The Stars in Your Skin

CHAPTER 27

Neteyam can't keep his eyes off her. She'd passed her iknimaya, not without some new scars. But she had passed. He's so proud of her. Her ikran which she names Ramsyul is a young adult with a light purple coloring and apparent feisty nature. They had not celebrated with a night flight like they'd planned all that time ago.

They are no longer courting. He no longer has the privilege to touch her, kiss her, hold her, but damned if his eyes don't take up the challenge. He's with a group of warriors, talking about the anticipation for the next harvest hunt, a tradition the Elders of the clan stressed they maintain despite the Sky People's return. He should be listening, he really should, but something else captivates his eye.

The lady of his heart walks in his direction. She's with his sisters, a round basket resting on her hip. The conversation around him decreases to white noise. His gaze hinges upon her traveling down every inch of her body then back up to her sublime face. She doesn't see him, her attention on Kiri. She's so beautiful. She laughs at something Kiri says and his breath catches in his chest. Eywa her smile is divine. His insides melt to warm jelly.

The closer they draw the more kenten swarm in his belly. His tail twitches restlessly. He can only swallow when her gaze spears his. Sharp longing stabs him, mirroring the expression in her amber gaze. She breaks the contact, giving a small hello when they pass. Neteyam flashes a smirk barely resisting the instinct to follow them.

It takes Lo'ak nudging an elbow in his side to return him to his senses. He glances at his brother, shuttering his face into neutrality. "Bro you were totally out of it" he whispers. Neteyam doesn't care to even glance at Sateya, who stands next to Lo'ak.

He excuses himself, heading in the direction of his grandmother's home. He finds his grandmother on the far side of the healing hut among the myriad of hanging herbs and medicine jars grinding up some plants. He greets her with the utmost respect. "Come sit my child."

He sits across from her inhaling the different scents of herbs and fire hanging in the air. "Is there something you wish to talk to me about?"

He inhales deeply. "Is there anything I can do to end the relationship with Sateya?"

His grandmother finishes grinding up the herbs into powder before spooning it in the small jar next to her. She places it aside before laying her canny gaze on him. "She was chosen for you and once she had the right to request a favor she is the one that must dissolve the relationship."

That's not the answer he wanted. So, Sateya was in control of the situation and he was only a passenger? His stomach sours.

"Perhaps she is reasonable."

He nods, resisting the urge to scoff. The way she possessively clung to him when Naawri entered his vicinity says otherwise. He only nods, rising. "Thank you grandmother."

His grandmother rises, putting a hand on his cheek. "Neteyam, Eywa wants her children to be happy. And you are one of her children." Her words spoken with such conviction fan the embers of hope inside him, but do not douse the growing red thing in his gut.

He smiles softly at his grandmother before exiting her home. He inhales a deep breath, flattens his expression, and heads home. The closer he draws to his family home the larger the ugly red thing in his belly grows. By the time he's outside the entrance, his hands are in tight fists. He lingers outside the entrance reining in his roiling emotions. When his surface is tranquil, he enters their home, finding his father lopping off the tiny limbs of a sturdy branch, Tuk at his side.

"Neteyam!" She trots to him, flinging her arms around his waist. "I found the wood you wanted. Can you carve me a yerik?"

"Of course," he tousles her braids.