Page 55 of The Rebel King

She dips the paddle in, stroking slowly through the water, watching it shimmer, lighting it up.

“Oh my gosh.” She covers her mouth, laughter leaking between her fingers. “That’s freaking amazing.”

All around us, the tour groups drag their paddles through the water, and soon, there’s so much light shining beneath the surface, we’re floating on sunbeams, rainbows, underwater solar flares.

“It’s beautiful.” She swings her head from side to side and peers over her shoulder, taking it in. “What is it?”

“Do you want to appreciate the beauty or know the boring part that makes it beautiful?”

“Is it boring to you?”

“No, it fascinates me.”

“Then you’ll make it fascinating for me.”

“It’s called bioluminescence, which is basically when an organism produces light based on various factors, depending on the species.”

“That’s a very sexy brain you’ve got there, Mr. Cade.”

I wink at her. “Be a good girl and I’ll let you touch it.”

“Ew.” She scrunches up her face. “You had to go and make it weird.”

“It’s what I do. So dinoflagellates are here in Tomales Bay, and they produce light when disturbed. A paddle or fingers running through the water or other fish swimming past or brushing against them or even just the boat cutting through the water could set off the light.”

The other groups keep moving, so now we’re alone on a sheet of glowing water. It casts a blue-green glow on her face, and I can’t look anywhere else. Even the glorious underwater show can’t compare to the sculpted brows and the sweet sweep of her lashes. The curve of her cheekbones and the obstinate jut of her chin.

“What’s the most beautiful place you’ve ever been?” she asks after a few moments of silence.

“You.”

She blinks a few times, shaking her head, giving me a look redolent with affection. “Placeyou’ve everbeen.”

My answer’s the same, but I know what she means. “I don’t know. It’s hard to compare all these places that offer something uniquely beautiful.”

I glance up at the dark sky and mentally impose a curtain of azure, emerald, and scarlet, swirling in an atmospheric lightshow. “I’d love to take you to Antarctica one day to see the southern lights.”

“Antarctica, huh?” she teases with a laughing glance. “Sounds like a real vacay.”

“Trust me. You’d love it. People always talk about the northern lights, but the southern lights are just as fantastic. Aurora Australis. Antarctica is spectacular.”

“Not a word I would have ever thought to apply to a frozen tundra.”

“You have to see it, I guess. Don’t get me wrong. It’s one of the toughest places I’ve ever been. Nearly uninhabitable, especially in the long, sunless winter, but Grim used to say it was like another planet. You see and hear things there you can’t see or hear most other places on Earth.”

“Like what? Tell me.”

“There are illusions,” I say, hearing the eagerness enter my own voice from the memory of the wonders I experienced when we wintered over. “These microscopic ice crystals are suspended in the air, and it changes how light and sound travel.”

I wonder if she’s bored yet, but in the glow of stars from above and the bioluminescence from below, her eyes are locked on me, rapt, so I go on.

“The cold literally bends the sound waves differently there than at lower altitudes, bending them down toward the surface instead of up. Soft snow absorbs sound energy better and mutes it, but hard-crusted snow like you find in Antarctica doesn’t absorb as well. Sound literally bounces off the harder, smooth ice surface.” I laugh, knowing she won’t believe what I’m about to tell her. “Under the right conditions, you might hear conversations up to almost two miles away.”

Her pretty mouth drops open, and her eyes go round, and it’s such a look of almost childish disbelief, I want to freeze this moment of wonder and innocence.

“You said you see different things, too,” she says after a moment. “Like what?”

“Well, the hot and cold air bend light rays, and that makes the light bounce off clouds, water, and ice to create optical illusions.”

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