Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
The little fishing village of Aberdaron had a bustling market, the docks packed with vendor stalls.
Most had lines of freshly caught fish hanging from the roofs of their wooden stalls.
But there were a couple that sold more exciting things, fabrics and trinkets.
Edith’s eye was caught by twinkling shards of colored glass that danced in the late afternoon sunlight.
She drifted over to the stall, examining the wind chimes made of sea glass.
Beneath them, laid out on a wooden table, were necklaces, bracelets, and rings adorned with the colored glass.
The homemade jewelry, bright and colorful, was far more beautiful than any of the sophisticated pieces Edith had ever owned.
She traced her fingers lightly across the veritable rainbow of glass until they stilled over a necklace made with a simple leather cord.
Dangling from it was a jagged piece of sea glass in the most brilliant turquoise she had ever seen.
It was attached to the cord with a woven pouch of fine thread that wrapped around the shard.
Edith pressed the tip of her finger to one of the sharper points.
It could break skin if she pushed just a little harder.
She liked that it was dangerous, that it was beautiful too.
Handing payment to the vendor, an eclectically dressed woman with bushy hair, Edith wrapped the cord around her hand, palming the pendant.
Not wanting to miss Thomasin’s signal, she made her way over to the far end of the dock, where the crowd petered out and the swell of the ocean could be heard more clearly.
She sat on the edge, letting her feet sway back and forth over the crashing waves.
Thoughts of Jay and her grandmother swarmed her mind.
Edith hadn’t done right by either of them, and yet here she was somehow, on the verge of making her dreams come true.
It wasn’t fair. Bardsey Island lay just beyond the waves.
She was within reach of Avalon, and Edith was excited, she really was.
Finding Avalon, finding King Arthur and Excalibur, it was all she had ever wanted.
But there was a dread creeping into her bones, one she hadn’t expected.
She was terrified of what would happen after the quest was over, after Thomasin no longer had a reason to be around her.
They loved each other. But would that be enough?
When they no longer had an adventure, and Thomasin realized Edith herself wasn’t exciting?
When she realized Edith, more often than not, ruined the things she touched?
She had failed her grandmother, failed her family, failed Jay.
It stood to reason she would ruin Thomasin next.
Her stomach soured. She already had ruined her.
Edith had asked her not to kill Worthing, and Thomasin listened, had given up everything.
Edith hadn’t thought about it before the plea slipped from her lips.
She had only been thinking that she didn’t want Thomasin to have to kill anymore, didn’t want Thomasin to have to put herself through that.
But in doing so, Edith had been asking Thomasin to give up the syndicate, the only thing that had ever mattered to her.
The selfish unbalance of it all was appalling.
Thomasin was giving up everything so she could help Edith achieve her dreams. Edith was taking and taking and giving nothing back.
She would just have to love her better, balance the scales somehow.
Once Edith found Excalibur and the quest was a rousing success, then she would be able to give Thomasin everything she had promised her.
Riches beyond her wildest dreams, fame and freedom.
She had to show Thomasin her sacrifices hadn’t been in vain.
A sharp, melodic whistle broke through the spiral of her thoughts.
Edith saw Thomasin, half hidden behind a post underneath the dock, accessible thanks to the low tide.
She held a rope in her hands, and there was a triumphant smile on her lips, because attached to the rope was a midsize dinghy.
Edith looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching, then slipped off the dock, feet squishing into the wet sand.
Thomasin hadn’t exactly bought the boat.
Though Edith had brought a lot of money, it wasn’t limitless, and the weeklong stay at the inn had nearly drained her dry.
She had enough to feed them—and buy necklaces—but not nearly enough to buy a boat.
Edith felt bad about stealing, but they had to cross to the island somehow.
Together, they pushed the boat into the waves. With a steadying hand from Thomasin, Edith leapt into the boat, sitting down clumsily on the wooden bench. Thomasin hopped in after her, settling on the seat across from her. She picked up the oars and began to row.
Edith was content to watch. When she was with Thomasin, it was easy to quiet the self-doubt, the incessant ruminations. Thomasin was always so present, existing with abandon, making everything seem easy. Edith could lose herself in that happily.
Thomasin peppered her with questions, with observations and funny stories.
A couple hours later, her voice was breathy from the exertion of rowing, but the smile never fully faded from her mouth.
She seemed happy, and Edith dared to believe that maybe it was her making Thomasin happy.
She didn’t know how long that would last, so shouldn’t she just enjoy it while it was true?
Shouldn’t she take a page out of Thomasin’s book and only worry about the current moment, instead of any future catastrophes?
It was just as that thought occurred to her that the boat began to flood.
Thomasin swore, lifting her boots out of the rapidly growing puddle at the bottom of the boat.
Edith lifted her skirt and searched for the source of the leak.
There was a wood panel beneath Thomasin’s bench that was half rotted away.
In the water, the damaged wood had started to fall away, all green and mushy.
“Where did you get this boat?” Edith asked with a polite smile.
Thomasin scooped handfuls of water, threw them overboard. “I’d rather not say.”
“You stole us a trash boat, didn’t you?”
Thomasin paused her exercise in futility to level a look at Edith. “It appears so.”
“You’re a professional criminal, and you stole a rotted boat!” Edith shouted as she frantically joined the water-scooping effort.
“I gave up my life of crime!”
With a mix of exasperation and laughter, Edith said, “You only gave it up a week ago!”
The floor of the boat splintered with a wet crunch, then gave way completely. Edith and Thomasin were dropped unceremoniously into the water.
Pieces of moldy wood caught in Edith’s skirt as her legs flailed against the current.
Her satchel, and the staff that was strapped to it, dipped in the water, weighing her down.
She spared only a single second of worry for the ashes in her pack, hoping the wax seal on her grandmother’s urn would hold.
The frigid sea was nothing like the ponds she had splashed in as a child.
Not even the still, murky pool at Dinas Emrys compared to this.
That, Edith had been able to handle. This, the roaring chaos, overpowered Edith’s meager swimming skills.
She scrambled to catch hold of the frame of the boat, which was really all that was left. With her and Thomasin both trying to put their weight on it, the rim of the compromised boat splintered, sending Edith face-first into the freezing water.
She sputtered as she bobbed uselessly in the waves, arms flapping wildly. Saltwater stung her eyes, and she felt Thomasin shove her away from the boat.
“Swim!” Thomasin ordered.
Edith tried. She kicked, but her skirt tangled around her ankles.
Her arms slapped against the water. The waves tossed her, and she never moved in the direction she wanted.
When she opened her mouth to breathe, saltwater invaded her nostrils and flooded down her throat.
The sting of it had her eyes watering, and she couldn’t see past the choppy gray waves that pummeled her.
Edith shouted for Thomasin, but the sea seemed to be pulling her down, and it was shocking how quickly her arms and legs tired.
There was hardly any strength left in them as Edith fought to keep her mouth above the water.
She tilted her chin to the sky, gulping desperately for air.
In a moment of blind panic, the current overwhelmed her, finally dragging her head beneath the sea.
But then there was an arm wrapping around her waist, and her head crashed through the surface. Edith gulped in as much air as she could. Thomasin dragged Edith along, one arm holding her tight, the other gliding through the water.
“Swim,” Thomasin shouted again, pointing at the foggy silhouette of Bardsey Island.
Edith obeyed blindly, swimming as best she could, arms slapping the water, legs fighting with her skirt to keep moving.
The satchel and Merlin’s staff weighed her down.
Thomasin grabbed the leather strap and yanked it over Edith’s head.
Edith opened her mouth to protest, to tell Thomasin they could not leave it behind, but she needn’t have worried.
Thomasin slipped the strap over her own head, taking all the weight herself.
With Thomasin’s help, Edith managed to keep her head above water, and without the extra weight, her strokes were smoother, more effective.
They washed up on the shore, wrung out like old rags. After trudging through the frothing surf, they collapsed onto the gray sand. Lying on her back, gasping for breath, Edith let her head fall to the side. The coarse grains of sand were warm under her cheek.