KINSMAN’S OATH By Susan Krinard

Cynara was sorely tempted to demand a complete accounting of everything he had said and what he planned to tell them, but he truly did need rest. “Are they going to keep us in here until then?”

“I hope to be permitted to return to my own lodging.”

“Off on the edge of the settlement, like Sihvaaro’s?”

“Not as far.” He laced his fingers through hers. “It was what I preferred.”

She sighed and adjusted the roll of cloth that served as a pillow. “Will you try to find out what happened to your parents?”

“If I can.”

Cynara suspected that he felt much more strongly about the subject than he let on. If he could learn the fate of Lady Kori Challinor and her Kinsman mate, it would be of great comfort to Lord Miklos. And such a discovery might convince Ronan, once and for all, to change his loyalties.

A faint scratching came from outside the door, and two shaauri entered the room: Sihvaaro and another with a medium concentration of stripes and a benign manner. He carried a pouch slung across his chest. Ronan propped himself up on his elbows.

‘The healer,” Ronan murmured, and offered a shaauri greeting. The healer replied briefly and approached Ronan’s bed. Cynara retreated to the next bunk and watched curiously as the shaaurin examined Ronan’s wounds.

“Va D’Accorso,” Sihvaaro said, coming to stand beside her. “You are well?”

She decided against sarcasm. “Yes, Sih—how should I address you?”

“Sihvaaro is sufficient.”

“You speak my language extremely well.”

“It is a simple tongue, and I have had much time for study. Do not be concerned; few other shaauri understand it.” He dropped into a crouch with easy grace. “I know that you are a female of some importance among humans, but Ronan has told me that you are to be considered his hostage for your protection. This was not sivuj’avar, kidnap-for-mating. How is it that you have accompanied him here?”

She well remembered how he’d immediately assumed she was Ronan’s lifemate, and felt heat rise under her skin. “I didn’t want him to be alone among shaauri, or Kinsmen.”

“You hoped to protect him?”

There was no mockery in his question. “I didn’t realize you would be here, and I wanted him to have at least one ally.”

His ears flattened and rose again. “It is more than that, Va D’Accorso. You serve human interests and wish him to remember the species of his birth. You are also bound to him, even if you fear to acknowledge this.”

“I was among those who rescued him from shaauri pursuit.”

“And you know that he was sent with his memory impaired, to work against humans.”

Cynara met his gaze. “I must ask whom you serve, Sihvaaro—Ronan, or your own people?”

He hissed laughter, earning a startled glance from the healer. “Humans believe that shaauri loyalties are simple, but it is not always so. Ronan’s welfare is of great importance to me. So are my people, and yours.”

“Mine?”

“All Paths are one. I will listen with great interest to the tale of your meeting with my apprentice, when circumstances permit.” His whiskers quivered. “You prevented him from serving Kinsman interests. Your will is strong. The others must not realize your importance.”

“Will you protect Ronan from those who would harm him?”

“I will do all I can.” He turned his attention to the healer, who was applying a sticky substance to Ronan’s wounds and wrapping them in pale cloth. The fingers of Ronan’s left hand were already splinted and bound, but he hadn’t made a single sound while they were set.

“You taught Ronan very well,” Cynara said. “Thank you.”

Sihvaaro inclined his head. After a few moments the healer completed his work and spoke to Ronan at length as he packed his supplies in the woven pouch.

“Rest is indicated,” Sihvaaro translated for Cynara, “but it must wait. Ronan, the Arva’Kir is prepared to hear you now.”

Ronan nodded and pushed himself up, only the slight tension in his face marking discomfort. Cynara hurried to help, but Sihvaaro barred her way.

“He must not show weakness, now above all times,” he said. “I will stand with him.” He anticipated her protest before she spoke. “You may not come, Va D’Accorso. Your presence would remind them he is human.”

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