Keko’s back was a mess of scratches and bruises, and the small wrap top that covered only her breasts bared without shame the deep, slanted wound Nem had given her.
Griffin thought she’d never looked more beautiful.
The bonfire raged without fuel or attendance, and Keko led him around it, introducing him to families and warriors, kids and cooks. No one wore anything fancier than shorts and T-shirts, the only adornment being fresh flowers around necks and tucked behind ears. The food was remarkably fresh and simple—all raised and grown in the valley—and Griffin continued to eat long after he was uncomfortable.
Well into the night, he realized that Bane had been lingering behind them, far enough away that it wasn’t immediately obvious, but close enough to make it clear that he was watching out for his sister. That he was guarding his Queen.
Griffin itched to talk to him, to pull him aside and have an hours-long conversation about being a Chimeran male and warrior, about the culture. About Keko and their young life together. Then Keko would touch Griffin’s hand or back, magnetizing him to her again, and Griffin knew that he would have plenty of time for Bane later.
The party was at its height, a jubilant scene filled with drink and dance, set to the beat of drums and the laughter of half-naked children, when the bonfire suddenly diminished. It didn’t die but the top of the flames collapsed, shrinking, and when the crowd swiveled toward the center to see who had killed part of the sustaining magic, Ikaika was standing on a picnic table.
Beside Griffin, Keko stiffened, sliding away from his touch.
Ikaika found Keko—she was difficult to miss in the dark now—and gave her a long, warm look of clear gratitude. Once he’d captured every Chimeran’s attention, their murmurs of curiosity arrowing up to him, Ikaika reached behind his neck, grabbed the back of his shirt, and pulled it forward over his head.
The dance of the fire played across his bare chest. The black mark of Keko’s hand was unmistakable.
The Chimerans reacted, surprise in their sounds, their hands covering their mouths.
“The Queen cured me, too,” Ikaika said, his voice carrying easily in the hush. He stood on the bench of the table, one leg propped on the top. “Tonight I’ve been hearing many of you curse our former ali’i, discrediting all he’s done because he lied. Because he lost his fire.”
Griffin glanced at Keko, who was watching Ikaika with shining pride in her eyes.
“The ali’i did not tell you that he was not the only one struck by this disease because he wanted to protect Chimerans like me from dishonor, but I’m here to say—even though I have no right, I know—that I feel no shame. I once lost my fire, but then the Queen brought it back and I am not disgraced. I consider myself blessed. And nothing any of you will do or say against me will change that.”
Keko’s breath hitched.
Someone moved within the crowd. Griffin turned his head, expecting to see Bane heading for Ikaika. But it wasn’t. It was a woman Griffin didn’t know, a woman younger than he, with a baby on her hip. She went right up to the picnic table and lifted her face to Ikaika. He blinked down at her, unsure, then she extended her hand to him in silence. After a moment, he tugged her up to stand on the bench beside him. The baby gurgled in her arms.
Slowly, one-handed, the woman unbuttoned her shirt and folded it back, revealing Keko’s handprint.
“I, too, am blessed,” she said.
Amazement rippled through the crowd—amazement that only increased as more and more Chimerans approached the table. Twenty-two of them covered the table, surrounded it, exposing their marks that, mere days ago, would have brought them scorn.
They stood there, of all ages and abilities, daring with their resolute expressions any Chimeran to knock them down. None did.
Though Griffin was not Chimeran he sensed the distinct shift in their thoughts. In the building blocks of their culture. It was powerful stuff, made of something more than magic, more than history. It was change and progress, and it was scary and necessary and uplifting all at once.
He wanted to touch Keko, to tell her with his hands and mouth that he was proud of her, that he would stand next to or behind her—wherever she wanted—as she guided her people.
Every Chimeran looked to her now. They were expecting her to make a grand speech like she had on the steps of the old chief’s house, to rouse them with words, but instead she just placed a hand over her own chest, her fingers a dark silhouette against the gentle blue-white of her skin, and simply said, “You are.”
The entire valley took a joyful breath.
Then Keko snatched a cup of something she’d otherwise avoided her whole life, and took a grand swig that made her cough and sputter in a most human, self-deprecating way.
“Stop staring at me,” she said through a watery smile, “and drink!”
The drums started up again but were quickly drowned out by a stirring cheer. The clan spun back into motion, and it seemed as though couples paired off quickly and easily. Mouths and bodies came together in passionate kisses and embraces, firelight dancing over the movement. Joy and release permeated everything, so sweet Griffin could taste it.
At the picnic table, the man who’d begun this scene stepped down. A curvy woman with black hair brushing her hips was waiting for him, watching him with revelation. Ikaika opened his arms and she came into them. When he broke the clutch, he tilted her head back and kissed her.
Griffin, surprised and confused, touched Keko’s arm and nodded toward Ikaika. Keko saw the male and female couple and sighed. “Yeah,” she said. “It’s a little complicated.”
Bane stood nearby, pointedly not watching Ikaika, his jaw tense, his eyes dark.
“They came together one night a couple of years ago. Everyone knew about that. It’s not unusual here. But it kept going on in secret, even though Ikaika is partnered. I only know because I caught them. I don’t know how Bane deals with it.”
Not well, apparently.
She threaded her fingers through his and the simple touch ignited him. He didn’t have to think about the countermagic. His water and her fire knew each other now. Instinctual. Complementary. Spellbinding.
“Come with me.” As she tugged at him her voice was soft, her expression full of meaning.
“Shouldn’t you stay?” He was thinking of the Ofarians, of course, how he was expected to do certain things at certain times. How he was supposed to act in a very specific, formal way and offend no one by neither speech nor action.
With a playful wrinkle of her nose, she grinned at the crowd. “I think they’ll be just fine on their own.”
Griffin did a double take as he caught sight of a man who’d backed a woman against a tree and had his hand beneath her skirt, right in front of everyone. “Wow. Turned sexual pretty quick.”
“And you’re surprised? Considering how we met?”
The scene in the parking garage, how she’d practically eaten him with her eyes. Her sexuality right there for him to feast upon. It had scared him at first, that openness. Then it had fascinated him.
She chuckled, another tug on his arm. “This is nothing. It’s not even an ume.”
“A . . . what?”
“So much to teach you. Picture this, a hundred times more sexual. A lot of people. Out in the open. Sharing. It’s how Bane and Ikaika first met.”
All he could do was blink at her.