Marcelon had been shadow-walked before, so her only response was a squeal very like her sister's and to make fast turtle-tracks for the water's edge. Solomon declined to move at speed, but this was an area with some shade in the lee of what seemed to be rocks (but could well have been barnacles, or broken shell, or any number of other things).

Bakura's speculation was correct. Solomon had only seen the ocean once when he was a boy, and that had been from a cliff-side view. His second view of the ocean, at fifteen, had involved being thrown into the freezing storm-lashed water when Skulduggery, the idiot, crashed the boat they were on. Honestly, Solomon wasn't much of a swimmer. He'd never learned properly as a child, nor had reason to, and many other things to consider besides; he could swim enough not to drown, but that was about it.

But Solomon was nothing if not adept at pretending comfort in any situation, and he'd worn some of his older clothes in the event he got wet. He left his shoes and socks, waistcoat and thermos, in the shadow of the rocks and wandered down the shoreline, staying to the foamy surf.

Come swim with us! Marcy demanded, surging up over a wave and gliding along the sand beside him.

Solomon gave a short laugh. "No." Absolutely not.