"If ever something was lost...Zuri Ayim was the one who could recover it."
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Twelve years ago, a meteorite fell among the seven city-states of Kiro, and birthed a new legend. They are calle...
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Wind and sun beat upon Kalindi's face as she stood braced against the ship's railing, watching the flames melt Vernon's ship into a simmering mess of black tar as they pulled further and further away. In another hour, perhaps less, the ships would dock at Naino's port, and the war would begin. Vernon's death may have guaranteed the survival of the world, but it had done nothing to guarantee its peace.
That, they would have to figure out on their own.
Arms slid around Kalindi's waist, a chin tucked over her shoulder. She would have jolted, if it weren't Jem.
Kalindi watched the ripples the boat's propellors cut across the Muwa River's surface for another moment. Then she said, slowly, "What are you doing?"
"Your anxiousness was radiating at me like a second sun," Jem groaned. "I came to fix that."
Kalindi sighed. "How do you plan to do that?"
"What do you mean? I'm fixing it right now."
"Hugging me is not going to stop two city-states from waging war on each other."
A pause. "No. But it is making you feel at least marginally better about the situation, is it not?"
"It is," Kalindi said with a reluctant nod, patting Jem's hands. "How is Chike? Sorin?"
"The catboy's bleeding has slowed, so he seems to be fine for now," Jem said, glancing further down the bow, where the others were gathered in a loose huddle. She released Kalindi, coming around to stand beside her instead. "And Chike's warmed up a bit. He's...conscious, at least."
There was a waver in Jem's voice that, once upon a time, would've skipped Kalindi's mind entirely. But she had spent the last few weeks studying Jem—sometimes consciously, often subconsciously—learning her every mannerism and idiosyncrasy, committing them to her memory, reliving them in her dreams. She knew her. Sometimes so well it scared her.
"Tell me," she said, and when Jem just looked at her, confused, she reiterated: "There is something you're not saying. I want you to tell me."
Jem ducked her head. "Several of his fingers are discolored. Aldric pointed it out—said a lot of foreigners passing through the Brassal Mountains in Meathe get it when they're not aptly prepared."
Kalindi sucked in a long breath. "Frostbite."
A brief moment of solemn silence passed between the two women, until Jem exhaled, resting her chin in the curve of her palm and leaning her weight against the railing. "None of us have mentioned it to him. I don't think now is the time."
"He'll realize eventually."
"Let him realize it once he doesn't have to worry about about the Queen wanting him and a bunch of his countrymen obliterated."
