And then he fell to his knees, hitting the mud with a splat. He gazed up at her in what she could only describe as divine awe.
“My Queen . . .” he murmured.
Behind her, Griffin sucked in a breath.
She should have known this might happen. She should have realized that it was not for her to determine how others might view her when she stumbled back into the valley.
Keko stood over her brother, whose tears were now very real. The dark orbs of his eyes shone with them, even in the deepening twilight.
“I am not your Queen,” she said. “But I am a cure. And I want you to bring me to Chief. In secret.”
Bane blinked, finally looking again like the general she knew. “But . . . why? You should enter the valley in the darkness and let everyone see what you’ve done. What you have inside you. They’ll want to know you. They’ll want to follow you.” He pounded a hearty fist on his chest. “You should take what you’ve earned.”
Now Keko finally looked to Griffin, who watched her with his lips flattened in assessment. If she wanted, he would tell the story of how he’d actually been the one to face the Source, but she did not will it.
“No,” she told Bane. “I won’t do that.”
Because she had not earned it. At least, not in the Chimeran way. A gift alone did not merit such praise. What she did with that gift, however, just might. She had some proving to do.
She met Griffin’s eyes. He gave her the faintest of smiles and a small nod, and she knew he understood. Because he was extraordinary like that.
“What I will do,” Keko said, focusing again on her brother, “is cure the diseased. One by one, starting with the ali’i. To reveal myself and my true reason for going after the Source would compromise all of the victims, and I won’t have any of them looked down upon because of a weakness they were powerless to fight. It is their secret to reveal. Not mine to use against them. I will give the same order to the chief.”
Bane, still on his knees before her, looked like he might try to throw another argument her way.
“You say nothing,” she said. “Understand?”
He rose to his feet and bowed with a speed she’d never before witnessed. Not even when he’d responded to the ali’i.
TWENTY-ONE
Once again, Keko found herself on the back terrace of the ali’i’s house, staring through the closed glass door at the thick silhouette of the man standing inside. It had been nearly a week since the last time she’d done this. It was night again, the sound of the birds gradually fading and the wind picking up, tossing about the trees. The whole scene was freakishly familiar.
Only now, instead of harboring threats and pleas, the Queen’s treasure burned inside her body. And she had Griffin at her back.
“Do you want me to wait out here?” His voice was feather soft near her ear, and it took all her effort not to lean into him.
She turned, and the shadows loved him. Made him appear mysterious and serious and lovely. She owed him so much—so much she’d never be able to repay.
“No,” she replied. “Come with me.”
The inside of the small house was as cool and damp as she remembered. Candles burned on various tables scattered about the dim room, their pillars low, and wax dripping around their bases. Underneath the scent of their lit wicks lingered the odor of phosphorous, the remnants of matches—even though the candles clearly had been burning for quite some time.
Sneaking through the shadows of the valley to arrive here in secret, she’d been able to pick out the various kinds of fire being wielded by Chimerans, whether she could see the people or not. Each and every instance of flame called to her in a different voice, and she wondered if this was what it felt like to be Griffin with his sense of signatures. And was this a blessing or a curse from the Source? She did not yet know.
Chief stood in front of the couch, almost exactly where she’d left him. Maybe he’d been standing there for days and days, continually praying for her success. Or her failure. She no longer knew which he valued more.
As she moved deeper into the room, she tugged aside a flap of her T-shirt. The Source released a serene glow, bright enough to mark her as different. Enough to proclaim her victory.
Chief gasped. Stumbled back. But he couldn’t go very far because of the couch, and then he wasn’t moving backward at all. He revised his steps, coming forward. Coming for her with wide, unblinking eyes and an outstretched hand.
Griffin closed in tighter at her back. Bane moved around to one side.
Keko threw out a hand, and even without inhaling or calling up or commanding her fire, her fingers rippled with a blue-white flame that appeared almost liquid. Chief stopped as suddenly as if he’d hit a wall.
“You did it,” he murmured, his eyes clear and wet.
She willed the fire to die, and it obeyed. “I did. Even though you agreed with the Senatus to stop me. Even though you sent Griffin after me.”
Chief’s eyes closed, and it seemed that in the past few days his wrinkles had deepened, elongated. He looked like he’d aged more since she’d last left here than in the past twenty years combined.
“I had to,” he said. “Aya overheard me and Bane, and she told us what could happen. I had to agree with her or—”
“Risk exposing yourself,” Keko snapped. “Yeah, I get it. You’d never dream of compromising your name, but you’d gladly let mine be dragged through the shit. You’d never dream of telling the truth to the Senatus about my reasons for searching for the Source, but you’d let them think that I was this crazed, jilted, selfish Chimeran willing to destroy part of the world just to get a little respect.”
Chief’s breath hissed through his nose. “I was secretly glad Griffin went after you and not the large company the premier wanted to send. I thought that you’d be able to escape one man. That you’d find a way to survive and succeed.”
“And heal you.” She let out an ugly, short laugh. “I should let you live without your fire. I should heal all the others and let your shame come out on its own. Watch you go down the way you watched me.”
Chief blanched. “I gave you that chance before and you didn’t take it. You’re too honorable for that, Kekona.”
She hated him for saying that. She hated him because he was right.
“Here’s the thing.” She moved closer, into the candlelight. “I’m not entirely sure I can heal you. It was all a wild gamble to begin with. But if you want your fire back so badly—if you want to protect your name and status—I think you should be the guinea pig, dear uncle. I think I should test out my new power on you first. What do you say to that?”
Chief looked to Bane, but Bane only stared expectantly at Keko.
“And if it doesn’t work?” asked the ali’i.
She shrugged. “Nothing lost, as far as I can see.” Except that she was playing a part, because the thought of not being able to cure Ikaika and the others yet to be named made her nauseous with disappointment.
If this didn’t work, all of Griffin’s sacrifices would be for nothing.
“There is great power inside me,” she said. “Even I fear it. Control is a flimsy thing and I have to fight for it constantly. I have no idea what will happen when I touch you.”
Chief’s hands turned to fists at his sides, but that was the extent of his visible reaction.
“Come here,” she said, and the ali’i approached after only a moment’s hesitation.
She could feel the Source stretching out to him the closer he got. As though it knew this man had the magic deep inside but could no longer command it. Maybe all the chief needed was a kick-start, a charge. Maybe if she opened up the conduit between the spark inside her and his body, she could feed him enough power to get through whatever blocks the disease had built.