Kye opened his mouth to say something but seemed to think better of it. His jaw tightened as he watched me descend the veranda stairs, into the quiet grass beyond.
12
Ipaced the beach, eyes sharp for anything amiss. Every simple action took twice as long as I inspected my equipment, peering into buckets, checking for hidden ropes tied to theva’a. Unease dripped from me whenever I set foot out my door alone. Somehow, it worsened as I sat back on my heels, trying to wash away the foreboding in my chest at failing to find anything wrong.
Escaping death felt like fighting the looming darkness with luck as my weapon. I could only use it so many times before it ran dry.
Alone in my father’s canoe, I listened to the frogs croaking, thinking about my last conversation with the Naiads. The open sea lay ahead, turquoise water crashing up the sand. The island lay at my back. Low tide drifted later and later into the evening as the dry season wore on, the sun low in the waves to the west.
There is danger in all things, creature.
Voices manifested through the trees, and I quickly glanced down the beach at my aunt and cousin, walking up the shore. My aunt’s face tightened as our eyes met. “Is Naheso down here?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t seen him.”
I ignored the scoff my aunt sent across the sand at me as she and Nola turned and marched the other way.
Why was I nervous to follow the Naiads under the water? I’d spent my whole life tending to the island to become a Steward.
And I’d loved it—planting and foraging and healing. Creating life. But I’d always thought being a Steward was little more than a title. An earned acknowledgment. I’d wanted to care for my island, but even more, I’d wanted to earn a place among them. As friends.
I didn't want to meet their queen. I didn't want to see their home, deep underwater. I didn’t want anything to change.
It had been four days since I’d last spoke to Nori and Olinne, but I didn’t want to go to Neris Island.
My oars scraped the sand as I cast away. I watched the swells on the horizon, mounting over the dying sun. The moon was at my back, almost full. Its silver rays stretched over the water to meet the red sunset.
A rowboat floated just off the edge of the reef. I neared it, craning my neck to see who sat inside, though I recognized it well enough.
Kye paused, watching me as I slid past him, a net half-submerged under his grasp. He sent me a brief nod, and I offered him a tight smile back, though I was unwilling to invite any further conversation from him. He’d tried to catch my eye across the field since our discussion on the veranda a few nights ago. Despite his golden eyes and the way my heart seemed to beat faster whenever I spied him across the island, I wasn’t keen on striking up an interest with a man that would only cause me trouble.
My oars whisked through the waves. I stroked ahead, the channel below growing darker with each passing minute as thewater deepened. At the mid-point of my journey, I stopped. Something felt wrong.
There was nothing I could see or hear to convince me. No evidence above or below. The sea air salty on my tongue, a warm wind brushing the strands of my long hair from my face. Water slapped rhythmically against my father’sva’a, playful as always.
And yet, deep inside, I knew something was off.
Paranoia trickled through me, raising the fine hairs on my arms, and I chided myself. I’d checked the buckets, the outrigger, the floorboards inside the hull.
But I couldn’t ignore it. Something waswrong.
I glanced over my shoulder, where Kye sat in the distance, watching me from his boat. Too far to see his expression, I was just close enough to make out the shape of his head as he tilted it, curious at why I’d stopped.
A tall wave washed into my lap, and I flung an arm over myself as water lashed across my thighs, trickling to the floorboards. Dropping my paddles into their oar locks, I glanced below my foot stand to see how much had landed inside.
The entire floor of my father’s canoe was covered in water.
A sharp squeal escaped me. I scrambled for one of my buckets, dipping the rim into the standing water. Bubbles rose from under my seat in a torrential parade. Somewhere in the keel of my boat, a hole existed. A tiny crack, invisible to the eye.
I’d checked this stupid boat for traps before I’d left, but I hadn’t checked for holes. I threw water out over my shoulder and bent to scoop more. A moment ago, I hadn’t even heard the bubbles, but I heard them now—a soft, watery crackling against the dry air.
I sent another round over the side. Then another—and realized this bucketful held more water than the last.
It was coming in faster.
Toes on the floor, the water level reached the soles of my feet. I lifted my heels away, watching it swirl around my ankles.
“What’s wrong?” Kye yelled, voice tight over the waves.
