wouldn’t be safe for you to go back, Frizz. If Sa’alu found out that you were in the city, he’d know I disobeyed his order.”
“Then think up some excuse in case he sees us. But I’m going to find Ryon, and he can tell the chieftess.”
Tekkyn’s gaze drifted to Lee. “He can go and warn them. I want you home safe.”
Kira tugged at her arm, but Tekkyn didn’t let go. “No, Lee can’t just tell some random guard; they wouldn’t listen. But Ryon listens to me, and the chieftess listens to him.”
“You’re going home,” Lee said. “This is all too dangerous. You’ve already had enough adventure for a lifetime.”
Kira drew her d’hakka stinger in an instant, brandishing it to display her accomplishment. Ryon’s bangle jerked forward with the movement and clanged against the blue chitin. “You think I can’t handle myself?”
Tekkyn released her, and both of her brothers grew astonished expressions that she found quite satisfying.
“I’m going back to Jadenvive. You coming?”
36
RYON
Ryon sat outside the entrance to the Great Hall, testing the sharpness of his new dagger against his thumb. Apparently the Malaano princess was meeting with the chieftess. Again.
He knew he should have gone directly to Brooke after last night’s brawl, but he’d been too angry to think straight. And appearing before her then wouldn’t have won him any points with the Jade Witch—she could sniff out emotions like a wolf. And, more importantly, Ryon didn’t want his mother to worry any longer about her son being missing in action.
Ryon glanced up at the azure-masked guards who flanked the ornate doors into the throne room, which was carved into the heartwood of the city’s eldest giant birch. The guards’ masks were as empty as their eyes and as lifeless as their stature. And people wondered why Ryon hadn’t taken the promotion.
He sheathed his dagger and adjusted his seat on the waiting bench. The hole in his leather armor would need to be patched where Kira’s arrow had ripped through . . . and vanished just as quickly as she had. His heart throbbed as if it bore a matching hole.
Ryon closed his eyes and took a deep breath, banishing thoughts of the blue-eyed, hard-headed Navakovrae girl. He’d known better than to consider serious thoughts about courting her. She’d essentially captured him for the Empire, for love’s sake. And she’d made it clear that she loathed him every step of their journey.
So why couldn’t he get her out of his head?
His mom and sister were already on to him. If he couldn’t lift his spirits by the time he returned home again, they’d squeeze a confession out of him somehow. And them knowing he favored a girl who’d already left Jadenvive would only make things worse.
Ryon rolled the bag of honey drops between his fingers. He’d arrived at the orphanage after the children’s bed time last night, but after this meeting, he could finally deliver the crystallized sweetness. Thoughts of those hyper kids always lifted his spirits and distracted him from the troubles of the day.
Kira wouldn’t have wanted to join him in caring for the orphans, anyway—she seemed like the type to be more interested in scrolls than kids.
Footsteps behind the great doors beckoned Ryon from his thoughts. He straightened.
Two men in gleaming silver armor pushed the doors open, boasting long feathers from their helmets and clanking chainmail and scabbards. The symbol of the lotus was embroidered boldly on their tabards, heralding them as soldiers of the Malaano Empire. They pushed through the waiting room and into the morning sunlight, holding the doors open behind them and watching Ryon with daring looks.
Ryon stood and backed away as a young woman nearly half their height passed through. Her beige dress and tiara would have stood out among the common folk of Jadenvive, but were so unembellished that they appeared simple next to her own guards’ attire. She glanced at Ryon with jade eyes, and he looked down at his boots. But he wouldn’t bow to the royalty of another nation—especially not the progeny of that warmonger.
Princess Vylia seems older than the rumors imply. Ryon watched her hold her dress for the steps as another pair of silvered guards followed her out. She was probably around Kira’s age—maybe eighteen—and their features were similar: round faces, full lips, curly hair. But her deep skin tone was lighter than Kira’s, perhaps from a lifetime spent in the shade of a palace.
Kira was prettier.
The azure masks began to close the doors to the Great