The deep moan of agony that pierced the air in Sela's chukka forced her eyelids open with a small scream. Startled, she jolted upright on her bed and swung her legs over the side of it until the bottom of her feet kissed the cool, bark slabbed floor. Tongue heavy in her mouth, she wasted no time in racing into the next room where she knew Kael lay.

Sela, in an instant, dove straight to his side, her eyes frantic in their search around her chukka. When she spotted no danger, she looked back down at him and noticed the sweat clamming across his smooth forehead. His eyes squeezed tighter when she grabbed his arm, his face contorting in pain. His hand only gripped his bandage chest harder.

"Kael! Kael, wake up!" Sela shouted, shaking his shoulders. "Kael!"

Kael hissed, his furrowed eyebrows pushing together. She shook him again and patted his cheek. It took a few more times to shake him and call his name before his eyelids fluttered open with a gasp.

"Oh Kael!" Sela practically sobbed. She thought nothing of it when she dove forward and wrapped her arms tight around his neck. The relief at seeing him safe flooded her body as the fear for his life escaped her.

Kael, stunned, took a moment before he wrapped an arm around her back. He held her tight to his bare chest as he sat up with her tucked secure against him. His breath tickled her ear but washed a sense of calmness over her shivering body that hummed with nerves after what had just occurred.

His chest, solid and warm, brought comfort to Sela in the moments when she needed to calm down. The fear she now felt for him, not only from seeing him injured but also from the anticipation of his eventual departure, had taken her by surprise. Not only would she have to let him go back to his family, but she would also have to trust that whatever creature that harmed him awaited his return in the sea. Just thinking about it all made her chest ache.

Suddenly, the harsh exchange of words between them no longer mattered. Only Kael did.

Sela loosened her arms and pulled herself back, staring up at him with all the worry in her eyes. His handsome features came into focus through the help of the moonlight that blanketed his soft expression. He reached out towards her face and brushed his finger over the tense skin between her eyebrows with tenderness until it smoothed out.

"You were right," he murmured, his voice no higher than a whisper. His eyes watched the confusion move over her eyes as she asked him what about. "Tushka was not the man who hurt me."

Though Sela knew she was right, her concern for Kael did not dissipate. Instead, she just frowned and wondered what she was missing. "No he was not," she agreed. "But what made you believe me?"

Kael dropped his hand from her face. He grimaced and pushed his long strands away from his own. "I had another memory," he admitted. "A fishing net bound my body together and pulled me out of the water. There was—there was a man wearing garments unlike yours or Tushka's. I do not know why or when he did it, but he was the one who did this to me."

He swallowed thickly. "I should have trusted you, Sela. The Creator brought me to you because She knew you'd take care of me. I see now that you would do nothing to put me in harm's way with being around Tushka."

Sela's lips curved, her concern softening. Staying upset with him was too much of an effort. If she were being honest with herself, she forgave him not long after meeting with her father and the Creator. She didn't want to argue over something so small.

"See that now, do you?" she teased, reaching out to squeeze his arm. "I do not know who hurt you, Kael, but I swear to you we will figure it out. We almost have all the answers we need from your memories. We just need to be patient until we can put it all together."

Kael's smile was unnervingly beautiful in the dark room as he nodded. "You are right again."

"You'll find I am nearly always right," she said playfully. "It comes with being the chief's daughter."

"I'll have to remember that," he chuckled. Then there was a pause. "I think I know what's going to really help me remember."

Sela's eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"I think . . . I need to go back to the sea."

Her heart flipped. She wasn't expecting that. "Is it safe to?"

"Yes, Sela. I grew up my entire life in the sea, and I am its chief. There's nowhere safer for me."

"But—but your healing—"

"No, Sela, I'm not staying in the sea," he reassured her. Her panic spilled almost instantly into relief. "I'm not fully healed yet, though I believe I'm not too far from that. It's just swimming in the sea might help us more than swimming in the river."

Sela thought about it. Though she didn't like it, she knew he was right. The sea was their best choice, and maybe the Creator was ultimately guiding them down that path. Despite her initial reservations, she couldn't deny the sense behind his reasoning.

Kael's unwavering conviction only strengthened her belief in the path they were embarking on.

"Okay," she murmured. "It is almost daylight now, anyway. We should go before Mikasi wakes."

"No, Sela," he said, his voice almost too loud for the quiet room. He shook his head. "It's too dangerous. I can't risk having you with me there."

Sela huffed, narrowing her eyes. "Why not? I can handle myself."

Kael reached between them to grab her hand. Despite herself, she loved the feel of his hand wrapped around hers. Though his fingertips were rough from the work he'd been doing with Issi and Nita, his grip was sturdy, his hand warm and leaving a trace of tingles up her arm. Her body came to life as it always did with him.

A dangerous feeling, but one she did not shy away from.

"I know you can more than handle yourself, Sela. You are the strongest woman I've ever met," he said, honestly. "But I could not live with myself if something happened to you. I already almost hurt you at the river, and it frightens me to think about it happening again."

"But you didn't. And you'll be there with me to make sure nothing happens. We can protect each other."

He released a heavy breath of air. "Sela—"

"What else do I have to say to convince you I am with you? That we are in this together?" she asked, her voice full of warmth. Her fingers squeezed his. "You've put your trust in me, and I you. You cannot push me away that easily."

Kael's resolve wavered. His grip on her hand slackened with the sagging weight of his shoulders and he brushed his long hair from his face. His deep sigh resonated through her body. "Can I not convince you otherwise?"

"I am more than sure that you already know the answer to your question," Sela replied, unable to hide her wide smile.

Though she admired his protective nature and appreciated it even more, she still desired to offer her support. If he ever needed her, she wanted to be there. And that day would be no different.

"Fine," he murmured, glowering through the length of his lashes. "But out in the sea, you'll have to listen to me. If I tell you to get out of the water and run, do not question me."

"Okay," Sela agreed. "Let's get some more rest before we go. You will need all of your strength."

Kael nodded in agreement. Sela went back to her bed  and the two of them fell asleep for a little while longer until the sun poked through the roof of her chukka. After dressing themselves, the two set out for the sea, being extremely mindful to avoid anyone in her family.

Sela relished the warmth of the sun and sighed under her breath. Winter would soon be upon them and the glimmer of the sunlight would no longer heat her bones. And the frequency of sneaking off to the water would slow and . . .

She loathed thinking about it. Thinking about Kael leaving; leaving her. It was next to unbearable in her mind. Did he feel the same way? Had he fallen in love with Mikasi? It wasn't the sea by any means, but it was still a place to be loved.

Sela spared a glance at Kael amidst her thoughts and found he was already looking at her. Her cheeks warmed with the intensity of his stare, but she didn't look away. She couldn't. Not when he stared at her like that. Like . . .

No. She wasn't foolish enough to hope for anything other than friendship. He looked at her as if he were looking at a friend. That was all.

Nothing more.