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“How many? Tell me, do you know how many there are total?”
His eyes meet mine over his shoulder. “Hundred and fifty?”
I shake my head, bashing my stone into the cave’s wall. “Try one hundred ninety-five.”
He gives a low whistle. We hit the wall at the same moment, sending shards of rock all which ways. He says, “I’ve been to thirty-one of them.”
I shake my head at his back. Thirty-one countries. What must that be like—to have traveled so much? “Someone like you…” His family’s funds must be near unlimited. He’s been to university, began a career. Perhaps he’s being groomed to take over his family’s business in the longer run, and that’s what’s behind his visit to us.
“If you could go anywhere?” he prompts, cutting in on my thoughts.
I lick my lips as my heart beats more quickly. “I don’t know.” My tight throat makes my voice sound strange. “Perhaps to Oregon. Or California.”
“Yeah?”
I get a good chunk of rock as I slam my stone into the rim again, and he says, “Nice one.”
“Thank you. And I’m not sure…” I worry a bit, having revealed my real answer. I’ve long kept it secret—where I’d go if I were to flee—but I doubt the Carnegie would remember anyway, nor be consulted were I to go missing, so I carry on. “Perhaps I’d hate both places. But I’ve heard of redwoods. I’ve heard they’re massive, and I’ve never seen a terribly tall tree. And California being sunny, with all the oranges and avocados, and the movie stars. San Francisco with the sailboats. I would like to see the beach in California. I’ve heard the sand is soft and warm, and people swim there in the ocean.”
He turns to face me, his lips pressed together and his head angled as if he’s puzzled. “You don’t swim here?”
“Nearly never.”
“No good beach?”
I shrug. “There are tiny spots of beach. The current’s strong, though, and the sand is rocky. No one ever thinks to lounge about there. For the children, it’s forbidden. Also, it’s quite cloudy.” It’s almost always cloudy here.
“What’s that like?” he asks, giving me his back again as he turns away.
“Wait a bit—you’ll find out.” I consider what he said, though. He’s correct: chatting will help pass the time. “I don’t think I can answer,” I offer. “I’ve never been anywhere but here, and rain is part of life. It helps the crops grow.”
Silence settles in around us, and we work as we have for the past however long it’s been. I notice he’s not hammering as quickly as he was in hours prior, but neither am I.
He starts humming, and I wonder at the tune until I hear his low voice. “What show?”
I look up to find him glancing at me over his shoulder.
“Come again?”
His face is fiercely handsome as he smiles before swinging the hammer. “What show is that song from?”
“I rarely watch the telly.”
“Mm, so you don’t know?” He flashes a smirk my way. “Ever heard of a show that rhymes with The Shady Hunch?”
I snicker. “What?”
He turns to me, dark brows arched skeptically. “The Brady Bunch?” He gives a low whistle. “You’ve never watched The Brady Bunch?”
“I’ve heard of it.”
“Marsha, Marsha, Marsha,” he says in a falsetto, and I shake my head.
Declan chuckles. “You’re a tabula rasa, Siren.”
“I know what that is. I do know my Locke.”
“And I thought I was isolated growing up at a Swiss boarding school.”
