any less effective.
No, she’s not even using the puppy face. It’s all in my head. Ryon wiped the quill on the black-stained rag. The tip clinked as he tossed it back into its clay holder.
He swallowed and made sure not to look back in her direction. “If we can keep it quick.”
Lysander snatched the parchment with Ryon’s questions on it. It crinkled into a ball in his hand, then went up in blue flame in an instant. Kira squeaked in surprise as ash fluttered into Lysander’s palm.
“I’ll get you some preserves for the road and some syn brew to recover your element.” Lysander turned and scrutinized Ryon from the corner of his dark eye. “How’d you get so low on Phoera syn? You don’t even feel like an Emberhawk anymore, much less a silverblood.”
“Felix took it,” Ryon signed with his hand, which enjoyed the stretch after drawing. He blew on the drying ink and recalled the thick metallic-tasting brew from childhood—only the wealthiest Emberhawk could imbibe on such liquid power. “You have syn lying around? Wouldn’t Felix want to secure that?”
“I don’t give two rat tails what Felix wants.” Lysander headed for the door.
“Hey!” Ryon yelled loud enough that he knew his cousin could hear something like a blurred noise underwater. At least, that’s how he’d described it a year ago.
Lysander paused and looked back over his shoulder.
“What in the lands above and below is going on in this pyramid?” Ryon signed.
Lysander’s expression darkened. “Just go. I’m trying to keep you alive.”
Kira moved to the armoire and grabbed a pack from it as Ryon breathed through his annoyance. “Why won’t you answer me?”
“Because you’ll run straight to that witch and blab whatever I say. You’re a traitor to the throne and our heritage.”
Lysander’s words cut through Ryon like a newly-forged blade. He stood there, stunned, as Lysander analyzed him like a predator considering its prey.
Felix had called him a traitor. Then Waelyn and Sylendrin. Now his own flesh and blood.
No—his mother and sister were his true blood. They were in this together, as a consequence of his father’s choice. They needed him. And Ryon wouldn’t let Lysander’s dagger-sharp tongue deter him.
Ryon widened his stance. “You didn’t think that way when your father started the Sacrificial War. Now you believe my dad was wrong to help put an end to the blood sacrifices?”
Lysander frowned, and after a moment, his expression softened. “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”
Ryon huffed. “Why? Another conspiracy theory?”
“Because she would kill my other little sister as well.” Lysander’s tired eyes flared with an anger whose flame had reduced to cinders.
Ryon’s pulse strengthened. Does he really think Aunt Deirdre killed her youngest daughter? His stomach flopped with nausea at his last memory of his youngest cousin before she’d gone missing. And that she’d kill her only remaining daughter if he disobeyed? How delusional is he?
And yet, something in Lysander’s expression convinced Ryon that his cousin believed every word.
“I’ve already done too much.” Lysander turned his back and reached for the doorknob. “I’ll muffle the sound of your escape if you can cover the invisibility part and slip out unnoticed.”
Ryon dashed to Lysander and grabbed his shoulder as he opened the door. “Would you tell me if people’s lives were in danger?” he signed, keeping his hand out of view of anyone who might be in the hall.
“People’s lives are always in danger.” Lysander’s eyes hardened like blood-drenched obsidian. “I’ll do everything I can. Be ready an hour before sunrise.”
30
KIRALAU
Lysander’s knock on the door was barely audible. Kira perked up and glanced out the thin window above the bed. The horizon was just beginning to fade into soft pink between the treetops—about an hour before sunrise, just as Lysander had suggested.
Ryon looked like he’d rather have left an hour ago. He opened the door slowly, revealing the dark hall behind his cousin’s hooded figure.
Kira controlled her breathing to calm her anxious heart as she slung a pack of provisions over her shoulder. How could they sneak out on Waelyn after all he’d done for them? And stealing leftover pita bread and sunburst. Even though Waelyn said to feel welcome to anything in the garden after she’d cared for it for days, it felt wrong. No matter what Ryon said about needing the profit from the dried flowers for her carriage ride home.
Ryon slung his backpack on and signed something to Lysander, who nodded and handed him a plump water skin. Ryon took it and leaned close