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Keliveth’s eyes are soft with concern in the moonlight. “Are you all right?”
A thousand emotions well up within me at once. Relief that we made it here, tempered by anger at what tomorrow promises. The quiet peace of this place, such a strange contrast to the adrenaline still surging in my veins. The urgency that reminds me that tomorrow we must face the worst traditions of tuath and the looming attack of the elves, and tonight may be all the time Keliveth and I have left together. I can’t form any of it into words, so I do the only thing that makes sense to me.
I lean forward and kiss him, savoring each slow, hungry movement of his lips against mine. We twine in an embrace, my fingers tangling in his hair and his hand slipping down to the small of my back.
“That’s quite an answer,” he says as we finally pull apart, his voice breathless and hoarse.
“It’s the only one I have left.” I press my forehead to his, unwilling to let go of him. Each beat of his heart, each brush of his breath against my face, reminds me how close I came to losing him, and how fragile our future still is. Especially now, when Keliveth has just severed the last of his ties with his people.
“Why did you release Falamar from his oaths?” I whisper. “Now there’s nothing to stop him from killing you.”
“I know.” Keliveth gently trails his fingers up my arm. “But some things matter more than my safety. Without oaths to hide behind, Falamar will finally have to take responsibility for his choices.”
“I can see why he didn’t like the idea of having a real prophet around.” I try to smile, but Keliveth’s words settle over me uneasily. Falamar and the elves are facing a reckoning for their part in this war, but they are not the only ones who have listened to their fears and shed blood without good cause. I can’t help but wonder if this will mean reckoning for the Atathari as well.
Or maybe that reckoning has already begun. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for the Atathari. I love them more than my own life, and yet I have challenged the very core of our ways. Keliveth and I have been changing our world since the night we met. Nothing will ever be the same for either of our peoples.
“It’s a chance for the elves to change,” Keliveth goes on. “A strange sort of mercy, in a way.”
“For them, maybe. But for you?” I step back just enough to look into his face.
Something in his earnest gaze makes him seem older than he was even a day ago. A sort ofknowing, like a warrior who has looked on a battle he can’t possibly win and is running straight toward it anyway. “I suppose none of this is about me, in the end.”
“One thing is. You are a prophet, but you are also the man I love.” I cup his face in my hand for a long moment, then capture his open mouth with mine. I cannot change destiny. I will not ask the Creator to make our paths easier if they lead toward the restoration of our peoples. But as Keliveth’s body curves to mine and the fire of his touch spreads through me, I wish beyond hope that our story will not end tomorrow.
We’ve had so little time. I feel the weight of each passing second, each breath and heartbeat. The few days I’ve shared with Keliveth have been clouded by the sorrows of our world and the threats of those who would keep us apart. I want to share lighter things with him. I want to hear him tell his stories. I want to see the look on his face when I show him the endless wonders of the sea. Now all our chances are running out before they have even begun.
Tonight may be all we have. I don’t want the dawn to bring any regrets. I choose Keliveth though all the world may rage against it, and no fear of censure or threat of doom can reach me now.
I feel the ocean’s eyes on us, curious and wary. For once, I want to be away from its gaze. I weary of being watched. I take Keliveth’s hands and walk backward, leading him out of the sparkling surf and toward the welcoming shelter of the tree. The maraseya’s leaves rustle, and the heady scent of the flowers envelops us.
By the time we reach the edge of the tree, Keliveth’s lips are on mine again. By the time we’re under the cover of the hanging roots, bathed in the glow of the white flowers, I’ve left my cloak behind and the top clasps of Keliveth’s tunic have given way beneath my fingers.
I take each movement gently, holding back until I undo the last fastenings of his tunic and run my hand over his healing wounds. They’re barely more than scars now, and he doesn’t flinch as I touch them.
“They do not hurt much. No worse than a bruise,” he says, anticipating my next question. There’s an eagerness in his voice that tells me he doesn’t want restraint.
This time, when I kiss him, I withhold nothing. Neither does he. I push him back against the sturdy branches and slide my hands over his chest, shoving off his tunic until it falls to the ground. His hands find the straps of my dress and slip them from my shoulders as we sink down to the ground. I fall back against the soft earth, and he leans over me, trailing kisses down my neck. I melt into his nearness, his warmth, wanting nothing but to pull him close until we can come no closer.
All at once Keliveth pulls away with a groan, leaving me cold without his touch. I hiss and reach for him again, ready to drag him back down to finish what we started.
Then I see the worry that furrows his brow. I let out a heavy sigh.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, trying not to sound irritated.
“Evya ...” He sits up, breathing deeply to steady himself. “I want this more than anything, but you’re supposed to show up for your mate challenge tomorrow.Without a mate.”
“There isn't going to be a challenge.” I reach for his hand and twine my fingers with his. When I try to pull him to me, he resists.
“I would never expect your people to overturn a tradition like that.”
“I know. But I would.” Determination surges through me. I push myself upright so that we’re sitting facing one another. “The first time we stood beside the maelstrom, you asked me if I would forsake my people to be with you, and I said no.” I exhale. “I’ve changed my mind.”
He stares at me, speechless for a moment, his eyes turning dark with conflicting emotions. “You would turn your back on your tribe?”
“I don’t want to. But I no longer care if they turn their back on me. Last night I reminded Falamar of all the atrocities he has committed against the tuath and the ways in which he might have chosen a better path.” I swallow. “I can’t say those words to him and then refuse to say them to myself.”
“What do you mean?” Keliveth asks.
