Of Sea and Sky: Part 7

            Lani waited for the boat to sail away before she went home. It had touched the island’s shore, the flames had gone out, but she had not seen who was on it or what they did. She glanced at the memories on the sand dune, the cliff. Reflections of shadow through glass.

            She stood in her doorway, feeling like one made of sticks—stiff and fragile and very hateful toward fire. Lani paced the shack four times, noting idly that she needed new flowers. Without further thought, she slipped into the sweet evening air. It was getting so cool, so quickly now.

            It was night before she made it to the center of the island where the jasmine bloomed. She’d never brought Caspian there and it was free from shadows. Her practiced hands plucked the flowers, but her old, mad peace was gone. The island queen was unsettled.

            “So this is why you always smell of jasmine,” a deep voice spoke from behind her, back the way she’s come. Lani whirled, spraying jasmine petals in a wide circle.

            “But you left!”

            Caspian sighed, “I tried to.” He stalked toward her, long strides that no longer stumbled in the fine sand. “But then I realized, you’re my lighthouse, Lani. I wouldn’t make it without you.”

            “What makes you think that?’ Lani asked, but she was teasing. Her eyes sparkled and flirted now that she allowed them to. Caspian scooped her close, looking down on her with a smirk.

            “Because it’s impossible.”

            “Oh,” Lani nodded in understanding, but Caspian was very talkative and could not contain himself.

            “I’ve never seen anything so clearly as when I’m with you, even the shadowy things.”

            “I don’t think I’m meant to guide anyone, though. Lighthouses do that.”

            “No,” Caspian shook his head. “They sit on the rocks and don’t let anyone near.”

            “I suppose I’ve done enough of that.”

            “I suppose you have.” He kissed her.