Ronan raced up the stream gully onto clearer ground. Ashyn could barely even see the fighters; they seemed a seething mass of dark forms and flashing metal, their clangs of steel mingling with Daigo’s snarls. Every now and then, though, she’d catch a glimpse of Moria and Gavril, still back-to-back as they fought.

Tova raced ahead. Already a man lay on the ground under Daigo, and another was fleeing. By the time Tova reached the fight, Daigo’s prey lay unmoving. Moria’s target was staggering back, and the wildcat was leaping for him. Gavril fought the last raider, but Tova circled past him, instead heading for the slave trader, who realized the fight was lost. He began to flee, with Tova at his heels. Once he was far enough gone, Ashyn whistled Tova back.

Moria spun to help Gavril, but he was already drawing his blade back as his opponent rushed him. The man’s charge left him open, and it took only one solid swing to end it.

Ashyn saw Gavril’s expression as his sword struck the man’s side. Anger and resolve as he swung. Relief as the blade sliced into the man. Then horror as the raider hung there, nearly cut in two, held upright by the sword.

Gavril stumbled back and yanked his blade out, as if he hoped he could somehow undo the fatal blow. Moria wheeled from the raider Daigo now had pinned to the ground. She took hold of Gavril’s elbow and pulled his attention to her as she said something.

Ashyn caught Ronan’s arm, slowing him. Moria seemed to be asking Gavril if he was hurt, and he was shaking his head. Then he reached out, one hand going to the back of Moria’s neck, under her hair, the other rising to her cheek. The young warrior leaned over her sister’s upturned face, his braids falling in a curtain around them.

He’s going to kiss her.

He never even came close. And unlike Ashyn with Ronan several nights before, Moria gave no sign that she ever expected a kiss, given that she kept talking. Instead, it seemed Gavril was examining a cut on Moria’s cheek, and she was brushing off his concern.

Gavril continued checking the wound, his voice low, and as Ashyn watched them, she knew it didn’t matter if he kissed her sister or not; there was something between them. A deep concern for each other’s well-being that went beyond blossoming friendship.

She glanced at Ronan. He watched them, looking uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

He glanced over, brows gathering. “About what?”

She paused. “Are you all right?”

A short laugh. “I’m not the one who just fought off armed kidnappers. Though I might feel like I did in a moment. Moria and Gavril aren’t going to be pleased with me.”

“It was an honest mistake,” she said. “You thought—”