“Would you like to swim in the open sea with me, my beauty?”
Winter’s brows went up. Siblin rarely did it. There were tides and a ship could drift away from swimmers. And the sea was the sea, Sága, endless, the center of everything, land only on her edges. Home to all sorts of creatures that they were happy to see from the ship, above the water, and nice and far away. Winter looked at Soule’s face, which sparked with excitement.
“We can?” she said.
That settled it, Isidor stripping and going over the side first, down the ladder. Soule copied him exactly, Winter’s mouth quirking, and followed, naked, that hair all around her, the ship rocking, both of them watching her carefully. She put her foot in the water.
“Cold,” she remarked.
Isidor laughed, not far. He dove and came up under her
