A bonfire blazing in the center of camp snapped and launched sparks into the air. Five tents, large enough to hold cots for all, stood back from it. The sleds lay between her tent and the next, and the dogs had burrowed into the snow and slept with their noses tucked under their thick, fluffy tails. A surprising number of men were still awake and chatting fireside. Or perhaps they were awake again. Rias must have kept the camp quiet and had the men feign sleep to draw in the Nurian. A ceramic jug passed from hand to hand, and laughter gave the atmosphere a jovial feel, though some of the chortles sounded strained. No doubt rumors abounded concerning the tunnels, and, after the deaths they had seen, the men must suspect not all of them would make it out again.
Tikaya stood, breath fogging the air before her eyes, wondering where to find Rias. She considered the other tents. Three stood dark, but light seeped from beneath the flaps of hers and one other-might that be a command tent?
She padded to the entrance and debated whether to peek inside or wait for him to come out. If Bocrest led the meeting, he would not appreciate her interruption. She lifted her hand but let it hang as she considered how one knocked on a tent.
The flap peeled back, and one of the sergeants almost crashed into her.
“ What’re you doing?” He lowered his brows and glared at her. “Spying?”
“ Huh? I mean, no, I-” She looked at her still raised hand as if that would explain her intent.
“ Who is it?” Captain Bocrest asked from within.
“ The woman,” the sergeant said over his shoulder. “Standing outside, spying.”
“ I’m not spying!”
“ I got to piss.” The sergeant shoved past her. “Out of my way, girl.”
“ It’s Tikaya,” she informed his back.
He threw a rude gesture over his shoulder. No one called to invite her into the tent, but she walked in anyway. Six marines, Bocrest and his senior ranking men including a scowling Ottotark and the sawbones whose brother she had killed. No Rias. She swallowed.
“ Sorry, for interrupting,” she said, “but I’m looking for…that journal. I thought it’d be useful to finish translating it before we head in.”
The glowers facing her seemed more suspicious than her presence called for after what she had been through with these men.
“ For our benefit?” Ottotark growled. “Or so you can deliver it to the archaeologists inside?”
“ I don’t know what you’re talking… Oh.” She recalled the Nurian’s speech before he had tried to kill her. Those moments when she had been so close to death were fuzzy, but she did remember archaeologists being mentioned. Rias must have relayed the information. “I don’t know who’s in there. There are a lot of archaeologists in the world.” Though she had to admit that at least half of the renowned ones came from the Kyatt Islands and most of the other half had studied there at one point or another. “Chances are I don’t know any of them, if that’s what you’re worried about-the folks I know aren’t the types to go hunting for ancient weapons caches. And, anyway, I wouldn’t betray Rias.”
“ You, the cryptomancer who slagged us all in the war, wouldn’t betray ‘ Rias?’” one of the sergeants asked.
“ Quiet, Karsus,” Bocrest said. “He hasn’t told her.”
“ No? Oh, yes, that relationship’s going to work.”
The ire in the room evaporated and was replaced by sniggers. Tikaya set her jaw. She preferred the hostility. This was one more reason for her to talk to Rias tonight. She was damned if she was going to be the only one in camp who did not know.
Bocrest reached into the rucksack beside his cot and pulled out the leather journal. He tossed it to her. “Go. Figure out what’s in there that’s worth torturing people over.”
Naturally, she bumped into the returning sergeant on her way out. He growled at her, and she skittered away with an apology. She stopped a few paces beyond, bent over, hands on her knees, fatigue making her limbs heavy.
What further cane fields would she have to harvest for these Turgonians to prove she was sold on working with them? Then again, was she? She cared what happened to Rias and Agarik, but she would not cry over the rest if an avalanche swallowed them. What if she did encounter scholars she knew and respected inside? Men and women-how she missed having female colleagues to talk to! — with a ship anchored somewhere, a way back home. What if she did have a chance to switch sides?
“ Tikaya?”
She straightened and turned toward Rias’s concerned voice. She hoped the darkness hid the guilty flush that heated her cheeks.
“ Is something wrong?” He wore parka, cap, scarf, and he even carried snowshoes and a rifle. Where had he been? Scouting the tunnel entrance? “I thought you’d sleep until morning.”
“ I, uhm, wanted to talk to you.” She had been looking all over for him, but had not given much thought to what she would say.
“ Of course.”
Rias leaned the rifle and snowshoes against the side of a tent, and she joined him in the shadows, wanting to be out of eyesight if anyone else from the meeting came out to relieve himself. He wrapped her in a hug, and she slid into his arms, though the amused eyes of the men in the tent nagged her mind. She had to know. Tonight. She waited for Rias to release her, but he held her in silence for a long moment, arms tight. She breathed in the tang of weapons cleaning oil and black powder mingling with his warm male scent. Men laughed around the fire, trading jokes, boasting of brave feats.
“ I’m sorry,” he finally whispered.
Sorry? Was that in response to her proclamation of love? He was sorry he didn’t love her back?
Then he added, “I used to be faster. You shouldn’t have been-I should have seen the condor sooner.” He sounded so distraught. It brought a lump to her throat.
“ Oh, Rias.” Tikaya wriggled her glove off and laid her hand on the side of his face. “That’s not your fault.”
“ I should have sent you with the main party.” His own glove came off and he laid his hand on hers.
“ I’m sure that condor could have found me down there as well as on the mountain.”
His sigh came out as more of a grumble. “I’m tired of people trying to kill you.”
“ I’m not an enthusiast of the trend either.”
Rias’s other hand slid under her scarf to rub the back of her neck. She closed her eyes, letting those strong fingers knead her flesh, even as she lamented the layers of parkas and wool uniforms between them. The voices of the marines faded from her awareness. Soft breaths tickled her cheek, and she opened her eyes to find his face close. Shadows cloaked his eyes, but she sensed his intent and leaned into him, head tilted back.
His lips brushed hers, questioning at first. Tikaya parted her lips, invited more. His kiss grew firm, confident, and she thought of the experienced warrior she had followed through the Nurian ship. Heat flared through her body, and she forgot about her questions, the camp, and the freezing air. She might have forgotten a lot more if someone had not crunched around the tent and stopped to stare.
“ Well, well, well.” Ottotark.
She winced and drew back. Of all the people to stumble upon them.
“ Ignore him,” Rias breathed, nuzzling her ear.
A small grin stretched her lips as it dawned on her that she could. If Bocrest had told the men to treat Rias like an officer, that would mean he outranked the sergeant. As much of an ass as Ottotark was, he seemed loyal to his uniform and the chain of command. Surely, he would leave them alone if Rias ordered it.
Tikaya probably should not have looked so smug as she cast a dismissive glance Ottotark’s way, but she could not resist, not after all the torment he had thrust upon her. She slid her hands under Rias’s parka and kissed him deeply. Let the bastard watch.
Ottotark guffawed.
Startled, she broke away. That was the last reaction she expected. She looked at Rias, eyes questioning, but Ottotark spoke first.