Princess Vittoria Olympia of the Romana Family of Olympus
By 6pm the sun was bleeding out.
Not the pretty kind of sunset. The dramatic, Mediterranean, 'I'm-going-to-make-you-feel-things' kind. It had gone from gold to copper to this bruised, almost-black purple that sat low over the water like the sky was tired.
The beach was empty now. Staff had come and gone hours ago, clearing the crystal and the fruit and pretending they didn't see Campbell drag me into the waves. My leggings were damp and clinging to my calves. My hair was a mess of salt and wind. And I was cold.
So cold.
I'd wrapped one of the big cream towels around my shoulders, but it did nothing. The towel smelled like sunscreen and citrus and the sea, and when I pulled it tighter it just reminded me that my skin was still damp underneath.
