Page 2 of Jewel of the Sea

It didn’t matter. There was no reason to call unnecessary attention to the current arrangement.

Arkon stopped at the cliffside. He twisted, checking his surroundings.

She eased back, allowing the vegetation to close slightly, but she couldn’t look away from him. Though they were impossible to see from this distance, her imagination filled in the rich violet of his eyes.

He turned back to the cliff and pulled the canister from the recess. Removing the lid, he reached inside the container and withdrew a rolled-up piece of paper, dangling it by the string around its middle.

It was a painting she’d done for him of the nighttime jungle.

Her heart thudded; she’d never cared much about what people thought of her art one way or another, though she couldn’t deny her satisfaction at bringing smiles to people’s faces. Her friends’ opinions mattered, but Macy and Camrin were always kind.

She found herself wanting Arkon to like her painting with all her heart. She’d wanted to give him a little piece of the land to call his own, but she couldn’t deny that she’d given a tiny bit of herself in the process.

Smiling broadly, Arkon returned the painting and resealed the container.

Aymee watched him return to the sea. Though it should have appeared awkward or unsteady, there was a strange grace to the way he moved on land. Within a few seconds, he disappeared in the waves.

Sitting back on her heels, Aymee dropped her hands, allowing the vegetation to close. She twisted around, dragged over the nearby canister, and removed the lid.

Within were three folded pieces of paper — one addressed to Aymee, one to Camrin, and one to Macy’s parents. She reached inside and shifted the papers. Her fingers brushed over something small, hard, and smooth.

Aymee picked up the rock and held it in her palm. It was dark gray, the edges rounded. Thin, wavy lines, flowing like ocean waves, had been carved over its entirety.

She grinned and closed her fingers around it, pressing her hand to her chest. When she’d received the first such stone in their first exchange, weeks ago, she’d thought it a gift from Macy. But Macy said she hadn’t sent it when Aymee asked in their following correspondence.

The stones were from Arkon.

Aymee’s first glimpse of a kraken — Jax in his holding tank — had been breathtaking. The kraken were part human and partother, and wholly fascinating. She hadn’t feared him, especially after Macy had spoken about her relationship with Jax.

Aymee had been intrigued. She hadn’t thought it possible to be more enraptured…until Arkon.

One look into his entrancing, alien eyes, and her fascination had deepened into something more like obsession.

For the first time in her life, Aymee had been envious of her friend. Macy deserved happiness, but Aymee wanted that same happiness, that freedom, that…love. The guilt that followed her jealousy hadn’t assuaged her desires.

Lowering her hand, she examined the stone again. They were gifts, perhaps evencourtinggifts, but why hadn’t he come to her? Why did he always hide until she was out of sight?

“Stop being so mopey.” She sighed, set the rock in the canister, and replaced the lid.

Rising, she brushed off her legs and skirt, tucked the container under her arm, and returned to the footpath. She followed it through a dense swath of shady, cloying jungle, grateful for the wider dirt road it led to when she emerged.

Sheep and cattle grazed in the fields and pastures on either side of the road, feeding on a purple and green mix of Earth and Halorian grass. She walked toward town without paying much attention to the animals; their lowing and bleating was part of the ambience, mingling with the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind and the ocean crashing ceaselessly against the shore.

She didn’t give in to the brief but powerful urge to return to the beach.

The first part of The Watch to come into view — as always — was the lighthouse perched high on the promontory. Now that the wet season had come, the light was on more frequently, alerting townsfolk and fishermen of the sudden storms that were so common this time of year.

As she crested the final rise leading into town, the other buildings became visible — dwellings crafted of metal, concrete, and wood, many of them having stood since the first colonists touched down on Halora.

This was home.

And yet…

With Macy gone, Aymee felt disconnected from the people here — even from her parents and her only other close friend, Camrin. They encouraged her well enough when it came to her art, but none of them truly understood the compulsion to create, the joy of expression. The townsfolk appreciated her works, but most seemed to think her time would be better spent on more practical pursuits.

As though spending the majority of her days tending to their ailments wasn’t contribution enough.

She huffed, blowing her curls out of her face.

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