and alchemical components.
“Here.” Kira wiped her hand on her pants, which looked more feminine than the baggy selection Ryon had last seen her wearing. She took a jar from the nightstand, uncorked it, and offered it to him.
Ryon tore his gaze from her new clothes, which complimented her petite curves with streaks of pale gold. “Thanks,” he said as he took the jar and drank deeply, wincing at the pang in his shoulder. At least the pain wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been.
Still, lying back down was probably the best course of action. “How long have I been here?” he asked.
“This is the third day.” Kira took the jar and replaced it, clinking the clay against the glass bottles with a series of chimes. Relief colored her features and summoned a smile. “Waelyn said if your fever broke, you’d probably make it.”
Ryon’s stomach rumbled, demanding attention. “Well, I guess that’s good. Does that mean the infection’s gone?”
“It probably means you’re winning the fight, at least.” Kira straightened and crossed her arms. “Of course it wouldn’t have gotten so bad if you’d have said something.”
Ryon cautiously angled his neck to get a look at his shoulder. Its colors were fading, the swelling had reduced, and the wound itself appeared to be smaller. “Well, I wasn’t really in a position to be vulnerable.”
“You were vulnerable whether you admitted it or not. And you just made yourself more so by not getting help.” Kira moved back to the bench, unfurled a piece of cloth, and retrieved a piece of half-eaten flatbread. She returned to Ryon’s bedside and handed it to him. “Why did you give me my grandmother’s healing herbs instead of using them to prevent an infection?”
“Because you couldn’t walk.” Ryon took the bread with a thankful nod and tore into it.
Kira narrowed her eyes. “You obviously needed them more than I did.”
“Not at the time,” Ryon said through a mouthful.
“Wrong.” Kira sighed and sat on the side of the bed. “But thank you anyway,” she murmured.
Ryon swallowed, savoring the pita’s smooth taste and wood-fired texture. He considered her awkward body language for a long moment. “You’re welcome.”
The slight flush on Kira’s cheeks strengthened his pulse. He’d noticed that she was attractive before, but now she looked angelic. Calm down. It’s probably just that outfit.
A sudden thought chilled him. If she was so alluring to him, surely she would be to other men as well.
He swallowed hard. “Did . . . were you . . .”
Kira gave him a sidelong glance.
Ryon tried again. “Were you . . . safe . . . when I was asleep?”
Kira pursed her lips. “Yes.” Her hand slid to a leather belt on her waist—his belt—whose rough texture and large dagger sheath seemed out of place among the silken fabrics she wore. “I borrowed this. And I haven’t really left this room.”
Relief stirred with another emotion Ryon couldn’t identify. He took a bite and chewed slowly. “Thanks for looking out for me. Waelyn said you had to go out to get something.” Awkwardness clogged the air. “And I, uh, I’m sorry for saying we were married and . . . uh . . .”
“It’s okay.” Kira’s voice sounded strained. “I guess it worked.” Her glare cut into him. “Just don’t do it again.”
Ryon put on his best smile and resisted saying something he’d regret. “Sure, balemba.”
Kira gave him a flat look. “Have fun telling your wife you kissed another woman.”
Ryon blinked. “My what?”
“Oh, stop it. I saw the drawing. But of course you’d say you aren’t married if you’re a womanizer.”
“I’m not!” Ryon tried to sit up, winced, and put his weight into his right elbow. From the new angle, he spied his scroll pouch on his belt. “That drawing?”
Kira fished a small slip from the pouch and handed it over. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have been snooping. But I was kind of sitting for hours waiting on a d’hakka to wander into my trap.”
Ryon’s hand paused halfway to the slip. “You trapped a d’hakka?”
“Waelyn needed it to treat your infection.” Kira raised her chin and grew a slight smile. She reached over and took a gleaming spike from the bench, then handed it to him. “You owe me.”
Ryon took it and did a double-take. The d’hakka stinger had been cut out of its muscular casing to reveal the vibrant blue of its base. This was the prize that Katrosi azure masks strove for in their final proving trial, and the pigment that was used to