Emberhawk - Jamie Foley Page 0,33
her voicing a desire to attack him meant she wasn’t planning on actually following through. If she were preparing to kill him, wouldn’t she keep her threats to herself?
Although she hadn’t proven herself to be the sharpest tool on the carpenter’s wall so far. She could be one of those hyper-intelligent types who doesn’t have any common sense.
He closed his eyes. “Wake me up if you hear anything suspicious.”
“Like a green-eyed fox god popping out of nowhere?”
Ryon sighed. She’d peppered him with questions about Felix as he’d set up the hammock one-handed—a task far more difficult than he’d foreseen. He’d finally got her to shut up by reminding her of his “no nagging” rule.
“At least answer this: why did you ask him to give us a ride to Jadenvive? He’s a fox—he couldn’t even carry your backpack without dragging it through the dirt.”
Well, maybe he could answer that one. Kira should have known already, anyway. Unless the Malaano Empire had mangled their history books beyond recognition while trying to make a god out of that seven-tailed tyrant, Lillian.
“He’s not really a fox; that’s just his preferred form.” Ryon opened one eye to peek at Kira. “Elementals can take the form of any animal they encounter.”
Kira’s eyes widened. “Like something big enough to carry both of us to Jadenvive?”
“Let’s just say Felix has been around a while and encountered some interesting things.” Ryon smirked and closed his eyes. “Now be quiet if you want to get a chance to sleep before daybreak.”
Kira muttered something under her breath—he thought he heard the word “gentleman” in the Malaano language.
His smirk widened into a smile. If he had to be stuck in this situation with someone, at least it was a snarky, delightful little firecracker. If only she didn’t hate him.
“Hey, hand me that herb pouch,” Ryon said.
Kira glared at him.
“Please.” He presented her with his most dazzling smile.
She blinked and looked away as she grabbed the pouch. “What do you want?”
“Fadeleaf, please.”
Kira narrowed her eyes at him. “If you take that, I won’t be able to wake you up like you just told me to.”
“I won’t take that much.” Ryon laced his fingers together over his chest. “Without it, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep at all, thanks to the modifications you made to my shoulder.” He eyed her loose purple outfit and found a tear near her ribs, which she quickly covered with her hand. “Unless you have some blissroot stashed in your pajamas.”
Kira grumbled something else he couldn’t discern. She handed him a bundle of thick succulents.
Ryon selected a pair of leaves and popped them into his mouth. “Thanks.”
He bit down and slipped them under his tongue. The staggeringly strong taste reminded him of his grandmother’s tea—the kind she made for him when the nightmares about his father had plagued him as a teenager.
Artificial exhaustion hit him like a gale from the ocean, bringing with it a homesick longing for the black-sand beaches of the Emberhawk tribal lands. He hadn’t seen them in years. And he couldn’t, lest the queen or Zamara find him and do creator-knew-what.
Ryon closed his eyes and let the feeling of sleep wash over him, like the aroma of a purple field of lavender. So Felix had no idea I was in trouble. If he had known, would he have come? Or would I have been in a jail cell in Navarro by daybreak?
He slit an eye open and peeked at Kira. She sat slumped on the branch, her head tilted back to rest on the oak’s trunk.
Ryon’s fingertips brushed the hilt of his dagger. Creator, don’t let her kill me.
The hammock’s gentle swaying rocked him to sleep. Time ebbed and slowed until something nudged his foot. Then again, harder.
“Wake up,” Kira whispered.
Ryon groaned and forced one eye open. Kira was nothing but a blurry shadow leaning over him. Her blue eyes were wide and fixed on something behind him.
He grabbed his dagger. “What?”
“I think there’s something . . .” Kira slowly moved back and pointed.
Ryon sat up, his heart leaping into a rapid pace as he glanced over his shoulder.
The Gnarled Wood was cloaked in darkness, revealing only silhouettes of pine branches swaying ever so slightly.
One tree had more branches than he remembered.
About eight more.
They moved in perfect time with the rest of the forest, swaying in the gentle night breeze, but they were straighter than others. And they bore no leaves.
Click . . . click . . . click.
Dread shot through Ryon. D’hakka!
Ryon