Page 96 of A Sea of Fate and Starfire

“His knees crack when he stands up, he limps sometimes when the thunderstorms grow too heavy, and the hair has silvered behind his ears.”

“Do I look all right?”

“Yes, Cebrinne. Of course you do.” I paused to call the water from her, smoothing her hair and the gauzy white dress she’d chosen, tiny yellow flowers embellished in the fabric. I smiled, softly. “You’re beautiful.”

Silence stretched between us like the underground roots of a sapling, until we cleared our throats and adjusted our clothes, each of us pretending we hadn’t spoken. I climbed the steps to my veranda, Cebrinne right behind me.

Crossed the wooden plankboards, past the log benches set against the walls, sweeping my father’s door flap aside just as the sun crept into the eastern sky.

But dust across the floor was all that waited inside.

43

Maren

“It’s okay,” I found myself saying out loud—whether to Cebrinne or myself I wasn’t sure. “We knew he might not be here.”

“Nori said he’s been sighted daily on the boats,” she replied, bending down to swipe a finger along the thick dust that covered the floor. She held it up for me to view. “Are you sure they know which islander he is?”

“Yes.” I was certain. I hoped.

The door flap swished as I pushed against it, thrusting a hand through my roots as I thought.

“Maren?” a startled voice asked.

Just off the grass-trodden path, a basket of waxy eggplants resting on her hip, my aunt Palunu stood, eyes wide as if she’d stumbled upon a ghost.

I supposed I was one.

“Mihauna rest the stars,” she said, her voice thick and trembling. Her arms were lathered in earth, soil and sweat stains painting her tapa in soft clouds of white and umber. Of course—the moon was full. I should have known to expect to find islanders working through the night.

My aunt plonked her basket hard enough to make me flinch—eggplants are like little old ladies, easy to bruise—and straightened to clasp her hands in front of her mouth. “Is that you?”

“Yes,” I said, a bit awkwardly. My feet suddenly felt like bolts of wood, heavy and clumsy at the end of my legs.

“Where have you been?”

“In Calder.” I grimaced at the blunt answer, short and dull and ringing like a slap. Behind me, Cebrinne remained inside, though I knew she could hear us.

A thick shine welled in Palunu’s eyes. “We thought you were dead.”

“Oh. Well.” I scratched under the nape of my hair. “Here I am.”

“One second. Don’t move,” she said, already stepping in the opposite direction. “I need to find Nola.”

“Wait—Anake.” I swept down the steps, meeting her at the bottom and ignoring the strangeness of her reception. I’d expected, if I ran into any of the islanders, to be ordered to leave. After I killed Neheso, the island had demanded my blood. Or so I’d thought.

I didn’t know what to make of the shaking, teary-eyed woman before me.

She must have thought my emotions matched hers. That I’d stopped her for an embrace or some poignant greeting. Her hands framed my face, grainy with dirt, and she pressed her forehead to mine, closing her dark eyes and gathering a slow, deep breath into her lungs.

Shock arrived, a stroke of alarm that caught me off guard. For a moment, the long blades of pili grass blurred together, a sharpness behind my eyes. Something bloomed in the darkest cavern on my chest, warm and soft and glowing.

“I’m looking for my father,” I said when she broke away, my voice a bit shakier than it had been the moment before. My tongue felt thick at the back of my mouth, and I wiped the dust from my face with my hands, ensuring my cheeks were dry.

“He doesn’t sleep in that house anymore,” she said, glancing past me. “Says he doesn’t need it. He gave it to Nola and Kimo.”

“He gave his house away?” I didn’t try to hide my shock. “Where does he stay?”