She understood their hatred.

She carried the same hatred.

But she also understood something hatred never admitted.

A uniform could hide a murderer.

It could also imprison a man who had finally chosen to disobey.

A warrior lifted his rifle toward Gideon.

Ayana stepped directly into the barrel’s path.

Gasps rippled through the camp.

Keme whispered, “What are you doing?”

Ayana spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear.

“This man carried me when I could not walk.”

Silence.

“He fed me when I wanted to die.”

She looked at Gideon.

“He brought me home knowing you might kill him.”

Vale laughed from across the clearing.

“Touching.”

Ayana did not look at him.

“When I hated him, he did not demand forgiveness.”

Her voice strengthened.

“When I accused him, he did not hide behind excuses.”

She placed her palm against Gideon’s chest.

Over the Seventh tattoo.

“And when he discovered the truth about his own blood,

he chose truth instead of family.

”

The warrior lowered his rifle slightly.

Ayana turned to Keme.

He understood before she spoke.

Pain crossed his face.

But he nodded.

Ayana untied the betrothal cord still wrapped around her wrist.

She let it fall.

Then she faced the entire clan.

Her voice rang against the canyon walls.

“You say he has no place among us.”

She stepped closer to Gideon.

“Then he stands with me.”

Gideon’s breath caught.

Ayana looked directly at Vale.

And said the words no one expected.

“You want to know whose protection he is under?”

She took Gideon’s hand.

“He’s my man now.”

The clearing exploded with voices.

Vale’s expression hardened.

And somewhere on the southern ridge—

a rifle fired.

But the bullet did not come toward Gideon.

It struck Vale’s horse.

The animal screamed and reared.

Vale crashed into the dirt.

Soldiers spun toward the ridge.

A second shot knocked a rifle from one cavalryman’s hands.

Then a voice called down from the rocks.

A young woman’s voice.

“AYANA!”

Ayana stopped.

The world stopped with her.

A figure appeared on the ridge.

Small.

Thin.

Dark hair blowing in the wind.

Turquoise beads around one wrist.

Ayana forgot how to breathe.

“No.”

The young woman began descending.

Ayana staggered forward.

“No…”

Keme whispered, “Impossible.”

The girl reached the bottom of the ridge.

She had a scar across one cheek.

Older eyes.

But it was her.

Ka.

Alive.

Ayana ran.

They collided in the middle of the clearing.

Ayana made a sound she would never remember making.

She held her sister’s face.

Touched her hair.

Her shoulders.

Her hands.

As if Ka might disappear if she stopped touching her.

“I saw you,” Ayana sobbed.

“You were dead.”

“I wasn’t.”