The Continent (The Continent #1)(72)
He kisses me, gently at first, and then with an urgency that makes my heart ache. Tears slip down my cheeks and I cling to him, the world dissolving into the merest, faintest memory. The sinking sun surrenders unto darkness, the waves crash upon the rocks below. Only Noro and I remain, lost to the bliss and agony of love.
CHAPTER 25
A SALTED BREEZE AND A SPILL OF PALE YELLOW light announce the coming of dawn, but I have been awake for some time. I lie curled in Noro’s arms beneath a heavy blanket, watching as the last few stars wink out of sight in the hazy morning sky. I would stay like this for a hundred years, if only it were possible.
But the world does not stand still for those who wish it so, and soon enough Noro begins to stir, breaking the spell. He plants a sleepy kiss on my cheek and gets up to kindle a fire, prepare our breakfast, and begin the day.
We are quiet this morning, and quick to depart. As we leave our makeshift camp, I follow Noro down a little trail that leads to a pathway carved into the cliff side. The path meanders ever downward at a gentle grade, and though it is not steep, it is treacherous. The steps and ledges are narrow at best, gapped at worst, and I hold my breath as I pick my way to the bottom.
When at last we reach the shore, my relief is almost a tangible thing—and I cannot help but to marvel at the magnificence of the beach, which is darkly beautiful with miles of glittering black sand stretching out in either direction. To the south, great jagged rocks jut out from the sea, forming a breakwater of sorts that serves to protect the small marina. Wooden docks stretch over the water, with a fleet of sailing ships moored alongside. The boats are small, sloop-rigged vessels—larger than the pleasure craft I have sailed upon, yet not nearly as big as the commercial fishing boats of the Spire.
I wait near the shore as Noro makes arrangements with a man at one of the docks. The Aven’ei looks none too pleased about sending one of his vessels to an island that, in his likely opinion, probably does not exist. He glances my way a few times, a sour expression on his face. Finally, after ten minutes or so, he points to the far end of the harbor and returns to his work.
“Is it settled then?” I ask, as Noro returns.
“Yes. Though I can’t say he ever expects to see his boat again. He did indicate that the winds have been blowing strong and true these past few days—we ought to reach your island within four or five hours, I should say.”
“So quickly?” I say, surprised. “I thought it would take the better part of the day.”
“No—and I’m glad, for my return trip will be easier if I do not have to sail after dark.”
I look out over the sea, shielding my eyes from the bright morning sun. “I know you’ve said the Aven’ei do not sail for pleasure—nor venture very far out to sea—but still, I can’t help but wonder how no one has ever happened upon the island by chance. Particularly if your vessels are capable of such speed.”
Noro shrugs. “The Aven’ei hold no love for the ocean, Vaela. We sail to fish, and our grounds lie to the north. Your island is far to the south and east—we have no purpose there.”
I scan the sailboats nearest the shore, feeling a twinge of nerves. “But the vessels are quite seaworthy?”
“They are the only boats on the Continent, at least to my knowledge,” he replies, pragmatic as always. “But I believe ours will serve just fine. Thirty miles is not so great a distance, especially in fair weather.”
I nod. “Right. Well. I suppose we ought to be on our way then.”
He looks at me curiously. “Are you having second thoughts?”
“No,” I say. “Well…no.” I look back at the cliffs, at the sprawling beach, at this strange and beautiful place I have come to love. “I just find it hard to leave, now that it comes to it.”
“It is for the best,” he says, and gives me a smile that does not reach his eyes. “Now let us go, before your sweet, sentimental heart works to change your mind.”
Noro is a handy sailor, managing the sheets and sails with very little help from me. He moves fore and aft, his eyes on the horizon, his hands working the rigging with practiced ease. Having spent his first ten years in the seaside village just north of the marina, the mechanics of sailing and navigation are as natural to him as breathing. And though he claims not to enjoy his time upon the sea—he insists that no Aven’ei does—I sense a relaxation in him that I have not seen before. Out here, upon the ocean, we are beyond reach of all the things that strive to tear us apart. There is but wind and water, sun and sky, Noro and myself.
As Noro predicted, we are within sight of the island in less than five hours. I sit in the bow, kissed by the salty spray as the sloop cuts across the water. And as the great cliffs of Ivanel loom larger and larger, my heart grows heavier. Noro and I will soon be parted. My throat tightens as I turn to look at him; in his smile, I can see that his thoughts mirror my own.
When we round the island and come to the little bay at the rear, a knot forms in my stomach. How different Ivanel appears in the summertime; how lush and warm and inviting, and how familiar it seems to me, though this is only the second time I’ve seen the shoreline. Mr. Cloud’s fishing boat is tied to a post near the shore; it bobs to and fro in the gentle swell, and I am heartened by the sight of it, remembering the groundskeeper’s warm bright eyes and his habit of carrying bread for the Achelons. I wonder if he is here, or if he has returned to the Spire.