That evening, Kiva felt the Vagra’s eyes on her when she slipped out of the hut. Cheeks burning, she looped her hair behind her ears with a dart of her fingers and then left her hands there by her cheeks, hiding her face from the old woman’s disapproving stare as she ducked through the doorway. Kiva knew that she should be staying in tonight, meditating in the darkness with her eyes closed and reaching up to the Ancestors with her mind, summoning them to give her another vision of the Strangers.
But she couldn’t. Not tonight. After her humiliation at the Sisters’ council meeting that afternoon, Kiva didn’t think she could face another night of struggling to hear the voice of the Ancestors, a night of getting more and more frustrated as no new vision came, a night of failing again, and again, and again.
No. Tonight Kiva wanted to take a break, to go somewhere as far away from the Sisters’ camp as possible and try to forget everything: the Strangers, the Forsaken, the Vagra, Kyne. Tonight, Kiva wanted to be with her family.
Outside the Vagra’s hut Kiva paused, lifted her gaze. Her heels raised up as she balanced for a moment on the balls of her feet, craning her neck. From here she could see the entire Sisters’ camp, the entire village, all the way to the lip of the rise. Beyond, the Great Mother loomed on the horizon. She’d have to hurry if she wanted to be at Grath and Quint’s hut by sundown.
Kiva put her head down and began walking. Shadows lengthened in the Sisters’ camp, darkness rising up from the ground like a creeping mist. Most of the Sisters were either in their own huts or visiting their men and children in the main village. Only a few women stood in the doorways of their huts and gave Kiva unsmiling nods as she passed. Kiva could have listened to their minds, could have known what they were thinking as she walked by—whether they supported her or thought that the Vagra had made a mistake when she named Kiva next in line to lead—but she didn’t want to know. Not tonight, not when she was trying to forget her troubles rather than linger on them. She pushed their thoughts away and kept on into the village.
The main village was even emptier than the Sisters’ camp had been. Kiva had been back into the village a handful of times since she’d gone to live with the Sisters, sometimes to visit Grath and Quint, but more often on business that the Vagra was too weak to do herself—visiting the sick, checking on how new babies were doing with their fathers, communicating the Vagra’s decisions and decrees to men who’d had their mates bring petitions before the Sisters’ council. Every time she set foot in the main village, she’d found it mostly empty.
The people—her people—were afraid of her. Though the men and children treated her kindly whenever she visited one of their homes, something had changed in the way they looked at her. A fissure had opened up between Kiva and the Vagri; they gazed at her as if from across a gulf. They respected her, even admired her, but they feared her, too. When she spoke with them, she wanted them to treat her as the girl she’d been, the girl they’d known. All they could think about, though, was the person she would become, the mighty Vagra.
Can she hear my thoughts right now? they’d think. I don’t like it. I wish she’d leave. I wish she’d just go back to her hut and leave me alone.
That’s why she never saw anyone when she walked through the village, Kiva knew—because the Vagri didn’t want to be around her. Whenever they saw her coming they retreated to their huts to avoid having their thoughts heard by the next Vagra.
As Kiva passed one hut after another, she wished she could call out to the people she knew were hiding inside. She wanted to tell them that hiding was pointless—she could hear their minds chattering through the walls of their homes, if she wanted to. She had no interest in eavesdropping on their thoughts tonight, anyway. She wanted to be alone in her own mind for a change.
But she said nothing. Only walked on in silence.
Walking this way, Kiva didn’t hear Po come up until she heard the scratch of his footsteps directly behind her.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Nowhere,” Kiva said. “I’m just going to visit Grath and Quint.”
“Do you need company?”
Kiva shook her head. “No. I want to be alone right now.”
“Why?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
Po strode around behind her, from her right ear to her left. Kiva had to resist the urge to rear up on him, to clench her hands and shove him in the chest with both fists—tall and strong though he was. But pushing Po away wasn’t something she should have to do. Wasn’t she one of the Sisters now? In line to become the next leader of the village? Why couldn’t he do as she said?
Po jumped around her, loped on his long legs until he stood in front of her, walking backwards and looking at her with a leering grin.
“Don’t you ever get tired?” he asked.
“Yes. Tired of you.”
His smile dimmed. “No. Tired of being so cold. So distant. Of never letting anybody in.”
Kiva brushed him aside and walked on faster. The light in the sky was dimming, and the first of the stars were beginning to come out. Kiva didn’t have time for this. She wanted to get to Grath’s hut before sundown.
“I’m going to get my own hut soon, you know,” Po said, still keeping pace at Kiva’s heels. “My father said I could. We’re going to start building it tomorrow. My own hut, my own garden. And someday, when I’m older, one of the Sisters …” Po trailed off. “I’ll have my own mate, I mean. My own family.”
Kiva stopped walking. She closed her eyes and let out a long breath. She sensed what Po was thinking. She’d sensed it a long time, in fact, even before the Ancestors had given her the power to read the thoughts of others—sensed Po’s growing interest in her. She’d never encouraged Po to think that they could ever be together, but she knew that he wanted it all the same. But the thing that Po hoped for could never be, not only because Kiva could never think of him as anything other than the annoying boy who never left her alone when they were kids, but because the Vagra wasn’t allowed to take a mate.
She needed to tell Po the truth right now—and make sure he understood. She opened her eyes and looked at him.
“Look, Po,” she said, unable to hide the note of pity that crept into her voice. “I’m flattered, I really am, but I don’t think that’s going to happen. I can’t—”
“Don’t,” Po interrupted, his face crumbling for a moment before going smooth, resolving into an empty grin. “That’s not what I meant. That’s not what I meant at all. Why would you assume I was talking about you? That’s pretty conceited. You think that just because you’re going to be Vagra that everything’s about you now? You, you, you.”
Kiva breathed out angrily, for an exasperated moment unable to find any words. She’d tried to be kind to Po, tried to be honest, and this was how he repaid her?
“I’m sorry, Po,” she said finally. “I—”
“I get it,” he cut in, lifting a hand in the air as he half-turned. “I’m leaving, all right? Go on. Be alone, if that’s what you want so much. It doesn’t matter to me.”
Then he turned and walked away—but not before tossing one last taunt over his shoulder.
“Be alone your entire life, for all I care.”