Child of the Kaites (The Firstborn's Legacy Book 1)

by Beth Wangler

  I dress in pale green and put my shoulders back. Friendship with Savi. How hard can it be? He clearly is not attracted to me anymore—he can’t even look at me most of the time—so that won’t keep us from reforging our friendship. He knew me before, when I used to talk, when I did not have to hide everything about myself. He won’t expect me to be a perfect, submissive Iranine woman. He of all people should be easiest to befriend.

  After all, we began as friends. We ought to be able to end as friends.

  Yet all through dinner around the blazing fire in the warm night, I shrink back from initiating a conversation. Whenever our eyes meet—which I begin to suspect Saviayr actively avoids—his expression is distant, closed-off, even a bit hostile. Gone are the hints of warmth from earlier today.

  I duck my head. Nihae and Elesekk have surely had time to tell him what really happened, so Savi knows everything. His treatment speaks more than words could: He has not forgiven me, nor will he ever.

  I pretend deep interest in my skewer of meat and vegetables, though I have no appetite. My mind flits endlessly between Savi’s rejection and Lev’s perplexing question.

  Dusk rises from the east, veiling us in darkness. I embrace the screen of shadows. It allows me to slip back and observe the gathered people. I settle on a fence far enough away that I can’t feel the bonfire’s heat.

  Tatanda rises near the fire and claps his hands. “Good evening, friends. Yesterday, my daughter Maylani returned home from a year on the mainland. She brought with her this young man,” he pulls Saviayr to his feet, “as a suitor for her hand. I would like you all to bear witness that tonight, I give my blessing to the marriage of Maylani and Saviayr! Their wedding will take place on the third day from today.”

  The group applauds and shouts. I add a couple soft claps before dropping my hands to my lap. Around the fire, everyone congratulates the young couple and offers bits of marriage advice.

  I lift my face to the sky. My eyes idly seek out the familiar constellations. These were my ceiling every night when I lived with the kaites. Half of my mind recites the names and meanings of the indree. The other half whispers and holds a distinct thought: I do not belong here.

  Have I ever belonged?

  My years with the kaites were joyous and carefree, but I knew I was not one of them. I was too weak and too clearly mortal next to their strength and immortality. The five years I spent with the Maraians, first with my parents and then with Savi’s family after they died, were beautiful though brimming with hardship. I felt like I almost belonged with them. At the same time, I knew with undeniable certainty that we did not belong in Izyphor, did not belong as slaves.

  Here in Tatanda’s house, every day is marked by the subtle undertone that I’m out of place. Clothes, hair, skin: All of it reminds me that I’m a foreigner. Tatanda’s constant rebukes prove that no effort or changed appearance on my part can make me belong on Ira.

  My head sinks from the sky back to the gathering. Peals of laughter come from the girls around Anik. Pitka sits with another young girl, playing hand-clapping games. The crowd around Maylani and Saviayr has thinned. Savi bows out of a conversation and makes his way to the well.

  Maybe it’s time for me to make myself belong somewhere. I can start with setting aside my restraint and talking with Saviayr. Maybe I’ll be able to earn his forgiveness that way.

  I meet him at the well with the biggest smile I can manage. “Congratulations.”

  Savi glances at me. After a pause, he says, “Thanks.” Then his head tilts and his eyes narrow.

  “What is it?” I ask. My smile weakens.

  Saviayr laughs once, shakes his head, sets the dipper in the water bucket, and marches away.

  “Rai.” Nihae’s soft voice comes from behind me.

  I blink hard, take deep breaths, and don’t turn around.

  Nihae’s hand rubs my shoulder. “Rai, don’t be mad at my boy,” she asks.

  “He hates me.” It is the simplest truth. It is the worst truth.

  Nihae steps forward to look at me and sighs. She leads me over to sit on a nearby rock. I don’t resist.

  “Rai, dorni, you have to understand.”

  “I understand. He hates me. He won’t look at me, he avoids me, he ignores me. And Mama Nihae, the look on his face…” I can’t go on. The gap between what should be and what is lodges in my throat.

  Nihae rubs my back. “Right now he is angry, yes. Elesekk is trying to talk with him now. He’s been with Maylani since morning, and we haven’t had time to explain your story to him yet. It might be a comfort to you to hear his side of the story, though. May I?”

  I’m trying not to watch Saviayr, which means that he is the only person I’m aware of. He is on the far side of the lawn, removed from the crowd. As I watch, Elesekk joins him.

  I drag my eyes back to the thin woman next to me and nod. At the very least, it will be a distraction from watching Elesekk and Savi talk.

  “The morning after you went missing, the slavemaster showed us a royal’s torn mantle and your chanavea and told us that a wild animal had devoured you both.”

  I scowl. “Of course he did.” I don’t know why I’ve never wondered how he explained my absence, but I shouldn’t be surprised.

  Nihae pats my knee. “Yes. Elesekk and I were devastated, but Saviayr…. I’ve never seen someone so young so heartbroken. He gave up. Elesekk and I feared for him. Until one night about a month later, he had a dream that you told him to continue what you’d started together.

  “Savi had new purpose after that. He taught everyone in our village your stories and talked constantly about how he could free us.”

  My scowl twitches. I can’t be angry that he found something to live for. “Good. I’m glad.”

  Nihae pats my hand. “A couple months after that, the royal Yrin discovered Saviayr. He was visiting to appoint a new slavemaster.”

  There’s a crack of thunder in my head. I stiffen. “What?”

  “He was visiting—”

  “No, why did you need a new one?”

  “Oh. The old one died. No one really said how, but it seemed suspicious.”

  It’s not possible. I could have gone back to Izyphor with Maylani? I could have gone back and found Saviayr years ago? I could have left this place without the threat of my people’s genocide, without the promise of my loved ones’ murder? “He—he’s been dead? All this time?”

  Nihae’s face twists in understanding. “If only we had known you were alive. We would have found you.”

  I cover my face in my hands. The party seems far away. With great effort, I breathe and say, “It’s…we can’t change it now. Please, go on.”

  “I…where was I?”

  “The royal Yrin?” I remind her.

  “Oh, yes. The royal Yrin heard Saviayr’s stories and hired him. At first, my son just studied the alphabet. He is to someday write down the histories for the royal Yrin’s library. Then the royal realized Saviayr was skilled in diplomacy. He made him an emissary to our elders and the other slave peoples. Savi always worked so hard, and he never, never loved anyone but you. Elesekk and I could never be sure, but we thought he kept your chanavea.”

  I touch the charm hanging around my neck.

  “After three years, he was finally happy. Then we met your cousin a few months ago.” Nihae looks at me before continuing. “She knew the histories. It was so strange, a foreigner who knew the truth. Aia told my Saviayr that he needed to get to know her, and so he did. Yrin wants him to get married, and Savi thought an alliance with Ira would help gain Maraiah’s freedom.

  “Then, after all those years of mourning, he discovered that you were alive and never tried to tell him you weren’t dead. The night we arrived, he thought you had abandoned him on purpose.”

  I imagine what these past years would have been like if I had thought Saviayr was dead and if yesterday I had found that he hadn’t cared enough to tell me that he was alive all this time. That would be the real betr
ayal. His silence is mild compared to what his reaction could be.

  My eyes find him across the yard. Saviayr shakes his head at whatever Elesekk was saying. Even from the distance, I see the tension in Savi’s broad shoulders. He used to be gangly as a boy. As a man, he’s grown even more attractive.

  To Nihae, but really to them all, I say, “I’m sorry. I wish I hadn’t put you through that.”

  Someone dumps branches onto the bonfire. Its flames leap into the night. “I am sorry, too,” Nihae answers, “but I don’t blame you, dear. You were doing what you thought you had to. You could not have known differently. Truly, I am so full of joy that you’re alive.” She wraps her arms around me. I sink into her hug. The tightness in my chest loosens.

  Nihae pats my back. “And now I must go talk with my husband. I love you, Rai.”

  “I love you, too, Mama Nihae.”

  She wanders over to Elesekk and Saviayr, and I scan for Maylani. It’s reasonably late enough for me to go home. Mayli will worry if I disappear, so I must say goodbye.

  I find her near the fire, but Saviayr finds her first. I stop close enough that Mayli can see me but not close enough to intrude on their conversation.

  “Did you at least have fun talking with my friends?” Maylani asks Saviayr.

  He chuckles shortly. “Sandat is such a pleasure. I love listening to persons who hate my people.”

  “Well, maybe he is a bit hard to like until you get to know him,” Mayli concedes, “but at least he’s still trying after that fiasco in the marketplace. And Nadina’s not like that.”

  “No, Nadina is—very cheerful.”

  Maylani bites her lip, like she knows more than he’s saying, then looks past him to me. “Oh, Raiba, there you are! Is everything okay?”

  I let Mayli use me as a distraction. “I’m fine. I just wanted to let you know I’m tired, so I’m going home now.”

  Mayli brightens. “Perfect! Saviayr was just going home, too. You can go together.” It could be my imagination, but she seems to be watching us more intently than normal.

  We protest at the same time. “No,” Savi begins.

  “That’s okay,” I start to turn her down.

  In the middle of our protest, we look at each other and pause. It’s just a walk to Tatanda’s house, hardly a quarter of a mile. We won’t even have to talk to each other. Arguing might make this situation worse.

  “Okay,” Saviayr amends his answer to Maylani, apparently deciding he has disagreed with her enough for one night. “It makes sense.”

  “Great! And would you mind taking Pitka home, too?” The younger girl looks up from a slice of watermelon, juice dripping off her chin. “That way I won’t have to leave early with her. You’re the best!” Mayli pecks Saviayr’s cheek and hugs me, then rejoins the neighbors with a whirl of rose-colored skirt.

  Pitka wipes her chin with her arm. “Do I have to leave, Raiba?”

  I smile and offer my hand. “Mayli thought you could come home with me and Saviayr,” I answer. “I’ll tell you a bedtime story and sing you a lullaby, since it will be just us at home.”

  I can see Pitka weighing her desire to stay here with the temptation of my offer. She casts a longing glance at Maylani, whose face is lifted in laughter, and her shoulders drop. Pipit takes my hand. We head up the path, and the bonfire’s sounds fade into the evening.

  The silence between Saviayr and me is almost tangible. I risk peeking at him, hoping the twilight will hide my gaze. His eyes are leveled at the ground. I can’t read his face, which only reminds me of our estrangement. “So, you like Nadina?” I try to break the silence.

  One corner of his mouth turns up. “I’ve always wondered why people say girls giggle a lot. None of the girls I’ve known giggle much at all. Nadina giggles enough for a hundred girls.”

  “She’s light-hearted,” I protest weekly. I’ve been annoyed by the same thing.

  Saviayr shrugs. “Some topics aren’t. Sometimes life is serious, and she doesn’t seem to be able to tell the difference.”

  I hum, but don’t know how to respond. Instead, I turn to the little girl whose sticky hand warms mine. “Pipit, what has you so quiet?”

  Pitka kicks at an imaginary rock in our path. “Nothing.”

  That doesn’t seem likely, but when Pitka doesn’t want to talk about something, nothing can pry it out of her. I glance up at the sky, hoping for inspiration, and remember a story she hasn’t heard yet. “Would you like to hear a story about a girl named Landureed?”

  Her big brown eyes lift from the path. “Is it a good story?”

  “A very good story,” I promise.

  “Okay. Who is she?” Pitka asks with a bounce in her steps.

  “Landureed,” I swing Pitka’s arm as we walk, “was the great-granddaughter of Vander-Maraiah. Ever since she was a young child, Landureed’s favorite time of day was the night. She loved to wander through the dark trees in the forests around her home. She loved the cool dew on the grass between her toes. She loved how loud the animals’ sounds seemed when all the people were quiet and asleep. Mostly, though, she loved the stars.”

  Pitka tugs on my hand and points to the sky. “Her stars—are they the indree, like you told Tatanda yesterday?”

  I follow her finger and nod. “They are. Landureed’s favorite thing to look at was the indree. She watched them so much, she found patterns in them. Landureed named the constellations and taught them to her friends. They only remembered a little about the night sky, but Landureed herself started trying to name every star.”

  “That’s a lot of names,” Pitka observes.

  Savi lets out a puff of air. I peek at him from the corner of my eyes and find his mouth twitching. An answering smile touches my lips.

  “One star was her particular favorite. It was on the arrow point of the constellation she called the Guardian. Landureed spent many, many nights searching for just the right name for that indree. Every night for a month, she laid on her back and stared at it, until her eyes began to focus and she could almost see its true form, which was like the most beautiful man she could imagine. Love grew in her heart for the star. Then finally Landureed discovered the perfect name for it.

  “‘Shadarass,’ she whispered the name she gave it.

  “The indree grew brighter. Then Landureed realized that it was not actually getting brighter; it was getting closer.”

  Pitka giggles. “It was a shooting star, right?”

  I tug her arm and twirl her in a quick circle. “Right! Landureed jumped to her feet and stumble out of its way, and the indree landed with a thud so great, the trees around them lost all their leaves. Heat rolled over Landureed. Her eyes could see nothing but white light at first. When she recovered, Landureed saw before her the same indree she had just named. He glowed with liquid light.

  “‘At last,’ Shadarass the indree said. His voice was loud at first, but when she jumped he grew quieter. ‘Forgive me. I usually have to shout to be heard even by my brothers and sisters. But at last, here I am, as you named me.’ Shadarass took her hands. ‘Landureed, long have I loved you and wished to enter your presence.’

  “‘Shadarass,’ Landureed answered, ‘can it be? For I have loved you, too, though I did not know you.’

  “‘Surely this love is given to us by our Maker for a blessed purpose,’ the indree said.

  “It was true. So the two were married and together had twin sons. And that is how a human girl fell in love with a star.”

  “What happened to them after?” Pitka asks.

  “Well, humans grow old. Landureed did, too, and eventually she died. Shadarass left Orrock after her death and returned to his place in the sky. Their grandchildren live among the Maraians as slaves, but it is said that they will come into their inheritance when Maraiah returns to our promised homeland.”

  We pass through the gate to the house just as the story ends. Pitka stops on the path and looks up. “Will you show me which one he is?”

  I kneel dow
n and notice Saviayr stop to look at the sky with us. “If you can imagine,” I point upward, connecting the stars with my finger, “see, these indree form an archer’s bow, and there at its center those ones line up. They’re the arrow, and at its point, right there, do you see that one?”

  Pitka chews her lip, face puckered in concentration, then gasps when she figures out where I am pointing. “I see it! It’s that one!”

  She looks over at me, but my eyes linger on the sky for a moment more. That’s why I see what she does not.

  A star just fell from the sky.

  Chapter 8

  A shooting star. My breath catches in my throat. “Yes,” my voice shakes as I rub Pitka’s back. “Very good. Now, why don’t you go and wash up real quick?” I suggest. “I’ll come tuck you in and sing you a lullaby in a moment.”

  “Okay,” Pipit agrees, giving me a quick hug with her tiny arms. “Good night, Saviayr.”

  Savi still stands on the walkway, his face in the shadows. “Good night, Pitka.” I have to guess his expression, but he sounds fond of her. Then I chastise myself. There are more pressing matters on hand than Savi’s opinion of my littlest cousin.

  Savi moves to follow Pitka inside, but I stop him with a soft, “May I speak with you?”

  He does not turn to look at me but pauses, one foot on the bottom step up to the porch.

  In a second, Pitka is out of earshot. “Saviayr,” I leave no room for nonsense, “I know you saw it.”

  That, at least, makes him turn around to look at me. With the light from the house behind him, I still cannot see his face. Mine, I know, must be completely illuminated, but at the moment I do not care that I am in a decidedly more vulnerable position than he is.

  “You saw it,” I repeat. “An indree fell.”

  “I know,” he finally says.

  “What do you think it means? What is happening?”

  Saviayr shrugs and turns his face to the sky. “Wish I knew.”