“It’s okay. You don’t need to explain.”
“Yes, he does!” Ree said. “I thought you wanted to come to Belde. And beyond—you wanted to see the singing waterfalls!”
She concentrated on ignoring the lump in her throat and the tightness in her chest.Poor Ree. He didn’t know this was coming.She’d known, and it still hurt all the way through her skin down to her bones.
“I have to perform my opus at the solstice celebration,” Dax told Ree. He knelt down to be closer to the shrub’s level. “It’s what I’ve been preparing for my entire life.”
“Like I’ve been preparing for the sea?”
“Exactly like that,” Dax said gravely. “After that, though, yes, I do want to see the singing waterfalls… if all goes as planned. I can’t guarantee it will, but I hope it will. This isn’t a permanent goodbye.”
Stubbornly, Marin didn’t look at either of them. It was goodbye,whether he realized that yet or not. He couldn’t come with them to the singing waterfalls or anywhere. He belonged in the conservatory. He’d see that, soon enough, and she had to accept it. She felt Perri nudging the boat through the canal and knew she didn’t have to pole, but she continued to jab the pole into the silty muck at the bottom of the canal as if it were her singular purpose in life.
“But I thought you weren’t ready,” Ree said. “You haven’t written your opus.”
“I have time,” Dax said. “Specifically, I have until the fifth day after the solstice. The celebration is a multiday affair at the conservatory. The first day has performances by the youngest students…” He continued to describe the multiday event to Ree, with descriptions of the decorations, and the increasingly complex music played as they led up to the final performance by those seeking grandmaster status.
“Ooh,” Ree said. If he’d had eyes, they would have been wide. “How many musicians will be trying to become grandmasters?”
“This year? Me.”
“Just you?”
“Yes,” Dax said.
Emerging from belowdecks, Rijes Velk said, “What he’s not telling you is that there is only a new grandmaster once every ten years. It’s an exceedingly rare honor only granted to the best musicians of their time.” She nodded at Dax. “You must perform. If I were still head of the Great Library, I would come witness it.”
Wait, Rijes wasn’t considering attending, was she? Marin broke in. “With all due respect,youcan’t stay in Alyssium.” That would be a terrible idea. There was no guarantee that the new government wouldn’t change their mind and arrest her again. The only way to keep her safe—and make Marin’s sacrifice not a waste—was to get Rijes as far away from here, ideally to Belde, which was essentially the south end of nowhere.
“I have no intention of staying in Alyssium a moment longer than necessary,” Rijes said. “In fact, it would be prudent of me to remain belowdecks until we are out of the city. I only came to tell you thatthe family is pleased with the idea of living on the island of Belde. They too have had enough of this city life. If the greenhouse residents will allow them to stay, they would be happy to do so.”
“I can’t speak for the gardener of Belde, but we can ask,” Marin said. “I’m due for a delivery there anyway, supplies for their Winter Feast.” She’d promised that what felt like ages ago. And it would get her far from here and from the temptation to scoop Dax up and sail with him out through the gate and never give him up.
“Marin?” Ree bounced excitedly. “Can we go to the feast on Belde and then make it back to Alyssium in time for Dax’s concert?”
“Depends on the wind. Winter sailing can be unpredictable. There could be storms.” Also, she didn’t want to. It would hurt too much, to see Dax where he belonged, to know he had to stay there. She wanted to picture him as he was now, part of her crew.
Part of my life.
When had she let him become entwined in her daily life? She’d always known he’d have to return to the conservatory. He didn’t belong on the wild, open sea. She’d been told over and over that he had a grand future. This wasn’t a shock. It shouldn’t hurt so damn much.
“You need to come,” Dax said, alarm in his voice. “Please. It’s important.”
It was also important that she weathered this with her heart and soul intact.
She steered the boat through the canals toward the conservatory and tried to imagine her heart was wrapped in sailcloth, safe and protected. She’d adjusted to his presence; she’d adjust to his absence.
It wouldn’t have worked out anyway, she told herself. She was the captain, and he was her crew. The captain shouldn’t havefeelingsfor any member of her crew that were more intense than for any other member of her crew. The power dynamic made it inherently unfair. Relationships needed to be between equals, or one of them would begin to resent the other—it was inevitable. At some point, the relationship would fail.We were always doomed.There was never meant to be a “we.” It was a dream as ephemeral as a song.
She felt a hand on her shoulder. His hand. “Marin.”
A lump clogged her throat, and she couldn’t make herself speak.
“Mariner.”
“Mmm?”
“It’s not goodbye.”
