Emberhawk - Jamie Foley Page 0,6

translator.

“Good.” The emperor kissed her forehead and gave one last awkward smile. He turned, patted Aoko on the shoulder, and strode into the palace.

Vylia relaxed and glanced at her new guard as he bowed to her. Aoko’s chainmail and azure tabard with the lotus crest matched the armor her other bodyguards wore. He seemed all ready to go, so she’d just have to choose which of her beloved guards to dismiss. None of them would be happy about it.

“It is an honor to serve, Your Highness,” Aoko said.

“Call me Vy.” She turned and trotted down the steps before anything else could delay her. She determined not to treat Aoko poorly because of her father’s orders. He was just doing his job, as her mother used to say.

Vy. May I call you that as well?

Vylia nearly tripped and stumbled headfirst into the fountain. That voice . . . it reverberated in her head as if underwater, and yet it rang as clearly as her own thoughts.

She looked around, but only a concerned Uma watched her. A bird of paradise sang from the courtyard as if nothing had happened.

Don’t be alarmed, my dear. I mean you no harm.

Vylia’s heart slammed against her ribs. Her hand went to the pouch where the Malo stone rested. Could it truly be the voice of the water goddess, echoing through her mirror?

“Lillian?” she whispered.

You know my name. The soft voice seemed to warm inside her head, like laughter on a spring day. A pleasure to meet you, Princess.

5

KIRALAU

Kira adjusted the bundle of spiny aloe vera on her hip as she ducked under the garden trellis. She hurried toward the flickering firelight in the barn’s open door, wondering if she’d selected good leaves in the early darkness. Hopefully the tribal soldier hadn’t woken since Granny had begun her work on removing the arrow.

She glanced down the road, barely able to make out the trail through the distant fields in the moonlight. Maybe her father’s troop would answer the summons from the ranch hand Inowae had sent. Or maybe only a doctor would come.

Yeah, right. Dread knotted in Kira’s chest. He’s a foreign soldier, trespassing in Malaano territory. The Empire isn’t going to send him well-wishes and bandages.

Kira shouldered through the barn door and squinted against the oil lantern’s flame. On the platform beside the dwindling stacks of hay bales, Granny whipped a glance over her shoulder, bouncing the tight gray curls in her bun. She pointed to an empty space on the table next to the shirtless young man, who lay still above a darkening bloodstain. “D’ya get more fadeleaf?”

“Yes, and the aloe.” Kira set her bundle where her grandmother indicated. A broken arrow lay on the old wood, and Kira breathed in relief. “You got it out?”

“Yup.” Granny wrapped another layer of cloth around the young man’s shoulder. “He’s lucky you didn’t cause more bleedin’.”

Kira stared down at the fadeleaf, whose fluid-filled purple fronds had been keeping the man asleep. She couldn’t bear to look at him for more than a half second. He seemed innocent as he lay there with a still face not much older than hers. He had a slim, flawless physique—strong, but not as bulky as her bear-like brothers. He wouldn’t be able to get out of the rope around his wrists, regardless; Kira had used her best knot.

“Will he be okay?” Kira murmured.

“Shouldn’t get infected thanks to my poultice.” Granny snatched a dark leaf from the bundle and crushed it with her pestle. “His biggest problem’s gonna be bein’ a prisoner of war.”

Kira’s tired heart beat faster. “But we’re not at war. You don’t think they’ll—”

Granny’s coarse laughter cut her off. “Sweet little cub.” She patted Kira’s arm. “Just don’t think ’bout it. You did the right thing, even if ya didn’t mean to.”

The jerky from Kira’s lunch soured in her stomach. How could she be sure it was the right thing? What if he wasn’t spying or didn’t have any malicious intent? What if he was just hungry? We’re so close to the border, so maybe—

“Can you finish up?” Granny handed Kira the remaining stretch of loose cloth. “My bones don’t want me standin’ anymore.”

“Sure.” Kira’s voice squeaked out like a groundhog’s. She watched Granny go, leaving the barn in quiet stillness. Only the oil lantern’s flame flickered and popped, basking the hay bales and feed troughs in a pale glow.

Kira forced her gaze back to the sleeping young man. His arm hung off the side of the table, where