Page 26 of Tangled Sails

“Yes, but I just wasn’t expecting…this kind of unease. I don’t know why…”

I snorted. “I know why. It’s completely natural to be wary of water when it’s nearly killed you.” Even I had avoided the ocean for a few days after Melody had dragged me from its depths, and the water and I were longtime friends.

I watched her swallow before looking up at me with curiosity in her eyes. “Do you speak from experience?”

“I do.” I looked at her and then back at the boat, wondering what to do. Now that we were away from the bustle of the castle, the humming panic in my chest had eased and my urgent need to be out on the water had abated. “We could stay here if you prefer. It would afford us a lovely view of the ocean.”

She cast her eyes out at the horizon instead of fixing them on the water that lapped at the shore, and I watched the tension in her shoulders ease. “It’s enormous…unfathomable.”

“That’s what I love about it.”

After several moments, her eyes returned to the skiff. “Is it safe?”

“Perfectly. I promise you won’t fall overboard. Not on my watch.”

She took a deep breath, then nodded and reached for my hand. “Just don’t let me fall in.”

I took hold of her hand, surprised by how small it was compared to my own, and carefully led her down the dock until we came alongside the boat. “Stay right there,” I said before releasing her hand and once again boarding my skiff. Lyri still looked unsure, so instead of asking her to take the one precarious step into the boat, I simply reached out, wrapped my arm around her waist, and lifted her into the boat.

Her fingers dug into my arms and her breath caught. I looked at her face and realized just how close I’d brought her. As soon as her feet found purchase, I loosened my hold, my heart pounding strangely. There was something undeniably pleasant about having her pressed close to me.

When I encouraged her to sit on the bench at the front of the boat, she did so and was able to let go of my arms. She was a brave little thing, I’d give her that.

I looked around the little boat as it rocked in the shallows, the smell of pitch rising from the planks, and noted the supplies Harlan had left. Then I took up my position at the stern and gave Lyri an encouraging smile. “Are you ready for a little sailing adventure?”

She nodded, her face a wonderful combination of nerves and excitement. My own shot of nerves ran through my chest as I waited to see if she would love this as much as I did. Would she understand the draw of the ocean swells and the joy of feeling a salt breeze in her face? It shocked me how viscerally I wanted just that.

I shoved the mast into its socket, then hauled the square of linen upward. “Hold tight,” I said, just before the sail caught the afternoon breeze with a snap.

Lyri made a little noise of alarm as she grabbed at the sides of the skiff. “You’re certain I won’t fall overboard?”

“I promise,” I reassured her. “I’m very good at this, and I would never do anything to put you in danger.”

As the wind pulled us along, I aimed for a tiny island close by, a spot where Lyri could look for seashells and play in the waves. It was amazing how calm I felt in this tiny boat with her sitting across from me. Usually, a day like today would have driven me to seek complete isolation, but something about Lyri made her presence comfortable. Being around her didn’t feel like work.

“Why did you invite me to come with you?” she asked, raising her voice to be heard over the sound of the wind and waves.

“You haven’t seen much of the world, and this is something everyone should get a chance to experience,” I said, keeping my eyes on the horizon.

“But you’d rather be by yourself.”

That pronouncement forced me to look at her. She said it with such conviction. “Why do you say that?”

“You have a lot of places where you go to be alone.”

I chuckled. “Yes, I do.”

She shook her head, turning to look out at the water with a little smile on her lips. “I don’t understand that.”

“Understand what?”

“Wanting to be alone.”

The wistful expression layered over her melancholy sobered me. “I suppose you wouldn’t. You’ve been denied company and companionship for so long. It makes sense that you would resist solitude now.”

“I hate solitude.” There was a dark ferocity in her voice that surprised me, and my imagination once again reached for an explanation of what her life had been before she fell into my ocean.

“Was there no one who knew you were being kept in that tower?” I asked.