glare could start fires of its own. “Why did you say you two aren’t enemies? Because the war hasn’t officially started yet?”
“Because he doesn’t want the war.” Ryon dropped the ribbon on his pant leg and held the frayed edge of his cloak taught in a straight line, inspecting the loose threads. “He said many Navakovrae don’t, either.”
Kira also hadn’t wanted the war until this jackwagon had ruined everything. Now the idea didn’t seem quite so abhorrent. “And you claim he let you go just because of that?”
“No, he let me go so I could ask my chieftess to spare your family and place your land under her protection.” Ryon pushed his cloak behind him and retrieved the ribbon. He grunted as he pushed himself to his feet. “He said the Empire has drafted every man in your family, and that the rest of you will be defenseless on the border whenever the emperor declares war.”
Kira’s protest died in her throat. Did betraying their country and bargaining with the enemy sound like crimes her brother would commit? No . . . at least, not the brother who’d left years ago. Was he that desperate? Was the situation so dire?
She barely heard Ryon sit on a gnarled root next to her. Tekkyn had seemed so loyal to his commanding officer. He’d participated in torturing a prisoner. His aura was icier than she remembered.
But he’d asked her to trust him. How could she trust a brother she