Page 14 of Jewel of the Sea

“You’re her friend, Cam. She’ll be happy knowingyouare finally happy.” She pecked a kiss on his cheek. “I need to go. It’s getting late.”

Camrin gave her a quick hug. “Right. Be safe, okay, Aym? Those rangers act nice enough, but they’re still strangers. Dangerous ones.”

“I will. Tell Jenny I said hello.”

“Will do.” He released her and waved as she hurried away. “See you later, Aymee.”

The house was empty when Aymee entered — her father was likely still making house calls, and her mother often worked the fields until sundown. She went to her room, set her bag on the bed, and lifted the canister into place beside it. Her mother had left a crate with fresh fruit, vegetables, and bread. She packed them into the canister along with the medical supplies from her bag before retrieving the letters from herself and Macy’s parents from the dresser, piling them with Camrin’s. Grabbing a pencil, she quickly added a warning to her letter about Randall and his rangers.

She placed the letters in the canister and turned back to the table to gather the last item — her gift to Arkon.

Aymee stared at the paper. It was the first drawing she’d done of him, one of her favorites. During the brief time they’d spoken, his eyes had emblazoned themselves in her memory; she’d used crushed capeweed petals to color them in this drawing, the closest she could come to their rich violet without mixing paints.

She rolled the paper carefully, secured it with a bit of string, and slipped it into the canister. The remaining space within became an abyss as she stared at it; she shifted her gaze to the table, where several jars of paint and a few brushes sat out.

Smiling, Aymee gathered the painting supplies, ensured the lids were secure, and added them to the canister.

It would be her parting gift to him.

The sky had taken on the hues of late evening, the indigo on one horizon bleeding into the golden orange on the other, when she reached the beach. Her heart raced, though her anticipation was clouded by sadness. This would be the last time. It had to be.

She glanced over her shoulder — not for the first time — as she descended toward the sand, searching the tree line for movement. Satisfied that she hadn’t been followed, she brushed her hair out of her face and quickened her steps. Her arms burned with the strain of carrying the canister; she’d filled it more than usual, and the extra weight had only made the journey from town feel longer.

Her stride faltered as she neared the exchange spot.

Aymee stood, transfixed, and struggled to make sense of what she saw.

Hundreds, maybethousands, of stones had been arranged near the drop-off spot, radiating out in a half circle from the edge of the rock face. They were stacked in piles of varying height, each spaced a precise distance from the ones nearby. As her eyes drifted over them, she realized there was a method to the stones’ placement; together, they looked like the waves rolling on the ocean, dwindling gradually as they grew more distant from the cliff. Conveying motion, though they were unmoving.

The canister slipped from Aymee’s hands and fell into the sand, forgotten.

She stepped forward, moving between the stones. It was like walking through a dream. And Arkon had created it…for her.

Bending down, she studied one of the taller piles. The rocks decreased in size from the bottom up, alternating in color from slate grays to pale blues. The delicacy with which they must have been placed just to remain upright was astounding.

“Most of it will be swept away when the tide rises.”

Aymee gasped and quickly straightened.

“You’re here,” she said breathlessly. She turned to face him, and her heart leapt; she wasn’t prepared for what stood before her.

Arkon’s blue-gray skin glistened in the light of the setting sun. He was only a few feet away, standing tall on tightly-bunched tentacles. Her eyes swept over his lean, muscular torso, lingering on the dark stripes adorning his head, shoulders, and tentacles. His face was narrow, with high cheekbones and a strong chin. Despite his lack of a nose — he had only two slits where it should have been — and the tube-like siphons on either side of his head, his features were both strikingly alien and startlingly human.

Those violet eyes stared at her with undisguised interest and intensity.

“I had begun to think you wouldn’t come,” he said.

His words cast a shadow over her delight and reminded her why she’d been so late.

She took a single step toward Arkon, and when he didn’t retreat, she closed the remaining distance between them. He was a couple heads taller than her, a towering presence, and she had to tilt her head back to look into his eyes. Slowly, she trailed her gaze from his face to his chest and shoulders, and then along his arms to pause at his hands. They were so human, despite the webbing between his fingers and the claws at his fingertips.

His skin darkened at his waist, urging her eyes farther down.

Unbidden, she reached out to touch him.

Aymee flattened her palm on the upper portion of his tentacle. Arkon inhaled sharply, muscles tensing, but otherwise remained still.

He was at once soft and solid, his skin damp but not slick or slimy.

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