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.

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.

“They are.”

“Does your vow still hold?”

He tried not to let his—trepidation? Curiosity?—show. “Always.”

She inhaled but it wasn’t of the Chimeran kind. She ran the heels of her hands up and down her thighs. “None of this is about my honor. At least, not anymore.”

“That’s what you said before, that it wasn’t about you.”

“It started out that way, partly. I wanted to restore my status and rise above the ali’i. I thought I could get back at Chief. But there’s another reason—a bigger reason—and it’s become the only thing that matters to me now. If I tell you, it’s because I want what you can give me. If I tell you, it’s because you can help me help my people.”

“Your people?”

She ignored him. “I don’t know how to sort this all out on my own, so I’m asking my faith to carry one hell of a burden.”

“Faith means a lot to you. It won’t let you down.”

Neither will I, he longed to say but didn’t. Because how could he be sure that he wouldn’t? How could he finally learn her true goal, give her the location of the Source as he’d vowed, and then prevent her from reaching it?

He had to physically bite back his anguish, the burn of it making his chest feel hot and tight.

Tell me, he silently begged. Don’t tell me.

Keko inhaled again. “Chief has lost his magic.”

The words blurted out of her mouth and hit the ledge between them, leaving him as cold as the hamburger sitting there. The rain stopped suddenly, as if someone had turned off a faucet.

“What?” he finally managed to sputter out.

As she chewed her lip, he realized he’d never seen her struggle with words this much. Like her actions, she’d always just . . . spoken. “It’s some sort of disease. It stole his magic. He can feel it inside but he can’t bring it out. And I guess he’s not alone. Apparently it’s hit other Chimerans, too. I don’t know who exactly, but it doesn’t matter. Our magic is everything. Fire means honor and life. You know that.”

“Jesus, Keko—”

“If I can get to the Source, if I can tap into the pure, raw magic there and bring it back to the valley, I can cure them. I know I can.”

Griffin had to hold fast to the ledge to keep from tipping sideways. The whole island seemed like it was flipping end over end.

“So you see,” she was saying, “it truly isn’t about me. I almost brought them to war, Griffin. Over my own stupid fucking broken heart. I shamed them when I shamed myself. I made a mess, and I need to clean it up. I owe this to them, to bring back what they’ve lost. And if I die trying, well, then that’s what the Queen wills. At least I tried. At least I tried to make it right with them.”

He just sat there, feeling carved hollow, pulled inside out. This changed . . . everything.

He rubbed his chin. “You made me think—”

“I had to,” she said. “If it were just Chief, I would have shouted his weakness across the valley and challenged him right then and there. But this disease is affecting others, innocents. I couldn’t tell anyone else in the clan where I was going or why, or it would’ve compromised the infected and brought them dishonor when they’ve been so good at hiding their disability.” She shook her head. “When I left the valley I had power on my mind. I wanted to be followed and respected again, and the only way to do that was to become ali’i. Bigger than the Queen, even. Now . . .”