“Duty and honor? Yes. It is all we are. It is all we can be.”
She looked ahead sightlessly at the black horizon. “I thought it would feel better. I thought it would feel like something triumphant.”
“Does it not?”
She shook her head. “I wonder what my mother felt. When she came down from her village, the only place she ever knew, and married a man she had never seen before. I wish that I could ask her.”
“That is one of the terrible things about loss. It echoes, continuously. There are always questions you want to ask, always things you want to tell them. But you can’t.”
They’d never spoken of such deep things. But everything felt different now, now that their time together would end. It felt like it all might as well be said.
She looked at him, her eyes glossy. “I don’t know that I will ever feel like the fullest version of myself. Because somewhere out there perhaps there is a version of me who got to learn all of her mother’s wisdom. But I didn’t. All I can do is study about her in history books just the same as everyone else who lives in Basilia. All I can do is know her in writing.”
“But you did know her,” he said.
“I didn’t know what to ask. Not then. I didn’t know how to ask what I wish, so desperately, I knew now. I only ever asked her to do things for me. To read to me, to watch me dance. I wish I’d asked her how I should live. What makes a person brave? What made her brave?”
“I think that is the burden of growing older. You lose people, and realize all that you didn’t say. When you were a child, your mother was only your mother. But now you see her as the queen. As a woman who made difficult decisions.”
“Do you wish that you could ask your parents questions?”
“Yes,” he said, standing up and moving away from her. “But I do not think that I would like any of the answers. You should go to sleep, Emerald. We have another full day and night of sailing yet.”
“You say that like this is taxing.” Perhaps it was only taxing for him.
“Either way, they are your last days of freedom.”
He hadn’t intended to say it. But he had, and neither of them could fully argue with the sentiment.
Chapter Five
THESE ARE YOURlast days of freedom.
His words echoed inside her head all night. She couldn’t sleep.
When she woke up, she felt wretched and grotty, and completely unable to control her emotions. It took a pot of coffee in a lovely silver service for her to even feel remotely civil. She didn’t seek Andrei out until after that. She was sure that he had slept up on the deck, just as he said. She castigated herself for putting him in the position where he had to be on this journey.
She had been angry at him, and at her brother, but the closer she got to Alabria, the more grateful she was for the protection. The more she questioned herself, even if she wouldn’t let Andrei know that she did.
Though their attraction—mutual!—was now out in the open, and it made everything feel electrified. It made breathing feel painful.
She didn’t see him at the front of the boat, and wandered around the starboard side, taking in the view of the glorious Mediterranean before she went aft and stopped. Because there was an even more glorious view there.
Andrei. Swimming in the pool. He was shirtless, his dark skin glistening in the sun. He leveraged himself up out of the pool, the muscles on his body shifting with the motion, water droplets sliding down the hollows in his chest, his abs. He was wearing tight black swim shorts that did not cover his magnificent thighs.
He was a work of art. She had never painted a damn thing in her life, but suddenly she wanted to take it up. Or maybe sculpt him out of something. If it was the only way she would ever know what it was like to touch his body, she would take a hunk of clay right now and try to shape it into him.
Because at least then maybe she could caress the fine lines of his body. Wow, that was an incredibly weird thought. But she was in an incredibly strange state. The door on her self-imposed prison was about to close, and then Andrei would be out of her reach forever.
He’s always been out of your reach.
Maybe.
“Good morning,” he said, his dark eyes flickering over her dispassionately. She looked down at her loose pajamas, and felt annoyed. If she were in her underwear, he probably wouldn’t be able to look so disinterested. It wasn’t fair. He was basically naked.
“Good morning,” she said.
“How did you sleep?”
