There’d been reasons why the Children had kept their true nature and their history secret since the dawn of man: to avoid reactions like this one.
So this was what the summons was about, to confront her about the Children. Maybe to use her indiscretion—done in heat and haste—against her like Nem had done. Worry started to worm its way into her consciousness. Worry that the Father would learn what she’d done, and worry that the premier would feel threatened and cut her loose from the Senatus when she was so close to finally putting her plan into motion.
“Yes, that’s why,” she replied, because it would be disadvantageous to admit otherwise, or to give him any further information.
“But what I don’t get”—he rubbed his forehead in a way that even she knew to be exaggerated—“is why the fuck you would go against your own directive.”
Give away nothing. “Why do you think I did that?”
His hand came away from his face, one finger stabbing into the air between them. “Why make such a grand, dramatic entrance the other night, put massive demands on the Senatus, outline your own terms, and then blow everything to pieces?”
A strange, buzzing sensation filled her head, making her feel dizzy and nauseous. “I think you need to explain yourself.”
“I need to explain?” He was shouting now. “There is one thing the Senatus is about, and that’s solidarity. Consensus. You know this. And yet you rise up out of the ground and declare the Earth in danger if Keko so much as breathes on this Fire Source. You cut a deal to allow us to go after her and hopefully keep the peace with the Chimerans. You know you’ll have a chance at her if Griffin fails. And you attack her anyway.”
Dread and rage twisted through her, but she drew herself up as tall as the diminutive body would allow. “I did no such thing.”
The premier shook his head in disbelief and turned to rest both palms on the edge of his desk. “Trust is a tenuous thing, Aya. Especially among Secondaries.”
All this human emotion warred inside her—fear and anger, concern and confusion—and she didn’t know how to keep them separate. Or even if she should. “You forget. The Children of Earth are the ones who approached the Airs and the Chimerans to begin the Senatus many centuries ago. We are invested in its success and don’t want to compromise it. Now tell me what happened.”
He inhaled long and slow through his nose as he regarded her. “Got a call from Griffin a couple hours ago. Pissed off as all hell. Said a Child of Earth attacked them when they were nowhere near the Source. Something about a tree coming to life.”
“Keko. Is she—”
“Alive.”
Aya held in the massive sigh she desperately wanted to release.
The premier pushed off the desk. “Griffin wants assurances he’ll have his chance. Then you can have yours. As you originally agreed.”
She raised her voice, indignant. “Absolutely. I gave no other orders to contradict what was said around the bonfire. I’ve kept my word.”
The premier eyed her hard. “Then which one of you diggers didn’t?”
She was just starting to get a hold on the concept of Aboveground insults, but she was pretty sure the premier had just handed her one. There was no time to dwell on it now. Fix the problem in Hawaii first, or else smoothing over a little name-calling would be the least of her issues.
There were two possibilities behind the attack on Griffin and Keko. The Father, who could have given an order to another Child of Earth behind her back. Or Nem, guardian of the Source, who’d been so clearly angry with her on the Aran Islands.
The Father wasn’t that crafty.
She had to find Nem. Fast.
FOURTEEN
An hour later and Keko still hadn’t come back. It was all the time Griffin was willing to allow before he knew he had to go after her. Before he began to think that maybe she actually had memorized enough of the star map to try to find her own way. Before he started to fear that the Son of Earth had found a way to come back.
Which scared him more? Her trying to give him the slip again? Or another threat to her safety?
Locking up the room, he pounded down the porch steps and headed for the row of connected shops a quarter mile up the road. The rain had transformed into giant drops that hit him like bombs.
At home in San Francisco, when he listened to Ofarian issues, he had to be prudent about which emotions he displayed, and when and how. But here, alone and worrying about Keko after all that had happened between them—and all that had shifted and changed in the last few days—he threw away his guards and let himself feel.
She tended to do that to him.
The row of shops were lined with a boardwalk out front, a closed ice cream parlor capping one end, a long-shuttered theater in the middle, and a bar at the far end. A tourist trinket shop and an artist’s studio were dark for the evening. The pub was open, however, acoustic guitar music trickling out to mix with the rain, and Griffin headed toward it.
A blast of heat and fire and magic assaulted his mind and took over his senses.
The whole front and one side of the bar were windows, all thrown open to the salty air, the eaves long and deep enough to keep out the wet. The place was small, the short bar to the right with a glaringly lit kitchen just behind it, a ledge and stools lining the two walls of windows. Three old men sat at the bar with glasses of beer.
Keko sat at the ledge overlooking the ocean, bare feet hooked over the rungs of her stool, one finger toying with the straw in her can of ginger ale, and two wrapped hamburgers sitting untouched at her elbow.
She’d told him once, sitting in that hotel room bed, that she didn’t drink. She didn’t like how it stole her awareness. That said a great deal about her, now that he thought about it. The watchful warrior, always at the ready.
She hadn’t ditched him again. And she was safe.
Keko didn’t even notice him until he slid a hand onto the ledge near the burgers and said, “Hey.”
She blinked up at him in surprise. “Hey.” Peering into the corner where a neon clock hung above a faded, curling nineties-era beer poster, she asked, “What time is it?”
“Not that late. But you left over an hour ago. I didn’t know what to think.”
“Sorry.” She nudged the hamburger closer to him.
He pulled out the stool next to her and perched on the edge, not taking the food. The wind off the ocean felt nice. Fragrant flowering bushes just outside filled the bar with a sweet scent. Beyond the ever-present line of clouds that clung to the shoreline, he could see the stars trying to inch closer to land.
“No, you’re not,” he said.
“You thought I’d taken off.”
“I worried you might try.”
She turned her face to the ocean and the breeze pushed her hair in a long stream behind her. “I’ve been sitting here considering it. Considering a lot of things.”
He was dumbstruck by her profile, how so fucking beautiful and so completely strong it was. “Like?”
“How I don’t like this.”
“Don’t like what?”
“This . . . this . . .” Her hand hovered over her chest, her fingers wiggling. “Doubt. Wondering. Questioning.”
“Ah, I see. That’s what most people call ‘thinking things through.’”
“It sucks.”
“You’re used to just acting. Making a quick decision and going for it. Balls out. All in. No turning back.”
Her almond eyes assessed him but she did not deny any of that, because she knew he was right.
“The stars are out,” she said, still looking only at his face.