I watch Dora as Thern speaks. Her eyes flit briefly to Anki’s before returning to her hands, folded in her lap.
“This is why our answer to your question is that we have not chosen a new High Elder. Nor do we intend to. Instead, we hope to gain the forgiveness of the Olen clan, and ask them to allow us to rejoin them, reuniting the once-great Bosha clan.” He turns to face my brother. “If you will accept us, we would have you, Chev, as our High Elder.”
Though I didn’t recognize either Thern or Pada at first—there is a lean hardness to both of them that wasn’t there five years ago—I recognize their names, of course. Slowly, like seeing someone step out of a thick fog, their faces come back to me. I remember Pada especially, the second cousin of my best friend. She was older than us—beautiful and strong. I remember she kept her hair short to keep it out of her way in the hunt. My mother refused to cut mine to match, though I begged and begged. I wanted to be just like her, up until the day she chose to stay behind with Vosk.
She stood on the shore as I boarded the boat and Lo taunted me about my pendant. She was there when I crushed it under my boot against the rock. She called after us as we pulled away from shore, asking the Divine to forsake us and drown us in the sea.
I remember feeling so relieved that I still had my long hair—that I wasn’t like her. I cannot forgive her. I cannot accept anyone who so strongly rejected my family.
But Chev is different. He can accept anything, as long as he thinks it will lead to a return to the days when our father was High Elder of the Bosha. He gets to his feet from where he sits beside Seeri and crosses to the center of the circle. Thern meets him there and the two men exchange humble nods. So forgiving, so kind. But I see the slight shift in Chev as he fills with the knowledge of his expanding power. No smile, but heat rises in his eyes.
Mala stands. “I want to thank the Bosha elders for their openness,” she says. She steps forward, and Chev and Thern return to their seats. “I am certain that the Spirit of my husband is pleased to have this answer, as well.”
Mala lets her eyes sweep over the circle, addressing the group as a whole again, letting us all know that she would like to now speak about the Olen.
The time has come to discuss the Manu’s business with my clan.
Though I hear Kol’s mother’s voice, the sound stretches and bends into a low humming murmur, as if my head were underwater. I recognize the sound of my brother’s name, and the words thank you and the name of our clan. The word friendship swims through the hum, and willingness to help. Then she asks the purpose of the visit. It’s a formal question—part of custom. She can have no doubt what our purpose is. I saw it in her eyes the moment I stepped out of the boat and onto this shore.
The sound of the waves at the water’s edge, the wind rustling in the sea grass, and the echo of my own name—these sounds break through and fill my head. My eyes flick to Chev as he gets to his feet.
“I speak of my sister Mya first, because Kol is the future of the Manu clan. The Manu is on the cusp of new leadership—a great honor and responsibility will be conferred upon Kol soon.” Chev turns to face Kol, standing directly between us so that I cannot see his face. Something churns inside me like a catch of fish trying to escape the net. Every part of me twists and writhes. “The Manu have suffered a great loss, and we mourn that loss with you. But we also look forward to the future of the Manu. With that future in mind, Mala, I would like to betroth my sister Mya to your son Kol.”
My eyes are on the sand at my brother’s feet when he steps aside, opening the line of sight to the place where Kol sits. If I looked up, I could see his face. I could see what everyone else sees—his reaction to my brother’s words.
They are all looking at Kol. They all know what I want to know. What I need to know. So reluctantly, haltingly, I raise my eyes.
And when I see Kol’s face, his answer is there.
SIX
I see Kol’s face, and a little part of me dies. I have seen his smile before. But this is not a smile.
This is more.
The twist in his lips, the quickness in his eyes . . . they speak to me in a language I don’t completely understand. He opens his mouth and I think, Yes, now I will know what the words are, all these unnamed feelings will have a name.
“Mya,” is all that he says.
But spoken by Kol, that one word is enough. Because tucked within that word—tucked within my own name—are all the things that have no names. The sound of my name from Kol’s lips calls to me like the echo of a long-forgotten dream. He moves toward me, and all the coldness in me is replaced by the heat I see in his eyes. A heat that cancels out my fear of marrying the High Elder of the Manu.
At least for now.
“Mya,” he repeats, but in my name there is something different—a secret tucked away. “I have something for you,” he says.
He returns to the place where he sat beside his mother, and he picks up the pack he carried in with his spear. He brings it to the center of the circle and sets it at my feet. Everyone watches him. Every move he makes seems infused with meaning. He flips the pack open and takes from it something small.
A waterskin. A small waterskin that might belong to a child.
But then I recognize it. I’ve seen it before. It’s the pouch of honey—the very same pouch of honey I rejected when Kol tried to give it to me on the first day we met.
“I wanted you to have this once before as a gift from me, but you wouldn’t accept it. I wonder if you would accept it now, as a token of this day.” He lifts my hand and places the pouch in my palm. The honey inside feels warm from the heat of the sun. “Mya, will you honor me by being my wife?”
And at that moment I know what Kol has done. Yes, he’s found a way to take away the horror we’ve all felt since last night. He’s given us something to look forward to for tomorrow, after his father is buried today. And he’s done it all with this simple gift, something he brought with him here, to prove to me and everyone else that he hasn’t been backed into this betrothal, but came seeking it.
“Yes,” I say, and I bring the pouch of honey to my lips, bringing Kol’s hand with it. I press a kiss to the inside of his wrist, holding it there long enough to drink in the scent of his skin mixed with the salt breeze and the sweet honey.
Behind our backs, people stomp their feet and cheer. A ripple of words passes around—congratulations to our families. Kol just keeps that smile on his lips and that fire in his eyes, and I realize it might truly be possible for me to love the future High Elder of the Manu.
Kol tips his head close to my ear. “You are so beautiful. You are the only reason my heart is not consumed by sorrow today.”