I’m frustrated, restless ...
I need to see my best friend, but I can’t do that while Cainon’s distant regard is heating my face and working hands, as if he can’t bring himself to look away. He’s standing on the bow of the slim boat—a tall, imposing figure, spyglass pointing my way.
Can he see the agitated bounce of my knee, or how I’m tearing at this bush so violently my fingers are red and sore?
I glance at the lone ship still parked at the end of the pier, deflated sail spun around its mast.
Waiting for me.
Two days ...
“So dramatic,” I mutter, ripping a few more buds, putting a little extra bite into the motion. I don’t usually take the posies until they’re in full bloom, but that won’t happen for at least another month.
I’ll be gone by then.
Once the bush is bare, I close the jar, watching the grand Bahari vessel edge toward that line I’ve never swum across, strung between two points of the large, rocky bay. Not a physical line, but in my mind it’s so concrete that part of me expects Cainon’s ship to smash against it and sink.
It doesn’t, of course.
The bay spits the vessel into the open sea, blue sail bloated and boasting gold trimmings that stand out against the gloom. That regard peels away, and I draw a full breath for the first time since I started climbing down these stairs.
The bulbous, gray clouds rumble as I unravel the braid Cainon so meticulously plaited, studying his cupla.
The deep blue stone marbled with threads of gold sits snug around my wrist, held in place by a gilded chain that pinches the two ends together. Small grooves line one side of the stone, evidence of its separation from Cainon’s half.
It’s frowned upon to remove them—an age-old custom that casts back thousands of years. So long as you’re coupled, a female is supposed to wear these things until the day she dies ...
With a shrug, I unlatch the chain, then stuff the thing in my bag and stand.
I’m not ready to tell Kai everything—to drag my topside troubles into the depths of our friendship—but I’m desperate to see him. To fall into him and to feed off his banquet of comfort.
Wind whips at my trailing hair while I leap down the stairs toward the bay below, landing ankle-deep in pitch-black sand. I close my eyes, allowing the pull of the ground to soothe my internal discord ... at least until a husky voice saws through my internal reverie.
Tug those roots out. Cut them off if you have to. This is not the right place for you.
Eyes popping open, I tip my head and sigh.
Well, Cainon. That’s easier said than done.
I lump my knapsack atop a jagged rock, then jog toward the boisterous waves so reminiscent of my current circumstances—whisking in fast, unrhythmic motions that show no promise of letting up. Fully clothed, I charge through the sand into icy water that shocks my lungs still.
The ocean bed drops away instantly, and I lift my feet and swim, taking lashing after lashing of frothy whitewash that dwarfs me in both size and power. It pulls me, bullies me, shoves up my nose and makes the back of my eyes sting. It tears at my hair and fake skin and tangles me with kelp, but I keep swimming ...
These waves remind me of the psychological beatings Rhordyn dishes me, because like these waves, hejust doesn’t stop.
He’s unrelenting. Unapologetic. So callous in his punishments that I barely have a chance to catch my breath. And to dish such a brutal blow when I was already struggling to float?
Asshole.
I beat the waves with my hands and feet, giving them just as much as they’re giving me, while still getting tossed about as if I’m nothing more than a piece of weed.
I’m reminded of summer swims when I was small—when the crystal-clear water was warm, gently lapping at obsidian sand. The only other noises were the calling gulls and Kai’s robust laughter.
Now the ocean isroaringat me, and I want to scream back and tell it tostop.
Please stop.
Just make it past the breakers ... that’s all I have to do. Once I’m there, the sea will calm and I’ll finally be able to pause.
