Page 44 of Prima
But he does put on the vambraces. She shows him where he can extract a tiny carabiner from the right vambrace and hooks her silver cup onto it as an additional parting gift. That makes him smile briefly.
She almost cries again.
He looks up. “It’ll be a beautiful sunset.”
The clouds have fled. The sun has already dipped its toes back in the water. The sky is a soft blush hue that she has never seen before.
She stares at the sunset, wishing she were looking at him. And talking to him, even though words are of no use anymore.
“You’ve never told me your name,” she says in the end.
She never asked again, beyond the first instance of their meeting.
“Ren,” he says. “My name is Ren.”
The catch in his voice makes her turn her head. His face is wet. How long has he been crying? And is it another one of those indispensable skills one learns growing up in the Potentate’s Palace, how to weep soundlessly?
“Ren,” she murmurs.
He manages a smile. “Yes?”
“Why are you crying, Ren?”
She’s afraid to know.
He pulls her to him and kisses her with infinite gentleness, as if she were made of spun glass, and not steel and granite. Then he places her hand atop his and traces the lines on her palm, the way a pilgrim might study a map to a holy site.
“My mother is adamant that I not use my concurrent ability more than once every five years—she’s convinced there will be worse effects than memory loss if I do.
“The thing is, if I manage to convince the Potentate that I was the one defending his interests against Eleven’s nefarious intentions, I might just win a reprieve for my sister. But if my mother and my sister don’t set out for close to five years, then there’s no telling when I’ll finally make it to New Ryukyu, if ever.”
A dull knife scores her heart. This isn’t goodbye—this is farewell.
He looks into her eyes. “You said last night that you were going to forget me. I hope you will do that. You’ve a wonderful life ahead, greatness even. I’m honored to have met you.”
No, don’t go!
But he kisses her on the cheek, stands up, and slips into the sea.
She scrambles to the edge of the raft. It glides smoothly and inexorably in the direction of Dragon Gate, already leaving him behind.
“Promise me you’ll forget me,” he calls out.
Sunset has made the sea into a swath of molten gold. Bright-tipped wavelets lap at his shoulders and the ends of his hair. She suddenly remembers him seated on her raft, beneath her makeshift canopy, his hair wind-tousled. What wouldn’t she give to have that lunch to look forward to again, to have him very correctly label her a merely adequate cook?
“Do you still remember me?” She stretches out her hands, her voice breaking.
“For now,” he answers.
“For how much longer?”
“I don’t know.”
She rises to her feet. He could have said forever and always, this boy who grew up in the Potentate’s Palace and claims to be as good a liar as any ever produced by that pit of vipers.
“I am going to forget you.”
It should be doable, right? She’d already forgotten half of the things she learned in schoolandthe name of the second boy she ever kissed.
