Chapter 12Ciaran
Nothing felt better than a list and a routine. The adjustment was not as taxing as Ciaran expected. Every morning, he would wake, shower while Cove surfed, visit Sky and learn to cook, return to Cove, and read until it was time for dinner. Kwan had noticed Ciaran avoiding him, but the prince still felt hurt. Kwan had never told him of his heritage.
The constant smell of salt and fruit did overwhelm him. It was bright all day. The heat was unrelenting. There was a nothingness in space that Ciaran missed. Stability and permanency. Here, the passing of time was pronounced. Every day looked different. Every night was unique.
“The president arrives in a few hours,” Cove reminded Ciaran as he emerged from the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist.
Cove had done a poor job
