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“I am,” he said, but his affirmation seemed only to confuse her even more. She gave him an incredulous look.
“Who are you?” she asked.
With a smile, Tristan motioned to one of the boys playing by the water. “I’m the one with lighter hair. And that one with black hair is my cousin. Those are my parents.”
She fell into silence, listening to the gleeful laughter of the two boys who were oblivious to them.
Tristan’s gaze shifted to his mother again. His father had his arm wrapped around her waist, and even at a distance, he could hear the gentle humming of his father’s voice.
Tristan’s eyes prickled. When his mother was alive, his father would sing to her. He had been ruthless and cold for so many years that seeing his tender side made Tristan’s throat constrict with emotion. He tore his gaze from them and met the guardian’s gentle look. She studied him for a moment, then her eyes lightened with understanding.
“Oh, I see. You’ve come to reminisce,” she said.
Tristan shifted his weight and blinked away the tears flooding his vision. He did not know how, but it seemed as though this mysterious woman could read him like a book. There was no merit to making false pretenses.
His shoulders slumped as a sigh escaped his lips.
“I’ve lost my father recently,” he confessed. “And my mother many years ago.”
The woman hummed, as though she had already guessed it.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said, but her eyes didn’t match her condolences. There was no pity in her gaze. Instead, her eyes widened with curiosity as though she had a burning question and could not wait a moment longer before she asked. “How did you hear about this place?”
Tristan was slightly surprised by the question. But he was happy to be off the topic of his dead parents. He rubbed his face with his hand and tried to appear casual.
“Ella and Killian.”
The woman’s eyes widened with surprise. “Ella?” she asked in a reverent whisper.
Tristan’s ears pricked up at the way she spoke. “You know Ella?”
The woman’s look of awe faded and she shrugged. “We’ve had a brief encounter once or twice. She was very friendly.”
Tristan surveyed her neutral expression, sensing there was more to tell, but her body language was not giving anything away. He coughed and looked out at the rolling sea.
“Yes, well, she told me about this place, and how to get here. She even gave me the sundrop flower.”
The woman was quiet for a moment, then her eyes narrowed as she gave him a curious look.
“What were you thinking about when you drank the sundrop flower?” she asked.
Tristan stiffened and his palms grew clammy as he considered how best to answer the question.
He was thinking about seeing her again, but he had no idea how to say that without coming across ungentlemanly.
He ran a hand over his short, blond hair. “Lately, my life has been filled with burdens I never asked for, and despite them being out of my control, they are still my responsibility to bear. But recently I saw something that, for the first time in a long time, filled me with peace.”
It was not a lie. The sight of her face had that effect on him instantly, but he opted to omit that detail from his response. “So, that’s what I was thinking about. Peace…and hope.”
The woman gave a short incline of her head, then looked up to the sky. There was something tranquil in watching her bask in the golden sunlight, like she had achieved total serenity.
“What’s your name?” Tristan asked, breaking her out of her reverie.
“Aurora,” she whispered. She knelt down and ran her fingers through the glistening grains of sand. The sun sparkled on its surface like a million tiny diamonds, and she smiled gently as it slipped through her fingers.
Tristan hunched down so their eyes were level, and said with a hint of bewilderment, “For someone who lives in such an incredible place, you seem quite fascinated by sand. How come?”
She whispered back dreamily, without meeting Tristan’s gaze, “It’s not the sand. It’s the warmth.”
