Island of Fire (The Unwanteds) by lisa Mcmann Read Free Book Online Page A

very hard to try and get some of her frustrations out.
    The crazy thing was that Sam, who was such a hothead when she first met him, didn’t seem to mind. He let it happen, knowing there was no other way to express emotions in their mute world. He’d squeeze back, but not like one might expect Samheed to squeeze when angry, so it never hurt Lani. Something had changed in him since his early days in Artimé. He’d grown mellower. Lani liked that. She liked it a lot.
    She sniffed deeply, trying to determine if anyone had brought food recently. Smelling nothing, she scooted over, rolled to her back, and slowly let her eyelids open.
    She frowned. And then she sat up. She craned her neck, squinting, turning her head all around, and frowned again. And then she pounded Samheed’s arm.
    Her heart raced, and she pounded him again, and then began to tap into his hand, “Wake up! I think . . . ”
    He didn’t move, so she pounded him harder until he moved and sat up.
    She began again. “Something’s different. Can you”—she paused, not quite sure—“see? A little bit?”
    Samheed turned his head about, and Lani almost thought she saw a shadow, or a silhouette of his face. “I can see you!” she tapped. “Sam!”
    “No,” he tapped. “I can’t.” He turned toward her, but she couldn’t make out his features at all. He was just an outline, black on dark gray. A moment passed. “Nothing,” he tapped slowly. “Are you sure?”
    Lani strained her eyes, and the usual blackness was definitely gray now. She could see Samheed’s profile, and a blob not far away—the bucket of water. “It’s very faint,” she tapped. “Gray instead of black. Outlines. The bucket.” She turned toward him. “I’ll touch your nose,” she said, and reached out toward the line where gray became black along his profile and the tip of his nose was apparent. Her finger landed on it, and she could feel him breathe in surprise.
    “I . . . ,” he began to tap, and shook his head. His heart twisted as he yearned to see anything, but all was still black. “Still nothing,” he finally tapped.
    In wonder, just barely able to see the outline of him, Laniguided her finger down his nose, across his cheek, and then she squeezed his shoulder. Tears jumped to her eyes as the world lightened before her at the slowest possible pace. “I can see you,” her lips mouthed, but she didn’t tap it. Instead she tapped, “I’m sorry.”
    Samheed was still for a moment, and Lani watched him bring his free hand to his bowed head. She could almost feel his longing. Then he dropped his hand to his lap, deadweight, and tapped, “Tell me everything you see. And—” He stopped.
    Lani waited. “And?”
    Samheed turned his blind eyes toward her. She could see the outline of his body, feel his breath on her bare arm, his hand on her knee. Slowly, softly, he tapped, “Please don’t leave me.”

Together, Apart
    L ani squeezed Samheed’s arm. “Of course I won’t leave you!” she tapped. She flung her arms around his neck, surprising him, catching him off balance. He righted himself and, after a second, hugged her tightly, squeezing his eyes shut and biting the inside of his cheek, wishing he weren’t so helpless. He hated this feeling—had always hated it. Before today he could be thankful that Lani couldn’t see the fear on his face, but now . . . He didn’t want to have to count on anybody at any time, not after all that had happened to him.
    But when he was truthful with himself, and when heremembered that Lani hadn’t left him the last time she’d had a chance, while he lay helpless and knocked out on a table, and when he thought about the past weeks in this stupid, horrible cave of darkness and silence, no one coming to their rescue, only Lani there, and the two in turn acting both vulnerable and strong, he knew that Lani was probably the one and only person in the whole world with whom he could truly let down his guard.
    He