“The Sak Yant?” Ginny asked.
“Indeed.” He sat and folded his legs beneath him. “And we are complete. Five is better than four.”
Alyah and Niran nodded.
“You were asking about our father,” Sura continued. “He was very powerful. He also had very powerful enemies. I used those enemies to our advantage, informing my brothers Niran and Kanok of the plan only when it was already in progress.” Sura smiled at the brother who poured him a steaming cup of tea. “Kanok died in the fight. Tenasserim was killed. That is all you need to know.”
Niran said, “Sura wears his modesty like a robe. It was he who killed our father. Not rival Grigori. His hand was the only one with the strength of will.”
“And yet our brother was killed,” Sura said. “Let us not forget that.”
Leo could see Sura blamed himself. “You freed your sisters,” he said. “Your brother’s sacrifice was a worthy one.”
“I hope so.”
Niran said, “There were six of them when our father died. One fell ill immediately after. She was already quite old, and Tenasserim never fed his daughters. She died shortly after he did.”
Leo said, “What do you mean he didn’t ‘feed’ his daughters? They weren’t given any food?”
Sura and Niran exchanged a look.
“Our magic is not the same as yours,” Niran said.
Sura said, “Five of our sisters were left. That was thirteen years ago. Now there are only four.”
“There were almost three,” Niran said.
Ginny asked, “What do you mean?”
“It was something I wanted to ask about last night,” Sura said, “but we didn’t have time. There were two Irin scribes some months ago who drove through the village on the road to Chiang Rai. They saw our sister Prija and tried to abduct her.”
Ginny said, “Oh, hell no.”
Sura quickly raised a hand. “I do not want to be ungenerous,” he said. “It is possible they thought Prija was lost. She is not often lucid, and she can be quite dangerous if provoked.”
Niran turned to Alyah. “She hurt them during the escape. She screamed and ran away, and the men appeared injured. They drove away, and we have not seen them again. But I need to know if the Bangkok house thinks it has the right to take our sisters.”
“You will not have them,” Sura said quietly. He looked around the garden. “All this, it is temporary. If there is any threat against them, we will be gone, and you will never find us. I eluded a Fallen angel for a hundred years. A company of Irin is nothing to me.”
Alyah said, “Leo informed me of this incident two nights ago, and I will inquire about any scribes who came through this area when I return to Bangkok. Please know, we have no desire to take your sisters if they are safe. Our mandate regarding them is broad, but we respect family. If you are keeping them safe and they want to stay with you, then that is their right.”
Leo glanced at Ginny and suspected she had something to share, but the Irina remained silent, sipping her tea and letting Alyah talk.
“If there is any training we can give them, we would be happy to do so,” Alyah said. “That is why my watcher sent me and not one of my brothers.”
Niran looked at Leo.
“He is here for his own reasons,” Alyah said.
“I can guess what they are,” Sura said. “She is leading meditation with Intira this morning. That is why Kyra isn’t with us.”
Niran’s eyes were sharp; Leo felt them like blades.
“I would like the opportunity to speak with her when she finishes teaching,” he said.
“What would an Irin scribe have to say to a kareshta?” Niran asked.
“That is for Kyra to hear,” Leo said. “Not you.”
Alyah was right. Niran wanted Kyra, but that was too damn bad in Leo’s opinion.
He’d fallen for her first.
Sura walked with Leo through the bamboo forest, deeper into the trees where deep shadows sheltered them from the sweltering heat of the afternoon sun. The houses in the forest were raised on bamboo platforms, simple structures open to the trees around them. He saw one set of eyes in a window he passed. They looked young and curious. Leo smiled.
“Our sisters have been practicing with Kyra,” Sura said, “but they are still new. I hope you are keeping your thoughts as peaceful as possible.”
“I’m trying,” Leo said. “I do have some practice with it. My watcher’s mate is Grigori, and she has also struggled. I have a tune I hum when she’s stressed.” Leo smiled. “It’s a Latvian lullaby. She claims it drives her crazy, but I know she likes it because she sings it to her babies.”
Sura smiled. “I sing ‘When You Wish upon a Star’ in my head.”
“That could get annoying too.”
“It does.” The voice spoke in English from the steps of the house they’d just passed.
Leo turned. Ah, there were the young eyes that’d been watching. He smiled at the cocky jut of the girl’s chin.
“I’m Leo.”
“I’m Intira.”
The young kareshta girl Kyra said was so gifted. “I hear you are an excellent student.”
“I am.” She kicked her foot idly against the steps. “Only so I don’t have to listen to Sura’s bad singing though.”
Leo burst into laughter and heard a door open in the distance. He turned in the direction of the sound.
Kyra.
“Intira, who…?” She fell silent when she saw Leo.
Kyra stood on the porch of her small cottage, her hair falling around her, wearing a flowing dress in a deep blue that matched the ocean. She looked like she’d just bathed. Her hair was damp and her face glowed.
Leo walked toward her, forgetting about Sura and Intira. Forgetting about Niran, Alyah, and Ginny. He forgot about his responsibilities, Max’s warnings, and Kyra’s many vicious brothers.
He saw Kyra and a door. And beyond that door, he saw privacy.
Leo strode up the steps and grabbed her hand. “We need to talk.”
Chapter Nine
Before Kyra could object, Leo had spun her around, tugged her into the dim interior of her cottage, and slammed the door. She stood still, her mouth gaping, wondering what exactly had happened.
“I… Hello,” she stammered. “I didn’t know you were—”
“I have feelings for you,” Leo said without preamble. “Strong feelings.”
Her mouth fell open, but no words came out.
“I would like to talk about this,” Leo continued. “Can we do that?”
Kyra had been raised in secrecy. Truth was suppressed and hidden. Thoughts were kept to oneself. If feelings existed, they were expressed in furtive glances and whispers. The goal of her life had been to remain as small as possible, as insignificant as she could be. Invisible.
Silent.
Leo’s desire to speak openly about his feelings was both thrilling and terrifying. Everything about Leo was both thrilling and terrifying.
He put his hands on her shoulders and lowered his voice. “Kyra, please.”
“I don’t know how…,” she started—cleared her throat—continued in a firmer voice. “I don’t know—”
“We have known each other for several years,” he said. “Every time I see you, this attraction—which is not merely physical—grows. I want, Kyra. I want to know you. I want to see you. I want more every time we’re together, and yet you—”
“You need to let me speak,” Kyra said quietly.
Leo opened his mouth again. Then closed it. He nodded, then led her to the low cushions in the corner of the cottage where a small table sat. There were bolstered wedges and pillows for sitting and eating. He arranged the cushions carefully, side by side, then paused. He looked at her, then at the room. She saw him evaluating it with the eyes of a soldier, noting the layout, the doors and windows. Then he bent over and rearranged the cushions, putting them at an angle so both their backs were against the wall.
Kyra realized Leo had rearranged the pillows so that both of them had equal access to the door.
To make her feel safe.
“I’ve never felt unsafe with you.” She had to force the words through her mouth. Every word felt like stripping off skin.
He paused. “Even at the beginning?”
“No. Just… cautious. You were something new.”
He led her to the cushions and waited for her to sit. Then he sat on the other side, folding his long legs under him.
“I’m very large,” he said. “Damien says if I’m not thinking about it, I mow through a room like an enthusiastic tank.”
Kyra smiled. “I’ve never felt mowed down.”
“I’m glad.”
Kyra felt like her heart must be audible. They were alone. Utterly alone. She heard nothing from the outside, could hear only faint signatures from deeper in the forest. Be brave. It had been her mantra for the past three years. If she could survive among the Grigori and the Fallen, she could survive anything.
Be brave.
“When I was young,” she started, “scribes were things to fear. Our brothers would go out and not come back. We knew the scribes had killed them.”
“Who is we?”
“My other sisters.” She pushed past the feeling of exposure. These weren’t secrets anymore. Telling these stories wasn’t a betrayal. They were her past, not her present. “There were never many of us. The daughters. I wasn’t close to the others, not as I am with Kostas.”