Bay of Sighs (The Guardians Trilogy 2)

With her bottom lip caught between her teeth, Annika nodded as she carefully slid the crepe onto a plate. “Did I do it the right way?”

“Looks perfect,” Sawyer told her.

“I need to get the flowers now.”

As she dashed out, Sasha leaned back against the counter. “Never a boring tablescape with Annika.”

“Maybe you can sort of explain to her about swimming naked, at least in the daylight.”

“Was she?”

“Unless you count the tail.”

“Uh-oh.”

“No harm I could see, and she just got caught up. I think she got what I was telling her about it, but maybe, you know, another woman. I think, on Corfu, she went down to the beach early every morning, swam out, and under, way under, to give herself that . . . ritual, I guess it is. But here . . .”

“I’ll make sure she understands. Do you need any help here?”

“No, I’ve got it.”

“Coffee, coffee, coffee,” Riley mumbled as she staggered in. She poured a mug, inhaled the scent, took a gulp. “Bang!” she said. “That’s coffee.”

“It’ll put hair on your chest,” Sawyer said. “Oh, right, you just need the moon for that.”

“You’re a riot.” She grabbed Annika’s crepe, folded it into her mouth, said, “Good,” around it.

“Give me fifteen minutes, you’ll get better than good.”

Sasha took plates outside, came back in for glassware, got caught up in a kiss as Bran came in. By the time she went back out, Annika was at work.

She had the plates in a semicircle around a little tower of empty flower pots. From the top one spilled napkins in bright colors with folds and ripples. At the base of the flower blossoms and leaves, a few pretty stones formed a pool.

“It’s a rainbow waterfall,” Sasha guessed.

“Yes! And its water feeds the little garden. It’s water that blooms, so you can swim in the flowers.”

“That’s a beautiful thought.”

“It’s a happy place. The dark can’t go there. There should be a place, I think, where the dark can’t go.” She looked down at the bracelets circling her wrists—the magick Bran had fashioned for her. “A place where no one has to fight.”

“We’ll push the dark back, Anni. It may be all we can do, but it matters.”

“Yes, it matters. Friends matter. We friends will have a pretty breakfast on our first day of our quest for the Water Star.”

With a rainbow waterfall.

They spoke of practical things over the meal. Getting the lay of the land—and the sea. Divvying up the household chores.

“We’re not as isolated here,” Bran pointed out. “We could use a basic cover story. Friends on holiday?”

“Say a working holiday for me.” Riley scooped up eggs. “Sticking close to the truth always helps. I’m an archaeologist, doing a paper, some research. So questions I might ask are covered there. I’ve got more Italian than Greek, and can talk the talk. Anybody else?”

“Io parlo italiano molto bene.” Doyle cut into a crepe.

Riley’s eyebrows arched. “Oh, yeah?”

“Sì. I’ve had considerable time for languages.”