Obsidian and Stars (Ivory and Bone #2)(71)

Yano stands just beside the door. One glance at his face tells me he heard every word I said.

“Kol is looking for you,” he says. “I think he wants you to take a walk with him—”

“We took a walk yesterday—”

“I think he wants to talk—”

“We have talked.”

“Mya, come sit with me.” He tugs me by the arm, dragging me back into his hut, right to my brother’s side. “Sit,” he says, but in a voice so soft no one could refuse. I fold myself onto a bearskin that covers the floor beside my brother’s feet.

“Mya, you are not the same person your brother was. Yet you have been called to lead. The Divine knows that you will choose what’s best for the clan. Your brother would know that, too. But you need to do what you think would be best for the clan, even if it’s not what you think Chev would want—”

“But it’s not what I think he would want. It’s what I know he wanted—”

“The Divine has called you. This is your time to lead.” A hand rises to Yano’s lips, then drops again. “Chev’s time has passed.” Yano blurs and loses shape. My eyes fill with tears at the cruel truth that Chev’s time is over. “Remember,” Yano says. His voice is like heat—I feel it more than hear it. “Sometimes what’s best for the future is different from what was best for the past. I know Chev would want the clan to be strong but also for you to be happy, and for the people to thrive, no matter what the clan is called or who is said to be the High Elder.”

My eyes meet Yano’s. His face is swollen with emotions held back. He and I share a pain so deep, and yet he has brought me a different kind of peace. I don’t know what I will do, but I know that I’m not alone. “Thank you,” I try to say. The words don’t come, but he sees them on my lips.

When I step out of Yano’s hut, swiping the backs of my hands across my eyes, I find Kol, waiting for me.





TWENTY-EIGHT


“Would you walk with me?” I ask.

Kol’s eyes curl at the corners, a momentary smile. “I was hoping to. I thought you might say no.”

“I still might say no—”

“I meant to the walk—”

“We’re still betrothed. We should spend time together—”

“While we can,” Kol says. He holds out a hand and I take it. His palm is warm. I wrap my fingers around it like I’m enclosing some small, vulnerable thing that I want to keep alive.

“While we can,” I echo. Kol has a spear, so I know he is thinking we will leave camp. “How well can you climb?” I ask. “Are you well enough to handle the climb up the ravine?”

“All the way to the cave,” he says. “Where else would we go?”

The hike up into the ravine that leads to the cave is not an easy one, but today, with the sun out and the ground dry, it’s nothing like it was on the day Lo attacked our clan. The water that runs down from the peaks forms a shallow and winding creek, but I remember the raging river that swept us away that day—the day Lo drowned. The memory of the sight of that white water has faded like a dream, but I remember the loud roar in my ears and the cold that cut right to my bones.

And I remember Kol standing over Lo’s body when he pulled her from the stream. The memory of her ash-gray face and pale blue lips will never leave me.

Kol uses his spear as a walking stick, but I worry about his footing when we reach the place where the trail splits, the left side leading down to the creek, the right side becoming a hanging shelf of rock leading to the summit and the cave. “Are you sure?” I ask. Besides his spear, he carries a pack and a waterskin. He pauses at my question and offers me a drink.

“I’ll carry this the rest of the way,” I say, “and the pack too.” I shrug it over my shoulder. It’s light. “What’s in here?”

“You’ll see.”

“A surprise then?”

“More like a memory.”

We pass up the trail slowly, feet cautiously placed, spots of hidden ice carefully avoided. When at last we reach the summit overlooking the sea, I know that the worst part of the path to the cave still lies ahead of us.

“It’s easier, I think, if you go down backward,” I say, climbing over the ledge and descending onto the side of the cliff that faces the sea. The footholds are narrow, the handholds few. Two steps down and I am almost to the lip of rock that skirts the mouth of the cave, but my attention is on Kol as he climbs down the cliff above me. One more step and I am on the cave floor. I draw a deep breath when Kol drops in behind me.

Crawling back deeper into the cave, I’m surprised by how well I can see. “I remember it being much darker in here.”

“It was raining both times we were here together,” Kol says. “I remember the sound.”

We sit side by side, facing the curved opening in the rock. Today, the sound of distant waves below filters in from outside, but I’m far more aware of the inhale and exhale of my own breath echoing off the close walls. My pulse quickens, my heart runs hard in my chest, and I tell myself these are the lingering effects of the climb down the cliff, but I doubt it. Kol moves beside me and I turn to watch him dig through the pack I’ve dropped on the floor.