39

Ash

The cove is every bit as beautiful as Kaylin promised.

The water sparkles beneath the noonday sun. I can’t get my boots off fast enough, roll up my pants above my knees, and let the sand caress my feet. I cut quickly across the beach and let the gentle waves lap at my toes. It’s wonderful, but cold. Really cold.

“Aren’t you going to freeze to death out…there?” My voice squeaks to a halt when I look up because Kaylin is undressing. He’s utterly comfortable in his body. Tutapa upbringing, I guess.

Wish I had some of that…

He flashes me a grin.

I harrumph. “There will be no rescue from me if you run into trouble,” I say, backing up when a larger wave rolls in. “And I don’t think they will help, either.” I indicate the barking sea lions at the end of the breakwater. “They bite, you know.”

“Of course, he knows. He’s island raised.”

Here I am, talking too much again, but can’t stop. The butterflies in my belly have to go somewhere, and it seems they see fit to escape through my mouth, carrying as many words with them as they possibly can. With Kaylin so close, and currently wearing so little clothing, there is an endless supply.

He takes a small medallion off from around his neck and hands it to me. “I’ll be right back.” He picks up his knife and a net bag.

“I’ll be here.” I study the medallion to keep from staring after him. He always wears it, as far as I recall, in or out of the water. Odd that it’s in my hands now. I rub my thumb across the surface. The copper, tinged green, is shaped like a trident and etched very finely. I’ve seen the image somewhere before but can’t place it. I must remember to ask.

Kaylin climbs onto the breakwater, the wall of rocks creating this natural horseshoe cove. Across the turquoise waters, kelp gardens fan out like golden threads. The fronds drift on the surface, held up by floating bladders. Halfway out to the pod of sea lions, Kaylin gives me a wave and dives in.

I hold my breath, just for fun, to see if I can stay under as long as he does, but soon I must breathe. I let it out, as slowly as I can, take another breath, hold it, let it out, and another, and another…

“What is he, a f’qadin fish?”