“I don’t know.” Violet’s fog turned white clashing against my colorful confusion. “Help her. Help her where I failed. She doesn’t deserve him.”
“I don’t know how I can.” I felt as helpless as she did and the wind around me stilled. I could feel her thoughts turning as she came to a decision, but I couldn’t understand why the wind painted a picture of Fynn’s face.
“He can help you help her.”
“I thought that you didn’t want him knowing about any of this,” I asked.
“I didn’t want the king to know, in case she had simply gotten free, but now…” Her words trailed off and she looked past me.
“So, I could have talked to Fynn about all of this days ago?”
“I didn’t want to chance it until I knew for sure that she wasn’t comfortable somewhere, but now it doesn’t matter what the king knows.”
“Wait,” my thoughts caught up to the words she had spoken, “you’re not saying that Fynn is the king of something?”
“Don’t be stupid, pet.” She hadn’t really answered my question, but she looked impatient. She waved her hand at me. “Well, go.”
{MISSING SYMBOL}
When I opened my eyes again the sun was shining brightly through the windows. I held onto the images of my dream and tried to commit it to memory. I sat up to see Oran siting at the foot of my bed.
“Good morning,” was all I managed, and it came out as a question.
“How?” Oran’s green eyes were creased with concern.
“How what?” I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.
“How can I help?”
“Help?” I repeated after him again, confused.
“Yes, help, like you were muttering over and over again all night long, like you do almost every night.” Oran eyed me steadily.
“Oran…” He grunted and I stopped.
“At least let me stay with you, it helped that one night didn’t it?” His voice was pained. I ran through various responses in my head before giving up on each of them.
“Yes, it helped,” I took a breath, “but no, I don’t want you to stay.” I spoke slowly. Oran rose to his feet, his hands balled into fists and walked out of the room without looking back.
As had been the usual for the past few months, it was hard to find Fynn when I actually wanted to find him. The day dragged on, first I made a focused attempt to find him, but by late afternoon I was wandering aimlessly around in the hope that maybe I would run into him.
I went all day without running into him. That night while I was getting ready for bed, I noticed that Fynn’s bar of soap was missing from beside my sink.
“Seriously?” I said to myself. I had been looking for him all day and at some point today he was in my bathroom. I pulled the brush through my hair, annoyed with him.
“You shouldn’t be so rough, Cora. I’m surprised that you still have any hair left with the way you’re brushing it.” A smooth voice cooed.
“I was annoyed,” I said, turning to see Fynn leaning against my doorway. “And since when does everyone think knocking is optional?” I waved my hairbrush at the door. His cocky grin drooped.
“Someone else has been coming in unannounced?” He leaned back, jiggling the doorknob and inspecting it.
“Yes, and they stole my soap.” No need to mention my conversation with Oran to him.
“Oh, well you can hardly expect a door to keep out common thieves if you don’t even lock it.” Fynn smiled.
“I didn’t realize I had to worry about common thieves around here.” I tried to stay serious as he walked smoothly toward me.
“Oh yea, there has been a big problem lately.” Fynn leaned in and whispered. “In fact, my soap was stolen the other day.”
“Well you don’t even have a door to stop would-be thieves.”
“No, just a few hundred feet of water,” Fynn said.
“Which is an enormous deterrent to mermaids.” I answered flatly.
“I guess it isn’t, but most mermaids won’t have much use for my bar of soap.” He smiled. I sighed, remembering what I was supposed to be talking to him about.
“We need to talk.”
“Weren’t we just talking?” Fynn pretended to not notice the change in my mood. I sat down on the seat by the vanity and looked at the floor, not meeting his dark eyes as he stared at me.
“I’ve been keeping secrets.” I sighed.
“Join the club. We even have a secret handshake. Only no one knows what it is.” Fynn leaned closer and whispered, “It’s a secret.” I could hear his smile, but I shook my head.
“Fynn, this is serious.”
“Isn’t it always?”
“I suppose so. Do you remember Naida?” I looked up to see his reaction. His jaw set.
“How could I forget? Such a lovely girl.” Fynn’s distaste was clearly evident.
“Right. Well, she’s in trouble.” I paused remembering something else. “And so are you, you lied to me.” I stood up and took a step closer to him. Fynn frowned with childish guilt and he brought his arm out from behind him. The bar of soap lying in his outstretched palm.
“Fine, I took the soap.” Fynn pretended to pout. I pushed the soap and his hand away.
“Quit it, Fynn. I’m serious. You lied to me about Blake. You let me think he was dead. Don’t you think the fact that the man who tried to kill me is still alive was something I ought to know?” I turned back to see Fynn’s face flushed with anger. All traces of his former playfulness were gone.
“Who told you?” Fynn spoke through gritted teeth.
“Honestly, does it matter Fynn? You were the one who was lying to me.”
“Did Oran actually think that that was the way to get your attention?” Fynn stood motionless.
“This has nothing to do with Oran. You underestimate me Fynn, no one needed to tell me anything. But you were wrong to hide this, you should have told me.”
“There’s no need to worry you Cora. I’m sorry that you’re worried now.” Fynn’s face softened.
“Worried? He tried to kill me.” Each word held its own accusation as I stared him down. “He literally stabbed me and threw me off a cliff.”
“And he doesn’t remember any of it.” Fynn’s words were slow and calculated. “He doesn’t even know you exist.”
“Come again?” My anger was lost in confusion.
“He can’t remember any of it, Cora,” Fynn let out a huff, “Oran hit him really hard.”
“Hard enough to forget me?” I asked sarcastically.
“With lightning.” Fynn’s face was straight and he nodded only slightly at the word.
“He got hit by lightning?” I was hesitant.
“Yea, and as far as anyone can tell he can’t remember you or your family. He’s forgotten all sorts of things. So, you don’t need to be worried. I wish you had talked to me days ago; I’ve noticed that you were upset, but I had no idea that it was about this.” He walked to my side and ran his fingers through my hair. “We were so worried about you after everything. We thought it would be better if you thought…” he paused and changed direction, “I’m sorry.”
“You should have killed him,” I said looking at the floor, not at all comforted.
“I wanted to,” Fynn huffed, “but when we saw what happened, that he wouldn’t be bothering anyone anymore, well it wasn’t my idea to leave him be, but I am not the one calling the shots.”
“In what world would Blake not bother anyone? He had it in him to stab me; to manipulate everyone he could, what makes you think a little amnesia is going to change that.”
“We are still keeping an eye on him, we know what he is capable of,” Fynn answered.
“You have no idea.” My accusation was forceful. “And who is we? You and Oran? How are you supposed to keep an eye on him from way out here?”
“Why do you think I’ve spent so much time away lately Cora?” Fynn’s black eyes pierced me, willing me to connect the dots.
“You’v
e been sneaking off to babysit?” I was even more annoyed. “I have bad news for you, you suck as a babysitter. I don’t know why Violet thought you could help.” I shifted in my seat turning my back to him. I knew it wasn’t rational, but now I blamed Fynn for what was happening to Naida. If he hadn’t taken it upon himself to be Blake’s personal guard, maybe none of this would be happening. I knew I was wrong, but I had already committed to the words and I was too stubborn to back down.
“What does this have to do with her?” Fynn asked, serious.
“Violet’s the one who carried me off the other day, her and another siren.” I tried to sound as annoyed as possible. “She was worried about Naida.”
“Because?” Fynn prodded.
“Because Naida has been missing and apparently Blake hasn’t been dead for the past nine months.” I huffed.
“And she’s worried that Blake will track her down.” Fynn finished the thought. He knew it was a possibility and my anger flared.
“She was worried. Now she knows.” The more I thought about it the more I held Fynn responsible; he was the one who let me think Blake was dead. If I hadn’t felt so secure in that fact maybe I would have paid more attention to my dreams.
“Knows what, Cora? That Blake is alive?” He was losing his patience.
“That Blake already has her.”
“Since when?” His tone was flat, emotionless.
“Based on my nightmares, probably five or six months, but I could be wrong. I’ve been trying to ignore them as long as possible.”
“And this is what has been bothering you lately.” I didn’t respond, and he continued. Fynn ran his fingers through his tousled brown hair. “You are right in one respect. This is my fault.”
I looked up, surprised by this concession; even I thought that I was wrong.
“What have you seen, Cora?” Fynn asked.
“Too much.” I looked back at the floor ashamed of the memories.
“Tell me.” He squatted down looking in my eyes, a commanding tone in his voice.
“Why should I tell you anything? You’ve been lying to me for months.” I held my ground still not ready to give up on my anger. “You can’t deny it, Blake was never dead, and you and Oran lied to me about it. I would expect as much from Oran, but I didn’t expect it from you.”
“Blake was never a danger to you Cora.” .
“Blake was never a danger to me?” I got louder. “He stabbed me because I wouldn’t be manipulated. He thought that he could use me because of Oran’s feelings for me, and those haven’t changed. Remember me or not, Blake is still a danger to me.”
“And I have been watching him.” Fynn said again.
“Not very well.” I looked up into his eyes. “Whatever you thought you were doing; it hasn’t been working. Blake has been torturing her for a long time, and he’s broken her. I saw her Fynn. I felt her fear. I don’t know if it has happened yet or not, but she is going to change, she won’t fear him much longer, soon, she is going to think that she needs him.” I held my focus, but Fynn faltered, concern sweeping across his face. He looked at the floor.
Zoya’s giggles rose from outside my door before it swung open. I pulled my eyes away from Fynn to see Zoya tumbling through the bedroom door, arm in arm with a vaguely familiar red-haired man while she laughed. It didn’t take long for her to notice the mood in the room, and she straightened up, looking back and forth between Fynn and me.
“Oh, sorry.” She began to back up.
“Shea?” Fynn interrupted her apology.
“Hi.” He answered, smiling at Fynn and then at me. “I’m guessing you’re Cora.” He spoke with a subtle accent that I could not place. My train of thought quickly changed as he stepped away from Zoya to shake my hand. I reached up and hugged him.
“I’m so glad that you’re here. When did you get here?” I looked up at the tall man with his scruffy beard and then down at Zoya and her polished black hair, they made an interesting pair. She answered me.
“Just last night. He came looking for me.” She beamed.
“I’m so glad!” I went to hug her. Sincerely happy that her searching was over and that he had been looking for her, just as she had been looking for him. I set aside my conversation with Fynn, seeing the joy on her face, but he drew my attention back to him, reaching out and touching my hand.
“I have to go. We’ll talk more later.” He looked as concerned as ever, the reunion hadn’t distracted him.
“Alright.” I muttered and I watched him leave, feeling torn. Goosebumps crawled like spiders up my skin. I rubbed my arms, brushing them away. Once he was out of sight Zoya turned to me.
“Is everything alright? We didn’t mean to interrupt…” She trailed off.
“No, no, don’t worry about it.” I shook my head and tried to adjust to the new feeling in the room. “How are you?” I didn’t really have to ask, she was glowing. And as I really looked at her I wondered if she actually was, her face shone, and her hair even seemed to sparkle.
“Really wonderful. We were coming by to invite you to dinner; I wanted you to get the chance to properly meet Shea.”
“Of course.” I smiled, thrilled to see my friend so happy.
There wasn’t much of a chance for me to talk during dinner. Zoya and Shea went back and forth talking enthusiastically. There would be moments where they would lean in close to one another wrapped up in their own conversation and I felt like a voyeur, but it didn’t take long for them to remember me and bring me back into the conversation.
“So where have you been?” It was the one question I had been dying to ask, and afraid of at the same time.
“Everywhere.” Shea smiled. “Or almost, at least.” His smiled faded. “I hid at first; I honestly thought she was going to kill me, once I realized what I had done. I wasn’t fully aware of myself at the time.” He looked at me, the smile completely gone. “You know what happened?”
“Yeah.” I looked down at my plate. I knew entirely too well what happened. I had seen it in an all-too-clear vision.
“I guess the siren didn’t have much use for me afterwards, because she didn’t hang around. Then, I ran off, just trying to avoid any place that Zoya might look, hiding in my shame, but Zoya isn’t easy to forget.” He looked at her and she smiled. “Thank you for being there for her.”
“Of course. She helped me out a lot when my dad died.”
“I’m sorry. What happened?” He asked.
“He had a heart attack a little over a year ago; Zoya brought us out here and then everything changed. We were in a pretty bad slump. She helped all of us.”
“The tropical island and fawning men had nothing to do with it.” Zoya spoke sarcastically. Shea raised an eyebrow.
“Popular, were you?” He asked.
“I don’t think I would call it popular. Accosted, maybe.” A half-crazed giggle rose in my throat, I had changed, but so much was still the same.
“Just be careful of the singing, that’s how they get you.” He advised.
“Got it.” I smiled.
“She got it alright, she has been sung to on more than one occasion. She’s practically immune.” Zoya piped in.
“I wouldn’t say that I am immune, just that I have a high threshold for musical mischief.” I said.
“Speaking of musical mischief…” Zoya nodded towards the dining room entrance, behind me. I turned to see Oran walking toward me, his eyes intent on mine, his face an unresponsive mask.
“May I have a word with you?” Oran’s request seemed unusually formal in light of our most recent conversation. I didn’t let myself think about his offer to sleep in my room.
“Sure. Now?” I looked back at Zoya who only shrugged.
“If you are finished with your meal, otherwise I can…”
“No, I’m done now.” My food was gone, and I guessed that Zoya wanted some alone time with Shea. I might as well use this as a way to give it to them. I stood up and Oran turned and began walking out, n
ot waiting to see if I would follow him. I moved more quickly to catch up to him.
He walked down the candle lit halls in silence, not even turning to see if I was still there. I followed only slightly behind him. He turned down another hall and then another, weaving his way through the maze of castle halls. I hadn’t spent much alone time with him, and all of our interactions had been so strained; the quiet walk was almost peaceful.
I couldn’t deny how perfect he looked in his white linen pants and powder blue linen shirt, the long sleeves were rolled up to his elbow, exposing his tan muscular forearms. I decided to enjoy the moment, taking the chance to admire his golden blond hair. Noting the way it glowed in the candlelight the way it shifted while he walked. No wonder I had practically drooled over him when we first met, even without seeing his face he was so obviously striking.
I remembered the many times I had felt compelled to reach out and touch his hair and I felt the compulsion bubbling up again as I followed him, but I fought it down. It was a good thing that I wasn’t alone with him often; maybe his song had more effect on me than I had realized. In the quiet, free of conversation, and alone in the candlelit corridors of the castle, I found myself entranced by him. I became more aware of my surroundings when we began descending the dark stairwell that led to the grotto under the castle.
Without a word or a glance back at me he dove into the water, fully clothed. I slid in, more carefully after him. It was dark under the water, and it took me a moment to find him. I saw his shadowy form silhouetted in front of the twinkling lights of the city below. I followed him down, adjusting to breathing the water. It was easier to adjust now than it had been in the past, it came more quickly and with less pain, but still, I tried to avoid it where I could. The water felt so heavy and unnatural in my lungs. Related to an ondine, though I may be, I was still mostly human.
As we drew near to the lights it became easier to see Oran and follow him. He veered toward the right, to a part of the city that was unfamiliar to me. The lights became fewer and fewer as we swam over the city and out into a less populated area. I continued to enjoy the way his hair moved underwater and the way his linen shirt clung to his arms while he swam. No use in ignoring the fact that he was beautiful when we weren’t even interacting. I realized that this was something I had wanted since I first met him, a chance to look at him without him knowing it, a moment to enjoy staring without him trying to influence me. He was always trying to sway me, as long as we were interacting, he was trying to convince me of something, and usually his techniques for influencing me involved his sea green eyes and trickery.
Then We Fly Page 3