The walls of water breathed with the pull of the tide, misting us with cool air. Ano’s gaze tilted toward the sky the deeper we walked, watching the stars shrink from sight. We passed a bed of coral, our feet avoiding starfish and urchins. Crabs scuttled through as we crossed over rocks. When we’d traveled deep enough to hear a whale bray, Ano turned to look at me in shock, the sound so loud it rattled inside my chest.
He was only a faint outline bathed in silver under the far-away moon. “How long could you hold this for?” he asked, reaching to stroke the wall of water.
I shrugged. “All night. All tomorrow. By the next morning, I’d probably be tired.”
“You could sink ships,” he breathed, still gazing up.
My mouth twitched. I glanced at his large hand, still wrapped in mine. “Ano.”
His attention shifted to mine.
“I only have my voice for a day,” I said. “I need you to know what’s coming. I need you to be prepared, so that after I’m gone, you can understand her.”
Mother moon, I could see he was trying hard to understand. He ran a hand through his long hair. “Our daughter.”
I nodded.
“Understand what, exactly?”
“That she will be like me. The island will hate her. And you have to let them.”
He stared at me in the center of the dark Juile Sea. “I’m not letting anyone hate my child.”
I straightened, studying the silver hue across his cheeks. “I’m not saying you cannot love her. Someday, our daughter will be a woman, and the moon has chosen her to fight a monster. The Fates know her name. You can’t change her path. And I won’t be here to guide her. She won’t find her way if she’s had an easy life. If she loves people so easily, the way the islanders do. She needs to learn how to make choices on her own. To trust herself. To determine who is a friend and who is an enemy. It will all begin here, on this island."
He exhaled, unsure.
I reached for his hand. "Love her in your home. But outside of it, let her learn to fight monsters.”
61
Cebrinne
“Witch,” Palunu muttered under her breath.
My gaze lifted to lock eyes with my husband’s sister only for a moment before she darted them away. Her husband Naheso followed behind her, an apologetic grimace across his friendly mouth.
Ano’s anger seeped from him, metallic and hot as he watched them pass us in their canoe. We sat on the docks, our feet in the water, watching as the missing sailor’s ship drifted out of the harbor.
More islanders passed, paddling in theirva’as. Each one a failed attempt at finding the lost man. They slowed to sneer at me. Ano made to stand, and I pulled him back with a hand over his thigh.
Ourcorda-cruorstifled Theia’s curse for him. I’d taught him that a year ago. But whenever one of the islanders hurled a vulgar word my way, he suddenly forgot. Forgot that fear steered the island's distrust like a rudder under a ship, unseen yet controlling all the same. Fear from Theia's curse.
I didn't forget. Though sometimes, I’d have really loved to hurl venomous words back at his sister.
Ano stirred the calm surf with a long reed, waiting until the islanders disappeared onto the banks. The anger from him receded once they were gone, playfulness tinting his voice instead. “Is that what you are? A witch?”
I crooked a smile at him. Lifted a brow. In the past year, he’d asked a number of questions, probing the edges of my history with something that mingled curiosity with warm wariness. I’d never shied from answering them. Except one—where I’d come from.
He’d tried to figure it out, of course. He’d sit with me over the port as we were now, pointing to the different flags. Calder, Rivea, Krava, Illuskia. My mouth would hover open whenever a Cyprian flag appeared, though they were rare. But I never answered.
“Do you know where the missing sailor is?” he asked.
I pointed to the water.
He cocked his head reproachfully. “Did you put him there?”
Most men would be unnerved by having to ask such a question. I suppose that was the power of acordae, though I’m unsure whether Ano realized it.
