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name.
    “I’m not afraid,” she said.
    “I am,” he said, stroking the length of her hair.
    She leaned back. “What do you fear?”
    “I am only a man. You are a Windwalker’s daughter.”
    She made herself look up at him then, even if the feeling scared her.
    “You will be enough.”
    He sighed. Once again, she’d read his heart. “Then I fear nothing,” he said.
    She slipped her hand into his and resumed their trek to the palace with Acat and the guards still at their heels. She was going to have to tell her Mother what had happened down in the city and listen to Cayetano’s concerns for what was coming, but what would be, would be.
     
    ****
     
    By nightfall, the parents of the child she’d saved were praising Tyhen’s name to all who would listen. Most of the fear had dissipated, leaving behind a tale told and retold until her single act of mercy reached heroic proportions.
    But there was one person in Naaki Chava who did not appreciate the growing power of Tyhen’s presence. It was the old shaman, Ah Kin.
    Ah Kin was the last of the shamans who’d been here when Singing Bird brought the New Ones through the portal. The others had died off one by one without being replaced, which did not bode well for him. Now Cayetano relied solely on the pretty young men who wore the same face. He felt worthless and alone. If it was the last thing he did, he wanted to make the chief sorry.
     
    ****
     
    The first day of the festival began with the sunrise ceremony.
    Cayetano and Singing Bird stood side by side on the upper steps of the temple, dressed in their ceremonial clothes. The loincloth around Cayetano’s waist was white as the sun on a cloudless day and hung just above his knees. The gold thread woven into a geometric design at the hem was as thick and heavy as the jade stones around his neck, but it was the cape of red feathers signifying his status of chief that gave him a most regal presence.
    Although Singing Bird had come back to Naaki Chava with the New Ones, she still had enough of Layla Birdsong left in her to be uncomfortable in the bare-breasted style of the local women, and from the start had worn shifts or sarong-style wraps to cover her nudity.
    The blue and gold design woven around the hem of her white shift was striking, as was the bib necklace that lay flat against her chest. The tiny circlets of hammered silver and gold were fastened together in an intricate design, and there was the one long, red feather tied in her hair, signifying her unusual status of warrior.
    Tyhen stood slightly behind them. Her shift was without any decoration and had been made with two slits up the front to reveal her legs as she walked. Her long, dark hair was unadorned. Her only nod to the ceremony was an ornate necklace of rare, large turquoise stones worn in honor of her mother’s people.
    Yuma was beside her, wearing an unadorned loincloth, which was the traditional clothing of a warrior, while the twins’, who stood on the other side, wore clothing similar to his, but made from the skins of jaguars. They were all three striking young men, but it was Yuma who held her gaze.
    Instead of tying his long hair up in a loop at the back of his neck like the other warriors, he honored his heritage and wore it down, framing a wide forehead, high cheekbones and a strong chin hinting at a stubborn streak. His face was shining from the heat, highlighting the warm tone of his skin. He stood braced as if for combat, his feet slightly apart and on guard against anything or anyone who would harm Tyhen.
    She knew the shamans who would come to judge her were not far away, and she knew what was at stake.
    The old shaman, Ah Kin, was standing at the topmost tier of the temple in a ceremonial robe the same color as the purple orchids that grew wild in the jungle. He was waiting to welcome the first rays of the new sun. A phalanx of warriors encircled the temple, forming a barrier between the people and the chief.
    For Ah Kin, the