The same sense of warmth that had been present when Lukai held her hand returned. She rubbed at the mark, a wariness settling at the edges of any comfort she might feel. She’d felt that warmth before, several times over the years. Now that she knew he’d been checking on her, she wasn’t sure if it felt reassuring or invasive.
Lukai sucked in a breath. “I can sense you even more.”
His excitement wasn’t contagious.
“Now that we’re not divided by the barrier, I’m guessing the bond will work far better.”
“Sensing my well-being isn’t protection,” she said. “You didn’t do anything even though I was in danger all the time.”
“True.” He winced. “Before you returned, I couldn’t protect you. The bond simply would have told me if it had been broken.”
The question sat on the tip of her tongue, but she was too afraid to ask what it would take to break a bond. Death? Was she now tied to this stranger for life?
The ground sloped downward, the temperature growing cooler despite the thickness of the air. The layer of sweat Aeliana had built up outside the cave cooled her down too well. She shivered, pulling her cloak tighter around her waist.
A mix of voices came from ahead, the light from Sylmar’s lantern shining brighter around Lukai’s form. Only the light wasn’t just coming from Sylmar’s lantern.
“Welcome to our Bamboo Island base,” Sylmar said.
The cave’s path opened up to a small cavern. Half the room held bedrolls, and snores drifted from a large lump in the middle of one of them. In the center, a petite young woman with light brown skin and short black braids frowned at biscuits cooking over hot coals. An equally short older man ate slightly blackened versions of what was on her pan, which explained the acrid stench in the air. Aeliana’s stomach growled, reminding her the night was nearly over and it was probably close to breakfast.
Another woman, pear-shaped and aged with laugh lines, sharpened swords and arrow tips on whetstones in the corner, sparks dancing at her boots. The sight of a white bow leaning against the cave wall made Aeliana’s arms itch to hold it, to feel the firm wood in her hand, the reliable tension in the string. There’d been something peaceful about learning to shoot from Cyrus, even though she couldn’t imagine using the skill to hunt.
From the look of this group, these weapons were meant for war, not food.
At first, all eyes turned to Sylmar, Velden, and Lukai, but it was the second look taking in Aeliana and Cyrus that made everyone go still. The room grew quiet except for the sizzle of batter on a pan, then broke as the sleeper gave a violent, choking snore.
Velden sent a flick of water from his webbed hand toward the woman cooking. “I’ll need at least four of those, so don’t you dare burn them, Kendalyhn.”
Her pretty face screwed up into a scowl as she turned back to the biscuits, wiping away the water glistening on her long lashes.
“Our mission has been accomplished,” Sylmar announced. “We head for the mainland immediately.”
“Does Mayvus know she’s here?” The booming voice startled Aeliana when it came from the small man near Kendalyhn.
“I assume so.” Sylmar sighed and tugged at the short strands of his beard. “Arvid and Vera came with her.”
Murmurs spread through the small entourage.
“And Rildan?” the man pressed.
Sylmar hesitated. “They said he was dead, but it felt like a lie.”
The room grew quiet, faces troubled.
The woman sharpening arrows dropped the one she held and approached Aeliana, a hand outstretched. She scanned Aeliana as if starved. “You look so much like your mother, Sun protect her.” She placed a hand on Aeliana’s cheek, then chin.
Aeliana took a step back, eyeing the woman’s strangely cropped hair and trousers.
“Iris was your mother’s maidservant in Celanoft’s Sungazer.” Sylmar rushed through the introduction while grabbing a pack from the wall’s edge. “She witnessed your crossing. She’s one of the few survivors of the old Celanoft.”
The others went back to their duties, this time with a sense of urgency. Even the man who’d been sleeping rolled up the bedding as he yawned. But their eyes strayed toward Aeliana, and their conversations became hushed whispers.
“I can help you get ready, love. Your skirts will slow you down, as will this.” Iris gently pulled on Aeliana’s hair. “I have extra clothes you can wear. Would you like me to cut your locks, too?”
“No.” Cyrus answered for her, his hands flying to his own long hair.
Iris laughed, the sound echoing through the chamber in an easy way that defied everyone else’s haste. “We’ll see how long you both last.”