He nodded. “Yes.”
The woman’s mouth quivered, fighting a smile. “What about Raggie?”
“He’s not invited.”
She held back a laugh. “That’s not what I meant.”
The boy shrugged. “He has other things to do tonight.” The boy tapped his hand against his right thigh, his damp jeans squishing. The woman looked down at the nervous tapping of his fingers and smiled.
“All my instincts are telling me to run,” she said, “but I can’t decide if they’re telling me to run to you or away from you.”
“To me,” the boy said confidently.
The wind pushed the woman’s shoulders, pressing her closer to him.
The woman let out an amused huff. “Jacob?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re still my sea.”
His fingers stroked down her cheek, trailing over her jaw. “I’m here,” he promised.
She nodded and rested her head against his shoulder. “When you hide things from me, is it for a good reason?”
“Yes.”
The wind trailed over the hard line of the boy’s shoulders.
“When you betray me, is it for the best?”
“Lia, I’m sorry.”
She sighed. “The sea is a funny thing. People love it, but it can kill them so easily.”
She was right. The sea was stronger than a human, and it had no heart. But the boy did have a heart—he felt more deeply than the deepest trench in the ocean. The wind knew this, but did the woman?
The boy started to step back, but the citrus and pearl dust scented woman clung to him, pulling him tighter against her. “Don’t. Don’t pull away.”
The boy stayed. They stood for a long, quiet moment while the musician sent waves of water and blasts of heat at the boy’s wall of darkness. Nothing he did could penetrate the boy’s dark embrace.
Finally, the woman looked up, her face solemn. “Was Luvic married?”
“Yes.”
She sighed. “I failed. I nearly killed him, and he married the psychopath.”
“It might work out.”
“How?”
The boy’s forehead wrinkled. The wind could practically hear his brain working to find an acceptable answer.
The woman snorted. “I’ll kill her tonight.”
“No,” he said, tugging on her hand. “You’re drained. You don’t even have enough illusion to disguise yourself. You have nothing left. He won’t thank you if you die.”
She stared at the boy and then down at her delicate hands and the thin trace of veins visible beneath her skin.
