Emberhawk - Jamie Foley Page 0,93

how the driver could be so carefree when last night’s rain could repeat itself at any moment to drench them for the entire ride to Navarro.

Tekkyn gave a deep sigh and leaned forward. “If I tell you,” he murmured, “you are to tell no one. No one in the family. Not any of your friends. Not even a bird. Understand?”

Kira placed her hand over her heart in the gesture for the deepest oath. “I swear,” she said, trying not to let excitement creep onto her face.

“And then you will tell me how you really ended up in Jadenvive, and everything you know about your Tribal Alliance boyfriend. Agreed?”

Her expression froze. Well . . . Ryon didn’t actually tell me anything useful, she thought. “Agr—”

“And you’ll tell me honestly how you feel about him.”

Kira pursed her lips. She didn’t know the answer to that herself, and obviously it didn’t matter anymore regardless. “Fine.”

Tekkyn harrumphed, then leaned closer. “You know that we’re about to go to war, right?”

Kira nodded solemnly. “If the emperor really is stupid and bloodthirsty enough to declare it.”

“He’s not stupid. He’s cunning.” Tekkyn’s eyes were as hard and cold as a river stone. “We’re going to control the war and lessen its impact.”

Kira fidgeted as a pothole in the road dipped the wagon, bumping her rear end against the crate she sat on. “How? By drinking all the saké in Jadenvive?”

Tekkyn snorted, but Kira caught his smirk. “I never said I liked them. I would have slugged Sa’alu for his comment about you if Ryon hadn’t. But I have to obey that son of a d’hakka.” He glanced at the driver again, then lowered his voice until it was almost indiscernible from the groaning of the cart. “There has always been dissent between the tribes. There’s especially bad blood between Emberhawk and Katrosi, who were at war with each other a decade ago.”

Kira furrowed her brow. “So?”

The canopy of leaves above dragged a pattern of shadows across Tekkyn’s short black hair and thick shoulders. “Since the Emberhawk lost that war ten years ago, they want revenge against Jadenvive,” he said as he glanced at the driver for a third time, “and we’re lending them a hand.”

Kira’s pulse fluttered. “You’re working with . . .” Her voice stalled as a memory of Zamara’s rage flashed across her mind. Lysander’s lack of human emotion. The fiery glint in Sylendrin’s eye. “What are they planning?”

Tekkyn leaned back. “You know what the Emberhawk are known for.”

Her stomach flipped. “You’re going to set the city on fire?”

Tekkyn looked like he’d just been shot. He stared at the back of the driver’s head, but the man continued to whistle, as oblivious to their conversation as a vulture in the sky.

“No, the Emberhawk are,” Tekkyn muttered, giving her a warning glare. “This is good for us, Kira. If the tribes keep fighting one another, they’ll leave us alone.”

“By the tails, Tekkyn . . . He burned down one barn, and you’re going to set their whole city ablaze?”

Tekkyn flinched and looked away. “No, it’s not about that. The Emberhawk are going to do this anyway, regardless of us. It’s inevitable.”

Kira’s lip curled into a snarl. “So you can just go along with it and be totally innocent, right?”

Tekkyn turned back, his voice rough. “I was drafted. You think I have any choice in this?”

Her blood soured into an acidic sludge. This was her big brother, the pride of the family. The one she’d always looked up to. The one she’d sought approval from. The one she’d loved without condition.

“How, exactly, are you ‘lending them a hand’?” Kira murmured.

Tekkyn’s eyes softened. “Look, if I desert or try to stop them, I’ll be court-martialed and possibly executed. They’d take Lee instead. Our family would be shamed, and the city would still burn.”

Kira’s gaze drifted to a painted Tribal Alliance star on a barrel beside him. Memory of the children running along the rope bridges dashed through her mind. The elevator operator yelling commands and driving his oxen synchronously with his men. The guards defending the front gate. The woman whose clothing she’d envied. The tailor who’d so enthusiastically suggested a colored sash for her hair. That girthy shopkeeper, Monty.

Ryon.

“All those people . . .”

“We’re going to save everyone we can,” Tekkyn said. “The Katrosi are very well-prepared for a fire, and it just rained last night, so even the weather is against the Emberhawk. The number of casualties will be low, if any. We’ll be there, getting