Emberhawk - Jamie Foley Page 0,68

to Kira, whispering the scent of sandalwood through her curls. “He’s going to muffle the sound of our footsteps,” he murmured, “and I’m going to make us invisible. You won’t be able to see because of the light-bending. I’ll guide you, okay?”

Kira pulled away from him and nodded, feeling her ears heat at his closeness. She remembered the black void he’d plunged her into when they’d tried to hide from the d’hakka. Not something to look forward to, but if it got her out of this greenhouse prison, she was all for it.

Lysander nudged Ryon in the arm and signed something, and he responded in kind. Ryon slipped out the door, then offered Kira an open hand with a reassuring look in his eye as if he could offer her strength by his own will and eagerness.

Kira took his hand, and inky darkness consumed her as if she’d fallen into a cave. A second later, sound abandoned her as well, removing the distant cooing of insects and trickling of the garden’s spring she hadn’t realized she’d been hearing.

A new layer of anxiety threatened to smother her. If this is what it’s like to be blind and deaf . . . Maybe she could give Lysander some slack.

Ryon pulled gently, and Kira followed, aware of the buzzing sensation his touch elicited in the absence of her other senses. She stepped as cautiously as a newborn kitten, expecting to tumble into a hole at any given moment.

She lost track of time. Ryon led slowly, but it was still too fast, especially when they ascended a flight of stairs. She gripped his hand like a lifeline.

“How long do we have to . . .” Kira trailed off when she couldn’t hear her own voice. Panic spiked through her, and she breathed through it. How is Lysander doing this?

The atmosphere shifted from humid scents of flora to dry and cool with a wisp of pine. Earth beneath her feet hardened from soft compost to a firm, uneven texture.

Kira prevented herself from tapping Ryon’s arm until he stopped for a break. Just as she began to trust him and relax, the forest snapped back into reality all around her. Even the pre-dawn dimness felt bright, and Kira rubbed her eyes as Ryon released her hand.

“Should be far enough.” Lysander’s deep voice was like music to Kira’s starved ears. The sounds of the wild reemerged as if she’d been underwater and just broken the surface. A bird chortled in the distance, a branch runner chittered nearby, and cicadas crooned.

Ryon signed something and said, “Now can you tell me?”

Lysander shook his head. “Sorry.” He slung a large pack over his shoulder and withdrew a smaller leather one from it. He pulled out a short bow, a machete, and a quiver with a few arrows.

Ryon’s quick intake of breath made Kira jump. “You found it!” He snatched the equipment from Lysander and looked into his old backpack with a relieved expression. “Thank you.”

Lysander extended a hand to Ryon. “May your god be with you, little brother.”

Ryon took Lysander’s hand and pulled him in to clap his back. “May you finally find an enchanting woman to marry,” Ryon said as he leaned back to sign with exaggerated gestures, “who will constantly insist you’re in danger and never tell you why.”

Lysander snorted and rolled his eyes, but Kira caught a faint grin as he turned and walked away. He waved without another word and didn’t look back.

Kira watched him go. Well, that was . . . interesting. She looked around to get her bearings, but the d’hakka forest looked as unfamiliar and bleak as ever.

Ryon snuggled into his own gear like a favored quilt, then glanced at the sky and headed purposefully in his chosen direction. Kira wondered if he’d be just as confident if he were dumped in the middle of an ocean without a compass. Or a boat.

They were finally healed—finally free. Jadenvive was in sight. And so was home.

Excitement flitted through Kira like a bird taking its first flight from the nest. She skipped a step to catch up with Ryon. “So your cousin’s a bundle of fun.”

Ryon snapped his fingers, and a candle in his hand blossomed with flame. He lifted it to light their path and hurried through the brush as if a tax collector were on his trail. “You have a weird definition of the word ‘fun.’”

He had her there. Listening to Lysander and Ryon’s first conversation had been like trying to read a

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