Page 89 of Kai
As if following my orders, the aura wavered, then disappeared. I took small breaths. “It’s okay, Nix,” I murmured, meeting his gaze on the picture. “I’m okay.”
Nix and I had always shared an urge to fight and win. He’d always been there for me when I’d needed him the most, and I’d tried to be there for him as he went through the trials and tribulations of being Father’s unwilling heir. With our blue eyes, pale skin, and darker hair, we even looked alike.
I stared down at my brother’s picture through a veil of warm tears. “I tried to take care of our sisters, but I did a lousy job.” The tears were coming fast and furious now. My bottled-up grief burst. “Oh, Nix.” I lay down on my side, and bringing up my knees, hugged the photo box to my chest. “I wish you were here.”
I must’ve fallen asleep; for how long, I had no idea. It was a restless sleep. I dreamed of Nix, reminding me not to give up. I dreamed of my sisters, too, of their tearful faces on the day we parted. Their tortured expressions gave way to Kai’s features. A deep frown etched his usually smooth forehead, and his mouth tilted at a cruel angle.
“No man in his right mind is ever gonna put up with you,”he said in a voice that wasn’t his.
Gasping for air, I ripped my eyelids open. My cheek stuck to the soggy pillowcase. I winced when I moved my head. Remnants of last night’s migraine lingered. I had to squint atthe light pouring through the window. The sun bathed the berth, warming my bare feet and legs and blinding my retinas. The photo box dug into my chest. I still held it close to my heart.
Caught in the throes of a grief hangover, I felt like shit.
My stomach rumbled, my mouth felt parched, and my body still begged for rest. I turned to my back and stared at the ceiling. Yesterday, I’d found pleasure in Kai’s arms. Last night, I’d destroyed my chances with him. Seducing him wasn’t in the cards anymore. I was ashamed of myself, something I did often and well.
I set the photo box on the windowsill. It took all I had to get up, but I did what Nix had taught me to do. I got up every morning and tried again. I brushed my teeth and combed my hair until it was nice and tame, unlike me. Picking out the most comfortable clothing from my little stash, I dressed in a pair of light blue bike shorts and a matching cropped top. I didn’t put on shoes. Even my feet longed for freedom.
I put warm compresses on my eyes to stem the swelling. I’d never been a crier, but last night I’d cried rivers. When Thena, Missy, or Affie wept, they looked like sad princesses, tragically beautiful in their sorrow. No puffy faces or scary, bloodshot eyes to frighten the staff.
Me?
My face looked as if I’d taken a beating. I stared in the mirror and found I wasthedefinition of ugly crying.
“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?” I pointed at my image. “Not you. Definitively not you, Queen of Surly, Lady of the Vile.”
I downed some ibuprofen and walked away from the mirror.
Kai was nowhere to be seen.Serenityfloated on its mooring, as quiet as the day. At the galley, I found a pot of hot chocolate on the stove, and a note from Kai encouraging me toheat it up and help myself to the cream he’d whipped and stored in the fridge.
Tears burned in my eyes again. His kindness got me every single time.
He was probably on patrol. Despondent me didn’t care if I developed diabetes. I fixed myself a full mug of sweet hot chocolate and crowned it with heaps of cream.
Kai’s note also said he’d left a bowl of fruit salad in the fridge for me. Standing by the galley’s island, I attacked it with a soup spoon and sucked it down faster than a vacuum cleaner. It was fresh and delicious. If the word ‘care’ had been a flavor, it would’ve tasted like this. After I’d eaten the whole thing, I almost felt human again.
I had no idea when Kai might return, so I grabbed my mug and made my way out to the deck. The sun shone down on the cove and refracted on the calm waters. A refreshing breeze rippled through my hair. The birds were singing a riot. Kai had told me that the water was at least twenty feet deep here, but when I leaned over the gunwales, it was so crisp and clear that I could see the sandy bottom sparkling under the sunrays.
A school of silver fish caught my attention, gliding in unison around the boat. Their scales gleamed beneath the surface. Under the sea, they moved in perfect synchronicity, small bodies united to build a big presence.
Carrying my cup and following the fish, I moved down the narrow walkway toward the bow and past the catamaran’s trampoline—the tight net strung between the forward hulls. I stood at the tip of one of the hulls, sipping my hot chocolate, admiring nature’s choreographed show.
If only I could swim like those fish, be part of a school, as I’d once been with my siblings and Dash. The Astor Renegades. It’d been us against the world. These days, I was an army of one. It struck me that for the last three years, I’d been running awayfrom reality. Now I had to face off with it, accept that Nix had died, and rebuild my family, myself.
It seemed so hard, overwhelming.
Tilting my face to the sky, I felt the sun on my skin. I took in the glorious ridges and the tranquil sea. This was such a beautiful world. Did I belong in it?
The ocean called my name, a seductive murmur, quiet as a ripple and as enthralling as a siren’s song. Heeding the call, I set the mug down and climbed over the railing. Perching my feet at the very edge of the hull, fisting my hands around the cables behind me, I held on, leaned forward, and peeked down at the water.
On the mirrored surface, my reflection stared back at me. My face showed no fear, no sorrow, no emotion. Arms stretched behind me, body slanting forward, I looked like a bird about to take flight.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Cece
“Good morning, Sorceress.” Kai’s voice startled me out of my trance. “The water looks awesome today. Doesn’t it?”
Startled, I whipped my head around and found him sitting cross-legged on the trampoline. I hadn’t seen him there, but then again, I’d been chasing fish. Or something else. I wasn’t sure what that was.
