Maeve
This isn’t real.
None of this is happening.
I can’t really be pacing the halls of the palace in Maatua, wringing my hands until they blister. I can’t be craning to hear the voices drifting in from the foyer, where my parents talk in low tones, their voices so wrought with anguish they’re unrecognizable.
This morning, before the sun rose, I woke abruptly to Mom screaming bloody murder and Aris shaking me awake, his eyes wide with shock. That was… hours ago. It’s nearly nightfall now. The deep red sunset–the sky after a brutal storm that swept through the islands surrounding the capital of this sea-faring kingdom–paints the hallways crimson as my shadow stretches toward what’s left of the sun.
I’m not sure my heart is beating anymore. How can it when it’s lost at sea?
“Fuck.”
