Coiled

by H. L. Burke

  It’s not real, years of experience screamed at her. If he knew what you looked like, he’d cast you out for his brother to devour. This is a lie, a fantasy, a game you’re playing. Do you think it can last forever?

  Maybe it could.

  Calen’s curse meant she could not see him. They could maintain the illusion for as long as they wanted, only meeting in darkness.

  But is it really love if I have to hide who I am? My curse is me. It’s not as if I can shed my skin like a snake. Is what I feel for him even real, or is it just the result of him being the only man to ever speak to me?

  She thought about Calen, about his awkward but sincere manner, about his love of music and how his greatest fear was hurting another human being. Yes, there was more to it than lack of selection. For one thing, no one else could understand her loneliness as he could. His soul spoke to hers. She understood its pain and longed to soothe it. How she longed in turn to trust him with her heart!

  There’s one test. Gods, please—especially you, the unknown one—please let him not flee from me when he sees my face. I don’t need him to love me in that way. To be his lover or bride would be far too much to hope for, but please, at least leave me his friendship. I can be content with that.

  Yes, friendship would be sufficient. It was, after all, simply another form of love. She could not, and therefore would not, hope for more.

  Satisfied with this resolve, she closed her eyes, nestled against him, and fell asleep.

  ***

  Laidra’s eyes fluttered open. The room was still cloaked in darkness, but across the room, a thin crack of light outlined the shutters. Something warm and heavy rested against her back. She gasped and sat up before remembering the night before. Calen.

  Heat flooded her face and neck. She'd slept in his arms, in a man's arms. Yes, nothing had happened, but the thought still made her heart quicken.

  Closing her eyes in case the faint light seeping into the room was enough to reveal him, she reached down and gave him a gentle shake. “Calen.”

  He grunted, and the bed shifted as he rose. “Oh, good morning. I don’t suppose you have another blindfold on you?”

  She shook her head. “No, but my eyes are closed.”

  “Oh well, I can’t really see anything but your outline. If I can’t see your face, you definitely won’t be able to see enough to trigger my curse.”

  She opened her eyes. “Thank you for staying with me last night.”

  “Well, it was my stupid idea to go strolling.” He laughed. “I’m the one who got you scared out of your wits. Only right for me to calm you down.”

  “You blame yourself far too easily.” Laidra lowered her eyes, trying to sort out her thoughts from the night before. Beneath her tunic, the opal pendant felt cold against her skin. It had been silent since she reached the island. It could’ve warned her of the danger last night, saving them both a lot of anxiety. Though maybe it couldn’t have. After all, she still didn’t understand how the magical object worked, or why it had come to her, or even who had given it to her. The strange woman at the temple had never returned and never explained her motive. Whatever its source, it had led her to Calen. If only it could tell her what to do about him.

  His warmth faded from her. Laidra reached out to touch him but withdrew, torn between the fantasy and the likely reality that he'd reject her when faced with her ugliness. She couldn't keep fooling herself. Drawing it out would only make it hurt more in the long run. It was time to get it over with, ask him to look at her face and end the delusion. She opened her mouth.

  “Laidra, I want to see you.”

  She swallowed her words and gaped at him.

  “What you said last night led me to realize no matter what I feel for you, you’ll never believe it as long as we have this hanging over our heads. No matter how real it is to me, it won’t be real to you, and I need this to be real to you because it is becoming very real to me.” He cupped her cheek in his hand. “Please, let me see you. Just once.”

  She bit her bottom lip. “I will, on one condition: you mustn’t lie to me afterwards. I know you, Calen. You don’t want to hurt anyone, even at great cost to yourself. I won’t let you live a lie for the sake of my feelings.” His touch felt so perfect. Part of her longed to beg him never to look at her, but to stay, to stay and hold her forever. She forced the thought out of her head. “Honesty might hurt me more in the moment, but the pain will pass. I can't live in a dream.”

  “You’re so quick to assume the worst.” He leaned closer, his breath warming her skin. “Whatever you look like, it won’t change how I feel. Laidra, I think I—”

  “Don’t say it!” she gasped. “Once you’ve said it—no. We’re friends. We’re just friends, and after you look at me, we can still be friends. We can still care about each other, but don’t dangle the promise of more in front of my face because when you see me, you’ll want to snatch it away.” She embraced him, burying her face against his firm chest and savoring his tantalizing scent. “Friendship is enough. It has to be enough for both of us.”

  “All right.” He squeezed her against his chest. “If that is what you want.”

  “It is.” If there was one thing she’d learned from life, it was how to kill hope and control expectations. “So how do we—I mean, I can’t see you. Should I just close my eyes?”

  “It's a bit risky. I can use the peephole.”

  “Will that really be enough, though?” Laidra glanced towards the door. “I think I can keep my eyes closed long enough for you to get an idea of me. Trust me, your eyes won’t want to linger on me long.” She tried to laugh, but it stuck in her throat.

  He brushed her cheek, his fingers working into her hair. “I wish I could repair what life has done to you,” he whispered.

  “It isn’t your job to fix my heart. I’m not as broken as I seem. While I know I’ll never be desirable, I have found my worth in other things.” She shut her eyes. “Go. Open the shutters and let in the light.”

  The sleeping couch creaked as he rose. Her hands began to shake, so she clenched her skirt in her fingers and tried to keep her face passive.

  Light flooded the room, peeking golden through her closed lids. Her heart hammered.

  ***

  Bracing himself, Calen turned from the window.

  Laidra sat on the couch, her body trembling like a small child afraid of an impending beating. His breath caught in his throat. Whatever he'd imagined, this was worse. Calen averted his eyes then hazarded a second glance, hoping he'd somehow been mistaken.

  Her dark hair hung thin and limp around a face that could only be described as gnarled. Furrows and lines, more suited for an ancient crone than a young woman, crisscrossed her cheeks and brow. Her skin was neither dark nor fair, but uneven and patchy. Warts and snarled hairs sprouted from her cheeks and chin.

  He searched for something he could latch onto, something lovely, something that matched her soul, but he found nothing.

  Calen recoiled. He wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t good enough. His reaction proved he was just as much of a monster as those who had tossed her aside, and he would never deserve her.

  Time slowed. Calen struggled to find words; it’s not that bad? You’re still beautiful on the inside? What you look like doesn’t matter? It all seemed so trite.

  Don’t just stand there, you idiot, he chided himself. Say something. Do something.

  She convulsed, and a sob escaped her clenched jaw. A tear trickled from her closed eyes, navigating the crags on her cheek.

  His chest tightened around his heart. This was Laidra, his companion, the woman who played music with him; who, even knowing what he was, let him hold her while she slept, and now he was hurting her. No matter what she looked like, she was his Laidra. Perhaps if he couldn't make her believe that with words, he could do something to show her, to prove that no matter what she looked like, he would be there.

  Calen knelt before her and pressed his lips to hers.

 
She inhaled sharply then jerked away. “No!” Covering her eyes with her hands, she stood and staggered for the door.

  “Laidra, stop!”

  “No, I won’t live a lie. I can’t. You deserve better, Calen, and so do I.” She wrenched the door open and ran down the hall.

  “Wait, don’t—” He started after her. He couldn't let her leave until she believed him. “Laidra!”

  Already to the top of the stairs, Laidra glanced over her shoulder. He froze in horror. Their eyes met. There it was, the beauty he knew had to exist. Her eyes shone green like the sparkling sea, captivating him and stealing his breath away.

  The curse, however, already had him in its cruel clutches. A cracking sensation tore down his spine. Leaping back into her bedroom, he slammed the door behind him, but it was too late. His skin rippled and stretched, and he cried out in pain. In his last moments of clarity, he shoved the couch against the entryway to prevent her from entering before the curse had run its course. He sank into himself, his thoughts a blur of anger and terror.

  Even in his bestial confusion, he longed for her eyes.

  Chapter Thirteen

  His kiss still warm on her lips, Laidra fled her bedroom.

  “Wait, don't—Laidra!” Something in Calen's tone captured her, and without thinking, she looked towards him. For a half-second, she saw his face, his dark skin and strong features. Horror etched itself across his expression, not from seeing her, she realized, but from being seen.

  Regret shot through her, so strong her stomach heaved. His eyes widened then turned green. He staggered back into her room, slamming the door between them. His mournful cry echoed through the stone halls. She shuddered and fled.

  He’d kissed her. Even after seeing her horrible face, he’d still wanted to touch her … or had been kind enough to pretend he wanted to. How could she be sure?

  Panic surged within her. The thought of trapping him, of being with someone who pitied rather than loved her, made her soul recoil.

  But what if he did mean it, and I hurt him?

  She opened the door to one of the sitting rooms, and her heart plummeted to her feet.

  Cibron rose from a chair and smiled smugly at her.

  “How did you get in here?” she stammered.

  “I’m the son of a god,” he scoffed. “Do you really think stone walls and wooden doors are a challenge to me?”

  “Get out! Calen doesn’t want you here, and neither do I.” She pointed towards the door. Her chest tightened. Cibron's curse had deprived her of so much, but she didn't have to put up with him gloating.

  He clicked his tongue. “Feisty little thing. I heard my nephew’s transformation cry. What happened? Did you grow curious and take a peek?” His guise was different today: a smooth, ageless face with white hair in stark contrast to his dark skin. He still had those unnerving blue eyes.

  She swallowed. “It was an accident.”

  “He’s trying to court you, isn’t he?” Cibron raised an eyebrow. “You know why, don’t you?”

  “He’s not trying to. He’s kind, that is all.” She lowered her gaze. “He doesn’t want to hurt me.”

  Cibron snorted. “Oh, you poor, naive child. Haven’t you put it together? Here's a hint: that bit of jewelry around your neck, where did it come from?”

  Her hand strayed to the necklace. “That’s not your concern.”

  “From an imperious lady who appears and disappears in a breath of wind.” He smirked. “I imagine my nephew never bothered to mention his mother is a half-god like myself.”

  The blood drained from her face. “Gan would never marry a half-god after knowing you.”

  “Oh, I’m exactly the reason he did. He knew my power. I suppose he thought Zephia’s would protect him from it in some way, but she’s not that sort of half-god. She's powerful, but not nearly as powerful as me. You see, my father is Jovan, king of the gods. Hers is simply Phyrus, god of the wind. The west wind, specifically. He can’t even claim all four.”

  “That has nothing to do with me.”

  “It has more to do with you than you think.” He tapped his finger against the back of the chair. “You know why Prince Volen is courting your sister, yes? Did you think because you’re a frightful sight that taking you to his bed wouldn’t cure Calen? It would, and he knows it. He’s known it since his mother engineered your arrival on this island.”

  She clenched her fingers around her skirt. “Calen has never tried to … seduce me.”

  “Oh, he needs more than seduction. It has to be a marriage bed consummation. Curse cures are so drattedly specific.” He held up his hands as if frustrated, but his eyes twinkled. “The disadvantage of that is he’ll be stuck with you after he’s cured. Not a pleasant prospect. I can see why he might prefer to remain a monster.”

  Her cheeks heated. Yes, others had said things just as awful, if not worse, about her appearance, but hearing Cibron imply that Calen looked upon her with disgust filled her with a mix of doubt and rage. “Your nephew might be a serpent, but you’re the one with the forked tongue. Be gone.”

  Cibron stepped towards her. “I have no interest in which of my nephews finds the cure. If you want to lie with him, you have my blessing. I just felt you should know your part in this.”

  “I said, go!” she snarled, thrusting her chin at him. For once, she was glad of her ugliness. Her face must’ve been a horrid sight in her anger.

  “Don’t defy me, girl. I hold your fate in my hand.” Cibron snatched a handful of her sparse hair and yanked her head back. Pain shot through her scalp. “You’re a pawn in this game. Easily sacrificed.”

  Laidra kicked him, but as she did, a hot white light radiated from her breast. Cibron cried out in pain and cowered back, his hands over his face. She clutched the pendant, which shone like a beacon in the tiny sitting room.

  A breeze sprang up out of nowhere.

  “Cibron, you aren’t welcome here,” said a voice that was somehow both warm and cold, like sunlight shining on snow.

  Cibron cursed under his breath. With a flash of light and a smell of singed air, he was gone.

  Laidra whirled around and stared at the stranger who had given her the pendant. The woman stepped through the door, her head tilted.

  “He didn’t hurt you, did he, child?”

  Laidra shook her head. “You’re Calen’s mother?”

  The woman smiled. “My name is Zephia, and yes, I am.”

  The princess hesitated. So many questions. This woman’s gift had all but led her to the island and Calen. Was it by design? An attempt to free her son from his curse? Was Calen in on it?

  “Thank you for making him leave,” Laidra said, deciding it unwise to question a woman of her power. “How did you know he was here?”

  “I didn’t. The gem about your neck tells me when you are in danger, but unfortunately, even I cannot appear instantaneously. When it called to me last night, I traveled as quickly as I could but found you and Calen already safe when I arrived. I’ve been … lurking, as it were, since then. Just to be sure Volen didn’t try anything else.” She glanced out the door and sighed. “His ship departed this morning with him on it. From the course it set, he is returning to Carta. You are both safe, for now.”

  Laidra nodded and sank onto a couch, her hands cupping her face.

  “Calen, where is he?” Zephia eyed her. Laidra would’ve shriveled under the scrutiny of such a lovely woman a few weeks before, but now she just felt tired.

  “Upstairs, in my room.”

  Zephia raised her eyebrows, and Laidra flushed.

  “It’s not like that. We were talking, and I accidentally triggered his curse. He shut himself inside, and I ran.”

  “If he’s alone, he won’t be a serpent for long. It usually reverts within an hour if no one is there to observe him. The timing is inexact, though; it’s hard to track.” Zephia sat beside her. “You seem different from the first time I saw you. No hood. No cringing.”

  “I suppose being ou
t from under my mother’s influence and my sister’s shadow has been good for me.” Calen’s affection hadn’t hurt either. Oh, but what if Cibron was right and that was all simply to undo his curse?

  “As it should be. I meant what I said about your strong heart. It has served you well.” Zephia rubbed her forehead. “I hadn't expected Cibron to involve himself. He tends to observe, not meddle, but perhaps your involvement was not something he foresaw. That worries me.” She touched the chain about Laidra's neck. “It is good that you kept my gift. Now there is something I need to ask you. At the time I gave you this, I had an idea of what my husband was planning and thought to spare you from danger. Since then, much has happened that I did not anticipate, including Volen's attack last night. I have to ask: do you wish to stay here? I would not keep you against your will.”

  Laidra's throat tightened. The island had become her home. The thought of leaving it frightened her more than Cibron and Volen combined. “I have nowhere else to go.”

  “You could return to Oleva. Your parents believe you were lost at sea. Perhaps having you back would make them value you again.”

  Laidra hung her head. “They don't want me.”

  “That is not entirely true.” Zephia motioned for the opal. “May I?”

  Confused, Laidra handed Zephia the pendant.

  The woman circled its face with her fingertip. “Normally, it shows what is happening at this moment, but with a little guidance, I should be able to show your parents at a point in the past, namely after they found out about your supposed fate.”

  The gem flashed and glowed, and a picture of her parents appeared. Perys was stone-faced, but Lucan’s eyes were red.

  “I never should've let her go! What sort of father allows his daughter to meet such an end?”

  “You couldn't have known. Gan promised her safety, but it will work out for good. After all, the poor child never would've had a normal life.”

  Laidra scowled. “Yes, I can see they're broken-hearted over my demise.”