The Deepest Blue(7)

Mayara, in her nacre dress, stood with Kelo on a raised platform by the stone wall. His parents were behind him, on the ground, each holding symbols of health and happiness: a knot of seaweed for health and a ripe coconut for happiness. Her parents, with Mother leaning heavily on Papa’s arm, were behind Mayara, with symbols of long life and protection from pain and sorrow: a piece of driftwood and a sliver of fossilized bone from an ancient water spirit.

Rose and orange from the setting sun soaked into the stones of the plaza and were reflected in the water in the sea beyond. Mayara gazed into Kelo’s eyes and wished she could preserve this moment forever.

“You live in my heart,” Kelo said.

“You live in mine,” Mayara replied.

“Our souls are one.”

“Our souls are two, made one.” She’d heard these words at every village wedding, and she’d known that someday she and Kelo would be standing here, on the cliff above the village, with the sea and the sunset and everyone they loved as their witnesses. In fact, she’d known since she was six years old. Kelo claimed he’d known since he was three. Everyone always oohed and aahed when he said that, until she pointed out that at three, he’d also thought he was going to marry his father’s boat, his favorite chicken, and a bowl of clam soup. “Always, I will—”

She saw it again, out of the corner of her eye, a twitch in the clouds on the horizon. She turned her head to see that the ocean looked darker. Clouds had blown in front of the setting sun, blocking some of its light. That was quick.

Unsettled, Mayara continued. “Always, I will share my days and my nights, my hopes and my dreams . . .” Her attention drifted again as she felt whispers inside her head. Wordless, the whispers scratched at her. She strained to hear them.

A worried frown crossing his face—he’d clearly noticed her distraction—Kelo picked up the traditional words. “Always, I will share my fears and my sorrows, never to walk alone.”

The words passed through her mind, but something else dominated her thoughts now.

It felt like a spirit. But she’d never sensed one like this. . . . It sounded like . . . It sounds like many spirits, all jumbled up. She again looked at the clouds. They were moving fast now, across the ocean, and the waves were breaking in front of them.

It’s nothing, she told herself. I’m imagining it. Just bad weather.

It had to be, because she’d never been able to hear any of the wild ocean spirits while she was on shore, and the heirs kept the so-called tame spirits away from the villages.

It’s an ordinary storm. And it’s too far away to worry about. Kelo’s mother had said it wouldn’t arrive until later, and she was never wrong in her predictions. The fishermen often charted their routes based on her readings of the sky.

Mayara dragged her mind back into the moment, and she again gazed into Kelo’s eyes. This was all she had to worry about. Not messing up the final words of the ceremony in front of everyone she knew. “Together, forever, we will sail the seas of life.”

“Together, forever, I pledge myself to you,” Kelo said.

“And I to you.”

As their families and everyone in their village cheered, Mayara and Kelo kissed. Then they turned, hand in hand, their backs to the sea and the storm. Grinning broadly, Kelo waved at the crowd. “Hey, we did it! It’s time to eat and dance!”

The cheering was even louder.

Kelo jumped off the platform and held out his arms. Smiling back at him, Mayara jumped, and he caught her and twirled her in a circle before setting her down. The drummers began to play again. Soon Mayara and Kelo spun apart—each of them greeting their guests and accepting their congratulations.

Papa kissed Mayara’s forehead. “You know I wish you—”

Mother laid her hand on Papa’s elbow, stopping him. Her face was pale, and she had dark circles under her eyes. Mayara was certain she was going to say she had to leave the celebration early—that all of this made her think too much about Elorna, how Elorna had never had a chance to fall in love and marry, how this only reminded her of what they’d all lost—but Mother didn’t say that. Instead she managed a small smile. It looked foreign on her face, as if her lips had forgotten they could curve, but it was undoubtedly a smile. “We both wish you every happiness, Mayara.”

Mayara felt a lump in her throat and blinked back tears that suddenly sprang into her eyes. She loved them both so very much. I am the luckiest woman in the world. “Thank you, Mother.” She hugged her. “And you, Papa.” She hugged him too.

When she released them, she felt it again—this time louder, the voices of wild spirits pounding in her head. She couldn’t ignore it or pretend she’d imagined it. Keeping a smile on her face, Mayara pushed past her parents, only half paying attention to other well-wishers, as she maneuvered through the crowd to the cliff wall.

She looked out at the horizon.

The horizon was gone, swallowed completely by the storm clouds.

It’s not an ordinary storm.

And it wasn’t coming slowly. It was flying over the sea, unnaturally fast. The voices in her head . . . They were from within the storm. “It’s coming for us,” Mayara breathed. She stumbled backward, away from the cliff wall, and turned to face her family, her friends, and her neighbors—everyone she knew and loved.