They’d tethered the horses near the stream, where spring grass grew in abundance. Then they made camp a hundred paces away. Now Ashyn watched her sister crouch beside Daigo, examining his leg. The infected scratch seemed to be worsening. Ashyn had already done what she could, helping Moria wash and drain it. Now her sister was fretting, and Ashyn wanted to be there, sitting with her, comforting her, and reassuring her. She tried, but it was like talking to a spirit, one who may respond, but only vaguely, remaining hidden and distant beyond the veil.

Moria tugged impatiently at her cloak as it slid over her shoulder. It was obviously new, and Ashyn had asked about it, but her sister had stiffened at the question before changing the subject.

Ashyn presumed she’d taken it from Edgewood. Moria’s own had clearly been—Ashyn winced at the memory—unusable. So she’d likely removed one from the tailor’s shop. Completely reasonable, but perhaps to Moria it seemed like theft. Ashyn wanted to offer comfort, but for once in their lives, Ashyn couldn’t reach her.

As she watched Moria, she noticed Ronan heading her way. He slowed and looked from her to Moria. Then he made his choice. It was—she sighed—the expected one.

Ronan crouched beside Moria. He pointed at her dagger and made a motion, as if throwing it. Moria lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. Ronan took out his blade and gripped it, as if to throw it, then gestured at his hand. Asking her if he was holding it properly. Trying to entice her away from Daigo for a lesson. Again, though, Moria only gave a half shrug.

She clearly just wanted him to go away, and those lackluster shrugs—instead of telling him point-blank—only proved that she wasn’t herself. But Ronan would see it as rejection. Ashyn could take no pleasure in seeing him hurt.

She stood and walked over, with Tova trailing silently after her.

“Can you throw both?” Ashyn asked as she approached them. “I know you’ve practiced with your off-hand, but can you throw them both at once? Like . . .” She motioned.

Ashyn thought she’d pantomimed it quite well, but Ronan choked on a laugh. Even Moria managed to find a smile.

“If I threw them like that, I think I’d lose both my feet,” she said.

Ashyn shot her fist at her sister. Moria sputtered, a real laugh now, then turned to Ronan.

“What did you teach her on the road?” she asked. “She usually squawks every time I do that.”

“I don’t squawk,” Ashyn said.

“Yes, you do.” Moria raised her voice to a falsetto. “Moria! That’s rude!”

Ronan laughed and Moria grinned, and Ashyn didn’t care if they were laughing at her, only that her sister was smiling again.

Moria leaned over to Ronan and mock-whispered, “Just don’t tell her what it means.”