At the cottage, we’re careful not to undress in front of one another. Still walking on eggshells. Partially, it’s because I don’t want him to see me looking so wasted. If I go into the water, the way my bones jut out beneath my skin will be clearly visible. It’s not as bad as it was a month ago, but my sense of shame is inescapable. He’s already seen me like that once.
I remained on shore. I kicked off my boots and rolled up my trousers to my knees, wading in the shallows. One small concession to the heat. My calves are like sticks. The belt clings to my hipbones for dear life.
“Come in, Princess!” Arya called from the deeper end of the lake where it abuts the cliffs. “You’ll feel so much better.”
I shook my head. Nobody needs to see that.
She squeaked. Her head disappeared beneath the surface of the water. Alarmed, I looked around for Lorcan but didn’t find him. Seconds later, the siblings popped out of the water, one head after the other. Arya sputtered, kicking and splashing as she lunged after her brother in a futile attempt to get revenge.
I waded a little deeper into the water. A mistake, in retrospect. While I wasn’t paying attention, the two of them ganged up on me and pulled me into the middle of the lake, kicking and screaming.
“What part of ‘I am not coming in the water’ did you fail to understand?” I chastised them when I got my feet under me again. “What if I couldn’t swim?”
I can, though I’m no Olympian. That’s not the point.
“I’d have saved you,” Lorcan cast me a grin. I splashed water at his smug face. He dove under, easily avoiding it.
“If you want your clothes to dry before we go back down, I recommend hanging them in the sun,” Arya said.
If I stay in the deeper part of the lake, they won’t be able to see what I look like. The water is clear and clean, cool enough to be refreshing without giving me too much of a chill. I went behind a stand of trees to strip off my top and trousers, wrung them out as best I could and draped them over a branch in a patch of sunlight.
There’s no way they’ll be dry by the time we leave. Curse them. Those were my last clean clothes, too.
I tied a knot in my undershirt to keep it from floating up and scrambled back into the water as quickly as I could. I didn’t swim so much as I sat on submerged rocks and watched Lorcan and Arya play. It reminds me of the way Kenton used to roughhouse with me. He was the only one who ever did that. I swallowed past the lump in my throat, remembering.
“You okay?” Lorcan swam over, broad shoulders cutting easily through the water.
“Fine. Thinking.”
“Sorry we dragged you in.”
I waved him off.
“It’s fine.” I pushed off the rock and dog-paddled a short distance away. “I don’t really want to be exposed while looking like this. I don’t feel like myself anymore.”
I can’t point to a single moment since puberty where I felt like I inhabited my own body. What self am I even talking about? I closed my eyes, opening them when Lorcan said, “Yeah. I know how that is. Disorienting.”
I forgot he’s been through a similar experience. We are alike in this way.
“Yes. That’s exactly it. With so many people watching me…”
He leaned over to kiss my temple. “No one is watching you here, Princess.”
No one but him, the one person I feel most uncomfortable being naked around. Especially given what happened at River Bend. A shudder rocked me at the memory.
He wants this to be a reset. Start over, as we are now, not who we were before the war. Lorcan is trying. It’s impossible not to see how hard.
The nightly cuddling is lovely, but I can’t imagine being with him that way again. Or rather, I can imagine it, but I only see my old self enjoying it, and that’s because when I envision it, we’re both bumbling virgins back on that thin dorm mattress in Scotland.
Now, it’s all fraught and poisoned. I want to, with him, but I know I’d spend the entire time worried I was doing things wrong. Knowing that he’s already experienced so much only makes me feel more inadequate than I already did—on top of feeling bitterly jealous and rejected.
Every time I try to grasp at hope it wilts in my hand. I don’t dare take the sprouts Lorcan keeps offering me.
That part of my life is over. Ended before I ever had a chance to begin. I’ll be mourning the loss for the rest of my life.
Damn Lorcan. Damn everything.
On the way back down the mountain, we all stop abruptly as the maned tiger and her cubs slink across our path. Breathlessly, we wait for them to pass in a silent shadow of orange and brown stripes.
