Coiled

by H. L. Burke

  He shook his head, forgetting for a moment that she could not see the gesture. “No. I was walking along the shore. It was dark. No one should’ve been able to see me.”

  “Your brother’s spies, perhaps?”

  Calen slipped the tunic over his head and shifted his broad shoulders until it fell comfortably. “I haven’t seen Volen lately. That doesn’t mean he hasn’t assigned some crony to watch me, I suppose.” Believing it to be his twin’s doing was preferable to thinking the transformation had occurred unprovoked. It was also more likely. The curse was nothing if not consistent.

  “Calen …” His mother’s voice quavered.

  He paused in fastening his sandals and gazed at her.

  Her shoulders slumped slightly, but for a woman as statuesque as Queen Zephia, the momentary lapse in posture might as well have been a full collapse. “Your brother has departed for Oleva. He intends to court their princess.”

  Calen’s heart throbbed. “He believes she will break his half of the curse?”

  “That is his hope—and your father’s. We have no true assurance, however, that marriage and consummation will snap its hold.”

  “No, but it’s always been a strong possibility, hasn’t it?”

  “The wisemen say such marriage cures are the standard treatment, though it has been many generations since they’ve seen a mirror curse as strong as the one you share with Volen.”

  He chewed his bottom lip. “Even so, if he is cured, his half of the curse will pass to me. We are certain of that.”

  “It was the one thing your uncle clarified—your father would have to choose between his sons, curing one and cursing the other forever.”

  Calen rubbed his chin with his thumb. “It’s inevitable. Father chose Volen years ago. I’ve been watching my life slip through my fingers like sand, hiding to prolong the inevitable.”

  “You are far too world-weary for one so young.” Zephia stood.

  He flinched. What if the blindfold slipped from her eyes? What if she saw him and he changed? What if he hurt her?

  She inhaled as if preparing herself for some great effort. “There is a chance,” she said. “The princess of Oleva is herself a mirror-cursed twin. She has a sister.”

  Calen’s eyes widened as he realized his mother’s intent. He scoffed. “A fine catch I am. She won’t be able to look at me without risking her life. Unless she is blind, I have no hope.”

  “There are ways. We are meeting now, are we not?”

  He lowered his eyes. “And what would you have me do? Swim to Oleva and carry her off? Bring her here by force to be my bride, sight unseen?”

  “If such an act could save you—”

  “That’s not who I am!” Calen growled, clenching his fists. “This curse forces me to be a monster when looked upon, but leaves me the mercy of being human in my solitude. If I stole the choice of some poor, frightened maid, I would be a monster within as well as without.”

  Zephia held up her hand to calm him. “But if I could bring her here willingly? If she is cursed as well, her options are likewise limited.”

  “It’s too dangerous. Any option is better than a husband who might devour her.” His throat tightened. “Who she could never look in the eye.” He inhaled the sea-kissed air, trying not to look at his mother's trembling chin. He knew his death would break her heart, but to become a monster forever was unthinkable. He steadied his voice. “Mother, if the curse does fall fully upon me, you must find a way to end me. Do not let me live a mindless beast, terrorizing sailors and endangering innocent lives. That isn’t who I am, and I would rather die than live like that. It isn’t as if I was given any choice in my fate, but perhaps in death the gods can have mercy on my soul.”

  “Son…” She found his shoulder and squeezed it.

  Calen quivered at her touch. His forced solitude made contact with another human rare and therefore overwhelming. “I’m sorry, Mother. I’ve been such a burden. You should’ve listened to Father and tossed me into the sea as a child.”

  Her hand traced up his neck. She cupped his face between her palms, perhaps trying to imagine what he looked like.

  “There is as much chance your death would curse your brother as cure him. It was desperation that made your father suggest such an act. You are strong of heart. Your father’s words have twisted your brother against me, and if I lose you, I will no longer have a son.” Damp patches appeared on her blindfold, and her bottom lip quivered.

  Pushing aside his fear for her safety, Calen drew her into an embrace. She wept quietly on his shoulder as the salt-spray whipped around them.

  Finally, he withdrew. “I need to go. You should get somewhere safe.”

  “I had your guardian prepare a meal. It should be waiting for you. Go inside. Eat something and get some rest.”

  He nodded. “I will.”

  “And Calen, please, for my sake, do not give up hope.”

  He hesitated, shifting from one foot to the other. “I will try.”

  She released him and stepped back. The wind gusted, gathering around her in a whirlwind. The breeze grew in power until it raised her from the ground. Calen squinted against it, and when he opened his eyes, his mother was gone.

  Chapter Three

  As the sun disappeared behind the outer walls, Laidra slunk past the palace temple. The priestesses’ chanted chorus droned in the distance, their intonations giving strange power to the towering idols of Ethna that stood as twin guardians on either side of the entrance. The statues' gazes followed Laidra. The spicy scent of incense from evening prayers drifted from behind the marble pillars which stood like a grove of trees between the portico and the inner chambers.

  She turned her eyes away and headed towards the foreigners’ shrine. Flowers covered the small stone altar in an empty alcove in the courtyard. Her father considered himself open-minded and had built this place of worship to show visiting dignitaries that their gods—however foreign and barbaric—could be worshiped openly in Oleva. Since the priestesses saw Laidra as an abomination, she’d gotten in the habit of offering her prayers here. It lacked the elegant, gold-leafed idols of the main temple, but the simplicity appealed to her. A shelf laden with food offerings, oils, and incense, there so visitors could make offerings, stood beside the altar. Laidra selected sandalwood, for it always brought her comfort.

  She set the thin stick of incense in a hole bored into the rock and took up a nearby candle to light the offering. The incense flickered then glowed, letting off a rich woody odor. Laidra closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on small reasonable requests rather than the miracles she desired.

  “Do you not pray to the Olevan gods?” A voice as smooth as spiced wine made Laidra jump.

  She whirled around to face a tall woman in a gray cloak and veil. Laidra dropped her chin towards her chest, hoping her hood hid her face. “I do not prefer them.”

  The woman tilted her head. “And why not?”

  Laidra swallowed. No one had ever asked her opinion on anything of such weight before. She closed her eyes long enough to gather her thoughts. “In the stories, the gods behave much like humans. Jovan seduces maidens, betraying his wife, Mira. In turn, she is spiteful and cruel. The goddess of love is vain; the goddess of the hunt, cold; the god of war, arrogant. Even Ethna, our patron goddess, has been known to incite war over mild insults to her beauty.” She sighed. “I have experienced enough pettiness at the hands of people; I don’t need it from the gods.”

  “Interesting. Do you believe the gods exist?”

  She hesitated. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, they do, but perhaps ‘gods’ is not the best name for them. So you choose to believe in other gods?”

  “I believe that something put a desire for good in my heart in spite of people trying to train it out of me.” She bit her bottom lip. “If that something is out there, I would worship it.”

  “Wise girl.”

  Silence fell over the courtyard. Light flooded the space as
the temple doors swung open. Laidra shied away towards the shadows, but the strange woman grabbed her by the wrist. She pushed Laidra’s hood back from her face.

  A muffled whimper escaped Laidra. Beneath her veil, the strange woman’s dark eyes glinted, then softened. The look was foreign to Laidra. Not the curled lip of contempt or revulsion but a strange, sad look.

  Pity, she realized.

  “Oh, poor child. The fault was not yours. You should not have to endure this.” She rested her hand against Laidra’s cheek.

  Hot shame flared in the princess’s chest as the woman’s smooth hand caressed her hideous face. Tears sprung from Laidra's eyes, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. She remembered seeing her mother caress Ellea in such a way. How much she had envied that touch!

  “Who … who are you?” Laidra whispered through trembling lips.

  “A mother.” The woman gave an approving nod. “Yes, there is a good soul behind these eyes. Another strong heart, and that is the true match.”

  Voices rose from the direction of the temple. Laidra’s breath quickened. Her family would soon approach, along with their guests, the king and prince of Carta.

  “They can’t see me here,” she pleaded with the stranger. Even though the woman’s hold was light and easily broken, Laidra felt she could not go without permission. Something about this person bent Laidra to her will.

  The woman slipped something cold into Laidra’s hand. “If you need help, this will call it to you. Be brave, child, for I sense you will need every ounce of courage. Be brave.” She stepped into the shadows.

  A wind whipped up as Laidra fled for a darkened doorway. The voices grew in strength, her sister’s trilling laugh dancing above the rest like the cry of a joyful bird. Laidra put her hand on the door latch. It wouldn’t open. She shook it, but someone had barred it.

  Settle down, she assured herself. It’s dark. They won’t see me here. They’ll go straight into the palace and never know I was here. She pressed herself into the doorway and watched the figures parade past, their shadows reaching like fingers into the night.

  Ellea stood at the side of a tall man in a knee-length tunic. Even in the dim light from the torches, his skin gleamed like polished stone. He flashed a brilliant smile at Ellea, who threw her head back with another peal of giddy laughter.

  The wind swirled around Laidra then rushed through the torches, causing their light to waver. The man froze mid-stride.

  “What is it?” an older man asked.

  “I thought …” The young man stepped forward, peering into the darkness.

  “Volen, whatever’s the matter?” Ellea asked, batting her eyelashes.

  “Mother, is that you?” the young man’s voice sharpened.

  Laidra tried to shrink into nothingness.

  “She wouldn’t have followed us here,” the older man said.

  “You know how she meddles, Father.” Volen scowled. “Whoever you are, I see you skulking there. Step out, or I’ll come in after you.”

  Laidra hesitated. She was cornered, but the price of disobeying this strange man couldn’t be worse than that of showing her face.

  “Did you not hear the prince?” Ellea’s voice rose in pitch. “Whoever you are, come out now, or I’ll send a servant in after you and have you flogged.”

  Drawing a deep breath, Laidra pulled her hood back over her face and stepped into the torchlight. The object the woman had given her still rested in her hand, cold and smooth. She slipped it inside her tunic for safekeeping.

  Ellea’s face blanched. “Laidra, why are you here?”

  “Laidra?” Volen strode forward.

  “No, don’t!” Ellea shouted, but too late. The prince’s hand swept back the hood, and torchlight flooded Laidra’s face.

  Volen gasped and drew back. Then he steadied himself, his lip curling.

  “I’ll go. I was just praying. Please, let me go,” Laidra stammered.

  “What is going on?”

  Laidra’s heart withered at her mother’s voice. Her parents loomed over Ellea, the look on her mother’s face a mix of horror and rage. She saw her father glance at her mother as if waiting for instructions.

  “You should not be here,” Perys said.

  “I’m sorry. He … he …” Laidra’s gaze darted about. She saw an opening and ran.

  Though she didn’t look back, the lack of footsteps and reaching hands assured her no one was following. She disappeared into the shadows of a hallway. Feeling along the smooth sandstone bricks of the wall, she found her way to a twisting stair and finally to her darkened room.

  Oh, why did I leave my room? Was it worth it, just to pray? The gods never hear me anyway. They don’t care, and now Mother—oh, how that man looked at me, like a grimy worm beneath his sandal.

  She sank shivering onto her couch. Something cold rubbed against her breastbone, and she reached into her tunic for the strange woman’s gift. It was roughly an oval, a little bigger than an egg, but flat. A chain hung from it, brushing against her wrist like a lock of hair. Stumbling to her desk, she found flint and lit a small oil lamp then held the object out for examination. Brilliant light played across the surface of the largest opal she’d ever seen, milky white with glints of pink, green, blue, and yellow. Her breath caught in her throat.

  It has to be a mistake. Why would that woman give me something so lovely? For help? It is beautiful, but how can this help me?

  She circled her finger over the gem. The light followed her touch, growing in luster. Laidra’s eyes narrowed. “What in the lands?”

  The opal shimmered like a pool of water rippling in sunlight. On its largest facet, an image formed of her parents speaking with the older man, Volen’s father. The vision provided a narrow window as if she peered through a keyhole, but voices rose clearly from it.

  “So that was your undesirable one, Lucan?” the man addressed Laidra’s father.

  King Lucan sighed, his face weary and his cheeks slightly red. Laidra’s hands trembled. She rarely saw her father. While her mother occasionally came to issue a strict command, her father was withdrawn, quiet. When their paths did chance to cross, he’d avert his eyes and hurry away.

  “She was told to remain in her room for your visit, Gan,” Queen Perys said, her voice sharp and strong. “I’m sorry you and your son were subjected to that.”

  “When she was cursed, did you receive any message as to why? Or what the cure would be?” King Gan tilted his head to one side.

  Perys shook her head. “No. We never discovered who was responsible. We have enemies of state, of course; it comes with the crown, but none who would strike so maliciously at mere infants. What political purpose could that serve?” Her face softened. “Have no fear, however. Ellea’s untouched by this foul magic.”

  Not completely true, but Ellea's half was easier hidden.

  “What is your intent with the child?” Gan continued.

  “What do you mean?” Lucan asked, standing a little straighter.

  “I mean, I may have a way we can help each other with a … difficulty. There is a serpent who stalks the strait between Carta and Oleva.”

  Lucan nodded. “I’ve heard the rumor, but it has never struck our merchants.” He paused. “What does that have to do with our daughter?”

  “Well, we have been hunting it for some time, but attempts to lure it into the open have failed. In desperation, we consulted the Oracle at Ellysar. The words were vague, as the utterings of an oracle are wont to be, but she stated that the blood of a princess would lure the monster forth.”

  Laidra stiffened. They wouldn’t! Ugly or not, I’m still their child.

  “As ugly as your other spawn may be, her blood is still royal,” Gan continued.

  “Gan!” Her father snapped. “You would have me feed my child to a monster?”

  “No, not at all!” The foreign king raised his hands. “She would merely draw out the serpent. My warriors will dispatch it before it reaches her. I have a secluded is
land palace, suitable for royal residence. She can stay there, and my folk will look after her, away from gawking eyes. When the serpent comes for her, my soldiers will exterminate it. Then, if you desire it, she may return to you … or stay on the island as my guest.”

  “It seems a perfect opportunity, my dear.” Her mother placed her hand on her father’s shoulder. Laidra swallowed, her hands gripping the pendant until they hurt.

  The king rubbed his forehead. “It sounds dangerous.”

  “I’m certain Gan would not endanger our alliance by putting our daughter in harm’s way.” Perys’s voice became a purr. “Not when we are so close to binding our kingdoms together forever.”

  “Consider this another act of alliance.” Gan smiled. “I’ll take your lovely daughter off your hands through marriage and your homely one through hospitality.”

  The image on the opal flickered out.

  “No!” Laidra gasped. She shook the gem. “Please! I need to see what they decide.”

  Nothing. The magic had ended.

  Still, Laidra knew her mother had made up her mind. That was all that mattered. Though he was the head of state, her father had left the raising of their daughters completely to Perys. He would not cross her will in this matter.

  Hugging herself, she sat on the couch. Tears smarted in her eyes, and a sob shook her. She'd always known her mother was ashamed of her, but to be thrown to the mercy of a stranger exposed what Laidra had long been unwilling to face: to her mother, she truly was undesirable. So much so that her mother would let her face potential death without a cry of protest. Waves of heartbreak crashed over Laidra. She had no one. Her mother didn't want her. Her father wouldn't speak for her.

  The opal had warned Laidra, but why? So she could run away … or so she could prepare herself to meet a monster?

  The strange woman had said to be brave. Had she known this would occur?

  “Oh gods. I wanted to leave home, but not like this,” Laidra whispered to the darkness.

  Exhausted, she sank onto her pillow. I will run away. Gan’s visit is supposed to last almost a week. That gives me plenty of time to gather supplies and make a plan. I may not have much of a future, but if they take me to that island, I’ll never be able to use my gift, and that’s assuming the serpent doesn’t tear me to pieces.