Obsidian and Stars (Ivory and Bone #2)(49)

I’m not sure if I believe what he says. He’s not speaking the truth about our betrothal. How can I believe that he’s speaking the truth about anything?

“Leave one of the kayaks for me,” he groans, “and I’ll come. As soon as I can—”

“You must think I’m pretty foolish.” I slide closer to him. I want him to feel me, even though his eyes are closed. “You must think you can tell a girl she’s smart and beautiful and she’ll accept everything else you say, too. Say all you want—I’m not leaving you. I know you’re very sick, but I’ve seen you worse. When you came to warn me and my clan about Lo’s coming attack? When you pushed through the storm and came to me, freezing and only half-alive? You were much worse that day than you are now. And yet you recovered. You recovered and came with me, and you’re coming with me now.”

“That was different—”

“No, it wasn’t—”

“I didn’t have to be carried then.”

I notice a twinge of pain ripple across Kol’s face, but I’m not sure if it’s his knee or his pride that’s hurting. “Is this about Morsk?”

“I can’t do it. Mya, I can’t crawl—”

“Then you’ll go backward. You can lie down and slide on your back—”

“Mya!” Kol sits up again, his back arching, his features contorting with pain. I had thought he was sitting forward before in an effort to be closer to me—to speak to me more privately—but now I realize he was moved by his body, not his heart.

Maybe he really isn’t trying to sacrifice for me. Maybe he just can’t go on.

“I’ll follow you. I promise,” he says. “Let me stay here until I get some strength back. You can all crawl through to the beach. I’ll wait. When I can, I’ll come through after you.”

As Kol speaks, I lean closer. For just a moment, I force myself to consider it—I force myself to try to walk away. As the High Elder, I am obligated to ask what course would be best for the clan. What course is the right one for the greater good?

In that moment, the darkness in this cave cannot compare with the darkness that envelops my heart. The darkness I feel when I consider what might happen if I were to leave Kol here. When I consider my future as the High Elder of the Olen, if Kol never made it out of this cave.

Some rewards will never make up for the sacrifices made to achieve them. “We all go home,” I say. “There’s no other option. There’s no option where I decide to leave someone behind. Not you, not Morsk, not anyone.”

“Of course you can’t leave Morsk—”

“What does that mean—”

“You might need him. Someone has to father the next Olen High Elder.”

“Don’t talk that way—”

“Mya,” Kol says, his voice suddenly strong, “don’t hold on to me now, only to let go of me later.”

His eyes are closed. I think about his words as I notice the tightness of the skin across his cheeks. The puffiness of his dry lips.

I lean over him and touch his lips with mine—a kiss to seal a promise. “I’m not leaving the High Elder of the Manu to die. You are needed—”

“And so are you—”

“So we’re going out together. You must try. We can discuss the future of our betrothal and the future of our clans—we can even discuss who will marry Morsk—but not here. We can discuss all of that once we are home.”

Kol struggles up onto his elbows and gives me an even look. No smile—not on his lips or in his eyes. “I can’t go on, Mya. I can’t make it.” For the first time since he told me he wouldn’t come with me, I know he is telling me the truth. “But for you, I promise to try.”

He leans toward me, and seals his promise with a kiss.

I get up and walk toward the passageway, feeling the walls with my hands when it’s too dark to see. Kol comes behind me, sliding across the floor backward, keeping his left leg straight at the knee. I tell him when the ceiling drops down, though it hardly matters to him. When the opening closes to a space barely wider than my shoulders, I stop.

It’s not big, but it will have to be big enough.

Kol slides past me until he can go no farther. Lees calls to him from the other side of the opening, ready to help him through.

“Where’s Seeri?” I ask.

“She’s right here. I just . . . I wanted to be the one to help.”

I almost argue with her—I almost tell her to go back to her place between Morsk and Pek—but then I change my mind. We came to this island together. She wants to play a part in getting us home.

“Can you thread your arms through first?” Lees asks, her voice a soft hum. “It’s easiest if you slide forward, onto your hands. I’ll be here to make sure your knee doesn’t hit the floor.” Lees’s voice shakes as she gives him instructions. Maybe someone else wouldn’t notice—she’s trying so hard to stay calm—but I can hear the strain behind her words. For now she’s trying to stay strong for everyone else. I think we all are, actually. But I marvel that Lees, my impulsive little sister, is able to succeed at it so well.

A sharp groan rolls out of Kol as he pushes his body through the tight space. As his knees rub against the rough rocks that line the gap into the passageway, I bite my lip. I almost pray, but I don’t dare anger the Divine with another request.