Excerpt from the novel "Lords of the Kreyml" 2011

JAI showered and dried then padded nude to his room.  He lay on the bed and stared at the bunk beside his.  Liam was dozing.  They worked opposite shifts at the plant and rarely saw each other nowadays.

In truth, Jai was relieved.  Liam's unwanted attentiveness was a burden.  They had lived too long as brothers, and in any case, they had nowt in common.

Jai surveyed the room he had called home these past five years.  Taped to the walls in no particular order were random souvenirs of his journey criss-crossing the Great Southern Ocean.  The floor was bare, polished in places from scuffing sandals.  At the end of each bed, a wooden trunk held their clothes, and a side table with drawers sat nestled between.

He opened the drawer and tied a white linen waistcloth to his hips.  He liked white.  Although not technically a colour, it was his favourite.  White always made him feel better.  He sat again to tie his sandals then decided against it.  He would go barefoot today.

A sliver of glass caught his eye on the side table.  He held it, rolling it in his hands.  Chang must have left it there inadvertently after the incident in the bath.  He rolled his arm to reveal the paler skin beneath and the countless cuts that marred them.  He absently traced the glass over the newer cuts, watching the light that shone through the cabin window refract onto his skin.

"What are you doing?" Liam said, instantly awake.

"Remembering why I did it."

"Put it down!"

Jai barely glanced at his roommate.  "I'm going to visit the Prince."

"Why?"

"Because he's my friend.  And more.  We like each other a lot."

"He won't be your mentor if that's your plan.  Haven't you heard the ruckus outside?  Every ship's Captain is presenting their sons for tenure.  You need to be someone of station."

Jai reddened with anger.  He bit down on his tongue rather than reply then stormed out into the corridor.  He was tired of ships and the small minds that filled their hulls.  Every boat was full of victims and they wore their pain like trophies, weighing them down and limiting the way they saw the world.  He had done so himself for long enough.

He emerged into the sunlight.  He went down the gangway and along the pier towards the river mouth.  The timber planks ended, giving way to gravel and then sand.  The sand was hot as he rounded the hill and he regretted not wearing sandals.  He pushed aside a rock with his foot and stood on the cool patch of sand beneath.

He surveyed the path ahead for tufts of grass, then sprinted from one clump to the next until the damp beach fell blissfully underfoot.  A cluster of shady beach trees overhung the dune, their long bony branches almost kissing the sand.  He hung his waistcloth on a branch and ran into the surf.

The first wave pounded him.  He rose with a grin and dived beneath the following crest.  He surfaced victorious and let the waves buoy him and toss him about.  He looked up the long beach.  The occasional sunbather spotted the beach, while a few heads bobbed amongst the waves, far enough distant to fulfil his want for solitude.

He waded out of the surf and lay on the water's edge, closing his eyes while the water lapped at his feet.  A seagull squawked overhead as it patrolled the tiny rock pools for crabs.  He heard every sound and sensed every twist in the breeze, each cloud as it cast shadows on his face.

'You're an angel.'  That's what the Prince called him.

He imagined the scene at the house today.  A long queue stretching from the square to the outskirts of town.  Every boy in the fleet, dressed in their finest, while their fathers stood proudly beside them.

He imagined himself amongst them in meagre cloth and cape, his dagger with its rusty hilt, his sandals with mismatched ribbon.  He wished that he had asked Chang to run him up some garments.  They had plenty of fabric in the hold.

Yet no amount of fabric would hide who he really was.  Too old for his mind to be guided, too scarred from life to be saved.  The cuts on his arms.  They defined everything about him.

Liam was right.  He was unworthy.