18
• YEMI •
Muris’s Red Mountain range spanned almost the entirety of the country. King O’Nee was the greatest of these mountains and the highest peak on the entire continent. A dozen childhood summers found Yemi and Nova and Luzon and his nameless rabble of a protective detail breaking themselves in the climbing of its cracks and crevices. From the right angle, the moon could be seen perched atop King O’Nee. And in the right light, visible only for an instant, the moon’s reflection of the mountain’s ice cap created a glinting effect, like the spark in a god’s eye or the tip of a divine needle.
The phenomenon was only visible from a secret beach on the country’s northern coast.
It was on this beach Yemi writhed in labored agony as her human bones took their time resetting themselves. She was fevered and her skin turned into prickled gooseflesh in the chilled night air. Here on this spot—or at least very close to it—she and Nova had shared their first kiss as the moon sat atop King O’Nee. They had lain back softly in the sand, her fingers tangling sweetly in Nova’s. She remembered it felt like a wish, either a magical moment to make one or the fulfillment of another.
Now the sand caught and scratched in the folds where her gills were sealing themselves along her ribs. Handfuls of it brought her no relief, piling beneath her fingernails as she clawed her way toward the tree line. There had been no one here when she arrived. In between moments panicked over the impossibility of breathing, she worried she was too late, that the deadline had passed and Nova had gone off elsewhere in search of her. Maybe in her fatigue she hadn’t gone far enough north, and she was lying naked and between species on a beach in Ixia to be found any moment by an enemy.
She flopped onto her back, listening to her bones grind, and strained to peer over the trees to where O’Nee lay beneath the moon.
No, this was the right place. It was the only place.
She closed her eyes and took shuddering breaths, clutching the satchel of Ursla’s tea to her heaving chest.
Let it pass through you,said the sea witch’s voice in her memories. She focused on it until her breathing came easier and the suffocating pains diminished. Her eyes opened on the starry night sky, but the body returned to her might as well have been made of lead for all the movement she could manage. This weight was days of constant swimming. Of little food and even less sleep. The cold surf lapped at her heels, but at least she could feel she had feet again.
She jolted as something more than the breeze rustled in the trees above her. There were footfalls—a couple of sets—and the hacking of overgrown foliage. Yemi’s eyes went to her spear, lying in the sand beside her, barely within her reach. She doubted she had the strength to wield it, but an approaching enemy didn’t need to know that if she could get her hand on it.
“She’s here!”
Nova’s voice. Yemi swore she had never heard something so beautiful. She tried to call out but managed only a hoarse yelp. It was enough. In a flurry of footsteps and up-kicked sand, Nova was kneeling beside her, unfurling a white ox pelt to drape over her body.
“You’re late. You alright?”
“Yes,” Yemi whispered.
Nova bent down and kissed her on the lips lightly, as if afraid to shatter her, and then recoiled. “Whew! Yemi, what did you eat?”
Yemi had all but forgotten. This wasn’t the time or place to get into the finer points of deep-sea combat, the voices in her head, or the last thing she’d eaten having been a pound of raw merflesh.
“Nova,” she said as patiently as she could manage. “Please get me off this beach.”
“Yeah, alright. And to the nearest toothbrush.” Nova stood again, collecting Yemi’s spear and gesturing at someone Yemi couldn’t see. “Cutter.”
A knot formed in Yemi’s throat at the mention of his name. She gulped it back down. She remembered the way they’d left things, and the state of her body now felt like anI told you soshe’d never live down.
His face appeared on the edge of her vision, the sand shifting under her head as he stood over her.
“Glad you made it back,” he grunted. His expression was unreadable in the dark. She imagined he actually was pleased.
“Mm,” Yemi managed back.
He bent down and scooped her effortlessly into his arms. It was all Yemi could manage to cross her hands over her chest, relieving the nightmarish pain in her shoulders from leaving them dangling the first few moments she was lifted into the air. She buried her face in the warmth of his body as he carried her back to the trees. He smelled like citrus and sweat, his gruff breathing lulling her to an easy sleep. The satchel of tea throbbed in her fist like a separate heartbeat.
A reminder.
A warning.
“You seem whole. I’m impressed.” Selah concluded her examination of Yemi with a satisfied huff. They were in some lower chamber of Luzon’s palace, a plain, windowless space only recently decorated with creature comforts, judging by the bare stone walls.
“Just tired. Starving for something cooked properly,” Yemi replied. She watched the witch studiously for a previously unnoticed likeness to Ursla or a hint of treachery in the secrets she was keeping. “Good of you to come here. I didn’t know if you would.”
She meant it. It was one less trip she’d have to make to retrieve the stone. Ursla’s satchel sat beside her on the bench. Yemi kept her hand protectively over it.
“For gods’ sakes, this itching. Is it forever?”
