Drowning in Fire

TWENTY-FIVE

The center of the meadow was on fire. Sheets of gold and orange flames blazed in a perfect circle and stretched for the stars, contained by the collective magic of the people who feasted and danced and kissed around it. Tonight the lights in the homes along the slopes were all dark, as every Chimeran on the Big Island filled the valley floor, all trying to have their moment with their new Queen. To hear her story again and again.

For many, a glimpse was enough to fill themselves with the wonder of her, of the sight of their pure magic living inside her. Griffin did not understand that. A glimpse would never be enough for him.

As he stood by her side and observed her people celebrating in her name, he knew that she and this place had become a part of him—a part he was not willing to give up.

They’d both cleaned themselves up as much as possible, though the removal of several layers of dirt and dried blood just called out the extent of their injuries and wounds. As they’d dressed, they’d told the stories behind each one. She’d listened, enraptured, as he’d recounted, blow by blow, the challenge with Makaha.

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.

“I’m going to break open that stiff and proper Ofarian mind of yours yet.” Her chuckle rolled into a full-on laugh and at last he allowed himself to be pulled away from the party.

“Where are we going?” It was dark outside the fire circle and he’d lost his bearings. “I want to see your house. The one you told me about with the hammock and the door that looks out over the valley.”

Her fingers tightened in his but she didn’t reply. She found a narrow dirt path that cut through an overgrown sweep of some sort of native Hawaiian plant, and led him up a small rise. When they came out of the brush and the moonlight struck the long, low white building, Griffin understood where she’d brought him.

“That house I told you about?” she said. “It’s not really mine anymore. But neither is this place. I want to tear it down, send the people who live here back to their families. Where they belong.”

Griffin pulled her into him, her whole length flush with his body. The Source was a second heartbeat against him and he loved it.

“I think you’re amazing,” he said, touching her face. She reached up to mirror his movement, her fingers skating over the small burn on his temple. “So where are we sleeping tonight?”

“I never said anything about sleeping.”

• • •

In the morning, under a rolling, cloudy sky and amidst the remnants of last night’s celebration, Bane and Makaha faced off.

Keko stood far to the side, well away from the action, knowing that the ali’i position at stake was going to make this a challenge for the ages. Her baser Chimeran instincts longed for this, to see what the warriors would bring. Bane, always aggressive, always skillful, would be a force. And just last night he’d been forced to watch his lover with another. He’d always successfully used emotion to enhance his battles. But Makaha owned his namesake ferocity; he had something serious to prove and was coming fresh off a defeat of Griffin.

Earlier, at sunrise, Griffin had reached for her, sliding a hand over the bare skin on her hip. It was still astonishing to her that he could fuck her with such biting passion and then touch her with such tenderness. She hoped that he would continue to astonish her for a very, very long time.

“Who do you want to win?” he’d asked.

She’d just looked at him, confused. “It’s not about what I want.”

“Ah.” His favorite word, when it came to things Chimeran. His brow furrowed. “So all that you said last night about worthiness and weakness doesn’t apply here?”

“They both want to lead the clan. They have to prove themselves to the people. They aren’t being judged on what they don’t have, or something out of their control. They’re being measured by their actual abilities. Makes perfect sense to me.”

He sat up, flinging aside the blanket they’d used when they finally passed out naked under the stars—because she couldn’t yet stand to be enclosed after having endured being Within. The early morning light was very kind to his body.

“Makaha is at a distinct disadvantage against Bane,” he said.

“Seemed to do just fine against you.” Keko poked him. “You just don’t want him to win because he kicked your ass.”

He snorted. “Anything I might say in my defense would come off as weak to you, I’m sure. But yes, he did kick my ass.”

Later, with Griffin standing next to her on the grass, they watched Makaha defeat Bane.

The valley roared its approval over Makaha’s valiant fight and his ability to overcome. The clan swarmed around their new ali’i as Keko went to her brother.

Bane stood tall and strong despite looking like he wanted to collapse to the ground in fatigue and disappointment. She wanted to hug him—a strange, non-Chimeran urge—but knew she could not. Not ever, not without hurting him. So she said, “I’m proud of you.”

Breathing heavily, he bowed with two fists across his chest.

Then she went to Makaha. The people parted to let her through. The ali’i’s chest pumped with the last bits of adrenaline and a powerful air of dignity she hadn’t witnessed in him in years.

“It’s good to have you back, my friend,” she told him.

He pushed back his long, sweat-soaked hair. The smile he gave her was huge and honest and full of a happiness she’d never witnessed in an ali’i.

She found Griffin perched on top of a picnic table, his feet set on the bench, twirling a long yellow flower between his palms.

“That’s who you wanted to win,” he said as she fit her body between his knees.

“Maybe.” She glanced all around, taking in her valley. Her home.

He set down the flower and turned serious. “I have to go back. To San Francisco.”

She nodded, but it must have come too slowly or she must have done a crappy job of disguising her disappointment, because he quickly added, “I’m not leaving you.”

“I know. I know you aren’t.”

“I have to get back to my people. Gwen said things are getting testy, probably the worst they’ve ever been. I’m going to have a fight on my hands.”

“Shit, really?”

He nodded, lips tightly pressed together. “I owe the Ofarians an explanation for my absence. They need to know what’s happened with you and the Chimerans and the Senatus straight from me, and it needs to be sooner rather than later. And I really, really want to see Henry.”

“Griffin, you don’t have to explain. You’re a leader.”

“And now you are, too.” He swept a hand over her hair and her scalp tingled. “I’m coming back. In fact I’m sort of looking forward to sleeping with you on the dirt again. Unless you want to find us an actual bed while I’m away.”

He meant it to be funny, but it struck hard in her heart, mixing with all the things she still needed to tell him. All the things she’d been straightening out in her head.

“What is it?” he asked, because he was starting to know her so well.

“Can I drive you to the Hilo airport?”

“You want to be my chauffeur again? Talk about coming full circle.”

That pulled a small smile out of her. “I’m still going to make you carry your own bag. But I want to take you someplace else first. And, yes, I’m driving.”

Several hours later, after speeding northwest along the coastal highway straightaways and swerving daringly around the turns, she pulled the battered yellow Jeep into the gravel along the side of the road.

Griffin gaped at the scene out the windshield, motionless. Finally they climbed out and met in front of the car’s grille. They were back in the rainy part of Hawaii, and the water droplets made hollow splooshes on the car hood and quieter splashes in the puddles at their feet.

“What are we doing back here?” he asked.

Keko gazed up at the B and B in which more than their goals had changed. Boards had been hammered over the window and door of their former room. The sight of it made her throat tight.

Griffin finally noticed and gasped. “What happened? It was fine when I left.”

“My magic. It was too much, contained in too tight a space. It must’ve combusted and started a fire. I was watching. I saw you run off, and then the fire broke out. I ran back here, put it out, but it had already done some damage.” She shook her head and finally had to look away. “I did that. I didn’t mean to, but it’s someone’s business, someone’s life. And now it’s unusable because of me. But you know the worst part about it?”

“What?”

“I desperately want to make it up to the people who own this place. I want to help them, pay them back for what I did, but I can’t.”

Griffin took her arm and turned her to face him. “Sure you can.”

“No, I mean like I can’t.” She pointed a finger back down the highway, in the direction of the valley from which they’d come. “You see how we live. How little we have. Even if I wanted to pay for damages or a whole new B and B—which I do—I can’t because I literally don’t have a cent of my own.”

“Keko . . .” He ran a hand below his jaw and glanced out toward the ocean. “I can—”

“No, Griffin. Don’t even say it. I’m not taking your money. I’m not letting you step in and do this for me. I just can’t. And it has nothing to do with being Queen or whatever. You understand that, right?”

He did, because she saw it in the warmth of his eyes and the easy bob of his head. “Okay, so what are you thinking? Why did you really bring me here?”

She took a deep breath, felt the reassuring fire within. “To tell you that I want to come with you. To San Francisco.”

His eyes brightened, widened. “Yes. Yes. Absolutely come with me.”

She pressed a hand to the wet shirt on his chest. “Not solely to be with you. Like you, I have to be here for my people, so my going to the mainland can’t be forever.”

“I get that, sure. So what do you want to do?”

“I’m thinking”—she licked her lips and tasted the delicious water of her island, the stuff that would always, always remind her of Griffin and their days spent slugging through it—“that I want to ask for the Ofarians’ help.”

He opened his mouth, made some sort of odd sound, then finally got out, “What do you mean?”

“I am Chimeran Queen. I assumed and accepted the name only if I knew I could bring change for the better. You know how my people have been living. It is poverty. In this day and age, it is nothing more, and the clans on the other islands are the same way, maybe even worse off. Why does it have to be like that? I’m not saying we have to be rich and live in oceanfront condos on the Kohala Coast, but we have no prospects and no skills applicable to the real world. Ofarians do.”

He drew a sharp breath in realization, but she went on.

“I’ve been thinking about this ever since Aya brought me back from Within. How I was the first Secondary other than their own kind to see that realm. How Cat and now you have been the only Ofarians to visit the Chimeran valley. How no one knows anything about the Airs, or Sean and Michael, those spirit elementals who were with me in Colorado. How is this good? How can we possibly help each other if we’re peering at each other through teeny tiny holes?”

“Wow.” He sank onto the bumper of the Jeep. “I guess I never thought of it like that. I was too set with the whole Primary/Secondary thing, trying to figure out ways for us to fit in better to their world.”

“But that’s the thing. You already have such a leg up on that. Ofarians know so much and Chimerans know nothing except what we’ve been looking at for centuries. Education and technology and the ways of business—I want your people to teach my people all of that. I don’t even know how to turn on a damn computer. No Chimeran does. You can help us.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “We can. Absolutely we can.”

“And that could just be the beginning. We could start to organize diplomatic tours between all the races, learn as much about each other as possible—”

He snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her into him. “We?”

His hair was wet and shiny and silky between her fingers. “We. You and me. Start a whole new thing. ‘Fuck the Senatus,’ if I can steal your words. You said yourself you’re going to have a fight on your hands when you get back. Let me stand next to you when you face them. Let me help you tell them all that you’ve done. Let me help you present something new and wonderful, this collaboration, that they could help birth. Give them ownership, you know?”

“Fuck the Senatus,” he whispered. “Oh God, Keko.”

And then she was crushed in his embrace. Water, water everywhere.

“You can help us, too,” he said into her skin.

She peeled herself away and raised an eyebrow at him. “We can?”

“Henry would just about kill to learn some of the fighting maneuvers I saw your warriors do out on the field the other day. So would most Ofarian kids.”

“Bring in the newer generations,” she said. “I like it.”

His expression turned grim. “I should warn you, not everyone will. It’s been the story of my life for the past five years.”

Didn’t he get it yet? “Battles are virtuous only when there’s a prize worth fighting for.”

He framed her face in his hands. “This is just a thought so feel free to shoot it down, but we have this doctor, Kelsey Evans. She’s brilliant and eager and has done so much for us. What would you say to her and her staff coming to take a look at your people who contracted the wasting disease?”

Hope and love soared within her, making her nearly buoyant. “You think she could find a cause?”

Griffin shrugged. “Don’t know, but it’s worth a shot, don’t you think? I know she’d be up to the task and her husband, David, would jump at the chance for a free trip to Hawaii.”

He kissed her neck, the lick of him mixing with the moisture from the sky, and she shivered even with the Source thundering through her body. Then her mouth found his, and the kiss drowned her in a flood that no longer scared her.

“And guess what?” she said against his lips. “You’re not kapu anymore. That’s my first declaration as Queen.” She struck a fist on his chest. “There. Done.”

He sighed, but it came out like a shudder. She thought he might kiss her again, but instead his liquid brown eyes stared into hers as he said, “I am never going to be able to hold you tight enough. I will never get tired of the feel of you. I will never take you for granted. And I will fight for you until the end of my days.”

“Good.” She drew back, planted fists on her hips in an echo of her trademark defiant stance, and smiled mischievously. “Because it’s going to be one wonderful war.”