Obsidian and Stars (Ivory and Bone #2)(73)

I pull gently away, not so much to separate us as to look into his face. His skin glows in the firelight, but around him the room is growing dim. It’s getting late. I know we will need to leave, to return to camp soon. Even by saying he wished this would never end, Kol has admitted he knows it must.

I want to speak, to hear my own voice say out loud the truth that is thrashing inside me like something savage. That at this moment, I know I love him.

But I can’t say that, even if I know it to be true. I can’t tell Kol I love him if I’m going to refuse a merger. If I’m going to become the High Elder of the Olen, even as he becomes the High Elder of the Manu. It wouldn’t be fair. So instead of the words I love you, I say, “We should really get back.”

“We should,” he says. I notice that he also makes no declaration of his feelings. I can’t be surprised—it would be unfair to expect him to speak about his feelings for me while I choose to stay silent on mine for him. But he also hasn’t mentioned the topic of a merger at all.

Perhaps he’s given up on the idea already.

Kol opens his pack, reaches for the pouch of honey, and I set it in his hand. “You didn’t tell me,” I say. “Is it from the north or the south?”

His face opens, like a secret is about to be released to me. “Neither. Or really, both. This is what you get when you combine both together. The Manu and the Olen, mixed together as one.”

“Merged,” I say.

“You could say that.”

“Well, in the case of honey, it works very well.” I feel a wave of relief to learn that Kol is still hoping for a merger, even though I’m still unsure of what I think is best for my clan. I want so much to do as Yano says and choose a path for the future without relying on the past. I wish I could believe that the past shouldn’t control the future, but for now I’m not sure what I believe. With Kol’s taste and scent all over me, in this moment I’m not sure my judgment would be clear anyway. I notice my teeth biting into my lower lip. “Ready?”

“You first,” he says.

So I slide toward the mouth of the cave as Kol extinguishes the fire. The sound of the sizzling coals washes me in a diffuse sadness, and I try to push it from my mind by bracing myself for the coming climb back up to the summit of the cliff. I stare out at the sea and I stop. A chill chases away all of Kol’s warmth.

Two boats are approaching from the north.

“Kol,” I say. “Boats. Kayaks.” I look harder and I recognize the shape of the kayaks. I recognize the design. “Bosha,” I say.

Kol comes to sit beside me to watch the two kayaks come closer into view. The paddlers don’t notice us high on the cliff, and we stay still, letting them approach. I don’t want to react too soon. But it doesn’t take long for me to recognize the paddlers.

Thern and Pada.

“I’m going to confront them,” I say. “Give me your spear—”

“Mya, no—”

“We have only one weapon, Kol, and you’re not well enough—”

“I just don’t want you to react too quickly. You don’t even know why they’re here.”

“I do know,” I say, reaching for Kol’s spear. “Look at what they each carry on the deck of their boat.”

As they get closer, almost to the base of the cliff, everything comes into view. Thern’s hands red with cold. Pada’s hair, sticking to her forehead from the spray.

And on the deck of both kayaks, an atlatl and a pack of darts.





TWENTY-NINE


Watching them approach, my mind flies to my family. Lees and Seeri, unaware that there’s any danger nearby, are probably in camp right now, helping with the evening meal or telling stories about the island. Fear yields to resolve as I start down the cliff, Kol’s spear in my hand, to confront them. I don’t need to look up to know Kol is right behind me.

“Mya,” he calls.

“Kol, you can’t stop me—”

“I’m not trying to.” His eyes move to the boats, almost directly in front of us. “Listen, you can talk to them without going all the way down to them. Stay out of range.”

He’s right. They would have to throw their darts up from the boats. Even with an atlatl, that won’t be easy.

Stopping on a narrow shelf of rock, I turn to face the sea. Kol keeps descending until he is beside me. “You couldn’t really have believed I’d stay behind,” he says.

When they are almost directly below the place we stand, yet almost certainly too far away to make an accurate shot with a dart, I call out to Thern and Pada. Looking up, they see us, and then something strange happens. They wave their arms and call back to us, smiling and paddling our way.

“We’re so glad we found you,” calls Pada. She picks up her atlatl and waves it over her head, and my thoughts spin, trying to make sense of it all—she and Thern here, weapons in hand, calling to us like friends. “Can you come down? We need to tell you something,” she says, shouting to be heard over the waves. “We’ve come to bring a warning.”

I turn to Kol, but he must want to trust them as much as I do. He’s climbing down before I can ask a question. My eyes move between Kol’s hands gripping the rock, Thern’s hands gripping his paddle, and Pada’s hands, still gripping the atlatl. She doesn’t see me, but I hold Kol’s spear angled at her chest, ready to throw it as soon as she makes a move for the darts. But she never does.