The wind was blowing harder now, whipping between the buildings. Her hair blew into her face, and she kept pushing it back so she could see, but the wind lifted it and twirled it until it danced on her head. She hugged the bag of rolls to her as she broke into a run.
How did I fail to realize the pretty blue-and-purple clouds were storm clouds?She’d been so cocooned within the library that she didn’t know the signs of an impending storm. Even if she hadn’t known what the bell signified, she should have been aware of the shape and color of the clouds.
She realized the bell had stopped ringing. Good? No, bad. Very bad.
The rain swept in as a sheet of water. It pelted the cobblestones, and Kiela broke into a run toward the shore. The waves were crashing harder than before, no longer dancing but fighting in spurts of froth that slammed down onto the pebbles and sand.
Rain soaked her clothes, and it obscured her view of the cliff. She couldn’t see up to the top. Climbing the stairs—she could barely make them out, and the wind was causing them to sway, pulling them away from the rocks.
I can’t climb that.
She’d be blown off the steps. Or washed off.
Back to the bakery? Kiela turned—
Fast and rising, water swept down the streets and spilled onto the beach to meet the crashing waves. Much more sensible to go to Larran’s house. It was closer. She had no more blueberry jam, and the cinnamon rolls had to be a soggy mess by now, but maybe he wouldn’t mind a visitor anyway. As the waves smashed down, she pushed against the wind, heading toward the warm glow of lanterns visible through the seams of his shuttered windows.
Chapter Seventeen
Kiela pounded on the door as the storm lashed at her. Behind her, over the water, she heard a crash, and she jumped. She looked over her shoulder and saw the sky had deepened into a purple-red, with streaks of lightning inside it—A magic storm,she thought. Of course. She should have known, given how fast it had swept in.
“Larran!” she called.
He wasn’t going to hear her over the crash of the waves, the crack of the thunder, and the thud of the rain on his roof. She shivered hard.
Shaking the door handle, she shouted again, “Larran! Please, let me in!”
I should have stayed in the bakery. Or with Caz in the cottage.Was he okay? He had to be so worried. And scared. She wiped the rain from her eyes with the back of her hand and then she pounded on the door and shook the handle again.
Kiela heard a roar behind her. She turned—
The storm clouds had twisted into the shape of a sea serpent. Lightning sparked from its eyes and skittered down its rain-slick back. She stared at it, frozen. Her heart pounded hard in her throat, and she was fully aware of how small, how breakable, how utterly fragile she was in the face ofthat.
Her arm was yanked backward.
She stumbled inside the house. With anoof,she smacked directly into Larran. He wrapped one arm around her and slammed the door shut with the other.
“Uh,” she said.
He was really quite tall. She somehow kept forgetting that. It made her feel like she’d found shelter beneath a strong oak tree. Pressed up against him, she had to tilt her head back to see his face. He was looking down at her, clearly worried. “Kiela?”
It occurred to her that she was making his shirt very wet. Like a startled deer, she sprang backward out of his arms. “Sorry. I . . .”
“What are you doing here? There’s a storm—”
“I didn’t bring you jam,” Kiela burst out.
Why did I say that?Yes, she’d meant to bring jam, but that wasn’t the most important detail or really any kind of explanation for why she was here, soaking wet and shivering.
“You’re soaked again,” he said.
“I don’t mean to make it a habit.” Her teeth chattered together. “May I—”
“Yes, let me find you a shirt.”
She noticed he was blushing. Without another word, he strode into his bedroom. She followed him and watched him lay a shirt on the bed. He carefully didn’t look at her in her wet clothes as he slid past her back into the front room.I must look like a drowned rat.
He closed the door.
