He twisted to gaze down at it. His body seized at the movement, and he made a sound I’d never heard from a man before.
“I’m sorry—Naheso, I’m sorry,” I breathed, one hand roaming the grassy embankment behind me. “Stay here. I’ll get help.”
He shook his head. His mouth hung open, but no sound came from his lips, as though after the unearthly sound he’d just made, his lungs had forgotten how to expel air. The blood left his face, and he gazed up at me, ashen and frail.
I turned, scrabbling up into the grass.
15
Help. I needed to find help.
Leaves and blades of grass clung to my legs and feet as I ran. Garden foliage swished, the only noise to register in my ears.
That, and the deafening pounding of my heart.
I shot from the crop lines, aiming for the narrow path through the square to Akamai.
No one seemed to be nearby. Eyes wide, I threw my gaze into the houses that lined the path, any door or window that stood open, any veranda with log benches and chairs to be sat in. But it was midday. The men were mostly all fishing, the women were selling goods in the square, the children roaming the island.
Past the dug out well. Past the boardwalk. Past the market stands, the fruits and vegetables and fish. Curious heads swiveled as I neared, and I suddenly realized I was half-covered in blood. But with Akamai’s door in sight, I ignored them. I surged up the steps of the veranda, rapping my knuckles on the open doorframe. “Akamai!”
“She isn’t here,” came a familiar voice. A hand reached out, drawing the door flap open. “She’ll be right ba—” Kye stilled, eyes suddenly sharp from the other side of the open door.
“Where is she?”
A bucket of fishing gear clattered to the floor as he dropped it, reaching for my hand. He tugged me inside. “What happened?”
I yanked my hand away. “I need Akamai!”
Kye let me break from his grasp, though his gaze was a solid weight over my face. My wet, disheveled hair, the scratches along my arms, and whatever marks lined my throat. A muscle tightened in his jaw.
“What happened?” he repeated, a quiet but firm command.
I simply stared at him, mouth opening and closing in dawning horror. “I don’t know,” I said—because what happened didn’t make sense. My uncle had attacked me, and I'd stabbed him. My hand covered my face as I stared at Kye, willing him to understand without the need for my explanation.
“Is someone hurt?”
I nodded, tears springing from my eyes.
Kye reached to his side, lifting Akamai’s medic bag from a hook by the door. “Show me.”
He said it with such confidence, as though he’d seen and treated wounds before, that I didn’t question him. I turned to lead him from the little house, and he reached for my shoulder. “Walk fast,” he said, scattering his gaze across the open market. “But don’t run.”
Throat dry, I nodded.
Any other day, the thought of leading a Calderian man through the heart of town as all the women craned their heads to watch would have felt like needles in my skin. But not today. Today, the needles were already there. I couldn’t shake the feeling of them pressing into me. They forced themselves under my flesh,embedding at the nape of my neck, the hollow of my chest. Poking, biting, twisting. Sharper with every slow step.
I'd stabbed my uncle.
My feet broke into a run at the edge of the village, and Kye’s long legs galloped after me, the sound of his breath thick in my ear. He swore quietly when I veered into the crop lines, forcing eggplant shrubs aside, the violet jeweled fruits shaking in my wake. I reached the edge of the embankment, feet slipping into the marshy taro beds, and froze.
Naheso was where I’d left him.
But he was dead.
“We have to go,” Kye said.
I stared at my uncle.
