“Relax, Jaz—it’s only a little morning wood.”
I’m totally mortified. Firstly, although Raph’s basically moved himself into my room, this is the first time that either of us has strayed past our respective sides of the bed. Secondly, I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen that happen before. Either that, or he’s been hiding it pretty well to stop me from freaking out. Which he was right to do, because I am freaking out. I can’t stop looking at it, though, and Raph smirks at my reaction.
“Stop staring at my dick, Jaz.”
“God. I hate you so much.” I almost scream in frustration as I leap off the bed and stalk into the en-suite bathroom, slamming the door behind me to block out Raph’s laughter.
We’re walking out of Sovereign Hall, on our way to class, when Raph stops me.
I look over at him and I can’t ignore the pang of concern. He’s been oddly sullen since I walked back into my bedroom after my shower. His usual cocky charm replaced by the faraway look that I can see in those impossibly blue eyes now. I wonder if it has something to do with his nightmare last night.
“Will you … will you go with me somewhere today?” he asks; he looks uncertain in a way that’s at odds with his usual confidence.
“What—now?” I ask, feeling a mixture of surprise and curiosity.
“We’ve got class,” I add, stating the obvious.
“Forget it,” he says, shaking his head, as if berating himself for asking. He turns to walk away. I should let him. But I find myself calling after him instead.
“Wait—what is it?” I ask. “Where do you want to go?”
He hesitates for a second.
“There’s just something I need to do today,” he replies simply. “And this year, I guess I don’t want to do it alone.”
I’m intrigued now despite myself. But that doesn’t mean I should be skipping class to go to god knows where with Raph.
Still, when I open my mouth, I find myself saying exactly the opposite of what I should.
“Okay.”
He smiles in response, but it’s not that usual infuriatingly arrogant smile. He looks humbled almost, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen that look on him before.
We drive in silence for most of the way, Raph seemingly lost in his own thoughts. I find myself sneaking glances at his profile. A strange sadness touches those impossibly perfect features and for the hundredth time, I wonder where he’s taking me and why. But I don’t push him. Something about that sadness reminds me of the quiet times when I think about my mom and I know the only thing I want in those moments is to be left to my own thoughts.
We finally reach a secluded mountain trail in what Raph tells me is the outskirts of Arcadia.
I don’t question Raph as he leads me up the mountain trail. If this had been only a few weeks ago, I’d be certain that he was leading me out into the wilderness so I could get lost and never return. But I realize then, as I follow him blindly to an unknown destination in this distant place, that there isn’t even a hint of suspicion in me. The thought is unnerving, because surely I don’t actually trust him? How can I, when he’s the same guy who threatened to break me and made my life miserable when I first arrived?
Raph stops when we reach a narrow cliff, overlooking a vast expanse of ocean beneath. I look down and see the terrifying drop to the rough waters beneath. Suddenly, I’m not so trusting.
“What are we doing here?” I ask, unable to keep the suspicion from creeping into my voice.
But Raph looks lost to the world in that moment. Something about his silence moves something inside me.
He sits down on the edge of the cliff, and then motions for me to sit with him. I hesitate for a second, but find myself sitting and I wait for him.
“I was ten when my mom died,” he says finally, and I can feel the surprise reflected in my expression when I turn to him, but I say nothing as I let him continue.
“She battled with depression for years. I guess I was too young to really understand what that meant, but I remember knowing that she was always so sad. She never spoke about it, but I think she hated the pressures of being part of a sovereign Dynasty, being married to the head of the St. Tristan Dynasty and the mother of the future heir to the throne. The constant scrutiny, always being watched, living life in the public eye. My father’s attitude didn’t help things either—he’s all about appearances and preserving the St. Tristan Dynasty. Having a wife who was severely depressed was a scandal that he didn’t want anyone knowing. So it was kept a secret and all the while, she deteriorated, pulling further and further away. Until one day, her body was found washed up on the rocks down there.”
The revelation floors me and I feel like I can’t even breathe. In that moment, I let my guard down, just as Raph seems to have done, and I feel the sadness and loss wash over me. Feelings which are only too familiar but totally unexpected coming from this guy who I’ve always believed lived a perfect life and had never wanted for anything, who didn’t know what it was like to lose someone he loved.
But I was wrong because he does. He knows only too well. I feel something shifting inside me, although I haven’t moved an inch. It’s the same feeling I got when Magnus unveiled this whole new world to me. The feeling like the whole universe is shifting, that everything I know to be true, everything I believe is changing and the feeling that some part of me would never be the same again. I keep those thoughts to myself as Raph continues to reveal parts of himself that I’m sure no one else in this entire world has seen.
“My father made sure that everyone believed it was an accident—she was out here hiking and fell. But he knew better, and in time, so did I.” There’s a tinge of bitterness in his voice then.
“Your nightmare last night …” I begin to say.
He nods slowly.
“I have them sometimes. It’s different each time, but she’s always falling and it always ends the same—her body lying twisted amongst those rocks.” Just like last night, I get the feeling again, like his words mean so much more than I’m letting myself hear.
“I come here every year on her death anniversary. I’ve never brought anyone with me … but I wanted you here with me today.”
This shocks me into stillness, but I don’t let the meaning of it sink in. I don’t ask why, because I’m sure that I don’t want to know the answer.
“I do that, too,” I find myself saying instead.
“On my mom’s death anniversary, no matter which foster home I’m in, however far, I go back to Rockford Cape where we lived. I visit her grave and spend a few hours at the beach where my mom used to take me. I visit the tacky amusement park that she used to love taking me to and walk along the stretch of beach that she loved. I don’t know why I do it, I guess because all of the different foster homes felt so temporary and that place, our place, was like my only anchor.”