“I’m sure you’ll enjoy the floor as much as I have,” she added with a small, satisfied nod.
The flap fell closed behind her, and she stepped straight into the late morning glare.
“She-demon,” came the muffled hiss from inside, followed by the quiet rustle of movement. “Don’t forget my damn lunch!”
She snorted and nearly collided with Mira, rounding the narrow walkway just outside.
The path hugged the cliff face, barely wide enough for two to pass. Slatted planks groaned beneath their steps, and below them, the marketplace spread out in terraces—low roofs stitched together by ladders and bridges. The scent of ash, rice, and something spiced drifted up from the fires below.
Rynna adjusted her stride, falling in beside Mira without comment as they descended toward the lower level.
“It sounds like he’s growing on you,” Mira said, eyes forward.
Her tone was flat, but the quirk at the corner of her mouth gave her away.
“Like a wart,” Rynna muttered. “Or some kind of mountain fungus.”
She stepped onto the nearest ladder, fingers wrapping around the smooth wooden rungs, and slid down to the next level with practiced ease. The platform swayed slightly under her boots as Mira followed.
“If you say so,” came the amused reply behind her.
They dropped another level, the morning light drifting between the slats above. Around them, the hum of village life rose—cracks of bamboo sparring staffs, the low grunt of exertion, and a rhythmic stomp of feet on packed dirt. Training drills, by the sound of it. The Watch had started early today.
Mira reached into the fold of her robe and pressed a small pouch into Rynna’s hand as they reached the next platform. The drawstring was knotted, but even through the cloth, the heft was unmistakable. Rynna loosened it just enough to peek inside.
She frowned.
Golden coins winked up at her, each one stamped with a bird mid-flight, wings flared, tail sweeping in flames.
She glanced up. “Why?”
Mira shrugged, but the line of her shoulders was too casual.
“This is more than we agreed to,” Rynna said, narrowing her eyes. “I promised to keep Kaelith from using the Source. That’s it.”
Mira chuckled, flicking a loose strand of red hair behind her shoulder. “I can barely believe you two only just met. You’re like twin fox kits hiding under the same root.”
“Stop. I might vomit.” Still scowling, Rynna tucked the pouch into her belt.
“You and me both.” Mira ran a hand through her long, untamed hair. “But anyway.” Her eyes dropped to Rynna’s belt, then turned out toward the training yard. “Your work with the younglings hasn’t gone unnoticed.”
Rynna followed her gaze across the rope bridge and down to the practice terrace, where children moved in staggered lines, mimicking forms with intense concentration.
“Before you arrived, I had to bribe Ben with honey cakes just to get him to show up. Now?” Mira shook her head, half disbelief, half pride. “He’s up at dawn, hauling me out of bed so I’ll test his footwork.”
Rynna answered before thinking. “It’s my pleasure.”
The words felt strange coming out. Stranger, though, was realizing that she meant them.
Mira’s son, a dark-haired, sullen thing, had found her one morning mid-form, moving through the practiced rhythm of strikes and pivots.
Anything to quiet her thoughts after another night sharing too-close space with Kaelith. Anything to stay busy in a place where she had no idea what the hell she was supposed to be doing.
He hadn’t said a word. Just started copying her.
The next morning, there were two more. Then five. By the third day, she couldn’t ignore them. Not when one nearly dislocated his shoulder mimicking a block with his feet backwards. She broke form, adjusted his stance, corrected his grip, and from that point forward, it became a lesson.
“Well.” Mira’s hand landed firmly on Rynna’s shoulder. “We all appreciate it.”
