“Patience isyourjob.”
Clive turned to Collin, grinning. “We’ve got permission to camp out tonight.”
Aries dropped his fishing pole and started rolling up his trouser legs. “We’d have been here ages ago, but I had to take someone’s shift at the armory this morning.”
Clive glanced around. “Is it just us?”
“River’s working,” Collin said, his tone as flat as a pond at dawn. “Shocking. I thought he might spontaneously develop a social life. Guess not.”
Aries, wobbling on one leg as he wrestled with a bootlace, grunted. “We won’t be seeing Nic either. Apparently today’s Helen’s only day off.”
“He could’ve brought her,” Niall said.
“I doubt Helen wants sand on her imported shoes,” Collin muttered. “Or to witness us commoners in various stages of shirtlessness.”
“I heard she considers trout the poor man’s swordfish,” Aries added with a smirk.
Before the speculation could spiral further, Clive cut in brightly. “We brought my canoe.”
“Fantastic,” Aries said with mock grandeur. “We brought plenty of bait—mostly worms, some charm. We’ll see which works better.”
“I need a swim after that hike,” Collin said, already peeling off his shirt and tossing it near Aries’s fishing rod. “I’ve got at least three blisters begging to be drowned.”
Clive broke into a jog toward the canoe beached at the water’s edge. “Water’s perfect. I’m taking her out!”
“Wait for me!” his twin called, loping after him. “Aries, you coming?”
Aries shook his head. “Later. Hadria wants seaweed.”
A collective pause.
“What does she need seaweed for?” Niall asked.
“No idea. She was very specific.”
“She brewing a potion or exfoliating a toad?” Collin asked. “Because if it’s the latter, I need the recipe.”
Aries just sighed. “You mock, but if I bring the wrong kind, I get the look.”
“Ah,” Collin said, stretching with a groan. “The one that makes you apologize for things your ancestors did. Understood.”
Collin sat alone for a moment, letting the breeze cool the sweat on his neck. He rolled his trouser cuffs to his knees, pulled off his boots, and dropped them beside his shirt. He unbuckled his watch, then tucked it carefully into one boot. The sand was warm under his soles—sunbaked on the surface, cool just beneath. He dug his toes in, letting the heat and grit settle between them.
Down the shore, Aries combed through strands of seaweed with surprising focus, lifting each one like a scholar inspecting parchment. Every now and then, he gave a satisfied grunt and coiled one into a slick green loop. Clive and Niall were already halfway to open water, paddling out in their canoe between bursts of laughter and poorly aimed splashes.
Collin looked out over the wide horizon. The clouds above were soft and slow-moving, the waves below catching just enough sunlight to glow pale blue at the edges. The openness of the cove hit him like a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
He stood up, stretched once, then jogged toward the water. His feet sank into the wet sand as he splashed into the shallows without hesitation. The ocean grabbed at him—icy and bracing—but his body, flushed from the hike, welcomed the shock.
He stopped at waist-deep, let the water swirl around him, tug at his hips. The pull was strong here, the kind that might knocka man off his feet if he wasn’t paying attention. He grinned and let it rock him anyway. Then, with a deep breath, he launched forward and swam.
His strokes were steady, practiced. Grandfather had taught him in the lake, throwing him off the little dock and shouting corrections between sips of tea. Later came boats, skiffs, summer sails. The water had always felt like home.
Out here, with only sky above and sea below, everything else peeled away. He wasn’t a son or a boy carrying too much history—he was just motion and breath and salt. Small in the world, yes. But fully inside it.
After several minutes of hard swimming, Collin stopped to catch his breath. He treaded water, letting his limbs float loose for a moment. When he turned toward shore, his breath caught—not from exhaustion, but surprise.
He’d gone farther than he meant to.
