Coiled

by H. L. Burke

  “Little hag.” The man yanked her about like a stubborn goat on a lead. “My chest will be purple and blue by morning.”

  “Easy, Yastran.” The other man hurried up behind them. “She’ll get hers before the night’s end, but the king wants her uninjured.”

  Laidra twisted to look over her shoulder. A circle of torches flickered like angry eyes in the darkness. She counted at least a half-dozen shadowy figures moving amongst them. Two poles jutted out of the ground, perhaps two arm-spans apart.

  Upon reaching the first of these, the man hoisted her up and looped more ropes around her, securing her to the stake. He stepped away as a tall figure approached. The light cast eerie shadows across Gan’s face. Laidra tried to glare at him, but internally she trembled.

  “So, you survived the waves.” The king snorted. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Weeds are always more resilient than flowers.”

  Her skin warmed, for once with rage rather than embarrassment. How had this man managed to father a son such as Calen?

  He undid her gag. “I suppose you and my son suit each other; two monsters best cloaked in shadow. Really, this is a mercy for both of you. Best to get it over with.”

  Laidra’s defiance sank in a sea of panic. “What are you going to do to him?”

  A trumpet blast echoed over the crash of the waves.

  “You should worry about yourself.” Gan waved to the men around him. “That was the signal. Douse the lights.”

  A half-dozen torches died, plunging them into darkness. Laidra’s heart pounded, the vibrations rising through her chest into her throat and brain.

  “Please, don’t hurt him. He’s … he’s your son.”

  “I have two.” The calm of Gan’s voice made her cringe.

  “You’re a monster.”

  “I’m practical, and you? You’re expendable.” The sand crunched as he moved towards the empty stake, which stood like a limbless tree against the starry sky. “My first plan was good. It would’ve worked, but it relied on you staying in one place, which obviously you didn’t. I’ve removed that variable.” He laughed.

  “He’s a good man.”

  “And a horrible monster, which you’ll see when the sun rises.”

  A commotion rose behind her, but her bonds kept her from turning. Somewhere in the chaos, Calen’s voice sang to her, his tone angry and desperate.

  “Bind him as tight as you wish,” Gan ordered. “When he transforms, no ropes will hold him.”

  Laidra squinted into the darkness. Several vague forms pushed a struggling shadow to the pole and roped it in place. Her throat constricted.

  “Hello, son,” Gan said.

  The figure tied to the pole froze. “Father?” Calen stammered. “What are you doing? You have to let me go. It must be nearly dawn.”

  “Aye, it is.” Gan’s shadow eclipsed Calen’s. “You remember my voice?”

  “Yes. Is Volen here?”

  “No, I sent him to Oleva as a backup plan.” Laidra could almost hear Gan’s insufferable smirk. “I’m sorry it had to end this way, that I had to choose. It’s not personal, son, you know that. Volen’s ability to face the public made him the only suitable heir.”

  “What are you going to do? Killing me won’t cure my brother.”

  Gan laughed. “Really? You haven’t discerned it? I know your sight is stronger than that of a normal man. Look through the darkness, Calen. What do you see?”

  Laidra’s breath quickened.

  Calen cried out and bucked against his bonds like a calf trying to escape slaughter. “Let her go!” he snarled. “Laidy, are you all right?”

  “Yes.” Tears welled in her eyes. Gan had brought her there to be the instrument of Calen’s destruction.

  “You can’t do this!” Calen’s tone rose. “Father, she’s just a girl. She has no part in this.”

  “Yes, she does. Her blood will end this. When the sun rises and you lose your humanity to the beast within, her blood will call to you. You’ll tear her to pieces without a second thought, and in doing so, curse yourself and cure Volen.” Gan’s words grew louder as he drew near her. He rested his hand on the side of her face.

  Laidra pulled away and hissed at him. “You’re the monster, not your son.”

  “Perhaps, but I fail to see the harm in depriving the world of two such undesirables.” The king’s hand found her hair and yanked her head back. “I had the misfortune to lay eyes on you once, so I say with confidence, this is the best ending for all.”

  “Father, you can’t.” Calen’s plea came in a rasp. “Please, if you ever cared for me, if there is any affection left within you, please, please don’t do this. Slit my throat if you must, but don’t make me harm her. Don’t make me hurt the woman I love.”

  Laidra stiffened. She stared into the blackness.

  “She’s all I have,” Calen continued. “Please, don’t do this.”

  “The woman you love?” Gan turned from Laidra. “Have you even seen her face?”

  “Yes, and it doesn’t matter. She has a good heart. She’s kind. You can’t do this to her.”

  “You are pathetic.” Contempt dripped from Gan's words. “I made the right choice between you and your brother. You'd never be strong enough to rule.”

  Behind Calen, a thin line of yellow spread across the horizon. A lump rose in Laidra’s throat. The sun was coming.

  “Your highness, we need to get away,” one of the soldiers said.

  “Yes, but not too far. The girl might close her eyes and fail to trigger the curse.” Gan strode away. “Close enough to watch but far away enough that his first prey will certainly be her, and we can make our escape. I would not end this day the breakfast of a scaly beast.”

  The men dispersed. Laidra wiggled her shoulders, hips, and wrists, trying to loosen the cords. From the grunts and rustling, Calen was attempting the same.

  “Can you get free?” she asked.

  “I’m trying.”

  The ropes scraped the skin from her arms. The light behind him grew. Laidra swallowed. They had only minutes. She stopped struggling.

  “Calen, do you want me to close my eyes?”

  “It won’t do any good. Father is watching, so the curse will still be triggered.”

  “I know, that’s not what I meant.” She hung her head. “I meant I don’t have to watch. I’ll keep my eyes closed when you transform. It will be quick, and I’ll never see you like that.”

  “No, don’t give up!”

  Somewhere in the distance a bird warbled, rejoicing in the coming dawn. Sweat beaded her brow, cold in the morning air. Time was almost gone.

  “This isn’t your fault,” she said. “I don’t blame you. Calen, you need to listen to me. Whatever happens, I don’t blame you. I know you; you’re good and kind, and whatever happens next won’t be you.”

  “I shouldn’t have let you stay.” His words barely rose above the pounding surf and the whispering of the sea breeze. “It was selfish. I should’ve known you would get hurt. If I were truly good, truly kind, I would’ve sent you away rather than indulge my foolish desire for company.”

  “Don’t say that. It’s not true. I wanted to stay.” She cast a desperate glance at the rising sun. Oh gods, is anyone out there listening? Please, stop this! I’m not afraid of death, but not this way. Calen deserves better. I deserve better. Please, someone, hear us!

  “Ugh!” Calen groaned.

  Without thinking, her gaze snapped to him.

  As the pale dawn revealed his features, his eyes glinted green. His face contorted, and he writhed against the ropes.

  Her breath left her. Somehow, she couldn’t look away.

  “Laidy, you have to run. It’s—oh gods, I can’t stop it.”

  Laidra pushed her feet against the sand, trying to get leverage, but it slipped away beneath her. The cords still held.

  With a crack, the pole behind Calen snapped in two. He fell forward, but rather than rise, he twisted. Scales burst throu
gh his skin. He let forth a scream that turned into a hiss. His form expanded, lengthening and blurring until a snake as long as a felled tree lay stretched before her.

  In the distance, someone shouted. One of Gan’s lurking men, perhaps.

  The serpent’s scales glinted green. Rather than strike, however, it convulsed. It churned, sending sand flying. Its arrow-shaped head reared up, and Laidra flinched, anticipating a death blow. Instead, it latched onto its own tail with dagger-like fangs. Dark blood dripped upon the white sand, steam rising from where it fell.

  Laidra writhed against the ropes. She couldn’t let it happen this way; she couldn’t be the cause of Calen’s cursing. One of the cords gave way with a snap. She lurched forward, loosened but not free.

  The snake hissed and whipped towards her. Its gaze caught hers, fierce and devoid of Calen’s gentle spirit. Ice crept through her blood.

  It slithered closer, swaying back and forth.

  Tears dripped from her eyes. “Calen, please, I know you’re in there somewhere. You don’t want to do this.”

  The crest along the monster’s back stood on end. A forked tongue flicked in and out of its maw, still dripping with its own blood.

  A gust of wind slapped Laidra across the face, forcing her eyes to close. The breeze picked up, swirling cold and fresh with sea salt.

  Somewhere in the distance, men shouted. Laidra pried her eyes open. A wall of wind and sand surrounded her.

  The serpent's head darted from side to side. It rose from the ground to tower above her.

  “Calen, stop!” a voice wailed.

  Zephia stepped out of the cyclone, her hand extended. The serpent turned towards her, spitting venom.

  Laidra pulled one arm free. She pushed frantically at the ropes.

  “Laidra, use the pendant!” Zephia cried.

  The princess paused. The pendant? How?

  She drew the necklace from beneath her tunic. The opal glinted in the morning sun, blues, greens, and purples alive against the milk-white of the stone.

  “Calen!” she shouted.

  The snake whirled about. She braced herself for its strike. Instead, it stared, transfixed by the stone. The glow in its eyes subsided, and its movements followed the quivering of her hand as she held the gem aloft.

  She swept the stone back and forth in front of the creature. It tracked the movements, then after three heartbeats that stretched on forever, coiled up into itself and sank to the ground.

  The wind continued to circle them, creating a wall of sand and swift air. Muffled shouts rose from beyond the barrier, but Zephia’s magic held Gan and his men at bay.

  “I didn’t know it could do that,” Laidra whispered, gaping at the pendant.

  Zephia stepped around the sleeping snake and stroked the girl’s cheek. “I wouldn’t have sent you in defenseless, though I suppose I should’ve told you of the stone’s power. I had hoped that you wouldn’t have need of it. It doesn’t return him to his true form, only charms him to sleep.” She knelt beside her transformed son, her face pinched. “His scales are torn. Who did this to him?”

  “He did it to himself.” Laidra shuddered. She laid her hands across the gashes in Calen's skin. His blood burned her hands like acid but her powers fought back, healing her wounds even as they were made and closing his scales over his cuts.

  A sad smiled flitted across Zephia's lips. “There’s still some human in him when he’s under the curse's influence. I imagine that spoke to him, convincing him to harm himself rather than you.” She glanced at the wall of wind. “We need to get him to safety. Now that Gan has violated our truce, the island is a prison, not a refuge. He will attack again.”

  She strode to the water. A channel opened up in the cyclone, and a boat with sky-blue sails glided to shore.

  Laidra swallowed. “How do we move him?” In his serpent form, Calen had to weigh as much as a bull.

  Zephia smiled. “If the wind can move ships, it can move my son. Get to the boat. I would not have you harmed, and my powers can be hard to control when fully manifested.”

  The princess sprinted to the boat. A rope ladder hung over the side, and she scrambled up. The vessel was small, no more than two wagons in length, open and featureless on top with a hatch that led into a hold. The wind picked up, howling like a woman in mourning. Though she longed to watch, she hurried into the hold and cowered there against the shrieking gale. The timbers of the ship moaned as a gust of wind slammed into the boat. In the darkness, she leaned against the dry, rough wood of the wall for support. Her head brushed the beams of the ceiling, making her duck. The ship rocked and pitched until her stomach churned. Something bumped onto the deck above. The storm calmed to a gentle breeze, and the ship slipped into the water.

  Footsteps crossed the boards above her, and Zephia lowered herself into the hold.

  “The wind will guide us from here. My father is in the air today.” She sat beside the princess. “I am sorry for what you’ve gone through. When I brought you to my son, I had no idea that my husband would go to such lengths.” She squeezed Laidra’s hand. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I just—” Laidra closed her eyes. Calen had said he loved her. Was it true, or was it brought on by desperation in the face of his father’s attack? Even if he did love her, did he mean in that way? The way she longed for? The way she’d begun to care for him?

  “You can be honest with me, Laidra. You owe me nothing, and I know Calen would not have you unhappy. If you wish to go home, or anywhere, you will not be denied.”

  “No, I like being with Calen.” Laidra bit her bottom lip. “He’s so kind but so sad. I used to think I was the loneliest person in the world because my family didn’t want me, because I had to hide my face. Then I met him.” Her throat tightened. “Calen doesn’t deserve to live like he does.”

  “I know.” Zephia sighed. “The question is, what to do about that?” Her gaze penetrated Laidra.

  Laidra stared at her hands. Could she really save him? And would he really want to be saved by her? “How long do you think until he’s himself again?”

  “It’s hard to say. Not long now. I was planning to put on my blindfold and sit with him until he awakens.” Zephia stood. “Would you like to join me?”

  Laidra shook her head. “No. I need to think for a bit. When he does wake up, can you tell him I want to speak with him?”

  “Of course.” Zephia’s gentle hand skimmed through Laidra’s coarse hair. “You’re a good young woman, a strong heart. My son is lucky to have you as a friend.” She exited the hold.

  Alone, Laidra closed her eyes. She needed to offer herself to Calen. Whether by love he'd meant adoration or simple friendship, it didn't matter. If she could save him, she would, because seeing him lose himself to the curse would crush her soul. The implication of this decision, however, was that she would lie with him. In wedlock, yes, but still, he'd touch her, he'd caress her, know her. Warmth rose within her breast at the thought. She remembered lying beside him that night after Volen's attack, feeling his body against hers, his strong arms around her. The pleasure of that contact had been undeniable. What would it be like to give herself fully to him? Even just once, for the purpose of a cure? Her heart quickened at the thought. Yes, she would do this, and gods help her, she would savor it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Volen paced through the garden of the Olevan palace, pretending the eyes of his ever-present guard weren’t upon him. The scent of evergreen rose from the manicured cypresses that lined the walls like sentinels. He kicked a loose stone, wishing he knew how his father's plan had gone.

  Footsteps tapped against the tiled pathway, and he looked up as Princess Ellea approached.

  His breath caught in his chest, and his heart rate quickened. Indeed, she was a fine woman, shapely, smooth of skin, lustrous of hair and eye.

  She tilted her head. “You left so suddenly last time. My parents swore you intended to make an offer for my hand, but without a word, you departed wit
h only my cursed sister.”

  Her voice was steady, her expression calm. No anger or disappointment, just mild confusion.

  “Yes, well, something came up.” He shrugged. “Matters of state.”

  “And my sister? What happened to her?” She stopped before him, the faint scent of roses rising from her.

  “Do you care?” He snorted. “I didn’t sense any great love between you.”

  She shrugged. “Curiosity. There is a rumor flying about that you fed her to a beast. Mother and Father made a show of mourning, but in truth, it was a relief.” She plucked a flower from a nearby planter and crushed it. “She didn’t belong among us.”

  Volen raised an eyebrow. “Cold, but honest.” He snapped a pink rose from a bush and handed it to her.

  “I’ve never had a need for false faces.” She smiled, and heat rushed through him. “My own face suits me.”

  He considered her. “To my knowledge, your sister still lives.”

  “So you simply mislaid her?” Ellea laughed and tossed her hair. “Well, with that distraction out of the way, do you intend to make me your eventual queen?”

  “The idea has some appeal.” Volen touched her cheek. Her skin was smooth and warm, paler than his own but not as white as the Saxonian slave girl, more like polished wood than fresh milk. Still, she was flawless. “Perhaps you could convince me of your merit.” He winked.

  She scoffed and turned away. “My merit is obvious. You may call on me when you are ready to offer matrimony.” She dropped the rose on the path and kicked it into the grass before she departed, her hips swaying gently as she went.

  He let out a long breath.

  “Your highness!” A man ran into the courtyard. “A messenger dove brought this from your father.” He held out a thin leather tube, no longer than Volen’s thumb. The outside bore the Cartan royal seal, and thick red wax closed the end.

  Taking the tube, Volen broke the seal and pulled out the message. Calen escaped with the ugly one. The pretty one is your safest bet. Act quickly.

  Volen shuddered. Motioning his servant to follow, he hurried after Ellea.

  ***

  Calen moaned. Rough boards rubbed against his bare skin, but cloth rested over his shoulders, sheltering his body from the swirling breeze. The surface beneath him rocked. A ship?