Island of Glass (The Guardians Trilogy #3)(67)

She flipped through pages in her sketchbook, each holding several designs that all looked more than good enough to Doyle’s eye. Then stopped on a page holding a single design in the center.

She’d used colored pencils to enhance it, the deep-water blue of the center stone, surrounded by a halo of white diamond chips, and those flanked by two pink sapphires. The band held the sparkle—pink, white, blue—repeated in the wedding band.

“It’s lovely, and very like her. Unique,” Bran added. “As she is.”

“It’s hard not to push him on it, because I think it’s right. I want to show it to Riley. What do you think?” she asked Doyle.

“Not my area. It looks fine to me. Plenty of sparkle, which she’d appreciate.”

“I hear something.” Sasha pointed at him. “I hear a but.”

“Not my area,” he repeated. “I was just thinking how she liked the design around the coat of arms, the braids. If the bands were braided—”

“Oh!” Sasha gave him an enthusiastic punch on the shoulder. “Oh, that’s perfect. That’s inspired. I’m going to fix it right now. And if Sawyer doesn’t say go, something is wrong with him.”

She rushed out as she’d rushed in.

“Well then, that’s settled.” Bran eased back with his tea, smiled at Doyle. “And it seems each of us has a hand in it. Things are meant as they’re meant.”

Contemplatively, Doyle rubbed his shoulder. “Your woman’s got a firmer punch than she once had.”

“In all things.”

? ? ?

It didn’t take her long, and Sasha decided she’d hit the mark when she found Sawyer working with Riley in the tower library.

“Annika?”

“Doing laundry. I’ve never seen anybody as happy with laundry.” Sawyer set his compass on a map, shook his head. “And she’s having better luck with it than I am with this.”

“I’ve had tremendous luck. I’ve added another touch to the design.”

“I was pretty well sold on the other.”

“But not a hundred percent. I think Doyle’s idea will change that.”

Riley looked up from her book. “Doyle?”

“He had a suggestion. Look here, Sawyer. The bands, we can braid the bands with the same design I used on the coat of arms.”

“I don’t know if that’s . . .” Then he looked. “Oh, yeah. Score. It’s like—it. It’s it. Why didn’t we think of that?”

“Don’t know. Riley?”

“If she doesn’t do handsprings over this, it’s because she’s doing backflips. You rang the bell, Sash. You going for it, Dead-Eye?”

“I’m so going for it.”

“You ought to take it to Bran, get him started on the mojo.”

“Right. You’re right.” He pocketed the compass, took the sketch when Sasha tore it from her book. “Thanks.”

Sasha watched him go. “You wanted to move him along.”

“We’re not getting anywhere here. Everything feels stalled. I need to move. Maybe we drag Anni away from laundry, work on those handsprings and backflips.”

“I still suck at both.”

“Exactly.”

“There’s something more.”

Riley pushed back from the table, rolled her shoulders. “Maybe we’ll talk about it after I move.”

? ? ?

She’d been twitchy, Riley admitted as she dragged her friends outside. She hadn’t been able to shake it—not with work, with diving, with sex, with sleep. The minute her mind wandered from the task at hand, the twitchiness started.

So maybe some time away from men altogether, and some solid sport that required a mind-body connection.

The sky held blue and nearly cloudless, and the sun beamed. Pleased, Riley tossed aside the hoodie she’d grabbed on the way out, stood with her hands on her hips, wearing a faded red T-shirt that said DIG IT!

It wasn’t Capri or Corfu, but this taste of Irish summer—that might actually last an entire day—just shined.

She took a running start, executed triple handsprings, stuck the landing.

Oh, yeah, she was coming back.

And Sasha didn’t suck as much as she had. Sure her landings were still shaky, but she was getting more height. Then there was Annika—nobody could come close. She might as well have wings instead of a tail.

Following Annika’s orders, Riley hit a back handspring, pivoted into a side kick. God, she wished she had someone to fight.

Annika’s next order had Sasha looking a little sick, but she charged Riley, who basketed her hands. When Sasha’s foot slapped the basket, Riley pushed up hard.

The soaring backflip was more than decent, the landing rough to Riley’s eye, but Sasha steadied quickly, punched a fist in the air.

“I did it! I’m going to do it again. Better.”

This time as she flew up, Sasha mimed shooting her bow. Riley found herself grinning, even as Sasha lost the landing, fell back on her ass.

“One more time,” Riley shouted.

On one more time, Sasha stuck it, then did a little Rocky-at-the-top-of-the-steps victory dance.

After an hour, Riley had worked up a nice sweat, her muscles felt well used, her brain clear. And the twitchiness snuck back in.