Close Obsession (The Krinar Chronicles 2)

“That’s great,” Delia said, the smile returning to her face. “We’ll see you there then.” And raising her hand, she lightly brushed her knuckles down Mia’s cheek in a gesture that almost seemed like a caress. Surprised, Mia lifted her hand to her cheek, but Delia was already walking away, her graceful figure disappearing into the trees.

* * *

Entering the house, Mia heard rhythmic thumping sounds coming from the kitchen. Curious, she went to investigate and saw that Korum was already there, chopping up some vegetables for dinner. Mia’s stomach grumbled, and she realized that she was quite hungry.

Seeing her walking in, Korum looked up from his task and gave her a slow smile that made her feel warm inside. “Well, hello there. I was just beginning to wonder if I’ll have to go searching through the woods for you. You didn’t get lost, did you?”

“No,” Mia told him, grinning. “I just met another charl, actually. A girl named Delia . . . and she invited me to a beach party!”

“Delia? Arus’s charl?”

Mia nodded enthusiastically. “Do you know her?”

“Not well,” Korum said. “I’ve met her a few times throughout the years.” He didn’t seem particularly happy at this turn of events, his expression cooling significantly.

“You don’t like her?” Mia asked, some of her earlier excitement fading. “Or is it just because she’s with Arus?”

Korum shrugged. “I don’t have anything against her,” he said. “What did you talk to her about? And what beach party is this?”

“It’s Maria’s birthday, and she’s organizing a get-together for the charl living here in Lenkarda,” Mia told him. “And we really didn’t have a chance to talk much. Delia said she’s been with Arus for a long time – I think she must’ve met him shortly after you guys arrived. Mostly she was just being friendly, though. Oh, and she told me a new term I’ve never heard before: cheren.”

Korum smiled, and Mia thought he almost looked relieved. “Ye

s, that’s what you would call me.”

“What does it mean, exactly? Is there a comparable human word for it?”

“No, there isn’t,” Korum said. “Just as there isn’t one for charl. It’s unique to the Krinar language.”

“I see,” Mia said, walking over to the table and sitting down. “Well, the beach party will be in three weeks. It’s all right if I go, right?”

“Of course,” he said, looking up to give her a warm smile. “You should definitely go if you want, make some friends. I think Maria is very nice, and she seemed to like you quite a bit yesterday.”

“I liked her, too,” Mia admitted, smiling at the thought of seeing Arman’s charl again. “She’s exactly how Latino women are often portrayed in the American media – really pretty and outgoing. By the way, I forgot to ask Delia today . . . Do you know where she’s from? Delia, I mean . . .”

“Greece, I think,” Korum replied, placing cut vegetables into a big bowl and sprinkling them with some brownish powder. Swiftly mixing everything, he brought the salad to the table and ladled it onto each of their plates.

Mia quickly consumed her portion and leaned back against the chair, feeling replete. Like everything Korum made, the meal had been delicious, with the familiar flavors of tomatoes and cucumbers mixing well with the more exotic plants from Krina. It was also surprisingly filling, considering that it was only vegetables. “Thank you,” Mia told him. “That was great.”

“Of course. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“So I read some more of your history today,” Mia told him, watching as he fluidly rose from the table and carried the dishes to the wall, where they promptly disappeared.

“And what did you think?” He came back to the table carrying a plate of strawberries.

“I was pretty shocked,” Mia told him honestly. “I can’t believe your society survived the plague that almost wiped out those primates. I’m not sure if humans could’ve gone on if eighty percent of our food died out in a span of a few months.”

“We almost didn’t survive it,” Korum said, biting into a strawberry, and licking the red juice off his lower lip. Mia suppressed a sudden urge to lick the juice off him herself. “More than half of our population was killed in fights and battles during that time, and many others died from the lack of the necessary hemoglobin. If the synthetic blood substitute hadn’t come through in time, we would’ve all perished. As it was, it took millions of years for us to recover, to get back to where we were before the plague almost wiped out the lonar.”

Mia nodded. She’d read about that. The aftermath of the plague had been horrible. At the core, the Krinar were a violent species, and that violence had been unleashed when their survival was threatened. Regions fought other regions, centers attacked other centers within their region, and everyone tried to hoard the few remaining lonar for themselves and their families. Even after the synthetic substitute became available, bloody conflicts had continued, as tremendous losses suffered during the post-plague days had left deep scars on K psyche. Almost every family had lost someone – a child, a parent, a cousin, or a friend – and the quest for vengeance became a feature of everyday life.

“How were you able to move past that? All the wars and the vendettas? To get to where you are today?” The brief glimpse she’d had of Krinar life in Lenkarda seemed greatly at odds with the history she’d just learned.

“It wasn’t easy,” Korum said. “It took a long time for the memories of that time to fade. Eventually, we implemented laws curbing violent behavior and outlawed vendettas. Now, Arena challenges are the only socially and legally acceptable way to seek revenge and settle disputes that cannot otherwise be resolved.”

Mia studied him curiously. “Have you ever fought in the Arena?”

“A few times.” He didn’t seem inclined to elaborate further. Instead, he rose from the table and asked, “How do you feel about a post-dinner walk on the beach?”