Page 15

Chapter 15

Odik

W e left the city behind and flew over the sea.

“Where are the islands?”

“We’ll fly for a bit longer before we see them.”

“They’re far from the city, then. And you said you grow your own food.”

How could I tell her we got by as best we could, that we were a people struggling to survive? We had incredible wealth and not only in the joy we took from living on the island, but from the precious stones we mined in the sea around us and within the land itself. But the one thing we needed; we couldn’t buy.

“I hope you’ll be happy with us,” I said instead of what I should. She’d see and for these final moments, I wanted to hold her and drink in the optimism that rose from her smooth skin. All too soon, I’d have to rip off the sheen and expose her to what the rest of us lived with.

“When I left the fortress, I said goodbye,” she said. “I determined right then to only look forward.”

“You’re very brave.”

“I’m resourceful. I’ve had to be all my life. Zur was good to me. He was the father I needed. And as he grew older, I took care of him like he had me. But he’s gone now.” Her voice hollowed out with pain. “How could she do that to him? He was good and kind, and he never caused anyone harm.” Her body shook as she wept, but she remained silent even in this, as if she’d long since learned not to draw attention.

I tightened my arms around her and murmured soothing words, though I couldn’t tell if they helped. She needed to mourn, and that was often a solitary thing. I’d done the same when I lost my parents during the shayde attack. Then, my people needed me to step in and take his place, not wallow in my sorrow.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said.

“Why?”

“For crying. I should lift my chin and find the strength to live like Zur would’ve wanted.”

“There’s nothing wrong with giving in to your pain.”

“Weeping serves no purpose.” She said it with a thread of strength in her voice.

“Your words or . . .?”

“Zur held me when I was little, and I cried. I did that much too often. But no, he never told me I couldn’t mourn. Others did, however, and their mean words sunk through my skin and latched onto my bones.”

A growl ripped through me. “You’re saying other children mocked you.”

She tensed in my arms, and I wondered if she thought I’d someday reject her like almost everyone else. “Not just children.”

I shook my head, but I knew enough adults who’d behave the same. Sadly, not everyone was eager to extend kindness to others. “Some people are foolish. They make assumptions based on someone’s surface, never looking hard enough to see the core of the person inside.” I rested my chin on the top of her head. “You’re incredibly strong, Eleri. You’d have to be to survive what happened when you were small. Look at you, not allowing those in the village to convict you of a crime you didn’t commit. You left, which was wise. That also took strength.”

“I did what I had to.”

“That’s all we can ever do.”

She was quiet a long moment, perhaps processing my words. “Do you ever cry?”

“I haven’t for such a long time, I’m not sure I remember how.”

“Why not?”

I shrugged. “I’m the caedos of my clan. I need to remain strong for them if not for myself.”

“Zur told me all emotions are equally valid.”

“He sounds like a wonderful male. I’m sorry I won’t get to meet him.”

“Me too.” Her voice trembled, and I wished there was something I could do to ease her pain.

“My offer still stands. I’ll be happy to slay the person who murdered your friend.”

She was silent for a long time. “She knows what she did, and now she’ll have to live with that knowledge for the rest of her days.”

“If you change your mind—”

“I won’t.” She squeezed my arms where her hands rested on them. “Thank you. I never dreamed I’d ever meet someone like you when I fled the village.”

“I prayed I’d meet someone like you.” It wasn’t weakness to admit something like that. “I’m strong for my people because I have to be. But when I’m in my home, it’s nice to relax and be the orc I am inside.”

“I see your strength and your kindness, Odik, and I like it very much.”

And that was enough for me.

The islands loomed in the distance, a peppering of land far out to sea.

“Is that your home?” she asked, but I couldn’t read anything from her neutral tone.

Tension tightened around my spine. I was doing my best to make sure everyone was provided for, but it was never enough.

“The salty air must smell wonderful all the time,” she said.

“It’s briny.”

“It’s new to me. The water’s gorgeous. Can you see it from your home?”

“ Our home,” I said, though I didn’t snap. It would take time for her to accept this as her new home; that was to be expected.

“All right. Our home.”

“I live in a house overlooking the sea. It’s been in my family for a few generations.”

“Do you sit outside in the morning and grin at the view?”

I hadn’t in so long, I couldn’t remember. “I’ve got a stone deck where you can sit. I have chairs there.”

“Will you join me?”

“Yes.”

She relaxed against me as Zarran flew lower. “Where does your vox live?”

“Once we dismount, he’ll fly to his nest on one of the uninhabited islands.”

“I know nothing about voxes.”

“I’ll take you to the hatching grounds sometime, though they’re far from here. It’s very dry there and mostly made up of sand, though there are pools with islands that will amaze you.”

She nodded and studied the land we flew over. “How many live on our island?”

I grinned at her use of our . “Thirty, the largest group of them clustered in the village center. Our house is within walking distance.”

“A small group, then. You must know each of them well.”

“I know them as best I can. They . . . sometimes hold themselves away from me, as they did with my father. Such is the way of the caedos and his people.”

“As your mate, will they expect me to do the same?”

“I don’t know.”

“How was it with your mother?”

“She adored everyone.” My smile rose, though it was tinged with sadness. “And they adored her.”

“How about you?”

“I’m the person I always was.”

She said nothing as we passed over small dwellings.

A few of my people worked outside in their gardens. One lifted his arm to wave.

“We keep the gardens small. Unless it rains, we have no water. And if it doesn’t rain, the crops die.” We died. Or moved to the city.

“Do you have wells?”

“The ground’s too rocky to dig them.”

“And the sea? The islands project up from an enormous body of water.”

“It’s salty. It kills the plants.”

“I see.”

“We can’t drink it either,” I added. “Though it’s full of fish, so we never go hungry.” Not for meat, that is.

We approached my home that faced the vast ocean opposite the side facing the city, and Zarran swooped lower.

“I’m excited to see where you—we’ll—live.”

Would her excitement hold? I shouldn’t feel bad about the island where I grew up. “We live simply.”

“I’m fine with that. Zur and I shared a small . . . I guess you’d call it a shack when compared to the beautiful buildings in the city. Two tiny bedrooms so small you can barely walk around the sleeping surface. One open area where we cooked and sat in the evening. I guess someone else will claim it now. I hope they give Zur a good burial.”

Her arm lifted toward the open world beyond the island where the deep purple sea gleamed in the sunlight, broken only with whitecaps. “What’s in that direction? More islands?”

“This island chain is the last as far as I know. None of my people have flown far enough in that direction to find out what must be out there.”

“It must end eventually. There’s land behind us.”

“Maybe the sea doesn’t end until it reaches the other end of the land behind us.”

“Like your people, few humans have traveled far. It’s too dangerous with the shaydes and who knows what else, and why bother? Everything we need can be found inside the village or in the surrounding area.”

Except me. I hoped she’d someday see that, feel that. I couldn’t be found within her village.

Why had my clan chosen this remote, harsh place to live? If only I could offer her something better. We could move to the city, but I’d waste away there. My heart and feet were planted deeply in the island, and I couldn’t imagine uprooting them.

But it was all we could do to grow the food we needed. Water was more precious than coin. Yes, we could buy food in the city and bring it to the island, but there was a reason our population dropped instead of expanding. We lacked women, but our males still chose to leave. They fled to the city to find jobs, at first stating they’d be back. Later stating they’d return next year or the one after that.

Few felt a strong bond to the island.

The old remained, plus a few hardened warriors.

And me.