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Fighting with everything he had.

And then—

“Fuck,” I hissed. “Fuck.”

“Come here, grá.” He held out his hand for me like it was nothing, like hearing this was nothing.

“No. You—you went out on that boat with me. You walked me to the docks. I made you—”

“Made me?” he asked, outraged. “You didn’t make me do anything.”

“I didn’t want to go alone. I made you go!”

“You did no such thing. Avery. Avery, stop.” He was off the table in a moment, hands gripped tight around my wrists. “I wanted to go. I wanted to be with you.”

“You told me you were weakest by the water. Is that why? Were you—were you reliving it?”

“Stop. Look at me. Look at me.” He pried my hands away from my face, fingers flaring with light. “I would follow you anywhere. Do you hear me? Anywhere.”

“Don’t—”

“No, you don’t,” he seethed. “I made my choices. I knew where I was going. I wanted to see it with you—witness you—and Lord, what a blessing that I did. When I close my eyes and try to dream, Avery, I see you on that goddamn boat with the sea in your hair and all the hope in the world in your eyes.” He gave me a little shake. “How could I ever be afraid?” he whispered. “You have chased all the shadows away.”

Tears dripped from my chin. “But you died there,” I cried. “How could you not have told me?”

“Because I’ve accepted my death, Avery. Nothing on this earth can change that.”

I hiccuped, the sound more like a sob. “How?” I managed. “How did it happen? Why did it happen?”

“You’d have to ask the powers that be for that one,” he said, his smile sad. “But I went in after a boy that fell in. The seas were rough. A storm was blowing in. We called all the boats in and they were struggling against the current. His father was trying to get him off and a wave came. He went right in. I didn’t think. I was a strong swimmer. I thought I would be fine.”

Salt water burnt up the back of my throat and stung my eyes. I felt the wind in my hair, the unsteadiness of the sea below my feet.

“I reached him in time and managed to get him up on the dock before he turned blue, but a wave came and I didn’t see it.” He squeezed his eyes shut.

To my absolute horror, his hair turned wet. Sea water dripped on the stone floors between us. He was there—he was back in the ocean, flailing for help.

“Stop,” I mouthed, watching his damp shirt cling to his chest.

“It sucked me right down. I hit my head, I think. It was all fuzzy after that.”

A cut bloomed on his forehead, blood trickling down into his eye. It was a horrible gash, running from his right temple all the way across to his left brow.

I gagged at the sight of it, the way the blood ran down his neck and soaked into his shirt.

“I could hear them screaming. Could see the boat bobbing up and down and then it was just…peaceful.”

The blood on his head clotted, fading just as quickly as it had come.

“I felt light, for once. The weight was gone. The clouds around my heart had vanished and I…floated.”

I didn’t bother to wipe my eyes. I could only stare at him, horror tangled so thickly in my throat I couldn’t breathe.

“And then I was back in the castle, wondering why no one could see me or hear me. The news came quick—a horrible accident, a drowning boy, a storm that blew in too fast. They found my body washed up on the beach a few days later. They buried me here.”

“Where?” I bit out. “Where?”

“The headstone grew over a few years ago. They never cleaned it. I—”