accent. Maybe then her mom wouldn’t treat her like a kid. Maybe she wouldn’t have to work so much. Or maybe she’d be forced to have children and her work would double.
Maybe war with the tribes would break out and she’d never feel the embrace of a loving husband regardless.
Kira squinted at the chicken coop and pen, where heat from the earth waved upward like steam from an overcooked roast. If her mother knew she’d cried out to any god other than the water goddess this morning, she’d be locked in the root cellar for a week.
She glanced at the shrine to the seven-tailed fox on a nearby hill. Was it the goddess who saved me or the creator? She flapped Granny’s fan harder, but it only served to push more hot air into her face. Everyone knew the creator was dead—the elementals had killed him thousands of years ago. Or was it just random chance that Lee heard me scream?
Something flickered beside the coop, warping light in a familiar distortion.
Kira set the fan down in favor of her father’s bow. An arrow’s feather tickled her cheek as she pulled it back, shaking with strain as she squinted for the perfect shot.
There. The figure was big enough to be a trace cat, all right—surely the missing female.
She opened both eyes and released the arrow. It arced over the distance and disappeared as if she’d fired into a void. Then a figure shimmered into existence.
A human.
Kira’s pulse stalled. She stared as a young man cried out and stumbled toward the forest. He wore dark leather with a green sash—the regalia of a soldier of the Tribal Alliance.
2
RYON
Pain blinded Ryon in a white-hot sear. The Phoera element scattered in his blood, and the flows of light abandoned him with a warped flicker.
He gasped at the thin stick that protruded from his shoulder, ending in a trio of cut feathers. An arrow?
I’ve been shot!
He swayed as agony branched out like lightning inside his bones. The arrow entered his chest at a sharp angle and ran back to his left shoulder, where it felt like his shoulder blade had stopped it.
Ryon gritted his teeth as his vision darkened and refocused. I’m on the wrong side of the border. He forced himself to his feet and breathed through the pain. At least he had his mask on, but that wouldn’t last long if he couldn’t get to the safety of the forest.
A figure emerged through the haze of pain, running toward him.
Ryon forced himself to sprint for the tree line. A cry escaped as his gait grinded flint against bone. He steeled his mind and focused on the fast-approaching trees. The chieftess had trained him for this.
He glanced over his shoulder at the figure. It was faster.
Ryon slid his dagger from its sheath as he ducked into the Gnarled Wood.
A woman’s voice behind him cried something in the Malaano language, which he knew well, but his mind garbled her words in a smear of shock. She sounded young. Since when did the Empire post young women as border guards?
Or maybe she was just the girl who lived at this ranch, and he’d stolen from too many of her traps.
She crossed over the border behind him as if it were nothing but a simple tree line.
Ryon cursed. That light-forsaken fox had warned him about hitting the same quarry twice. But the fact that he had to steal in the first place was the chieftess’ fault—he’d told her he needed more rations. And normally the traps at this ranch were placed on the Katrosi tribe’s side of the border. His side. Fair game.
Ryon ducked under a branch and summoned the Phoera element again. Energy swam around him, but he distorted it, disappearing into the forest like a distant star on a cloudy night. He only allowed light to touch his eyes so he could dodge joyberry brambles as he sped past.
The arrow’s end snagged on a pine branch, wrenching it into his wound. Ryon choked on a scream as the horizon tipped and darkened. He clung to his element, barely maintaining invisibility as he stumbled to a dying oak and slid down its trunk.
Running through the woods with no sunlight was a fool’s game, made all the more impossible with an arrow shaft waving like his enemy’s victory flag. But what choice did he have?
Just because his pursuer couldn’t see him didn’t mean she couldn’t hear him. And every leaf and twig was dry enough to snap