The Continent (The Continent #1)(71)

Teku makes a small noise of assent. “It does seem less formidable a thing, when you phrase it this way.” He glances back and forth between Noro and I. “And the two of you are willing to be parted?”

Noro leans back, relaxing a bit. “I wish to put as much distance as possible between Vaela and the Continent.”

Teku smiles at this, though sadly. “Very well, then. You will go, Vaela Sun, with my blessing and with the fastest vessel the two of you can manage. But waste no time. You must leave tomorrow, for Noro is needed here, with those whose very lives depend on him.”

The following morning, I wait in the sitting room at Eno’s while Noro shares a private farewell with his brother. The soft murmur of Noro’s voice hums through the wall, steady and soothing. Even so, I am restless, frustrated by the timing of all that has come to pass. I hate to leave Keiji behind, especially so soon after his injury, but I must take this opportunity to see if the Spire can help. I only hope Keiji will understand.

After a few minutes, Noro appears around the corner. “He wants to see you. But be warned—he is angry.”

In the healing room, Keiji sits cross-legged on the bed, his face turned toward the window. A clean white bandage encircles his neck—a chilling reminder of how nearly we lost him. He glances at me as I enter, hurt and frustration in his eyes. I sit on the edge of the bed and take his hands in mine.

“I shall miss you very much,” I say. “But I will return as soon as I can, and hopefully with very good news.”

He shakes his head and jerks his hands away, a tear sliding down his cheek. He wipes angrily at his face and turns away from me.

“Keiji…” My heart aches at his distance, at the darkness that surrounds him. If I could mend his hurts, if I could wind back the clock and prevent Aki’s death, if I could take Keiji’s pain as my own, I would do so without a second thought. But I can do none of these things—I cannot even stay to help him as he once helped me. I put my arms around him and pull him close. “I will come back, sweet one. I do love you so.”

He leans against my shoulder, weeping freely now. I rock him in my arms, resting my cheek atop his head, shattered by his suffering. Noro calls to me from the door, but I ignore him. How can I let go? How can I let go when Keiji is so broken, and so very alone?

“Vaela,” Noro says softly. “We must be on our way if we are to reach the coast by nightfall.”

I kiss the top of Keiji’s head and get to my feet. After a moment’s thought, I unclasp the chain about my neck and place the necklace—with its precious ruby pendant—in Keiji’s hands. He looks at me in surprise, his face still wet with tears. He examines the stone carefully, turning it over in his palm.

“Insazi,” I say. “You know this word?”

He nods, his eyes still on the pendant.

“Love, family, forever,” I say. “Think of me when you feel alone, Keiji. And know that you are not.”

We depart near ten o’ clock, leaving through the village gates and moving back along the walls toward the coast. The air is crisp and cool, the weather fine. Soon, the leaves will turn to russet and gold, and the chill of autumn will embrace the Continent. But for now, for our journey, the last sigh of summer promises fair temperatures and quick travel.

As I follow Noro along the rocky, winding path that will lead us to the sea, I cannot help but to reflect upon how different this journey is from our last. The landscape has changed, of course—the snow is long since melted, while the trees and flowers now bloom in great profusion. But it is more than that.

On that last terrible crossing, my every step was taken in a haze of shock and grief. And though this journey bears its own share of sadness, there is also great joy to be found. It is the small things that bring me such happiness, bittersweet though it is: taking a meal in the sunshine near the base of a roaring waterfall, rainbows sparkling in the mist and spray; a small smile from Noro as he turns back to make sure that I am near; the laughter and easy conversation we share as we walk.

A part of me wishes he could accompany me to the Spire—how lovely it would be, under different circumstances, to show him all the wonders of my former life. But of course, he cannot be spared. And as we near the great cliffs of the eastern sea, the reality of our imminent parting stabs at me with ragged strokes. This will be our last night together. Tomorrow, we shall sail to Ivanel, and Noro will return to the Continent without me. I can hardly bear the thought.

“Come, Vaela,” he calls from a few feet ahead, oblivious to my meditations. “We are nearly there.”

I smile and hurry along to join him. The terrain begins to slope gently uphill, giving way at last to a flat field of reddish-brown grass that leads all the way to the edge of the cliff.

I stand at the precipice, feeling as though I have discovered the end of the world itself. The sea below glimmers in the faltering sunlight, breakers rolling into the rocky shoreline in graceful, golden curves. A small harbor, dotted with gleaming white sails, is visible about a mile to the north.

Noro moves behind me, wraps his arms about my waist, and places a soft kiss on the nape of my neck. A familiar warmth spreads through me, a mixture of love, quiet desire, and contentment.

He pulls me closer. “It is beautiful, no?”

“Yes,” I say. “I only wish we could stay.”

“I wish this, too.” He turns me around and gazes down at me, tracing my lips with his fingertip. “How I will miss you, miyake.”