was alive or that I have a sister named Astrid—one that he had in his hands and gave away.
I grip the scissors in my fist as tight as I can until the metal cuts into my palm. Even with that pain to distract me, I still can’t hold back the angry tears that cloud my eyes. I’m a con, a pigeon—I’m a mark. That’s all I am to them—someone they can throw away to mislead their enemies from finding the true treasure: Astrid.
“I’m ready for that swim lesson now,” I murmur as I slide out from under Kyon’s arm, taking the scissors with me.
“Right now?” he asks, sounding surprised. “Don’t you want to have breakfast first?”
I don’t turn around to look at him—I can’t let him see me cry. I just shake my head no and reply over my shoulder, “I’m not hungry. I’ll meet you on the beach.”
I rush outside to the wet deck and around the front of the teak hut. Soft rain falls gently on my face. It mixes with my tears as I take the stairs down to the sand. The tide has come up higher, so whatever happened here last night has been washed away. I slow when I reach the edge of the water. There isn’t much wind; it’s just overcast and gray with a light drizzle. With the scissors still in my hand, I reach up and cut my hair again. In a few moments, the palm of my hand stops bleeding. Walking into the surf, I rinse the blood from my hand.
Tossing the scissors onto the beach, I pull strands of my newly regrown hair between my fingers, weaving it into a thick braid. The action helps to settle my raw emotions. But the bitterness I feel runs deep, and just when I think I can stop crying, another tear rolls down my cheek to shame me some more.
I knot the end of my braid and pull Kyon’s shirt off over my head. The black bathing suit I’ve had on since yesterday is very skimpy—not something I’d choose to learn to swim in. I wipe my face on his shirt before balling it up and tossing it in the sand behind me, far enough away so that the tide doesn’t get it. Wading into the water again, I go as deep as I dare, up to my chest. Using my good hand, I splash water on my face, erasing the evidence of my emotion.
Pan wants to protect Astrid? Fine. But the minute I can get the hell off Ethar, I’m gone. He’ll never see me again. The thing that I’m most angry about in this moment is that I’ve given him the power to hurt me. I’m stone. I’m stone. I’m stone, I repeat to myself.
“Are you ready?” Kyon asks from behind me.
Looking out over the horizon, I nod.
“Then let’s begin.”
I hate swim lessons right away. Everything Kyon wants me to do is designed to drown me. I have a problem even floating on my back or putting my face in the water, but as the hours drag on, I realize that Kyon isn’t going to let up on me until I master the skill—whichever one he’s teaching me from moment to moment.
As I stand up and listen to what Kyon wants me to do next, a small wave crashes into me, nearly knocking me over. I don’t have much strength left. I can hardly lift my arms up past my chest. Another wave comes and it knocks me against him. I clutch his waist so that I don’t get taken under the water. “What’s wrong with you? Are you tired?” Kyon asks with a frown.
“No,” I lie. “But if you need to take a break, I’ll understand.”
His arm goes around my waist to steady me. “You’re exhausted. You can’t even stand up.”
“I can stand up,” I say mulishly.
“No, you can’t,” he replies. He refuses to let go of me, which is sort of a good thing, because I don’t know if I’ll make it out of the water without his help. My limbs tremble as we get to shore. Without the buoyancy of the water to support me, it’s much worse. My muscles quiver. I’m surprised I’m so destroyed by one stupid swim lesson. The months that I’d spent at Rafe’s palace as Manus’s ward have made me weak. I was never allowed to do anything too strenuous there, and as a result I’m a creampuff.