something she couldn’t discern. Or many things. He was an enigma hidden beneath a fiery paradox.
“I’ll wrap it.” She leaned forward to take his offering and return his glove. “Thanks.” She pressed the herb against her skin, then the splint, thankful for something to distract her from Ryon’s presence. What was she to make of him?
The ribbon fumbled in Kira’s burned hand, but she pressed on. No way can I trek through enemy territory on a busted ankle with this man. He could be more dangerous than the d’hakka or trace cats or anything. She wound the ribbon tight around her foot and shin, hoping to fortify her mental defenses likewise. Just because he’s easy on the eyes and occasionally nice doesn’t mean he’s trustworthy. The only thing I know for sure about him is that he’s a thief!
“Do you think you can walk?” Ryon asked.
“I don’t think so,” Kira said. The longer she delayed, the greater the chance that Lee might come looking and find her. “It’s the middle of the night. Let’s rest and get going tomorrow morning.” The last thing she would do was sleep beside him, but if he were unconscious, she could take her throwing knives from his belt and kill him in his sleep.
Her heart clenched. Okay, maybe she wouldn’t kill him after he’d made her splint. But still, she could at least get away from him and head back home.
“We’d make too much noise and attract too much attention if we moved now, anyway.” Ryon stood with a grunt and rummaged through his pack. “You have any rice cakes hidden in your pajamas? That cheese was good but it turned my insides to acid.”
Kira glared. “Didn’t you steal some jerky?” She shifted to try and see around him and into his pack. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“Well, yeah, but I didn’t pack for two. And I’m not going to use preserves if I can find fresh food.” Ryon eyed her for a moment, then slung his pack over his good shoulder. “You hungry?”
The last thing on her mind was food. “You’re not going to leave me here alone without a weapon . . .”
“Be right back.” Ryon turned and strode into the dark forest.
“Wait!” Kira cried. “You can’t just—”
“Stay close to the fire,” Ryon called back as his silhouette faded into the shadows.
13
RYON
Ryon’s shoulder throbbed in time with his pace through the sleeping woods. He’d hoped it would calm after he’d finished making Kira her stupid splint, but no such luck. It felt impossible to move at all without agitating his wound somehow. It was angry as a hornet’s nest, and exhaustion loomed over him like a coming storm.
He peered up at the largest moon. It shone full and bright tonight, removing the advantage nocturnal inhabitants of the forest normally had over him. A swath of stars splashed across the horizon, and Alani’s third moon hung low to the east, blotting out a patch of lights with a deep green circle. Not a cloud or any hope of rain blurred tonight’s masterpiece.
You’ve really dug your own grave with this one, he told himself. Kira’s father or brothers or the Imperial soldiers could come upon their camp as he slept. They’d be out for his blood. And then what could he do? Fight back and risk killing Kira and Tekkyn’s family?
No, he couldn’t just let them take him. The orphans had already come too close to losing their father figure today. He’d survive the encounter at any cost, and make it home to deliver the remaining honey drops to their bright little smiles.
Ryon spotted a bird’s nest on a low-hanging branch. It didn’t appear to have a bird resting in it, so he pulled the branch down and pushed up on the toes of his boots to look inside. Two small eggs gleamed blue in the moonlight.
Swooptail. Their mating season had only just started, meaning these eggs probably had edible yolks inside.
Ryon carefully removed the entire nest from the branch and folded it in on itself. The soft downy interior and padded sticks would hopefully keep the eggs unbroken until he made it back to camp. And the nest itself would make great kindling if Kira had let his campfire die out.
A good start. Ryon stuffed the nest in his pack and scanned the underbrush for the signature spiked leaves of his favorite tuber. They weren’t in season yet, but maybe he could get lucky. The spirit of luck was moody today.
Something scratched