Obsidian and Stars (Ivory and Bone #2)(16)

My brother, still standing, takes a step back from Mala. He drops his eyes, clears his throat, shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he says, “but that betrothal won’t be possible.”

Up until these words from Chev, I’ve been slumped contentedly against Kol’s shoulder. But now I sit upright. I must have misunderstood him. But I see the look of confusion on Mala’s face, and I know I heard him correctly.

“The Olen are in a difficult situation, despite these advantageous betrothals today. Pek will be a great gain for our clan, and I’m happy to have him as a brother. But his marriage to Seeri creates a problem for the Olen. I am the clan’s High Elder, but I am childless. That will not change. The Divine knows the next High Elder will not be my child. So the Divine looks to my sisters. The oldest, Mya, will be the wife of the High Elder of the Manu. Seeri, the next, has also chosen to marry a Manu, and despite Pek’s many strengths, he would not be the ideal father to the child who would grow to lead the Olen clan.”

A hole opens inside me, rippling wider, as if this proclamation of Chev’s is a stone dropped into a dark lake. Without knowing what I intend to say, I climb to my feet. “But Pek is an excellent hunter. He’s skilled at boat-making and hut-building—he and Kol built the hut we sleep in—”

“All this is true. If those were all the things necessary to father a strong High Elder, I would happily relent.” He pauses, and looking around seems to notice for the first time that every person gathered here is watching him, waiting for this explanation. He closes his eyes and rubs his fingers across his brow. “Let me tell you a story,” he continues.

“There was a High Elder who needed to take a warrior with him to face an enemy clan. He could take with him his son or his son-in-law. His son-in-law was the better fighter, but he had been born into the enemy clan. So the High Elder took his own son as his companion on the journey. He was the better choice, because he would have unshakable loyalty.

“If Seeri marries Pek and he joins the Olen, where will their child’s loyalty be? To the clan of her mother or her father? How can their child be the next High Elder if that question can’t be answered?”

“But,” Mala says, “Mya will be the mother of the next Manu High Elder, and she wasn’t born into the Manu clan. Yet I have no doubts about her loyalty.”

“Because you have no choice,” my brother answers. “There are no young women in this clan. But there is a young man in the Olen, one who could marry Lees and be the father of the next High Elder.” He turns in place until his gaze falls directly on Morsk, who climbs to his feet. A murmur ripples through the gathered crowd.

“Why didn’t the High Elder in your story take his daughter on the journey, instead of his son or his son-in-law?” I ask. Chev doesn’t turn toward me to answer. To do so would be to acknowledge this challenge I’m making to his authority.

“Because she was already dead,” he says.

I watch him warily. “You’re imagining problems that don’t exist,” I say. “Seeri’s child with Pek will make an excellent choice for the next Olen High Elder.”

Finally Chev turns, and when his eyes meet mine, they are heavy and dark with sorrow. Or perhaps regret. “That’s easy for you to argue,” he says, his voice diminished—almost resigned—under the burden of my gaze. “You’re not the High Elder. Your only concern is for your family. But I have to give the good of the clan equal weight to the good of my family. Perhaps even more weight. You’ll never really understand that, because now that you’re betrothed to Kol, you’ll never be the Olen High Elder.”

A noise distracts me—a scuttling across the ground behind me. I look back and catch sight of Lees, dirty from crawling in the damp grass, scrambling to her feet. Before I have the chance to move, she takes off running up the path toward camp.

I swing my head around, and I see that Chev’s gaze rests on the place where Lees just disappeared from view.

There is no use trying to reason with Chev here. In private it would be difficult. With this audience, it would be impossible.

Kol squeezes my hand, and I can see by the concern in his eyes that he saw Lees, too. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I have to go after her.” I slip my hand out of Kol’s grip and hurry away.

The path to camp is empty. I walk all the way to the ring of huts alone. Lees must have moved fast. I creep along the outside edge of the huts, crouching low in what little shade they throw. I know the Manu must suspect that betrothals are being discussed today, and I don’t want to raise any questions by being seen alone. So I stay out of sight and consider where I might find my sister.

I head first to the hut of Kol’s family, but the door hangs still and everything’s silent. Standing outside my own hut—the hut Kol and Pek built on our family’s first visit so we would always feel welcome in this camp—I hear the shuffle of feet from inside. I slide through the door, expecting to find my sister and Roon.

Instead, I find myself face-to-face with Morsk. He must have followed right behind me when I left the beach. And like me, he took care not to be seen.

There’s something disconcerting about his uninvited presence here in this private space, but I refuse to let him see my unease. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but if you’re looking for Lees, I’m quite sure she doesn’t want to see you.”