The man struggles to his feet, one hand searching the ground for his dropped atlatl. But he has no hope of finding his weapon—Thern is coming too fast.
Before the man can straighten to his full height, Thern is on him, knocking him face-first onto the ground. With both hands, Thern tugs Anki’s spear from the man’s back, blood flying from the point as he swings it like a club.
As Thern swings the spear, he connects with the other Tama man who climbed over the wall. Staggering from the blow, he drops his spear and retreats for the cliff. Pek grabs the dropped spear and raises it over his shoulder, but he never has to make the throw. Both men disappear over the ledge.
I drop to the ground, breathing so hard I feel faint. I glance around. Pada—a dart still in her arm—comforts Lees, who has pulled the dart from her own arm. Seeri is at Pek’s side, checking a cut on his face. Winded and gulping for breath, Morsk and Thern kneel side by side at the edge of the cliff, watching the water below.
“They’re paddling away,” Morsk calls over his shoulder. “They’re in retreat.” He climbs to his feet just as Thern does, and Thern hands him his atlatl and pack of darts.
Morsk nods to Thern, and walks to Pada’s side. Without a word, Pada nods and hands him her weapons, too.
“How?” I stammer. “How is it that there are not more—”
“There were more,” Pek says. “We saw them coming while we waited below with the boats. We intercepted as many as we could, driving them back before they could climb the cliff. We turned quite a few around, but we couldn’t stop them all. Then we saw your fire and we decided we better climb.”
“Before we did, we slashed as many of their kayaks as we could,” Seeri says. “Hopefully, we’ve bought some time before they can return.” I step closer to the ledge and look out at the retreating Tama. Nearly every kayak carries an extra fighter, draped across the deck, hands and feet dragging through the water. A few boats struggle to stay afloat as two fighters cling to the sides.
“And our boats?” I ask.
“Tucked away in the dune grass, out of sight.” Seeri actually smiles.
That’s when the knot of fear around my heart loosens just enough for me to look back at the clump of trees. To seek out the glow of Kol and Noni’s fire and know that they are both safe. I climb to my feet, ready to run back and thank them for setting the signal and tell them what has happened.
But only a scent of fire remains. No smoke rises from the trees.
Kol’s fire is out.
TWENTY-FOUR
Before I can think, my feet are moving across the ground, carrying me back toward the edge of the trees, back to the place Kol and Noni set the signal fire. But then my thoughts slow me. I turn. The others are following—even Thern and Pada.
I stop. “You go and check,” I say to Morsk. “I’ll stay here. I need to talk with the Bosha.”
Morsk hesitates. “We’ll stay with her,” Seeri says. “I have questions for them, too.”
“Then I’ll go with Morsk,” Lees says. “Mya, if Kol needs you, I’ll come right back.”
She smiles at me, and the bond that brought us here—the need to protect each other—stretches between us like an unseen cord. I nod and Lees and Morsk hurry away. My heart tears as they go—I want to check on Kol and see him with my own eyes—but I need to deal with Thern and Pada first. As the High Elder, I need to decide what’s to be done with them.
“We’re unarmed,” Pada says. “We turned our weapons over to Morsk.”
I run my eyes over her and Thern. Their hands are empty. Morsk has their packs. “Knives?” I ask.
Pada lifts up the hem of her tunic to show me that there is nothing tucked into her belt. Thern does the same. When he turns to show me his back, I see the trail of blood that runs from the place I drove a spear into his shoulder. “You saved our lives,” Thern says, even as I wonder how serious the wound I gave him might be.
“You tried to kill me and Morsk,” I say. “How can I trust you now?”
“You tried to kill us too,” Thern says, running a hand over his wounded shoulder. His fingers come away red, but the bleeding has slowed. “But then you defended us. You saved both of us. I don’t know why you did it—I never thought I’d owe my life to an Olen—but we owe our lives to you now.”
“Who were those fighters?” Pada asks.
“The Tama clan. There’s a girl hiding on this island. They killed her mother and now they’re coming for her.”
“And you would fight to protect her?”
“I would.”
Pada winces, touching the wound in her arm, and for a moment I see something familiar in her—the girl I looked up to when I was small. “So then,” she says. “What we believed about you was wrong—”
“What you believed?” Seeri asks. “What did you believe?”
Thern turns to her, but when he takes a stride in her direction, Pek comes between them. “You can answer her from where you are,” he says.
A flash of something lights in Thern’s eyes—anger or defensiveness—but it leaves as quickly as it came. “Lo and Orn, and then Dora and Anki, talked about Chev and his family as if they cared only for themselves,” Thern says. “We believed that the Olen clan had no compassion for anyone—would never help anyone outside their clan—no matter how bad their need. But when Mya and Morsk came to our aid—risking their lives to save ours—”
“It became clear that everything we’ve been told about the Olen is a lie,” Pada says.
“You fought to defend us. We fought to defend you, too,” Thern adds. “And we promise to defend you from now on.” A slight smile curls the corners of Thern’s lips, and I’m reminded of his speech at the meeting of clans.
“You asked Chev to be the High Elder of the Bosha again,” I say. “But you weren’t sincere with that request—”
“He was sincere in asking on behalf of the Bosha,” says Pada. “They sent us to ask Chev to be their High Elder. They wanted Chev to take them back. They still do. They had no idea what Dora and Anki were planning. Only Thern and I knew. Only Thern and I supported them.” She pauses, looking down at her empty hands. “Lo was my cousin,” she says. “I guess I trusted her too much.” When she looks up, her eyes are damp. “We were family.”
I glance at Seeri, who gives me a small nod. I turn to Pek, too, and he does the same. He even takes a step back so he is no longer standing between Thern and Seeri.
“All right,” I say, “but while we’re here you’ll remain unarmed.”
I turn toward the place Morsk and Lees went in search of Kol and Noni, the need to see Kol growing more urgent the longer we are separated. But even as I hurry toward Kol, my thoughts spin with memories of my brother, Chev, and the belief he lived by—clan always comes first. I can’t help but wonder if my brother would have come to Pada and Thern’s aid, or if he would have allowed the Tama to kill them.
We are almost to the trees when Morsk comes out, striding toward me. My heart rises in my throat, but he puts up a hand when he sees my face. “They’re all right—both awake—but they are both weak. Travel tonight might be difficult for them—”
I push past Morsk and run back to the place where Lees bends over Kol and Noni. Noni is sitting up, propped against a tree, but Kol is stretched out on the ground. His eyes are closed. I rush to him, and he opens his eyes when I touch his cheek. His skin is hot. His eyes open and close twice before he sees me. “Mya,” he says. “They came. Pek and the others. The signal fire worked.” The faintest of smiles flickers across his lips before his eyes close again.
“We need more feverweed,” I say. “I’ll go gather some. Morsk, come with me—”
“Of course—”
“Pada, Lees, Thern—each of you needs to rest and heal. Everyone will need to row, even the injured. We’ll dress your wounds when we return with the feverweed.” My eyes shift to Seeri and Pek.
“Don’t worry about Thern and Pada,” Pek says. “Resting is all they’re going to do. S
eeri and I will make sure of it. And we’ll keep watch for Dora and Anki.”
Kol’s eyes fly open. He’s more alert than I knew. “Dora and Anki are dead,” he says before letting his eyes close again. “Mya killed them both.”
A taut silence stretches as if every breath is held, until all at once the wind gusts. The leaves shiver. “Anki is dead?” Lees gasps. “Mya, you’ve avenged our brother.”
She runs to me and throws both arms around my shoulders. I stiffen. I don’t want to be forced to talk about what happened.
I don’t want to be praised for taking another life. But also, I don’t want to admit how good it felt. How satisfying it was to take the life of the person who killed someone I love.
“They attacked us,” I say. “I responded.” My voice shakes. Seeri comes up beside me and wraps her arms around both Lees and me, so that I am at the center of a tangle of my sisters’ arms, protected from the stares of the others. Only Lees and Seeri can truly understand my heart right now, so I let them shelter me for a moment more before I pull back and break away.
“I’ll restart the fire,” Pek says. “When you come back, you can sit and rest.” I walk away with Morsk, relieved that nothing else is said.
Morsk is quick to recognize feverweed, and together we gather enough to treat Kol, Noni, and the other injured. Except to compare leaves to be sure we are gathering the right plants, we don’t speak at all, and I’m so grateful Morsk doesn’t try to make me talk.
By the time we return to the others, they have organized a camp. We have no pelts to use as beds, but the ground has been cleared around the fire so that Pada, Lees, and Thern can lie down beside Noni and Kol. Seeri and Pek work together, cutting clothing away, cleaning wounds, and packing them with feverweed. Kol gets a ration of leaves to chew. By the time everyone is resting, the sky is a deep blue and the ground is swathed in shade. The fire gives the only light.
“I’ll take the first watch,” I say, and I’m relieved when no one argues. Everyone is exhausted. I am, too, but I know I won’t sleep. The pounding in my pulse that started when my spear pierced Anki’s thigh has yet to slow.
I stretch out beside Kol, watching him sleep. “I hope the feverweed helps,” I murmur, more to myself than to anyone else.
But Kol turns to me and smiles. “I think it does.”
“You’re awake?”
“Mm-hmm. I think my fever broke.” Kol sits up and reaches over me for the waterskin. His hand brushes mine. His skin is cool. “I’m feeling so much better, I think I’ll sit up with you to keep watch.”
“Kol, the reason we’re staying here is to let you rest—”
“I’ve been resting. Now I want to be with my betrothed.” He props himself on one elbow, trying so hard to appear comfortable and relaxed, but his breathing is still labored and sweat covers his brow. I’m not fooled. He may be improving but he is far from well.
Still, I’m selfish with him. I want him to stay awake so I can have him to myself. With everyone asleep, the fire glowing beside us, I’m taken back to the time we huddled together in the cave above the sea. The first time—the time he came to me half frozen and I had to use my own body heat to warm him.
I think about that night, my bare skin pressed against Kol’s, and I lean forward until my lips are hovering beside his. “I want to kiss you,” I whisper, “but I want you to rest. I’m torn.”
Kol leans forward, tipping me back, blocking the light of the fire with his shadow. “I’m not torn at all,” he says, and then his lips press against mine. They are warm but not with fever—with urgency. His kiss is searching; it holds a question and his lips move over mine as if he intends to draw out my answer. My lips respond, silently giving him whatever answer he seeks. My back arches as his hand slides under my waist. Encircled in his arms, I can’t help but wish that he would never let me go.
His lips trace down my throat to my collarbone, then back up to my ear. “I’ve been waiting too long to kiss you like that,” he whispers. His breath is warm. I’m reminded that he is still not well—he still needs rest—and I gently pull back, sliding from his arms.
He smiles a teasing smile. “You don’t want me to kiss you?”
“I want you to rest.”
“You’re even more captivating when you’re telling me what to do.” His fingers brush hair from my eyes. “You make a wonderful High Elder, Mya. People want to follow you.”
My heart flutters. These words of Kol’s are the highest of praise and the saddest of revelations. “If only that were not true. If only I could walk away from the role of High Elder—”
“Don’t say that,” Kol says, drawing back. The sudden firelight that falls across my face burns my eyes. All at once they swim with tears. “You don’t mean it. So don’t say it. I don’t expect you to walk away from anything. I’m not asking you to—”
“And I’m not asking you,” I say.
We both fall silent, and yet my head rings with its own thunder, as if the hopelessness of our situation were a sound only I can hear.
“But maybe I should ask you,” I start. I know I am dragging the both of us out onto a dangerous ledge with these words, but I also know the right answer from Kol could make everything good again. “If I asked you, what would you do? If I asked you to leave the role of High Elder of the Manu behind and come to me?”
Kol rolls onto his back and stares up at the sky. It’s still not dark enough to reveal the fires of the dead. “I would give up almost anything to come to you,” Kol says. And he says no more.
“You need to sleep.” I wish we’d never talked at all. I wish he had just kissed me and said nothing. “We can talk when we get home.”
He doesn’t answer. Maybe he’s fallen back to sleep. Maybe he just doesn’t want to respond. Either way, I am alone.
The night passes quickly, the sky darkening to obsidian, the stars giving off their heatless light. Too far away, I think. The dead who warm themselves beside those fires—my father, my mother, my brother—they are too far away to lend me any warmth.
The sky is still dark when someone stirs. I’m squatting beside the fire, feeding it another few pieces of wood, when I hear Morsk clear his throat.
“Your turn to sleep,” he says. “You’ll be useless paddling home if you’re exhausted.”
“Thank you,” I say. I stretch out beside Kol, hesitating for only a moment before I press myself against him. Before I can decide it’s the wrong thing to do, I am asleep.
My sleep is restless and short. As soon as the sky begins to lighten, my eyes are open. My cheek rests against the base of Kol’s neck. His skin is still cool. I pull away from him and sit up. Morsk startles and swings around. His spear slides in his hand.
“It’s just me,” I say, and he lets out a nervous laugh. The sound soothes me, and I realize my nerves are on edge, too.
“There’s something troubling me,” Morsk says. “Now that you’re awake, I can do something about it.”
“What is it?”
“I want to go bring back Chev’s body. I want us to bring him home.” He shuffles his feet and a cloud of dirt stirs. I can see where his boots have crossed the same ten steps of bare ground over and over. Pacing. Thinking about the body of his friend left behind in a lonely place.
“I want Chev brought home, too, but can you find him?” I ask. “And if you do, can you bring him back?”
“I’ll carry him. I’ll rest when I have to—”
“But can you find him?”
Morsk walks to the edge of the stand of trees, his back to the lightening sky in the east. “It was on the western side of the island, not far from the stream. I remember hearing it. I think if I climb down to the beach from here, then climb the trail that goes up toward the south, I’ll come to the place I found you. . . .”
He goes quiet, and I know we are both remembering that moment, when I discovered him over Chev’s body and accused him of being my brother’s murderer. “Go,” I say. “But come back before the s
un is well up. I want to leave while the day is still very new.”
Morsk draws me to my feet and embraces me. It’s such a startling thing for him to do, and I’m suddenly back in my family’s hut, with Morsk standing too close, making a proposition. I pull back.
“I’m sorry,” he says. He drops his eyes and turns away. His bag slides over his shoulder and his spear rolls in his hand. “I know you can’t accept the offer I made you,” he says without turning back to face me.
“In a way I wish I could,” I answer. I’m being far too honest, I realize, but I’m too tired to censor myself. “It would be the most selfless choice. I wish I had the strength to be that selfless.”
“If you would make that choice, I would do my best to make sure you never regretted it.”
I answer him with silence. “I won’t reply to that, Morsk. I’m betrothed to Kol—”
“For now you are—”
“For now I am. And I will be loyal to my betrothed. I shouldn’t have replied to you at all.” I say this so firmly I hope it puts an end to any more talk between us.
But Morsk isn’t finished. “No matter what you decide,” he starts. This time he turns. The firelight burns in his eyes and the heat in them makes my breath catch. His face glows with an intensity I’ve never seen in Morsk, except in the midst of battle. “Can I ask you to try to find some way that you can stay with the Olen? Whether you accept my proposition or not, the Olen need your leadership.”
“I will try to stay with my clan,” I say softly. “My clan means more to me than anything else.”
Morsk raises his eyes, scans our makeshift camp, nods, and leaves. As he goes, he calls over his shoulder, “Be watchful.”
“We will,” calls a voice from behind me. “You be watchful too.”
I turn, but I know who the voice belongs to. I know who is sitting up awake, listening to my conversation with Morsk.
Kol.
TWENTY-FIVE
“Listening in?” I ask, and I immediately regret it. Why would I take an accusatory tone when I’m the one who should be accused? But I realize that’s always been my way with Kol. I’ve always pushed him away rather than admit when I’ve been wrong. I did it when I wouldn’t forgive the Manu for my mother’s death, and I’m doing it again now.
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