I lead Kol as far out on the point as we can safely go, until we are surrounded on all sides by the sea. I shudder a bit at all the water. At how far it stretches. My stomach lurches and I turn away, back toward Kol.
But even looking into his eyes, I feel something vast and wide opening up in front of me. I want to close that distance—to draw closer to him, but I fear that telling him the truth about Morsk’s proposal might only push him away.
I tell him anyway.
As the story unfolds, I watch his face. I study his reaction. In some ways his eyes are indeed like a vast sea. Calm. Placid. But changeable.
As I tell Kol my story of looking for Lees and finding Morsk—of the way he’d come too close to me, the way he’d insulted him—his eyes change. Like the sea when a dark cloud rolls in and whips the wind into a storm.
“Does your brother know about this proposal?” he asks.
“I don’t know. But I would think he might. . . .” I hesitate, but I need to tell Kol everything, even if it’s a truth I’m ashamed to admit. I think of my fear that Chev would welcome this proposal of Morsk’s. “It may even have been his idea,” I say.
The line of Kol’s jaw hardens, braced against the winds that stir in his eyes. “Then we are not allies,” he says. “How can we be, if Chev cannot be trusted? If he says one thing to my face and another behind my back?
“If he would trade your future—our future—for his own?”
“He won’t—he can’t. I won’t let him. Because I’m going to show him that he doesn’t control us. I have the power to leave him, and so does Lees. And we’ll do it. We’ll show him that we can leave, because we will leave.”
I’m not sure what I thought of this scheme as I formed it, but as I say these words out loud, I realize that this is the strongest move I can make. I know Kol’s angry. I know he wants to confront my brother. But I’m angry too.
So we will both confront him.
Kol will confront him with words, and I will confront him with action.
“I do want to speak with Chev myself—to reason with him—but he needs to come to us. If he does, I will know he really intends to listen.” I imagine for a moment my brother’s face, the look of anger in his eyes, when he learns Lees and I are gone. “I’m sorry I’m forcing you to speak for me—to account for me,” I say.
Kol runs his fingers down my arms, curls them around my hands. “Your hands are cold,” he says.
“I’m nervous. Not for me, but for you. My brother will not take this well. I wish I weren’t putting you in this position—”
“You’re not.” Kol lifts my fingers to his mouth and breathes on them to warm them. “I’m your betrothed. Our interests are one now. Our actions are one. I’m happy you would trust me to speak for you.” Kol bends his head, his lips hovering above mine, when I hear Lees’s voice. Then Roon’s.
It’s time to go.
It doesn’t take long to go over the details. Roon describes all the landmarks that will help us find the island. The mouth of a river. The point that is crowned by a double peak like two fingers pointing to the sky. Small islands that form a line out to the horizon in the west. “A dozen of them, strung in a line like ivory beads on a cord. Except the last. The last will loom dark in the distance, a single bead of obsidian. Unlike the others of bare rock, the last one swarms with black shags.
“Follow the line of those islands and you will come right to it,” he says.
Lees climbs into the front seat of the kayak, just as she had before. As Roon stands out in the water holding the boat steady, I get one last moment alone with Kol. He winds his arms around my waist and pulls me against him, but I don’t wait for him to kiss me. I don’t have time, and I feel greedy, knowing that I won’t kiss him again until he brings Chev to the island. I lean into him and press my mouth against his.
Kol’s lips are cool and taste like the sea, but a warmth spreads through me the sea could never give. His hands run up the back of my neck and I feel his fingers lightly thread through my hair. I imagine a net winding around me, a net of Kol’s love, and I feel safe. I drink it in—the feeling of security his hands give me. I’m not sure when I will feel so safe again.
Despite the fact his family is almost certainly searching for him and Roon, they refuse to leave until Lees and I are on our way, and we can’t delay any longer.
Once we are on the water, I look back only once. Kol and Roon stand side by side, waving good-bye.
We paddle north, following the coast, never drifting too far from shore. Maybe this is because we both know that in time we’ll need to let the land disappear completely behind us as we head out beyond the horizon.
My arms tire as the sun moves out into the western sky, but my thoughts never slow. I think of Kol and of his brothers. All of them standing over the grave. I think of Mala. What will she think when she notices I am not at the burial? What will she say when Kol tells her the reason why? Will she blame me? But she was at the clan meeting—she even suggested there might soon be a betrothal between Lees and Roon. I remember the look of surprise on her face when Chev refused. She wants the best for Roon and Lees, so I can only hope she agrees with what I’ve done.
As we move farther and farther north the coast becomes less varied. Vegetation thins. Eventually the shore is made up of one long line of rocky beach backed by a high cliff that stretches as far as I can see.
Lees and I don’t speak again until we’ve been paddling so long I begin to fear we will never see a landmark. Then my fear only worsens when we finally do. It stands out from far away—a point crowned by two peaks that stretch into the sky. By this time the sun has sunk so low the sea has turned the color of flint. No light penetrates the gray sheen—the rays are too shallow. Instead they collect like puddles of violet and red, floating on the surface until an oar scatters them on the waves.
Just south of the double peak I spot another of Roon’s landmarks—the rocky shore is split in two by a wide river with high banks. On the north bank of the river, not far upstream from the place where it empties into the sea, I notice a camp. Smoke rises from fires, twisting skyward in the slanting rays of evening sun.
I call over my shoulder to Lees, alerting her to the clan. Roon made no mention of them, so I assume they haven’t been camped here for long. Though I have no reason to believe they’re not friendly, I have no reason to believe they are, so I direct Lees to paddle farther out from the land. Paddling toward the setting sun, my eyes tire and confuse. I think I see a shadow on the horizon, and I turn to check if the shore is still within view.
When I turn, I see something I hadn’t expected. A man in a kayak is following us out, paddling hard. His arms beat the waves with determination and speed.
He is not following—he is chasing.