"I had only known my home for a week before seeing it washed under the ocean."

She hadn't gotten to talk about that, since it happened. Maybe that was why it fell out of her so suddenly. "It was like— having clothes that finally fit, and then spilling ink all over them." Her eyes were tracing the hem of her skirt, now, not the grey of the sky, or the mood of the horizon.

It occurred to her that it was rude to feel too deeply. Eilonwy wasn't sure why, but at court no one was permitted to be sad. "I'm sorry," she said. "I've spoken out of turn."