by Alia Hess
Dewbell smiled.
“And this whole situation didn’t tear us apart. It brought us closer together. I mean, look at you two”—she gestured to Sasha and Corvin—“We already got through the worst of it, and it didn’t break us. Now let’s go back in there and hear how this asshole is going to answer for his crimes. If Quietbird has any ideas about ‘taking care’ of Palesun, I’m ready to hear them.”
Owl turned and marched back into the room.
Mothwing grinned. “That was a good pep talk, Owl.”
Sasha slunk back into the room and sat down, putting his arms around his wife.
Corvin took Dewbell’s seat and she sat in his lap. “I’m sorry for breaking one of your chairs, Quietbird. I’ll replace it.”
Quietbird chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, really. You got it out of your system? I’ll give you another if you want to go smash it outside.”
Corvin huffed and almost smiled. “No. I’m good.”
“So what now?” Owl asked, fire burning in her chest. “Please tell me Palesun will pay for this.”
“I hope so. Each of the Islands has their own way of dealing with offenders. Here on Nis, for those who don’t know, if someone does something particularly heinous, we have an island vote to determine whether they need to be banished or not.” Quietbird sat and shifted in his seat, glancing at Owl. “And I suppose it’s not really a secret anymore that some of my brothers will ‘take care’ of people when it’s called for. Like our old Elder, Redcloud. And the old women who tried to trick Owl into drinking ringhorn tea when she was pregnant.”
Owl kissed the side of Son of Owl’s head, and Sasha frowned and put a hand on Dusty’s stomach.
“We never have much trouble here, and don’t normally need to even banish people. And on Tam, as you guys have found out first hand, the Elder’s word is law. It’s a tiny island, and Palesun pretty much does whatever he pleases. People who don’t like it just move somewhere else.”
Sasha scoffed. “Yeah, me and Corvin don’t like it, but he don’t let us leave. Never should have gone there.”
Quietbird nodded. “It would have been different if it happened on Pearlolla. The island is much bigger, and they have a different system. People who commit offenses are given a trial by council, and a representative to argue their innocence. If they are found to be guilty, the council decides what punishment the offender should receive. Normally, that’s time spent in prison, although they do hang people on occasion. The council’s decision on what sort of punishment to give out is partially determined by the people offended by the crime. They come to the trial and tell the council what harm came to them because of the offender’s actions.”
“So what does that mean, then?” Dusty asked. “If Palesun makes the sole decisions on Tam, but he’s the offender, who punishes him?”
“Since this, uh, ‘wolfwater’ situation, as Gentlewave calls it, involves both Tam and Nis, Pearlolla is the only neutral party. Palesun’s involvement was already determined by the council while all of you were gone. They have a trial date set to determine what his punishment—if any—should be. I have to tell you, it doesn’t look good. Tam does a lot of business with Pearlolla, and I already know which way some of the members will lean. It would help a lot if one or two of you would come forward to speak as victims.”
Everyone looked at each other, and Owl gripped the table, scowling. She thought of her despair as she broke down at Merriweather’s campfire, crying for herself, for Dusty and her baby, for Son of Owl and Trav, then replaced the thoughts with the moment that metal cage bar connected with the merchant’s face. “I’ll do it. I can speak for what happened to me and Dusty, and the lengths our retrieval party had to go through to try to complete the mission.”
Murmurs of approval filled the air.
Quietbird nodded. “Very good. Someone else want to speak too?”
Corvin beckoned to Sasha. Sasha rounded the table and turned his ear to him. Corvin whispered, and Sasha bit his lip, shaking his head. He whispered back, then looked up. “I will speak for what happened to me and Corvin. There is stuff that… stuff that happen to me—to us—that we don’t tell most you guys.” His face contorted and Corvin squeezed Sasha’s arm. “I don’t really want to tell, ‘specially not in front of bunch of strangers, but if it helps Palesun get right punishment, I will do. Corvin wanted to do it, but I think… it’s too hard for him. Better if I say.”
“Thank you, Sasha. The trial isn’t for two months, so you two have time to prepare what you want to say,” Quietbird said. “I would advise you not to embellish anything, but don’t water it down, either. I can’t promise you’ll get justice for what happened. It wouldn’t be the first time someone got away with something due to their position of power, but it’s all we can do.”
Owl glanced at Sasha’s sullen face. “Are you okay?”
He nodded, but it wasn’t very convincing. She said, “Do you want just me to speak? You could tell me what you want me to say on your behalf.”
“No. I will do. Better if it comes from me. You are brave woman, Owl. Thank you for speaking for Dusty, and for helping her so much when you guys were on Mainland. She tell me how you helped her not be scared to be mom, and how you stole food for her and baby when you guys was kidnapped. I love you.”
“I love you too, Sasha.”
“You are like sister to me, but I am not going to call you that, because then it would be real creepy when I, um, accidentally look at your cleavage.”
Owl barked a laugh in surprise.
“Sorry. This isn’t great time to make joke. What if we tell our stories and council don’t care? You know how many times powerful men in Russia do terrible things and get no punishment? This will be same way,” Sasha said.
“Those council members would have to be heartless not to give Palesun a punishment after what happened to us. We just have to be honest. It’ll work. It has to.” A small seed of doubt sat in Owl’s mind—she only had to think of the scars on her forehead to know Sasha told the truth. Her ex had been best friends with the town sheriff and was untouchable, up until she took matters into her own hands and drove a knife through his eye. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if Palesun wormed his way out of a punishment; not right now, while she was reunited with all her loved ones on the safety of Nis.
Quietbird clapped his hands together and tried to smile. “Okay, now that we have all of this out of the way, let’s go out back and have a party. Seasalt is getting everything ready, and other people should be showing up soon.”
Corvin frowned. “Please don’t say ‘party.’”
“Don’t pout, Corvin. There’s cheesecake.”
“Well… okay.”
Everyone filed from the room, heading through the spacious Elder house to the backyard. The sky was slipping into a velvety indigo; candles on the long, log-hewn tables flickered in the breeze. Seasalt stood on her tiptoes, adjusting a huge “WELCOME HOME” banner. Bangles on her wrist jangled together as she tied the string tight, and thoughts of Dorhn’li played through Owl’s mind. Maybe she’d persuade Sasha to fly a drone there to visit him—in stealth mode, of course.
Seasalt turned around. She flicked one of her braids over her shoulder and gave Owl a hug. “Owl! Sorry we didn’t get to chat at dinner. I was so busy trying to set things up out here. How are you?”
That’s a loaded question. “I’m okay. Thanks. Great to be home.”
“I’m sure!” Seasalt fixed Corvin with her smiling eyes. “Hello, Mr. Melonvine. I want you to know I’m mad at you.”
“Oh, why is that, dear?” Corvin asked.
“Because I have blown so many pegs on your designs, love. Every time you create something new, I have to run out and buy it. Drives Quietbird up the wall. Have you ever considered making a maxi dress from denim? Like, a nice mix of Islander and Mainlander aesthetic?”
Corvin grimaced. “No, I can’t say that I have.”
Owl navigated around her f
riends, sitting at one of the tables. More people from town arrived, as well as Trav’s other cousins and his father. They swapped stories between mouthfuls of cheesecake and pie, the last of the light draining from the sky and a chorus of crickets complementing the conversation and laughter. She almost forgot about Palesun and if her statement in two months would sway a table of council members.
Owl put Son of Owl to bed in Son of Seasalt’s room, the two cousins swaddled next to each other in the crib. After she returned to Trav’s side, she ran her hand along his pale knuckles and pulled in a breath, her heart thudding.
She’d made it through the North, enduring a groth’nal and wolfmen—she could speak her mind to her husband. “I want to name Son of Owl.”
Trav set down his fork and wiped his mouth. “What do you mean?”
“I want to give him a Mainland name. A real name. Like what Sasha and Dusty will do when they have their own baby.”
“I thought that was something Mainlanders do right when the baby is born.”
“It is. I never told you that’s what I wanted to do.”
Trav stared at her, his mouth pulling tight. He brushed a lock of hair from her face. “Another thing you’ve been holding in all this time and never told me?”
“Yes. I was thinking—”
“Of course you can name our son.”
She sighed and smiled. “He could still go on a naming quest for his Islander name later, right?”
“Yes, definitely.” Trav stared at his plate, face carved with thought. “You know, when I look at him, I see your face. I know everyone says he looks just like me, but I don’t see that. I see you. You’re his mother and I think it would be wonderful if you gave him a name.” Trav smiled. “I also think it would make me feel better in general. You know what I had to go through to get my name. It was such a… a sore spot for me. I felt like I didn’t have an identity without it. Son of Owl needs an identity. Do you have a name in mind?”
Owl bit her lip. “Yes, but I don’t know if—”
“Don’t tell me. Not until you give it to him. We could have a little ceremony for it, and it will be a surprise, just like what Nisians do.”
“I was thinking on his second birthday.”
Trav hugged her. “Sounds perfect.”
He was so understanding. Why had she ever been worried to bring this up to him? His emotional support was as strong as he was. Except, the name she had in mind might not sit right with him. “But I really think I should tell you what it is first, because I don’t know if you’ll like it.”
“I will.”
“But what if it’s something that reminds me of home? Of Hawthorne, and the Mainland, and… and Corvin?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. You love your homeland and you love your brother.”
“You don’t.”
“I don’t hate Corvin. And we’re trying to get to know each other better. It’s, uh, been a little bumpy on my end, but Son of Owl loves him. Give our son the name you want. I’ll be happy with it. Promise.”
“Thank you, darling.”
“Tell me things. Please. Don’t keep them inside.” He kissed her. “If your name has something to do with your brother, you might want to give him a heads up. I would keep it a surprise for everyone else, though.”
Corvin sat in a chair, eating what was probably his third or fourth slice of cheesecake, his broken leg propped up on a stool. Owl walked over and squeezed him tight. His scent was sandalwood—rich and sophisticated—but what came to mind were the comforting scents of home: sweet hay warmed by the sun, damp soil, and crisp notes of mint.
“What was that for?” Corvin asked.
“I just… I have something I want to tell you.”
“Is it bad? Because I don’t think I can take anymore bad news tonight. Quietbird only has so many chairs.”
Owl chuckled. “No, it’s not bad. I’m going to give Son of Owl a Mainlander name. We live so much of the Islander life here, and I love it, but I don’t want him to be without that Mainland connection. It feels like more of a connection to me too. I’m keeping the name a surprise from everyone until his second birthday, but I want you to know now.”
“Why?”
Her heart swelled as she stared into her brother’s dark eyes. “Because I’m going to give him your middle name.”
Corvin opened his mouth, then shut it again. His eyes grew glossy and he furrowed his brows.
“Is that okay?”
“Is it okay that you want to name my cute little nephew after me? I’m honored. Thank you. I love Son of Owl more than anything.”
“I know. And he loves you.”
“He loves when I have cookies.”
“He’s just like you.”
Corvin laughed. “This is great. I’m so excited! Would you get mad if I ruin the surprise and tell everyone right now?”
“Yes! Don’t make me regret telling you.”
Leaning back in his chair, Corvin sighed and studied her face. “You know, we don’t have heart-to-hearts that much. We should, but we don’t. And that’s my fault. I’ve been thinking about some stuff over the past few months though, and I want to be more open with you. Dewbell is a wonderful listener, and she really understands me, but you’re my sister and I should be able to tell you things too. Would that be alright?”
“Of course it’s alright. You could always tell me things. Is—is there something you want to tell me now?” Owl stared at Corvin’s purple button-up shirt, trying to imagine what scars hid beneath.
“Yes. I told this to Dewbell a long time ago, and I’ve told Sasha now too…”
She wanted him to reveal this part of himself to her. She wanted the truth so she could support him. She didn’t want him to hide.
But I’m not sure I’m ready to see the scars.
Corvin scratched his face. “I, uh, I’m bisexual.”
She paused, letting the word sink in. Her gaze shifted from the secrets under his shirt to his face. His brows pushed up, eyes searching hers.
“That never crossed my mind, but it makes perfect sense. I know you used to get upset when kids called you gay when we were teens, or when Dad made some judgemental remark about you”—she scowled—“but I just always thought of you as a sensitive artist. You were just, are just, my brother, before anything else. And I love you for exactly who you are, no matter how you decide to define it.”
Corvin’s face contorted. “Lean over and give me another hug so I don’t have to get up with this bum leg.”
Owl embraced him and kissed his cheek. “So, tell me, who’s the hottest guy on Nis?”
“That’s easy. Me, of course.”
22
~ Rainbows after Storms ~
February 06, 157—Today, Sasha and I are speaking in front of the council. Both Trav and Gentlewave offered to come with us, but we decided it would be best for just us to go. There’s no need to force everyone else to deal with the situation more than they have to, especially since they’ve all been so happy since returning home. Things have gone back to normal for the most part, at least on the outside. Sometimes I have nightmares about Merriweather. But when I wake up, I just snuggle into Trav and think about how I’m home and safe, and the dream goes away.
We all sort of don’t talk about it anymore—the detainment center, the storm, the wolfmen. Any mention of that stuff just bums everyone out. Sometimes we still talk about Dorhn’li, though, and Sasha has been staying in touch with Anise.
Owl sat in a hard wooden chair, facing the Pearlolla council. Three men and three women at the table before her listened closely as she told them everything she could think of about their trip to the Mainland. Sasha sat in the back, looking sweaty and uncomfortable in a lavender button-up shirt and bow tie. Quietbird said the council wouldn’t care how they were dressed, but Corvin insisted on both she and Sasha looking as presentable as possible. Sasha had even gotten a haircut, trimmed neatly around the sides and back, his wild waves on top only slightly ta
med today.
Owl clenched her fists, trying to avoid Sasha’s intent gaze. “And Dusty was so hungry. I could see it in her face. She wanted those pears so badly, and he would have given her one too, if I had just… if I had licked his boot the first time. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it. Until he threatened to hit her, to ‘split her lip.’ Then I did it. I couldn’t let him hurt her. She’d already been hit several times, and we went through so much. I…”
Sasha’s brows pushed up and he squirmed in his seat.
“Thank you, Owl,” one of the women said. She jotted something on a pad of paper.
The man on the end said, “What did you think about while this was going on? Did you feel like you were doomed? Like you were facing death and wouldn’t make it home?”
Owl pulled in an unsteady breath. “There were—”
“Those are unnecessary questions.” The woman with the notepad scowled at the man. “We don’t need to know that to weigh Palesun’s crimes. She’s told us enough. We don’t need to make her think about that anymore.”
“The psychological damage that this whole situation caused is relevant to know—”
“And you can’t get that from what she’s already said?” The woman looked at her. “Owl, you don’t need to answer those questions.”
Owl fiddled with Dorhn’li’s turquoise beads hanging around her neck. “No. I want to answer that. There were times when I felt devastated. Times when I thought all hope was lost. I wanted to just curl up on the ground and give up. And I think… maybe if I was alone, I would have done that. But what kept me going was thinking about Dusty, and her and Sasha’s baby. I was willing to do whatever it took to keep something from happening to them.”
Sasha rose from his seat and walked past the council table as Owl continued, her face set in a hard scowl and a tight knot in her chest. “I wish I could have done more. I wish I could have prevented things from getting so out of hand. I don’t think I’m the smartest person in the world, or the bravest, but I’m proud to say that I didn’t give up. I wasn’t able to kill Merriweather, but—”