SEVEN
“But I’m already betrothed,” I say, planting my spear in the space between me and Morsk so that the point hovers right in front of his face.
“Betrothals can be broken.”
He’s right, of course. “Yes. They can, and yours to Lees will be broken. But mine to Kol will not. You and my brother may think that you can manipulate my life and the lives of my sisters, but you will learn that you are wrong.”
I don’t wait for Morsk’s reaction, but I think I see a hint of self-doubt in his eye as I jostle past him and push my way through the door. My pulse pounds so hard in my ears my steps fall out of rhythm as I turn and hurry back down the trail to the beach.
Halfway there, at a spot where the trees grow crowded together thick enough to create some patchy shade, I hear something moving. I slow my steps, and from the corner of my eyes I see a shadow slide between darker shadows. Someone steps out onto the trail right in front of me. My pulse quickens even more, and I flinch back.
But it’s Kol.
He smiles. “Did I scare you? I’m sorry.”
“You scared me on purpose,” I say, but my tone comes out teasing. He can’t tell that the tremor in my voice is left over from my encounter with Morsk.
For a moment, I consider telling Kol what happened. After all, it concerns our betrothal, so it concerns us both. But then I bite my lip and keep the words inside. I don’t want to talk about Morsk right now.
Kol looks down, his dark hair sweeps forward like the door of a hut, and I can no longer see his eyes. “You’re right,” he says, still keeping his gaze on the ground. “I shouldn’t play like that with you, at least not right now. I know you’re upset about Lees.”
He looks up, flipping the hair from his eyes, and one corner of his mouth hitches up. “I was just happy to have one brief moment with you alone, I guess—”
“We were alone last night—”
“That’s true, but it’s different now.” Kol steps closer to me—close enough that I feel his breath on my ear when he speaks. “Now we’re betrothed.” Kol lets this last word roll on his tongue, as if he’s tasting it. A shiver runs down my spine, and I want to pull him into my arms. “But this isn’t a time for play,” he continues, taking a half step back. “Did you find her? Is she okay?”
The memory of Morsk’s smirk presses on my chest like a weight. His words—All you have to do is take her place—tumble inside me like falling rocks, hammering it down. The weight is so heavy I feel like I can barely breathe—like my lungs can’t lift to fill—and I marvel that Kol can’t see how I’m struggling.
But he does see. He just misunderstands. “Mya, what is it? What’s wrong with Lees?”
“I couldn’t find her,” I say. “I’m sure she’s found Roon. At least for now, I’m sure she’s fine.”
This thought of Lees and Roon together is so airy and light, it sweeps some of the heaviness from my chest. My hand moves to the pattern on my tunic, and I feel it rise and fall with my breath.
Kol’s gaze moves to my hand. A question lights in his eyes for just a moment, and then he reaches for me.
He catches my right hand in his own and pulls me toward him, turning me so that my back presses tight against his chest. I had forgotten the feeling of his body against mine, though I had tried to keep the memories alive. They all come flooding back now—memories of his arms wrapped around me as we stretched out on the ground. The cool touch of his hands on the warm skin of my back.
His nose traces a line down my neck, and his breath stirs my hair. “My betrothed,” he whispers, just before he presses his lips into the space beneath my ear. Heat runs across my scalp and down the length of my body, melting everything in its path. Every tense memory, every nagging fear melts away.
I sigh and turn to face him.
Kol’s lips touch my cheekbone, skim across the bridge of my nose, and come to rest lightly on the corner of my brow. Tipping my head back, I take him in.
As I study his face, I can’t deny that there are many different Kols. The one who raised his spear to me. The one who couldn’t accept that Lo would plot to attack the Olen. And the one who came to my camp in the midst of a deadly storm. The one who risked his life to warn us, and then helped us defend the camp.
And then there is the Kol who looks back at me now from behind warm, dark eyes. There is something about this Kol that I’ve never seen before. There is a quiet strength in this Kol—a calm assurance. This Kol trusts himself. He makes me want him to trust me, too.
I scan his face for more clues to the person he really is, when he draws closer to me and my eyes fall shut. His mouth covers mine, and if Kol’s face holds unfamiliar mysteries, his kiss does not. It takes me and carries me, up to the cliff above the crashing sea, where we sat together in the rain outside the cave. The very first time his lips sought mine. Only this time, I won’t pull away.
His arms enclose me as I draw him closer. He is everywhere, and yet I can’t pull him close enough. At the edge of my mind, something scratches, the sound of something trying to break through, but I turn away from the intrusion. What could matter when Kol’s lips are fluttering against the curve of my cheek, tracing my brow, pressing lightly on my eye? Behind my lids all the colors of the sunset burn.
The sound comes again—a scratchy digging in dirt—and I am forced to pull back. My eyes open to reveal my brother, Chev, just over Kol’s shoulder. He clears his throat. “I don’t mean to . . . I wanted to ask Mya about Lees.”
Kol pulls away reluctantly. His eyes remain closed even as he tips his head toward the sound of Chev’s voice. An impatient sigh escapes his throat as his lids finally flick open and his lips press into a thin line.
This is yet another version of Kol. Someone who loses patience with my brother. Someone who might let Chev interrupt a kiss, but will make sure he knows he isn’t pleased.
Could this be the new Kol, the Kol who will soon be High Elder?
“What about Lees?” I ask. I realize that down the path, the meeting of elders is still going on. I hear Kol’s mother’s voice.
Chev steps forward, silently asserting his authority. “I saw you follow her. Is she okay? She should not have been listening—”
“You knew she was there—”
“I suspected—”
“Well, it doesn’t matter. I couldn’t find her.”
Chev looks from me to Kol, and back to me again. “I should have guessed. I had expected to find you consoling her. . . .” His gaze floats back to Kol, sweeping from his head to his feet. “I didn’t expect to find you here . . . like this. . . .”
Heat spreads up my neck. My ears and scalp burn.
“Don’t lecture me,” I say in a hoarse whisper. “Don’t deflect from what you’ve done. You didn’t even warn her, let alone give her a choice! But you gave Morsk plenty of choices. He was offered a betrothal to me, then Seeri, now Lees. You’ve honored Morsk’s wishes, but you won’t honor your own sister’s—”
“Because one of my sisters must marry a member of the Olen.” I can almost see Chev’s anger flow into his hands, balled into tight fists at his sides. “No one else can be trusted to be the father of the next High Elder—”
“If you’re so concerned about the next High Elder, why don’t you make the sacrifice? Why don’t you give up Yano, marry an Olen woman, and father the next High Elder yourself?”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. I love Yano and know that Chev could never be with anyone else. Beside me, I feel Kol stiffen. He knows that I have said the most hurtful thing I could say, just for that purpose—to hurt. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I never . . . I don’t mean that. I never should have said it. Yano—”
“I know you didn’t mean it. I know you love Yano.”
“I do,” I say, and my brother blurs around the edges as my eyes sting with tears. “But you see the hidden truth there? We all agree you should have a choice. Morsk should have a choice. So why can’t you see that
Lees should have one too?”
Chev shakes his head. “It’s not that easy.” He drops a hand on Kol’s shoulder. “You’ll understand soon. The burden of making decisions for a whole clan is a heavy one.” With that he turns and walks back to the meeting, uninterested in hearing any more of my arguments.
We wait, listening to the sound of gravel crunching beneath his boots, until it fades when he reaches the sand. He addresses the crowd again. Words like Bosha and future and alliance rise and break apart on the wind.
“Should we go look for Lees together?” Kol asks. “She is surely with Roon—”
I am ready to say I’ll look alone. That Kol needs to go back, to return to his mother’s side. I look out at the ridge where I’d seen Kol and his brothers walking this morning—the ridge where they were digging a grave.
But I don’t see a bare ridge of rock and ice. Someone is there. Two figures, each burdened by a large pack, carrying a kayak between them. “What? They can’t. . . .”
Kol turns and looks in the direction of my gaze. Any hope I have that it is just a trick of the light abandons me when Kol speaks his brother’s name under his breath. “Roon.” Thoughts shift behind his eyes as he runs through the same possibilities I do, reaching the same conclusions.
“They must’ve stolen down to the water the long way . . . pulled a boat from the bay out of everyone’s sight. . . .”
“And looped back around to the ridge. No one will see them put the boat in the water. . . .”
Even as I speak, the two figures drop down on the far side of the ridge, the boat no longer visible. Just their heads and shoulders stand out like silhouettes against the bright surface of the sea beyond them.
Voices grow in volume. People are on their feet on the beach. The meeting is coming to an end. Soon everyone will be preparing for the burial.
“Come with me,” I say, grabbing Kol’s hand. “We need to stop them.”
And then we are running, heading for the spot where Lees and Roon just set a boat into the sea.
EIGHT
By the time we reach the far side of the ridge, they’ve loaded the boat and pushed it out from shore. Roon stands in the surf, holding the kayak steady while my sister ties herself into the front seat.
If I’d hoped I was wrong about what they were doing, it can’t be denied once Roon sees us coming. He yells to Lees to hurry as he pushes the double kayak out into deeper water. Waves crash, swallowing his voice. Lees is still tying the sash at her waist when he hops onto the deck and slides his feet into the rear seat.
“Roon, stop!” Kol’s voice bursts from his throat as he hobbles up behind me. But Roon turns away from his brother, moving faster.
“You can’t make us stay,” he calls.
But Kol can. He has already clambered down the face of the ridge to the water’s edge and is splashing into the sea. And though Kol is clearly limping on his left leg, he hardly slows. The pain in his knee must be terrible, but the threat of his brother getting away is even worse.
“Stop now!” he yells. One final warning.
Then he is there, right beside Roon, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him from the boat. Kol’s knee buckles, but he rights himself before he falls. Roon pushes hard against Kol, but it’s futile. Despite his injury, despite his pain, Kol is determined to stop his brother. I watch as Roon slides from the kayak and tumbles headfirst into the sea.
The boat rocks hard. Lees shrieks. Sun glints off the paddle in her hand, its wood bleached white from wear.
Roon rights himself, whipping his wet hair from his face, spraying Kol with icy water. For a moment, as he stands facing his brother in the shallows, his fists balled, I wonder if he will try to strike him. If he’s thinking of it, Kol doesn’t wait for him to act. He grabs the kayak and walks away, pulling it to the base of the ridge, my sister still sitting in the front seat.
Scrambling down the rock face, I reach the spot where the boat bobs in the waves. Lees defiantly remains in the seat—still tied in—with no apparent plan to move. Roon, drenched through and shivering, stands in the water at her side. He glares at Kol as my sister glares at me—as if they hate us.
“You fools,” are the first words I say.
“Save yourself the trouble,” Lees says. “We don’t want your counsel. We won’t stay. You cannot force us—”
“It isn’t just me you’re defying—”
“I don’t care about Chev—”
“Do you care about the Divine? Check the position of the sun. It’s almost time for Arem’s funeral. The Manu will pass along this ridge in just a little while, carrying their High Elder to his grave.”
I notice Roon flinch, just a small buckle of the knees. Maybe it’s a reaction to what I said. Maybe it’s the icy water dripping from his hair, running down his neck and under the collar of his parka.
“How do you think the Divine would respond if Roon did not attend his father’s burial?” I continue. “How do you think she would reward such disrespect? Do you think she would bless the Manu—or the Olen either—if you two ran away at the time Roon should be the most faithful to his family and clan?”
Lees stares right through me, her eyes filling with rage, until the rage melts into tears. The back of a damp hand—bright red with cold—sweeps across her face, and sobs roll out of her. “I won’t stay. Let the Divine destroy me. I won’t stay to marry Morsk.”
Roon, still standing in ankle-deep surf, slides an arm around her shoulders and pulls her against him, and she drops her head to his chest. Her words are muffled by his parka as she chokes and coughs, “I won’t stay. I won’t stay.”
As angry as I am, I’m not immune to Lees’s tears. With each sob, my resolve weakens.
I want to tell her she won’t have to marry Morsk. I want to tell her we’ll change Chev’s mind, but I can’t promise that. My head echoes with Morsk’s words to me as he stood too close in the hut—with one word, you can save Lees. My eyes move to Kol but he is turned away.
“Roon,” I say, my tone changed—anger replaced by concern. “You should get up on land before you freeze.”
When he doesn’t move, doesn’t even shift his weight, Lees pulls away from him and starts to untie the sash. “She’s right,” she says, her voice steadying. She knows there is nothing to be gained with sobs. She wipes her eyes and unceremoniously climbs from the kayak, tugging Roon behind her when she scrambles onto the rocks.
The four of us sit looking out to sea, and no one speaks for a long time. I begin to worry about what might be happening back at camp. Urar will be preparing Arem’s body, rubbing it with red ocher. A stretcher would have already been fashioned of long shafts of bone or ivory, draped with a mammoth pelt to carry the body. People will be looking for Kol and Roon soon.
“Where were you running to?” I finally ask.
“I won’t say,” Lees answers. She tilts her chin up but keeps her eyes focused on the sea. “When we get our next chance, we’ll go, and I don’t want you to know where to look.” Her voice remains even and calm, but her words cut me like claws.
“You can’t do that,” I say. “You can’t . . .” My voice trails off. She can do whatever she wants, and I know I’m powerless to stop her.
“Don’t worry. We’re prepared.”
A wave comes in hard, jostling the kayak and freeing it from the rocks. The receding water pulls the boat out, and Kol splashes in and catches it before it can wash farther out to sea.
He reaches a hand into the front seat and pulls a pack out from beneath the deck. The size of it brushes me back—the size of a pack you might take on an extended hunting trip. “How long were you planning to stay away?” I ask, fear hushing my voice to a murmur.
“Forever,” Lees answers, and with that one word the fear flares and knocks the breath from me.
“You took everything you would need to survive?” Kol asks, his tone incredulous.
“We did—”
“Tools, pelts, weapons?”
&
nbsp; “Yes—”
“Food?”
“Everything,” Roon says. “The pack on Lees’s back is full of food. Enough to hold us until we could hunt.”
“But where did you get it all?” I ask. I turn to my sister, looking at her with a new understanding. I have been underestimating her.
“Roon helps in the kitchen. He’s been stashing away whatever he can—”
“Before today? Before Chev’s announcement?”
“We had a plan.” She turns to me now, a hard edge of determination darkening her eyes, stealing their warmth. “I didn’t know what Chev would do when he found out about us, but I knew it wouldn’t be good.”
My thoughts snag on Lees’s words like a toe catching on a hidden root—I’m so taken by surprise I’ve no chance to keep myself from tumbling. I clutch at fragments of memories of Chev, grasping for something that will right me and set me back on my feet, but every thought that comes to mind sends me spiraling farther. He has never been particularly hard on Lees—no harder than he is on any of us—but she knows his priorities. What reason has he ever given her to trust that he would let her interests come before the clan’s?
But then, isn’t that what it means to be a strong High Elder? To put the interests of the clan first, no matter the sacrifice? I can’t say that Lees’s charge against Chev is wrong. But I can’t say that Chev is acting outside the code he’s set for himself.
But what is right? As Kol sets the pack of supplies at my feet, I turn that question in my mind. But I find no answer.
As we sit, I watch a group of gulls circle a rocky island far out in the water. I remember the shags I hunted this morning, the way they wouldn’t leave their young. How this instinct to protect was a weakness instead of a strength.
Images rise and fade in my mind—the rocky island, the swarm of birds, the broken skull, the blood dripping from the net. Instinct isn’t always best. Am I protecting Lees by forcing her to stay in camp, I wonder, or is this instinct a weakness in me, too?
I stare hard at the pack of supplies, imagining Roon readying everything he and Lees would need. They will run again. She said so herself. And when they do, they will be sure they can’t be found. I will lose my sister forever.
Obsidian and Stars Page 6