Raging Rival Hearts

by Olivia Wildenstein

  The bridge underneath which Lake Michigan blended with Lake Huron, their waters gray and frothing, snapping at the metal siding.

  Traffic was light, and soon we were rolling along the coast. When I caught sight of a US-2 sign, I pivoted sharply toward Kajika.

  Shouldn’t we be heading north?

  “You said you wanted an adventure. I am giving you an adventure.”

  Oh. I blinked at the hunter, whose dark gaze was focused on the flat strip of road bordered by drying grass and squat pines. A sliver of gunmetal-gray lake appeared through his window, then flashed out of sight behind clapboard houses and trees.

  Mayo dripped onto my jeans and seeped into the material. I hovered my hand over the stain. Blue flames coated my palm and burned away the stain.

  “Lily,” Kajika chided me.

  I rolled my fingers into my palm. He was going to tell me I shouldn’t waste my fire.

  “Yes.”

  It doesn’t use up much to do that.

  A nerve ticked in his jaw.

  Fine. I won’t do it again.

  I had barely finished my sandwich when we pulled up to a park that advertised ziplining.

  My eyes widened. Are we— Are we going to do that?

  “Apparently it feels like flying.” His lips flexed with an almost unnoticeable smile. If I hadn’t been familiar with his mouth’s micro-expressions, I would’ve missed it completely. “Put on the cap and glasses.”

  I wiped my fingers on a paper napkin then fished out my incognito get-up. Don’t you think the glasses are going to draw attention? There’s no sun.

  “I would prefer you wear them.”

  I put them on. Since it was still early and a weekday, the park was almost empty.

  “Have you ever done this?”

  No.

  As Kajika paid for our equipment rental, I marveled at the thick cables zigzagging through the branches. I doubted it would feel like flying. Flying wasn’t fun…at least not for me. It was simply convenient, a way of getting around, like walking for humans. This looked like fun.

  A bearded man handed me a harness, which he helped slide up my legs. Putting on his own equipment, Kajika watched the man tighten the straps around my waist and thighs.

  “So you got two hooks.” The man lifted one of mine. “This here’s a carabiner, and this one is a track pulley. One of these has to be attached to the cable at all times. When you go down the zipline, keep your hands on your rope, ’cause if you touch the cable, you’re going to sear your fingers.”

  He grabbed two helmets and gave them to us. Even though neither Kajika nor I needed a helmet, we belted them on, and then we headed toward the beginning of the course. I clipped myself onto the first cable and began my ascent toward a wooden platform. The ladder seemed to go on forever.

  I secured the track pulley and waited for Kajika to swing himself up next to me. Where it had taken me a full minute to get up, it took him mere seconds.

  Show-off.

  A smirk appeared on his lips.

  I overlapped my fingers on the rope that tethered my hook to my harness, and then jumped off. Wind slapped my cheeks and blew through my loose hair as I soared downward. And then my feet touched another platform. I moved my hooks to the next cable as I waited for the hunter. The line dipped from his weight as he soared toward me.

  After his boots found purchase on the tree stand, he said, “It does feel like flying.”

  How would you know?

  His eyes went flat.

  I’d asked the wrong question, except now I really wanted an answer.

  “Your brother once flew me somewhere,” he grumbled.

  I smiled. That must’ve been painful for the both of you.

  He eased his hook off the zipline, then clipped it on the cable wrapped around the thick trunk. “You have no idea,” he said gruffly, which made me laugh.

  He scowled at me, but it was a playful scowl.

  I walked up the rope bridge that led to the next tree, climbed another ladder, and then I was flying downward again, and I squealed a little from the speed and adrenaline of letting go.

  Not just of my body’s control, but of the worries that clogged up my chest like cotton balls.

  8

  Birthplace

  We did the entire course twice.

  Thank you, I thought as we merged back onto US-2 and continued on our way. That was really fun. He pressed on the gas, and it felt like we were flying again. Was it fun for you?

  “It was.”

  He said it in a tone that made me think it hadn’t been much fun, but I’d spotted a luster in his eyes when he soared through the trees, so he must’ve had some fun.

  I have to tell Ace about it. We could implement this in Neverra so the calidum can fly too.

  “You have trees in Neverra?”

  I placed my sunglasses inside the cap, which I’d laid on my lap. We have calimbors and volitors and mallow trees. Calimbors are huge. Like three hundred feet. People live inside the hollow trunks.

  He glanced at me.

  Volitors are flying trees. We use their branches to make runas.

  A groove appeared between his eyebrows, so I explained what a runa was and then told him more about my world. It was the first time he’d shown an interest, and I was starved to talk about it.

  “We do not have to discuss it if it is painful.”

  I’m happy to tell you about it. I want you to understand it, so it won’t feel foreign once you go.

  He kept his gaze cemented to the road. I told him about the political system next. How the wariff controlled the lucionaga and the draca, but the draca was also under the king’s command so it sometimes created tension between the king and his wariff.

  At some point he veered right.

  We’re going somewhere else? I asked just as I saw a sign that read: Cut River Bridge. I wondered what was so special about a bridge until we were cruising over it. Then I understood.

  The bridge loomed up so high that it passed over the tops of the flaming crowns of the trees below. I’d seen many beautiful sights in my life—temples carved in rock, marble palaces, pointy pyramids, and hanging gardens—but the auburn and copper ocean of foliage was breathtaking.

  Once off the bridge, he parked the car on the shoulder of the road.

  “The gas attendant said there are stairs on the side that lead all the way to the forest floor.”

  I spun toward Kajika, shocked he’d inquired about sites.

  He shrugged. “But we do not have to go if you do not—”

  Before he could finish his sentence, I pumped my door handle and got out. Together we descended the fifteen stories that reminded me acutely of the spirals in Neverra.

  I never thought being unable to fly would be a good thing.

  He frowned at me, his boots pounding heavily on the wooden stairs.

  It’s forcing me to do things I would never have done otherwise.

  The climb back up was steep and difficult. I got a stich in my side halfway up and panted harder than a lupa.

  “You want me to carry you the rest of the way, Lily?”

  I shot him a horrified look that gave him pause. I’m sorry. It’s just that no one’s ever carried me before. Well, except for Dawson’s uncle, but that was inside a runa.

  “I do not want you to waste your fire.”

  He had a point. Physical exertion did expend my reserve. I wasn’t sure how much of a dent it made, though. Perhaps it wasn’t much.

  I was evaluating how many floors remained, when Kajika scooped me up. I yelped, then hooked my arms around his neck as he shot up the stairs, moving so fast the world blurred around us. Seconds later, he set me down, and I detached my arms from around his corded neck.

  Sorry about my death grip.

  His breathing had quickened from the swift climb, which ignited the W on his hand. Palm glowing in response, I leaned over the railing to take in the crashing river and jeweled forest below. Kajika faced the other directio
n, arms folded in front of his chest.

  So what’s next, Mr. Tour Guide?

  “We can stop to eat something. If you are still hungry, that is.”

  I wasn’t, because I’d wolfed down a sandwich. Without sharing, I realized…

  “I ate a consequential breakfast before leaving home,” he assured me as we walked back to the car.

  The next segment of the drive was quiet. I cradled my head on my fingers and stared out my window until we rolled into a town called Manistique. He parked on the road across from a quaint little café. I put my baseball cap and sunglasses back on.

  As we ate golden pastries filled with cheese and grilled vegetables, Kajika gazed fixedly out the window, past the swirly gold logo of the bakery. There weren’t many passersby, and the few who walked past didn’t hold Kajika’s attention.

  Are you expecting someone?

  He returned his gaze to me. “I once lived here.”

  In this town?

  “It was not a town then.” He placed his elbows on the small table and leaned slightly toward me. “My tribe resided here. I did not realize this until I saw the sign for Kitchitikipi—the Big Spring.”

  I wiped my hands on my paper napkin. We don’t have to visit it if it brings back—

  “I am eager to show you where I come from.” He added a tight smile, as though to convince me he truly was happy about revisiting his birthplace. “I will be right back.” He got up, his chair scraping on the ocean-blue tiles.

  He walked over to the register and paid for our meal, then asked about places to stay in the area. The aproned lady behind the register twirled a lock of orange hair around her finger.

  “I got a room in my house,” she said.

  Kajika’s shoulder blades jolted together like birdwings.

  I smiled, even though I did wonder about the woman’s ethics. She’d seen me sitting with Kajika. Granted we didn’t act like a couple, but propositioning him was definitely ballsy. I got up, slung my handbag over my shoulder, and strolled up to the hunter.

  Once next to him, I wrapped my fingers around his forearm. Her gaze dipped to where I touched him. Kajika looked at my hand too and then looked at me.

  I didn’t let go. Better pretend you’re with me, or she’ll hand you her house key.

  A hint of color swept over his jaw. “My mate and I—”

  I pinched his arm. Girlfriend, I whispered into his mind. You’re not British, and I’m not a dude.

  He frowned, not understanding my addendum. He’d probably never been to the UK… Had he ever traveled outside the States?

  Through barely parted teeth, he said, “My girlfriend and I would prefer to stay in a hotel.”

  “Oh. Of course. Well there’s the Iron Inn a couple streets—”

  “Iron? Is it crafted from iron?”

  The woman gave him a wide-lidded look. “It’s just called that. Why? You allergic or something?”

  “My girlfriend is.”

  Again she looked at me. I expected her to start twirling a finger over her temple any second, but she didn’t. Instead, she cocked her head to the side. “You seem familiar… Are you an actress? No you’re—”

  “She is no one.”

  Well thanks.

  I’d meant it as a joke but I guessed Kajika felt bad for the way it had come out, because he added, “To you, she is no one. To me, she is someone.”

  I blushed. And it was completely ridiculous. I let go of his arm. Okay, Shakespeare, let’s go.

  The woman made a scratchy sound at the back of her throat, before saying, “Thanks for your visit, Miss Wood.”

  “She is not Lily Wood.”

  She winked at him. “My lips are sealed.”

  Kajika grumbled something in Gottwa as we walked out of the pastry shop.

  After we got back in the car, he asked, “Who is Shakespeare?”

  Really? You don’t know Shakespeare? Romeo and Juliet? MacBeth? Blake must’ve studied him in school. All human kids study him. I even studied him in Neverra. He was part faerie.

  “I have learned to compartmentalize the memories I received from Blake.” His pupils seemed to flood his irises. “Already you are inside my head. If I gave his mind free rein, I believe I would lose it, as they say.”

  I bit my lip. Sometimes, I was really sorry I’d invaded his mind. Sometimes, though, what I felt wasn’t repentance…it was relief. Relief that someone could hear me. That I existed as more than a noiseless shell.

  9

  The Big Spring

  Kitchitikipi was a vast conifer swamp. The largest freshwater reserve in Michigan, Kajika told me as we floated atop a wooden raft. There were other people on the raft. Not many though.

  “Legend has it,” the tour guide was saying, “Chippewa parents came to the pool to find names for their offspring. They would read them in the water’s ripples. Another legend was…”

  The man’s voice faded when I felt Kajika’s breath brush the shell of my ear. “It is not a legend. It is how I got my name.”

  Goose bumps scattered over my neck, but considering the number of layers I wore to ward off the cold, they weren’t noticeable.

  I hoped.

  He leaned back down to my ear, and I shivered. “My mother came here when her stomach was ripe with me, and the spring presented her with the name I was to carry. Kajika meant arrow in our tongue.”

  I shivered again, this time from the cold, and hugged my arms around my jacket. Arrow. I glanced up at him. How suiting.

  His gaze took in my wrapped arms. “You are cold. We should leave.” He turned toward the guide. “Sir, please maneuver the boat back to shore.”

  Everyone aboard blinked at us.

  “The tour ends in fifteen minutes—” the guide started.

  The hunter’s eyes took on that glow I knew oh-so-well. He was about to bend the man to his will. “Now. Steer us back to shore now.”

  I’m okay. I’m not that cold. Let’s stay.

  Kajika pressed his knuckles against my cheek. “Your face feels like ice.”

  I wrapped my hand around his and dragged it off my face, then squeezed his fingers before letting go. I swear I’m okay.

  As the raft docked, it seesawed, and my body bumped into Kajika’s.

  He steadied me. “I do not know how the cold impacts your fire, so I do not want to take foolish risks.”

  The people around us were giving us funny looks. I wasn’t sure if the hunter’s olden speech or the mention of my fire was to blame for the extra attention.

  I wet my lips and lowered the already low baseball cap over my bespectacled eyes. Okay, okay.

  As we passed by the guide, who was rubbing his chin, confused as to why we were docked, Kajika said, “Your account of how the spring got its name is not accurate. The name of the chief was Itchewa. Kitchitikipi was his son. Itchewa drowned in the icy waters, not for the love of his mate, but to save his child who had fallen from the bough of a tree. He was not successful, and the child drowned too. It was a terrible day for the tribe.”

  The guide’s hand froze on his stubbly chin. He stared at Kajika as though the hunter had grown a second head. Clearly, he thought him crazy. From the raised eyebrows of the others surrounding us, I deduced he wasn’t the only one who thought this.

  Ducking my head low to avoid their curious stares, I strode off the raft and trailed Kajika toward the parking lot.

  Did you know Itchewa?

  “He was my uncle.”

  I froze. It was your cousin who drowned!

  Kajika stopped too. He stared at the clear, bubbling water as though he could see the child’s lifeless body floating atop. “He was the same age as my brother so I never met him, but I heard the story. It was told often in our tribe to deter children from playing too close to bodies of water. I only learned to swim when the Gottwas took us in. I used to fear water. I used to believe it was the source of all evil.”

  Until he’d met faeries. Then they—we—became the source of all evil.<
br />
  “It is true.” He lifted hooded eyes to me. “You say you do not know me, Lily, but I fear you know me too well.”

  I hated that he considered us the source of all evil.

  It felt personal. As though he considered me terrible. I didn’t have an evil bone in my body. Back in Neverra, during one of the royal hunts, I’d once let a dile escape because I couldn’t bear to kill the venomous reptile. Cruz had had to slay it for me, and then he’d told my father I had killed and flayed it with my own sword. But my stomach had been in too many knots to even look at Cruz peeling away the animal’s blue scales. My father had been so proud, he’d had the skin fashioned into a wide belt, which I’d had to don at many glitzy soirées.

  I started walking again, shaking my head a little to dispel the memory of the noxious scent of dile blood that had spurted over Cruz’s gloved hands and reddened the moss.

  If Kajika had heard me thinking about the creature, he didn’t bring it up.

  Thankfully, because I was pretty certain I would’ve thrown up if he had.

  The Iron Inn was not made of iron. It was made of yellowed, flowered wallpaper and water-stained hardwood floors. And it smelled musty, the way I’d always imagined the Hareni smelled. It hit me again that it was gone. The underground prison that had been the Unseelies’ home was now covered in liquefied mist.

  Kajika rolled my little suitcase down the short hallway. He’d insisted on lugging it, even though it wasn’t heavy. Did he think I was becoming too fragile to carry my own bag? I stopped in front of room 3 and fit my clunky key into the lock.

  The room was small and bare-boned but appeared clean…ish.

  “Would you like me to find us someplace else?” The hunter’s gaze raked over the queen-sized bed that looked as hard as a slab of wood, the canary-yellow-tiled bathroom with a child-sized bathtub, and the square television that dated back to the nineties.

  It’s fine. I fingered the scratchy bed spread. It’s just for one night anyway.

  He plopped the suitcase down on the desk that was painted a dirty eggshell color.