Coiled

by H. L. Burke

  He stood slowly. Waves lapped against the sides of the boat, and gulls circled overhead. Taking a deep breath of briny air, he scanned the horizon and saw nothing but blue sky and sea. About halfway through his turn, he saw his mother sitting quietly with a blindfold over her eyes.

  Calen cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose you have any clothes for me?”

  A slight smile graced her lips. “Under the blanket. You know I try to be prepared.”

  Kicking away the blanket, he revealed a bundle of white cloth, a tunic and a loose pair of sailor’s trousers. No sandals this time. He picked up the clothes. What had happened? How had he gotten here?

  Flashes of a dark night, rough hands wrenching him from his bed, Laidra’s cries … Laidra!

  “Oh gods!” The cloth fell from his hands. “Laidra, I didn’t hurt her, did I?”

  Zephia held up her hand. “She’s fine.”

  He collapsed onto the deck, his head in his hands. “I almost did, though, didn’t I? What if I had?”

  “You didn’t. That’s all that matters.” She stood and glided to him. Her hand caressed his shoulder. “She’s in the hold. She asked me to tell you she wanted to talk.”

  He shook his head. “After last night, she must want to get as far from me as possible.”

  “You underestimate both her and yourself. Finish dressing and go to her.”

  Calen pulled on the trousers and the tunic, but a knot had wrapped around his stomach, tighter than a serpent’s coils. How close had he come to harming her? Clothed, he crossed the deck and swung down into the darkness.

  His eyes adjusted. Casks, scattered piles of fishnets, and spare sails lined the walls. On one such pile rested Laidra, her outline dark against the white cloth.

  Still dark enough not to trigger my curse. Maybe I should let her sleep.

  Even as he told himself to leave, his feet drew him forward. He lowered himself beside her and placed his hand on top of her head.

  She stirred and sat up. “Calen?”

  “Yes.” He swallowed. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  The princess rubbed her eyes. “You didn’t. I must’ve drifted off, that’s all. I meant to stay up and wait for you.”

  “After what happened last night, you could probably use the rest.” He hung his head. “Laidy, I’m so sorry. Even if I didn’t harm you, seeing me like that must’ve been horrific.”

  Her arms encircled his neck. “No, don’t say that.”

  His heart thumped as her cheek pressed against his. Yes, her skin was rough, but she was warm and felt solid in his embrace. He closed his eyes and savored her.

  “What my father did was unthinkable. I’ve always known he wasn’t my ally, but to drag me from my home? To involve you?” He squeezed her closer. “He crossed a line.”

  “I think we can both agree he’s awful, but let’s not talk about him right now.” Her fingers worked their way into his hair.

  Her sandalwood scent soothed his worry. “I don’t want to see you in danger, from me or anyone else, ever again.”

  They clung to each other, heartbeat to heartbeat. Her breath tickled his ear.

  “Calen … you said something when your father captured you.” Her voice wavered like a flame in the wind. “You called me the woman you love.”

  A feeling of calm swept over him. He had said that, hadn’t he? It wasn't how he’d planned to make the revelation, but it felt good to have opened his heart to her. “I did.”

  “You meant as a sister? A friend?”

  “I meant as you.” He rested his palm against her cheek. “As my Laidy.”

  Warm tears tickled his hand.

  “Your uncle told me something, and I need to know if it is true.” She swallowed. “Would taking me as your bride cure your curse?”

  He drew a deep breath. “Marriage to the appropriate princess has always been a suggested cure. If my uncle said it … well, not that he’s trustworthy, but he knows the curse better than any other. In this, I would believe him.”

  “Why haven’t you asked me, then? Is it—is it because—”

  “No!” he said, his tone sharper than intended.

  She flinched.

  He lowered his voice. “I didn’t ask because I feared you’d think I only wanted you because of the cure. You deserve better than to be used that way, and I hoped for time to woo you, in my own admittedly awkward way.” He chuckled.

  “I would let you,” she whispered. “I mean, I know I’m not lovely, but just because we—many princes take more than one bride. After you’re cured, if you find another who suits you, I wouldn’t hold you to our union.”

  His heart dropped to his stomach. “That’s exactly why I haven’t asked yet. Laidy, I have seen your face, and it doesn’t matter. If you would have me, I would make it forever, and I would relish every touch.” He pulled her onto his lap. “May I kiss you?”

  “Please.” Her voice squeaked, and he laughed.

  He pressed his lips to hers. Her body went limp in his arms except for her hands, which tightened in his short hair as if holding on for dear life. Their breath mingled, warm and sweet, and all he wanted was to hold her closer, to make her believe what he felt.

  The salt of her tears tainted the moment. He drew her head against his shoulder and rocked her. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t cry.”

  “I don’t know why I’m crying, though.” She nestled closer. “Oh Calen, I don’t think I have ever been this happy. I was at the point where it didn’t matter if you loved me because the way I felt about you was strong enough to overcome the gap.” She kissed his cheek, tracing his ear with her gentle touch.

  A pleasant shiver cut through him.

  “Now, not only to love you, but to be loved in return?” She let out a long breath, her body sinking deeper into his. “It’s more than I ever dared to hope for.”

  They sat in the darkness. The ship rocked beneath them, water sloshing against the sides. If he let it, the swaying would have easily soothed him to sleep.

  “What now?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I suppose sooner is better than later in this particular set of circumstances, especially if we don’t want to risk another attempt by my father.”

  “What do we need to do?” Her embrace tightened.

  His pulse quickened. “Well, it has to be official, but I’m sure my mother can see to that. She’s a queen and the daughter of a god. At least one of those has to grant the power to oversee a wedding.” He untangled himself from her arms. “I’ll be right back.”

  Calen crossed to the hatch. “I’m coming up,” he called. He waited, counting to ten before sticking his head through the deck above.

  His mother stood in the middle of the deck, blindfold on and a knowing smile on her lips.

  He laughed. “I know; you told me so.”

  “I didn’t see how she could help but love you.”

  Calen walked to her. The boards pitched beneath him, but he felt light enough to fly. He embraced his mother. “Can we have a ceremony of some sort right away?”

  “Yes, I think I can manage that. She touched his arm. “You know, this seals your brother’s fate. For a long time, I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to reach for your own happiness, knowing what it would cost him.”

  He frowned and dropped his eyes. “It isn’t ideal, but with what he and father were willing to do to Laidra, it is hard to regret what I am going to do to Volen.”

  She nodded. “Perhaps the curse can be lifted someday. I won’t abandon him; though, I suspect your father might, once this is done.”

  “I hope you find a way.” He stroked her cheek.

  A jarring pain shot down his spine, driving him to his knees. Calen gasped.

  “What’s wrong?” Zephia’s hands found his shoulders. “What happened?”

  Cold sweat beaded on his skin. His hands shook, and terror clutched him. He stumbled to the rail, searching for another ship, for someone who might’ve sighted them and triggered the cu
rse. Another jolt, like spikes rising from his very bones, knocked him to the deck. The rough boards grated the skin from his palms.

  “Calen!” Zephia flailed for him.

  Scales jutted from his back, ripping through his flesh. He writhed. “Mother, it’s—it’s too late. I’m changing.”

  She tore the blindfold from her eyes and stared, wide-eyed, at him. “Gods, no! We need more time.”

  Fire blazed in Calen’s mind, consuming his rational thoughts. Fear, anger, and hunger spiked within him. His spine stretched with a sickening crack, and he thrashed on the deck.

  Tears ran down Zephia’s cheeks.

  “Tell Laidy I’m sorry,” he rasped. Fangs burst from his mouth.

  A sob escaped, and with it, his last shred of humanity. He leapt from the ship into the cold waves. The shock of the water gave way to an instinct to swim. The shore, a warm place to lie, hot-blooded food … and green eyes. Green eyes filled with loneliness. Green eyes he’d never see again.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Laidra sat in the darkness, her skin still warm from Calen's touch. She breathed deeply of the cedar planks of the hold. Happiness, excitement, and a touch of fear danced within her, a perfect combination of sensations she wished she could hold on to forever.

  She smiled. I’m going to be Calen’s bride.

  A muffled cry from above froze her heart. Laidra leapt up, smacking her head on a low beam. Pain radiated through her skull, and she collapsed. She probed the throbbing spot, her gift shrinking away the growing bump. Perhaps the cry had only been a gull.

  Another shout, his mother, calling to him.

  Laidra rushed towards the hatch but froze at the bottom of the ladder. She had nothing to cover her eyes. What if she triggered the curse? Even if she managed to keep her eyes closed, what help would she be to him blind?

  Thuds, crashes, then a splash. Unable to hold back any longer, she burst out of the hold. Even though her eyes were closed, she held her hands over them when she reached the deck, for good measure.

  “Calen? Zephia? What’s wrong?”

  Silence. Only the wind flapping against the sails and the constant roll of the waves. Her stomach tightened.

  “Calen?” she whimpered.

  “You can open your eyes, child.” Zephia’s voice trembled even as Laidra’s body was beginning to.

  Laidra removed her hands. Zephia leaned against the rail, her back to the princess, gaze fixed on the horizon.

  “We were too late,” the queen said. “His brother must’ve cured himself, probably with the aid of your sister. So close, but still too late.”

  Something within Laidra shattered. She rushed to the rail and shouted, “Calen! Calen!” In the distance, something green flashed among the white-capped waves then disappeared. She sought it but saw nothing. “No.” Her muscles turned to water, and she sank, her head against her knees. “He’s like that forever now?”

  Zephia sat beside her. “His uncle claimed once done, it could not be undone.”

  A sob wracked her body. “Is any of him left? Does he even know who he is?”

  The queen sighed. “It is hard to say. Calen was uncertain how the curse affected his mind. He claimed to have no control over it or any memory of what he did under its influence, but when in its grasp, he still tore at himself rather than harm you.” Pride glinted through the tears in her eyes. “A heart as strong as his may not be so easily defeated.”

  Laidra shut her eyes and willed the tears to stop. Every breath she took ached, but she couldn’t just sit there sobbing. “Is there any way I can help him?”

  “While I’m not giving up, I don’t know what we can do besides hope and pray.”

  The princess swallowed. It had been a vain hope, but she needed something to do, something to give her a purpose or a place to go. There was nothing for her back in Oleva. In the short time she’d known him, Calen had become not only her best friend but her home as well.

  “My son loves you.” Zephia’s hand found hers. “Laidra, you aren’t alone. I know how your parents treated you must’ve left a sour taste in your mouth, but please, stay with me. Let me be your family.” Zephia drew Laidra into an embrace. “I can't—” The queen's voice cracked, her face pinching in pain. “I can't lose you, too. You're all I have left of my son.”

  A wave of grief washed over Laidra, stealing her breath and blurring her vision. She collapsed against Zephia and surrendered to the pain. Clinging to each other, the two women wept.

  ***

  By the time the wind guided their ship to harbor, Laidra’s grief had subsided to a low simmer. Everything about her was dulled, as if covered in a haze. The cries of the gulls and shouts of the fishermen mending their nets sounded muffled. The light of the sun shone weaker, and the boisterous waves calmed to a slow lapping.

  Zephia emerged from the hold wearing a long dark cape over her pristine tunic. She held out a similar garment for Laidra who took it, revealing a smaller bit of ivory cloth in Zephia’s hand. A veil?

  “Ideally, you wouldn’t have to hide, but it’s hard to know how folk will react to you.” The queen sighed. “While we travel, I would suggest not drawing attention to ourselves.”

  Laidra flushed but covered her face. The queen handed her one of two bundles of supplies, and they left the vessel.

  The wind had brought their boat onto a beach where it sank into the wet sand at the shoreline, a stone’s throw up the coast from the fishermen. A series of stone and mud huts sat on the grassy hillside overlooking the bay. Sheep and goats grazed among them like clouds drifting across the sky.

  “They’re watching us.” Laidra nodded towards the fishermen, most of whom had put down their nets to shamelessly stare in their direction. “Maybe if you didn’t wish to attract attention, you should’ve avoided sailing into port on a wind-navigated boat.”

  Zephia laughed.

  Laidra almost smiled, but the mirth only distracted from her sadness for a heartbeat. Then it stirred a memory of Calen’s gentle, self-deprecating humor.

  I never actually saw him smile. If only I could have that memory.

  “I chose this harbor for its seclusion.” Zephia led her up the beach towards the village. “It’s far enough from the Cartan capital that my face will not be known, but near enough to Calen’s island that we might catch word of him.” She paused and stared at the crashing waves then sighed and continued on. “I have some coin. We will buy food and shelter for the night.”

  “And Calen?” Laidra glanced at the water, half-hoping to see his coils break the surface.

  “It has always been his greatest fear to harm others in his cursed form.” Zephia’s lips pursed. “If we find him, we can use the pendant to calm his bestial instincts. It won’t cure him, but we may be able to prevent his nightmares from coming to pass.”

  Laidra hung back while Zephia negotiated with a village elder for lodging in an abandoned hut and food for their dinner. The man eyed the lurking princess and the imperious woman, probably informed of their unconventional arrival by local gossip. Still, he cut them what Zephia considered a reasonable deal.

  The hut was bare except for a cold fire pit and dust. As soon as they entered, a swirling breeze swept across the floor, pushing the filth into a corner.

  Zephia nodded approvingly.

  Laidra unwrapped the bundle Zephia had entrusted to her and laid out blankets, a clay cooking pot, and a skin of water. Zephia presented a basket of flatbread and goat cheese. She spread the soft white cheese on a slab of bread and held it out to Laidra.

  The princess shook her head. “I can’t. Not now.” Her stomach tightened to a sand grain.

  Zephia’s brow furrowed. “You need your strength. Calen wouldn’t want—”

  “Don’t do that.” Laidra squeezed her eyes shut. “Don’t tell me what he’d want, that I should be happy, to move on, to live my life. He’s not here. I’m here, and I just want to be sad right now. I have lost the man I love. I think it’s my right to be sad.
”

  “Of course.” Zephia patted her shoulder.

  Hot tears pushed their way from Laidra’s tightly closed eyes. She hadn’t meant to snap at Zephia. It was selfish. Yes, she had lost Calen, but she’d only had him for a few weeks. Zephia was his mother, knowing him since before his birth. So selfish.

  “I’m sorry.” She opened her eyes and took Zephia’s hand. “I don’t know how you can be so strong. You have more reason than I do to sit and weep.”

  “No, not more. Love doesn’t fit on a scale for us to say whose has more weight.” Zephia’s shoulders slumped, and she leaned against the rough plaster of the wall. “I’ve known since Calen was a babe that this fate was likely for him. In some ways, it is an old wound. Yours is fresh and bleeding.” She rubbed her hand over her forehead before giving Laidra a sad smile. “Still, Laidra, please take some food. Not for Calen, but for me. I lost my son. I would not see my daughter waste away.”

  Laidra’s heart thumped. The sincerity in Zephia’s voice rang of Calen. The princess opened and shut her mouth then nodded and took the bread. The sharp flavor of the cheese awakened her senses more than she’d have liked.

  I’d rather be numb. I’d rather not be at all. Oh Calen, a lifetime with you wouldn’t be enough. How can I be satisfied with a few fleeting weeks?

  Practicalities. One minute, one choice at a time. That could work. That could keep her moving forward, even when her heart wished to sink to the bottom of the sea.

  “What do we do now? I can’t go back to Oleva—I don’t wish to, even if they’ll have me.” She took another bite. Her stomach didn’t want the food, but the simple act of chewing gave her focus. “I can’t imagine you will return to Carta. Do you have another home?”

  “I have dwellings. We will not want materially.” Zephia spread one of the blankets on the floor and motioned to it. “Get some rest. Tomorrow we’ll seek out Calen and do our best to bring him comfort.”

  Not tired but unwilling to argue with Zephia after she’d been so kind, Laidra stretched out and closed her eyes. She tried to imagine Calen’s arms about her, his kind voice, his hesitant chuckle. The memories of him grew stronger, wrapping around her like an embrace. She gave into the illusion and fell asleep, almost convinced she could smell his scent of cedar and sea air.