Chapter 9 Ezra #2
In the back, Kalei and Ho‘ohuli laughed out loud–it was the first I’d heard Ho‘ohuli laugh like that.
He was always so stoic, and yet… he and Kalei were clutching the sides of the wagon for dear life, giggling and squealing like little kids.
Aulani laughed too as we raced over a bridge, then she slowed the horses down, her hair a beautiful mess as the breeze picked up around us.
I couldn’t help but put my hands behind my head and lean back.
I don’t know the last time I enjoyed myself…
really enjoyed myself. But if this was the first–besides that one or two times I kissed Aulani–then I was going to be here, in this moment.
Because these moments were like a cool breeze in the middle of a sweltering day. They didn’t last long.
When we reached the village, the people rejoiced to see us. We still had a few more villages to go before the sea, but it took longer than I expected at each spot.
The children swarmed around Aulani like busy bees. At one point, we lost her because she’d gone off playing tag with the littles. They laughed and ran all over the town, my guards trying their best to be inconspicuous but keep an eye on Aulani who flitted around like a bird.
As I spoke with a village leader, some children came running to get their parents.
“You have to see the birds! They’re back!” they exclaimed. My conversation died as I looked in the direction everyone was heading.
“It’s Aulani!” Kalei exclaimed, running past me to see the commotion. As we neared the edge of the forest, a circle of people had formed around Aulani and the children. Big smiles crossed every child’s face as each one took a turn around the mermaid princess.
“Who is she?” whispered the parents, but they didn’t seem scared of her. They seemed amazed, like she was a miracle.
“The birds haven’t sang like this since the coquis,” said another.
“But they’re singing… for her,” said Ho‘ohuli, his eyes wide as he looked from the princess to me. “She’s not one of us, is she?” an old man whispered softly, and I shook my head.
A little child ran up to him, and everyone listened. “Tutu kāne! You should’ve seen what she did!” said the boy.
“What did she do?” the old man asked, placing a hand on his grandson’s shoulder.
Others came closer to hear the child speak. Aulani and the other children were so entertained by the red honeycreeper, its curved beak entering in the flowers they fed it, that they didn’t pay the adults any attention.
“Ioane found a bird at the edge of the forest. It was dying, but when she held it, she did something… and then it jumped back up! Good as new!”
I blinked. I’d seen Aulani with birds. She told me what happened with Pili. But this… this could be the answer to losing our songbirds… because without them, our island was nothing. We were not Kaiora without our songbirds…
Tears filled the old man’s eyes as he watched. Even Ho‘ohuli was growing emotional.
Aulani could change our world. She could save it, even.
The boy ran back to the group to take his turn with the mermaid and the bird. “She’s a miracle,” said the old man.
Next to me, Ho‘ohuli quietly spoke. “There was another like her… years ago.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
Ho‘ohuli moved his hand as if to emphasize Aulani’s hair. “The hair. The striking eyes. She was a mystery but just her presence healed the songbirds, like this girl. She had hair like her–not red, but green. And some say she was the woman your father loved.”
A lump formed in my throat. “Are you speaking of my mother?”
A nod. Nobody spoke of my mother. She was a foreigner, someone who literally came out of nowhere, then completely disappeared. Nobody knew where she came from or where she went.
Not even father would speak of mother. Only said we had the same eyes.
“You met her, didn’t you?” I asked.
Ho‘ohuli remained silent. Then, “Aulani could save our island… we need her, just as we needed your mother years ago.”
Before I could ask any other questions, a guard drew Ho‘ohuli’s attention away.
My mother? Nobody had ever mentioned what she looked like, besides the fact she was a foreigner and I had her eyes.
I looked at the mermaid turned human, who now laughed, silently of course, with the children.
I need her. I swallowed hard. Our kingdom needed her.
No. I had to get her to the sea.
But as I looked at Aulani, I saw her with new eyes. She wasn’t just a carefree mermaid who I’d grown affectionate towards. She was so much more… And Ho‘ohuli was right. If she could not save our songbirds, who could?
As if to remind me of my current situation, a coqui chirped in the distance.
The coquis are taking over…
Shortly after Cressida announced herself ruler, she stopped hunting the coqui frogs. And because of that, they were growing at unprecedented rates again. Some were even mutating and becoming larger in size.
A soft breeze blew through the area, and I felt the ground beneath me humming, as if the island were speaking to me. It had been a while since I’d felt this, but the prompting was clear: save the birds.
I nodded to myself. As soon as we got back to the palace, I would put together an emergency council. The frogs needed to go.
Now.
And I wasn’t Aulani’s responsibility.
Something is bothering you. Aulani’s attention turned to me. I nodded and she let the bird fly into the air, all watching with awe. We should go back.
I promised I’d take you to the sea today–
The birds are dying, Ezra. I can sense it. She gave me a serious look, and, despite all the people around us, it suddenly felt like it was only us. Alone. Looking into each other’s eyes from a distance. There was something, deep inside of her, that meant she was bothered too.
Is something wrong, princess?
Of course. I can’t go… not with your kingdom like this–
I can’t ask that of you.
You didn’t ask. I am choosing.
A child distracted her, but I sensed her coral walls strengthened, which meant one thing: she was hiding something from me.
The stars above Kaiora scattered like kalo in a lo’i, brilliant and numerous. I sat cross-legged on the flat stone of the terrace garden, my cloak tossed to one side. The night wind moved through my hair, carrying with it the musty scent of earth and stone.
I didn’t turn when I heard the soft thump of sandals behind me.
“You always came here when life got unbearable.” Kalei plopped herself beside me and handed over a carved wooden mug.
“I ran here because the palace walls have ears,” I said.
She chuckled, folding her legs beneath her. “True. But also because this is where you think best. Here. On the earth. Surrounded by the wise old koa trees and cracked lava rock.”
I took a long sip, the warm tea calming. “I’m supposed to be a good king, but I feel like I’m just rearranging coconuts in a sinking canoe.”
“Coconuts float,” Kalei said with a wink. “But I know what you mean.”
We sat in silence for a while, the wind carrying with it the echoes of the songbirds music that day. Pili swooped overhead before settling in the twisted branches of a nearby banyan tree.
“She’s not like the others,” I said finally, revealing what I’d really been thinking about.
“Aulani?”
I nodded.
“She’s not from your world,” my cousin said. She sighed. “But she sees it better than most who’ve lived in it their whole lives.”
My voice was soft, maybe because I was afraid the wind might hear it and carry it to Aulani’s ears. “I was a frog. She kissed me, saved me, helped me… and I keep thinking: what if I have to lose her to keep the kingdom?”
Kalei touched my arm. “Maybe this time, you don’t choose what’s expected. Maybe you choose what’s right.”
I didn’t answer right away, just lifted my gaze to the stars and whispered, “If only I knew the difference.”