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I propped up the torch between some boulders. “Time to learn how to swim.”
* * *
We floatedin the center of the lake, with nothing but underwear on us and stars above us. Back in Cambria, I never could’ve let him see me like this. But here in the dark, on an island that was as far from proper as possible, it felt almost natural.
It had definitely taken him longer to get comfortable with our minimal clothing than the water itself. He could already stay afloat just fine and was practicing every stroke I’d taught him.
“I’ve learned so much since I met you.” His voice was muffled through the water covering my ears. “Lock picking, stealing, climbing, sailing, swimming . . .”
“Lying,” I blurted out. That new skill of his surprised me the most.
“Well,” he said, “it’s easy when you’re learning from the best.”
I laughed to stave off the guilt that hadn’t lost its grip on me. He couldn’t possibly know how much I’d lied, but his words stung all the same. “I hope I haven’t been too terrible an influence on you. Your goodness is . . . refreshing. Like you have nothing to hide.”
He was still except for the movement of his feet in the water. The silence between us widened into a gulf. I’d said the wrong thing, but I wasn’t sure why.
“Graham?”
His sigh reached me even through the water covering my ears. “I wish that were true.” He rolled over and swam away.
I stayed where I was, letting my feet sink until only my head was above the surface. I longed to know what he was feeling, but it seemed right to give him space.
When he reached the rim, he looked back and gestured for me to come closer.
I swam over, eager to be beside him again. Once I got to the edge of the lake, I put my hand on the rim beside his. The ground was still far below our feet.
“If I tell you,” Graham said, his soft voice drifting over the silent lake, “you’ll no longer look at me the way you are right now.”
I dropped my eyes to his chest, my head buzzing with confusion. “Honestly—” I paused, preparing to admit more than I should. “Nothing can change the way I feel about you.”
“Bryn.” He shook his head, his eyes as solemn as I’d ever seen. “Why do you think my mother hates me so much?”
“Because she’s evil.”
“Please.” He closed his eyes for a long breath. “Don’t make me say it.”
A memory surfaced. Graham’s room. The queen’s furious voice.It would traumatize any child to witness his brother’s death.
I covered my mouth. “Your brother?”
He nodded almost imperceptibly. “It’s my fault he’s dead.”
I stared, speechless. The warm water couldn’t stop the chills from running down my spine.
When he spoke again, his voice was almost as quiet as the lake. “I was ten years old. Ewan was twelve.”
I waited, afraid anything I said would be all wrong. I never knew how his brother died, but I hadn’t imagined Graham could’ve been a part of it.
“He’d do anything to make me laugh. As I got older, I started persuading him to break rules for my entertainment. It started with little things, but eventually, I was getting him to jump from moving carriages and sneak into the streets with me at night. Whatever I said, he did. And I never stopped to think of the consequences.”
He took a deep breath and lifted his eyes toward the stars. “One night, I climbed out a window onto the roof. I wanted him to come too, but he was afraid. Then I . . . I called him a coward.” He rested his hand over his eyes before pushing it back through his hair with an aching sigh. “I shamed him into following me. So he did. We were at the highest point when he stepped on a loose shingle and slipped.”
My heart resumed its pounding after a moment as if it had quieted to hear his confession. I moved my hand from the black rim and put it over Graham’s, trying to tell him what I couldn’t with words. But it wasn’t enough. Not even close to enough.
“When I saw him hit the ground—” his voice faltered, and he paused for more breaths “—I wished it had been me. It should have been me. I wanted to die—and I think a part of me did.”
His pain overflowed right into me. I shook my head to erase the vision he’d been forced to relive every day. How could he possibly heal from that? Yes, my mother had died, but it was slow, peaceful, and most importantly, not my fault.
