Obsidian and Stars (Ivory and Bone #2)(63)

“I’ll restart the fire,” Pek says. “When you come back, you can sit and rest.” I walk away with Morsk, relieved that nothing else is said.

Morsk is quick to recognize feverweed, and together we gather enough to treat Kol, Noni, and the other injured. Except to compare leaves to be sure we are gathering the right plants, we don’t speak at all, and I’m so grateful Morsk doesn’t try to make me talk.

By the time we return to the others, they have organized a camp. We have no pelts to use as beds, but the ground has been cleared around the fire so that Pada, Lees, and Thern can lie down beside Noni and Kol. Seeri and Pek work together, cutting clothing away, cleaning wounds, and packing them with feverweed. Kol gets a ration of leaves to chew. By the time everyone is resting, the sky is a deep blue and the ground is swathed in shade. The fire gives the only light.

“I’ll take the first watch,” I say, and I’m relieved when no one argues. Everyone is exhausted. I am, too, but I know I won’t sleep. The pounding in my pulse that started when my spear pierced Anki’s thigh has yet to slow.

I stretch out beside Kol, watching him sleep. “I hope the feverweed helps,” I murmur, more to myself than to anyone else.

But Kol turns to me and smiles. “I think it does.”

“You’re awake?”

“Mm-hmm. I think my fever broke.” Kol sits up and reaches over me for the waterskin. His hand brushes mine. His skin is cool. “I’m feeling so much better, I think I’ll sit up with you to keep watch.”

“Kol, the reason we’re staying here is to let you rest—”

“I’ve been resting. Now I want to be with my betrothed.” He props himself on one elbow, trying so hard to appear comfortable and relaxed, but his breathing is still labored and sweat covers his brow. I’m not fooled. He may be improving but he is far from well.

Still, I’m selfish with him. I want him to stay awake so I can have him to myself. With everyone asleep, the fire glowing beside us, I’m taken back to the time we huddled together in the cave above the sea. The first time—the time he came to me half frozen and I had to use my own body heat to warm him.

I think about that night, my bare skin pressed against Kol’s, and I lean forward until my lips are hovering beside his. “I want to kiss you,” I whisper, “but I want you to rest. I’m torn.”

Kol leans forward, tipping me back, blocking the light of the fire with his shadow. “I’m not torn at all,” he says, and then his lips press against mine. They are warm but not with fever—with urgency. His kiss is searching; it holds a question and his lips move over mine as if he intends to draw out my answer. My lips respond, silently giving him whatever answer he seeks. My back arches as his hand slides under my waist. Encircled in his arms, I can’t help but wish that he would never let me go.

His lips trace down my throat to my collarbone, then back up to my ear. “I’ve been waiting too long to kiss you like that,” he whispers. His breath is warm. I’m reminded that he is still not well—he still needs rest—and I gently pull back, sliding from his arms.

He smiles a teasing smile. “You don’t want me to kiss you?”

“I want you to rest.”

“You’re even more captivating when you’re telling me what to do.” His fingers brush hair from my eyes. “You make a wonderful High Elder, Mya. People want to follow you.”

My heart flutters. These words of Kol’s are the highest of praise and the saddest of revelations. “If only that were not true. If only I could walk away from the role of High Elder—”

“Don’t say that,” Kol says, drawing back. The sudden firelight that falls across my face burns my eyes. All at once they swim with tears. “You don’t mean it. So don’t say it. I don’t expect you to walk away from anything. I’m not asking you to—”

“And I’m not asking you,” I say.

We both fall silent, and yet my head rings with its own thunder, as if the hopelessness of our situation were a sound only I can hear.

“But maybe I should ask you,” I start. I know I am dragging the both of us out onto a dangerous ledge with these words, but I also know the right answer from Kol could make everything good again. “If I asked you, what would you do? If I asked you to leave the role of High Elder of the Manu behind and come to me?”

Kol rolls onto his back and stares up at the sky. It’s still not dark enough to reveal the fires of the dead. “I would give up almost anything to come to you,” Kol says. And he says no more.

“You need to sleep.” I wish we’d never talked at all. I wish he had just kissed me and said nothing. “We can talk when we get home.”

He doesn’t answer. Maybe he’s fallen back to sleep. Maybe he just doesn’t want to respond. Either way, I am alone.

The night passes quickly, the sky darkening to obsidian, the stars giving off their heatless light. Too far away, I think. The dead who warm themselves beside those fires—my father, my mother, my brother—they are too far away to lend me any warmth.

The sky is still dark when someone stirs. I’m squatting beside the fire, feeding it another few pieces of wood, when I hear Morsk clear his throat.

“Your turn to sleep,” he says. “You’ll be useless paddling home if you’re exhausted.”