Salt Kiss (Lyonesse #1)

twenty-seven

Another dawn, another call from Mark. I step in from the balcony, not wanting the sound to carry through the neighboring balcony doors to Isolde, who is certainly awake again. She’s an early riser like me, although she doesn’t seem interested in the sunrise. Her curtains stay shut even after her light comes on, and even though I watch them as much as I watch the sun, they never so much as twitch.

“You should be to the Azores in five days,” Mark is saying. “After that the satellite connections aren’t great, so we won’t speak again until you get to Manhattan.”

Manhattan. Where he and Isolde will see each other for the first time in two years. “Have you spoken to Isolde since we boarded? Sir?”