Obsidian and Stars (Ivory and Bone #2)(42)

She takes another step, tosses the knife even higher, watches it flip once . . . twice . . . then snatches the handle out of the air.

My eyes flick to the shadows where I know Seeri hides. I cannot distinguish even her outline. Does she see this? I wonder. Does this rage burn in her, too?

Then the Spirit of my brother puts an end to Anki’s brazen game. She tosses the knife up, letting it tumble end over end, and reaches out to catch its bone handle. But something slows her hand, and the blade flips around and slices her palm. She cries out—a sharp gasp of pain—as it slips from her grasp and drops into a tangle of briars and shade.

I bite my lip, holding back the taunts that fill my mouth.

But then she drops to the ground, crawling on her hands and knees just a few paces away, searching for the knife. She is so close, I fear she will hear Kol’s ragged breaths, but she is consumed by her need to find the knife.

She is completely unaware of our presence, I think. She is completely unaware of how easy it would be for me to kill her.

I watch her, and the fingers of my right hand—the hand that holds the shaft of my spear against the ground—begin to tingle. My eyes move to Dora. She is watching Anki, too.

In my mind, I take the shot. I plant my spear in Anki’s back.

But then what? How long would it take her mother to retaliate? If Kol were well, I could count on him to take down Dora, but he’s far too weak. And the others are too far away for me to signal.

No. This is not the right time. My fingers relax on my spear.

“Give up. It’s lost,” Dora calls. I watch her. Her interest in the mystery of the wolf that stopped to howl has faded. She’s ready to move on. “You know not to steal from the dead—even from Chev. You’re lucky all you got was a cut on the hand.”

Anki stands, dragging her cut palm across the front of her tunic, leaving a red smear. She sweeps her eyes across the ground at her feet one final time before running off in the direction of her mother, back toward the path.

As their rustling steps fade, I let out a long, silent exhale.

But before they are out of range, Seeri springs up from her hiding place. She stands at her full height, her spear over her shoulder, ready to throw. She takes a few sliding steps and I think she will do it. She is about to release the spear and let it fly into Anki’s back.

But just as quickly, Morsk is on his feet, lunging toward her. In just three steps he is beside her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and tackling her to the ground.

The women look back—they were not so far away that they couldn’t hear them fall. We all hold still, hidden only by the low growth and the deepening shade, Morsk’s huge hand cupped over Seeri’s mouth. Dora and Anki stand and stare over their shoulders, searching for the source of the sound. Finally, when nothing stirs, they turn away.

We watch them recede, picking their way back to the trail, disappearing into the trees. No one moves until their footsteps can no longer be heard.

Then Seeri shoves Morsk away, kicking at him as she climbs to her feet. Pek rushes to her side, his hands on Morsk’s chest, pushing him away from her.

“Why?” she spits. “Why wouldn’t you let me kill her? She admitted to killing Chev—”

“Because he was protecting them,” Kol says, his voice so thin I wonder if I’m the only one who hears it.

But no. Morsk hears. He turns on Kol. He dares to speak in a voice above a whisper.

“I wasn’t protecting them. I was protecting Seeri. Seeri, Mya, your brother, even you.”

“We don’t need your protection.” Pek spits the words, backing Morsk so far away from Seeri, I wonder if he intends to push him off the cliff. But then, with a final shove against his shoulders, Pek leaves him and turns back to Seeri, who is brushing broken bits of needles from the front of her tunic and the knees of her pants.

“If she’d taken the shot—then what?” Morsk asks. “Dora turns and fires her spear. Maybe she hits Seeri. Maybe she misses and hits Mya or you or me. But she would have hit one of us. And that’s assuming Seeri didn’t miss—”

“I never miss,” Seeri snaps.

“It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t the best plan,” Morsk says. He walks back to where he’d dropped his own spear on the ground. As he picks it up, Kol begins to rise to his feet beside me, and Seeri pushes the tension a bit further.

“I don’t care what you think,” she says. She walks to me and extends her hand to pull me to my feet. “I only care what my High Elder thinks. Mya?”

As I grip my sister’s hand, I struggle with how to answer. I see the pain in her eyes, the reflection of the pain I feel, too. The urge she’d felt to strike Anki down . . . I’d felt it, too.

And yet, like Morsk, I’d judged it to be the wrong time to attack.

“Just like you, I want revenge,” I start, letting Seeri haul me up. “Whether that was our best opportunity or not, I can’t say. But I promise it won’t be our last.”

There’s more I want to say—to Seeri and to Kol, too. But before I can form the words, a long howl comes from deep within the heart of the island—Black Dog. My eyes meet Kol’s, and I can see he feels the same urgency I feel.

“That’s Noni’s dog,” I say. “He belongs to the girl I left with Lees. We need to go find him.”