I laughed at what I knew she wasn’t saying, feeling her anger burn behind me as I turned to climb the steps of my veranda. Shielding my eyes from the low sun, I searched for the rowboat but couldn’t find it. Wherever my father and Kye were, they were hidden in the curve of Leihani, tucked under palms and seaside cliffs. The docks straight ahead were visible, but they’d rowed far enough that details didn't exist, just distant colors and blurs.
“Why did he come to Leihani?”
I sighed. “I don't know,Anake.”
My aunt leaned into my face, shoving a threatening finger under my nose. “I won't help you lure him to his death.”
Naheso sucked his teeth, wrapping a gentle hand around his wife. “Come on, Palunu. Nola will be home soon.” He met my eyes briefly over his wife’s head. Compared to his wife’s sharp gaze, his was calm and quiet, like the dew that pools on island leaves at night.
I let him see me exhale, grateful. Naheso was the only islander to step in when anyone accused me of something nefarious, which happened more often than I’d like to admit. All it took was the subject of my late mother to make islanders lean to the side, throwing me covert glances as they whispered to each other behind the backs of their hands, pretending I couldn’t see them.
My aunt swiveled on the pathway, jerking her arm free of Naheso’s grip. “I won't be a part of your games,” she said loudly enough to draw a few islanders out from their own verandas. “I'll tell himwhatyou are.” She turned and stomped down the path, hau bark skirts rustling.
I watched her go in calm vindication.
There was a good reason for asking my father to take the man to the village. I knew well enough what the islanders’ reaction would be wereIthe one to row a half-dead man into the harbor.
3
The islands of Leihani were made of rich, hardened magma. Luaahi was the largest, though it consisted only of small volcanoes, ash, and inhospitable rock. The four smaller islands—a dappled array of sand, earth, and trees—pointed south, hugging Luaahi like the toes of a dog's paw.
The second largest island was the one most people referred to when they spoke of Leihani. It was a distinction the island children learned early: the islands of Leihani were where they lived, butLeihaniwas home.
Drenched in thick palm forests and white cliffs, Leihani was a lush habitat of tropical vegetation, jeweled birds, warm-bellied geckos, and a plethora of flying insects. The island market was small, though the exports were abundant.
Leihani caught and sold more fish than any other port in Calder.
Not that I would know from personal experience. I’d never seen another port. In fact, I’d never left the boundaries of the islands.
My version of Calder City existed in my imagination, built by the stories I’d heard in my youth from other island children, every one of whom had constructed their own City of Towers from golden sand. Even me, though I’d moved on to other hobbies well before the rest of my peers.
Those castles had been my earliest lesson on where I fit within the island, whether or not I understood at the time. I’d come back to find mine flooded and soggy, the towers collapsed and the parapets flattened, while the others’ stood glittering in the sun.
So, I stopped. It only takes a few destroyed creations to accept you aren’t meant to dream or build castles.
I suppose that was the first time I'd tasted poison. But I'd felt it on my tongue many times since.
Three days passed under the full moon.
I assumed the man had left the island. I hadn’t seen him since my father rowed him to the docks, and although I’d been curious enough to ask if he’d found a ship home, my pride obstructed the question from venturing outside my lips.
A little after dawn on the third night ofMihauna, I sat on my knees, nearing the end of my chores. Like all the other women in their gardens, I kept a quiet watch on the moon’s trajectory as the first few rays of the morning light crept over the water. One by one, they paused to witness the sun peek out over the horizon,Mihaunastill high above them. Good luck followed when the full moon shared the sky withMakua Ahi,the father sun. Tired and sore, dirt coating their arms, the island women smiled across the fields at each other before returning to their labors.
None of them smiled at me.
I’d convinced myself I didn’t care. I was used to being ignored. More than ignored—avoided. I even preferred it at times. The island women gossiped more than the green finches that argued in the forest trees.
And they were likely less intelligent than the birds.
My toes pushed into the soil, earth lining the prints of my skin and embedding under my nails. I rolled the tightness out of my neck, then froze as I recognized someone on the opposite side of my eggplants. The Calderian I’d met three days earlier was busy following Kimo, an islander I’d grown up with.
The Calderian’s gaze swept the fields with curiosity, taking in the crops, the man-made swamps, the little houses, and the women of the island, who were beginning to stand and stretch, chasing the ache in their muscles away. His eyes caught mine and his feet slowed.
He stared.
Leaning back on my heels, I dusted my legs, gathering myself to my feet. Though the voice in my head cautioned against it, I couldn’t help but glance at my neighbors to see who else might be watching.
There was always someone.
