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“Seriously, Bryn. I don’t trust myself in this wind.”
“I trust you,” I said. And oddly enough, it wasn’t a lie.
I flipped through the book, scanning what I’d already read. So many drawings of objects that meant nothing to me. So many strange words—and I’d been so sure I knew them all. The only familiar parts were from the history I’d learned long ago: glorifying Kendrick Irvine as a savior who led his people to the land that would become Cambria.
But then I found something I couldn’t possibly believe.
We must continue forward with our mission to keep this kingdom pure, as Irvine envisioned. Our forefathers strived to create a utopia separate from the world, and we were able to achieve it by eschewing the evils associated with technological progress and returning to a more naturalistic and enlightened time. We have thrived in a glorious century of peace while the majority of humanity suffered, destroying themselves with technology, corruption, and war. Only through continued isolation can we protect our language and culture from the unwelcome influences of other surviving civilizations.
My breath caughtas the possibilities overwhelmed me. We all knew our civilization was the only one to survive the rising sea levels over a hundred years ago. It was a fact. Indisputable. And yet . . .
“You look upset,” said Graham.
I shut the book. “You’ve finished this, haven’t you?”
He set down the compass. “Yes, but I was waiting for you to read more before we talked about it. I thought you wouldn’t believe me.”
I laughed, embarrassed by the accuracy of his guess. “I don’t believe it. Not really, anyway.”
“It doesn’t seem so unbelievable to me. In the past week, I’ve realized there’s so much I don’t know about the world.”
“But—”I thought I knew it all. I didn’t dare say it. It suddenly struck me as incredibly naive, so I switched directions. “It’s not your fault you weren’t informed. They only told you enough to make sure you carried on tradition.”
He nodded, then frowned. “How is it you understand Cambria so well? I’ve lived there for a lifetime and I’m only beginning to unravel my misconceptions. Yet, you’re an outsider and you seem to see it clearly.”
“Well,” I said, “my parents lived in both Cambria and Tramore, so I guess that gives me a unique perspective.”
A gust of wind angled the boat off course. Graham checked the compass, re-adjusting us toward the northwest. He should have been born into a different life. He fit in much better when he wasn’t restrained by city walls.
I looked at the sky, realizing the dark clouds had turned heavy and ominous. A storm was imminent.
“So, were your parents banished?” asked Graham.
I hesitated, knowing my answer would create further questions. “No. My father’s parents were outlawed. He was born on Tramore.”
“You talk a lot about your father. What about your mother?”
“Well,” I said, speaking slowly, “she’s dead.”
His eyebrows lowered. “I’m sorry. This is why I avoid asking these kinds of questions. I know as well as anybody that family can be the most complicated subject.” He slumped his shoulders and rested his chin in his hands.
“It’s okay. She died years ago. It was the worst time of my life, but my father got me through it. We got each other through it, really.”
He sat up straight again, but his eyes swam with concern.
“I miss her, obviously, but I’ve gotten used to it.” I flinched as the boat dipped to the side and water sprayed over the deck. The wind speed was increasing, as well as the size of the waves. “It’s my father I’m worried about. He’s never considered moving on. They really loved each other. In fact—” I cut myself off as another wave splashed my feet. I felt uncomfortable giving away so much truth. I didn’t know if I should say it, but something prodded at me to continue. “He was an islander, but she was a Cambrian.”
Graham’s eyes grew wide. Before he could speak, the boat dropped into a trough between the waves and the deck tilted wildly. We grabbed the mast to keep from falling overboard.
“Help me with the sail!” I cried.
We loosened the stays and tied the sails until they were secured against the mast. The sea churned, dark and angry. Sharp raindrops hit my face.
“Secure the cargo!” I said. “Where’s the compass?”
Graham lunged to the front of the boat. He opened his cabin door and shoved the books and compass inside. A wave lifted the bow. Graham held tight to the doorway and I gripped the mast. The next wave rose above us, the crest beginning to curl. It would wash us off the deck, no matter how tightly we held on.
“Get inside!” I shouted.
