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Our eyes were locked, his fingers trembling on my wrist for a long moment, before he finally let go.
This time, I was the one who stepped back. “I came to rescue you,” I blurted out.
A wry smile twisted his mouth. “Do I look like I need to be rescued?”
“Graham.” I searched his face, trying to take in his realness while rejecting his bitter words. “You should be king.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want to go back.”
My mouth fell open. “But the throne belongs to you! You can help these people.” I gestured to the islanders I knew were watching from the village. “And the ones on Gellor. You made promises and they need you.”
“Promises?” His eyes narrowed, slicing right through me. “You have no room to speak of promises.”
“I’m sorry, Graham! I’m so sorry.” I threw my hands up, wishing the words could be enough. “But there could be an uprising if you don’t become king.”
He stood unmoved. “I’ve heard that before.”
“My father manipulated me! I thought I was doing the right thing, but Ineverwould’ve betrayed you if I’d known the truth.” Tears stung my eyes as I spoke of my father's deceit. The shock of what he’d done continued to drown me. “Everything I did was because of his lies. But this time, I heard it straight from the source. Rowan, on Gellor, told me they want you on the throne or else?—”
“I don’t care,” said Graham, his voice rising. “It’s your problem to fix, not mine.Youwanted the throne.Youdeal with the consequences.”
“My father made me believe I wanted it,” I said, “but I left it—for you.”
He looked back at me, his lips pursed and his brows thoughtful, as if he might actually believe me.
I lowered my gaze to the firewood he’d dropped, then reached down to get it. When I looked back up, he had turned and walked away without a word.
I dropped to my knees in the sand, trying to grasp what had just happened.
Graham wanted nothing to do with the throne.
And absolutelynothingto do with me.
That night,after darkness fell, the fire’s crackling heat warmed my face as I picked at a fish skewer in my hand.
I sat on a fallen log around the fire pit. My aunt and uncle, Elin and Oliver, had cooked the meal for us and now made easy conversation with Cait and Lachlan while they ate.
Graham was nowhere to be seen.
I avoided everyone’s eyes as I ate, or maybe they avoided mine. An invisible barrier seemed to separate us, keeping me from being present or feeling like I belonged. When my father and I had come to Tramore last summer, I’d instantly felt like one of them. But not this time.
After a while, Oliver stepped over, holding a fish skewer, and took a seat on the log beside me. His wiry blond beard covered the lower half of his face. “How’s the gunshot wound?”
I touched my left side. “Hardly sore anymore, thanks to you and Elin.”
“Us and Cambria’s magical medicine. If Orrin hadn’t left that stuff with us last summer, you’d likely be dead.”
“Glad he did something good,” I muttered.
“He’s not so bad,” said Oliver, stuffing a piece of fish into his mouth, flakes of white meat landing in his beard. “Yeah, he made us trap Brennin in a pit, but don’t you worry, we didn’t keep him there for long.”
“Why not?” I asked, curious to know why they’d let him out when they’d been so insistent on keeping him trapped while I was begging for him to be released.
“He was bleedin’ and as helpless as a dolphin calf in a fishin’ net, for one thing. And we weren’t foolish enough to take him outwith Cael around. You saw what he did to him.” Oliver leaned closer and lowered his voice. “To be honest, that man gives me the collywobbles.”
I smiled despite myself. “Me too.”
Oliver patted my hand. “The minute you and that fellow set sail, Elin and I took Brennin right out and dressed his wounds.”
