Legs.
That she must learn to walk upon.
* * *
For five days, Eiric rested in the bed he’d inherited from his parents. The white walls of the cottage wrapped around him, the breeze rustled the thatch overhead, reassuring him that he was safe.
The villagers brought him broth and helped him rise to use the chamber pot. Biddy was there more often than most, but Eiric did not have the energy to turn away. Fevers wrung him, and a thousand aches from being tumbled against the rocks below the cliffs.
“It’s a miracle he survived,” the people whispered. “He is truly blessed by the gods.”
He did not feel blessed, but cursed. Whenever he closed his eyes to rest, which was often, nightmares of the crashing sea sucked him under.
Again and again he fought to turn his boat, heard the sickening crack of the hull on stone, felt the hungry cold grasp of the waves. The only thing that made his dreams bearable was the memory of a young woman’s face, looking down at him.
Her eyes were the warm blue of the sea at midday. Her long hair held brightness and shadow, tangled with sea foam. Her skin was pale, her hands upon his brow cool and welcome.
Each time he woke, Eiric was filled with a pang of loss. Had he imagined her, or had she rescued him from the storm’s hunger?
A smaller, more urgent loss pained him as well, and that was the loss of his boat. He would have to go back to using the small leather coracle that had been his first vessel. No more venturing out into the deep deep waters, where the catch was best. No more room to stow his finest nets. He feared it would be a lean winter.
Biddy would feed you, his thoughts offered up.
He could not think of it—not when the pearl-skinned girl haunted his dreams. And his wakings.
A week unspooled past, and Eiric finally woke feeling… not rested, exactly, but well enough to get out of bed and see if anything salvageable had washed ashore in the tiny cove that had saved him.
He took a hunk of bread stuffed with cheese, a skin of water, and a stout walking stick that had belonged to his Da, and set out over the headland. The sun warmed his shoulders and the top of his head, and he felt as though his life might be worth living, after all.
It took him some time to reach the narrow path cutting through the bracken that led to the tiny beach. He’d had to rest often, and twice refilled his water skin from the small stream that crisscrossed his path.
His lunch called to him, but he’d be better off saving it for after he’d visited the shore. A reward for the hike back up the steep trail, which, in truth, he was not looking forward to.
For now, though, gravity aided him and soon the crash of the waves against the cliffs filled the air. It took all his concentration to keep his feet under him as he made the last descent to the sliver of sand below.
His boots hit the sand and he stood a moment catching his balance and his breath. Then lost them both when he saw he was not alone.
She was there—the maiden who haunted his thoughts, sitting huddled against a rock, facing the sea. Her long hair covered her like a cloak, but she was naked, the pearly skin of her limbs shining in the sun.
Heartbeat thundering in his ears, Eiric glanced about the little cove, looking for her clothing, or her selkie skin, anything that would help him learn what kind of creature she was. For though she appeared mortal, he knew deep in his soul that she was a magical being.
Sensing his presence, she spun awkwardly about and fixed him with her blue, blue eyes.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. “I won’t harm you, I swear it.”
He could not bear it if she fled back into the waves.
To his relief, she gave him a tentative smile and made no move toward the shining water.
“I’m Eiric,” he said, little caring that he might be giving his name to a faerie. Even if she were a fey maiden, he feared he’d already lost his heart to her. Anything more was a trifle. “Do you understand me?”
She nodded, and the beauty in her face made him weak at the knees.
“Have you a name you go by?” he asked.
Again she nodded. Then, with a stricken look, she brought her hand up to her throat and shook her head.
“You cannot speak?”
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
“Well then.” Eiric settled on the sand. “Still, you and I might converse together in other ways.”
A quick nod of her head.
“Where have you come from?”
She turned, hair slipping off one pale shoulder, and gestured at the sea. So, it was as he thought.
“Might I call you Muireann? It means ‘sea fair’ in my language. And you are very fair.”
She blushed slightly and dropped her gaze to the sand. Eiric was hard pressed not to stare openly at her nakedness. Instead, he pulled off his shirt and handed it to her.
“You might put this on, if you like.”
Giving him a smile as quick as a silver fish, she held the garment up, studying it a moment before pulling it over her head. She had difficulty with the arm holes, and he reached to help her, drawing one fine-boned hand through the sleeve, and then the other.
“You’re not used to clothing, I take it.”
He was rewarded with another of her darting smiles.
“I think…” He stared at the waves gnashing upon the rocks. “I think you saved me, sea-fair maiden. Was that you?”
In answer, she rose to her knees a bit unsteadily, then cupped his face between her hands. He held very still, as though she were a wild thing he did not want to frighten. Gods, but she was beautiful. And strong, and brave, by all indications.
Softly, she kissed him on the forehead.
Her touch was enough to undo him. Eiric gathered her into his arms and held her close. Her heart beat fast, and her skin was cool, but not cold.
Gently, quietly, they kissed, and his heart, at last, felt as though it had come home.
* * *
Muireen could scarce believe her luck. Her fisherman had come to seek her out! Joy surged through her in great waves, despite the awkward feel of her new body. And though she could not speak, they understood one another well enough.
She sat, nestled against his side, and marveled at the warmth of his human body. Together, they watched the waves come in, until the tide nibbled at their toes. With a sigh, Eiric turned to look at her.
“The sun’s soon to be setting. I suppose you must return to the sea now, fair maid, though my heart weeps at losing you.”
She shook her head at him.
“No?” His eyes widened. “Is it possible you might come live with me, and be my bride?”
She hesitated, but there was no way to explain that she must return to the sea in a year’s time. That was a dim cloud on the horizon. After all, a year was a very long while.
She answered him with a kiss.
“Then, my love, we’d best away before dark. We can come another time to search for the wreckage of my boat—if any still remains.”
She nodded, and let him pull her to her feet. For a moment she tottered, but with his help found her balance. Walking was more difficult, though, and she let out a little hiss of pain when she stubbed her toe on an outcropping.
“Sit here a moment.” He guided her to a rock, then bent and took off his foot coverings.
They came in two parts, she was interested to observe. Mortal clothing was very strange.
“I fear my boots will be too large, and trip you further in any case. But my socks will give you some protection.”
He held out the cloth wrappings, then helped her don them. They were warm from his body, and smelled rather strongly, but she was glad of the layer between her tender new skin and the ground.
“Now, Muireann, we must climb to the top of the headland and walk a fair bit before reaching my village. Luckily, it will be dark, so we can avoid the worst of the questions until tomorrow. Are you ready?”
; She nodded. No matter what difficulties lay ahead, and she was certain there would be many, it would be worth it with her fisherman by her side.
* * *
A moon passed, and though the villagers still treated Muireen with suspicion, they had come to accept she was there to stay. All except the flame-haired Biddy, who spat and made the sign of protection whenever their paths crossed.
Together, Muireen and Eiric had managed to pull his wrecked boat from the rocks. Paired with another ruined craft, they’d cobbled together an ugly but seaworthy boat that could take the two of them over the waves.
For though Eiric tried to protest, Muireen was determined to go out with him upon the sea. She’d let him fish alone in his small coracle, and helped him gut and salt the fish he returned with, but she refused to waste their precious time by pining on land, waiting for him.
It was an advantage of not being able to speak, that she simply demonstrated her intent with actions. Though he pleaded, Muireen refused to leave her place at the prow of the boat, and so they set out together.
They worked well together, plying the nets and taking in the fish, And if once or twice Muireen spotted the trailing hair of a mer warrior beneath their boat, she was not alarmed.
No doubt her father had been full of wrath when he’d discovered her bargain with the Sea Witch—but such things could not be broken. Instead, it seemed he’d sent his guard to keep watch on her.
In the evenings, Eiric played his whistle as they sat before the fire in their little cottage. Muireen learned how to cook, though she was ever wary of the flames. She learned to sew, and to knit ungainly socks and sweaters that, while not lovely to behold, kept them warm as the night darkened.
After two moons, she was with child.
“Please jump the broom with me,” Eiric said. “We should be handfasted. If not for your sake, then for the babe.”
Muireen had refused each time he’d spoken of it before. She was far more comfortable going from cottage to sea and back, content in the simple life they’d woven for themselves. Putting herself on display before the villagers made the old fear rise, that they’d see her as a mer creature and kill her on the spot.
But for him, and the little creature now swimming in her belly, she agreed.
The day of the ceremony dawned bright and clear. Eiric and Muireen broke their fast, and then he turned to her, smiling.
“My love, I’ll leave you now to make ready. Orla has kindly agreed to come help you prepare.”
They kissed, and then a knock came at the cottage door. Shy, dark-haired Orla stepped in, carrying a dress the color of sea foam at sunrise.
“I brought you this. It’s been in my family for two generations. I thought I might be wed in it, but…” She glanced at Eiric, regret in her eyes. “Anyhow, I’d like you to wear it, Muireann.”
Muireen brought her hands together and bowed in thanks. It was very generous. Perhaps—the thought stabbed her heart—perhaps in ten months, when she was gone, Orla might take her place.
Or perhaps not. The love between herself and Eiric was a strong, true bond. She feared he might go mad from losing her, which was part of why she’d refused to wed him. But now there was the babe.
Smiling, she set her hand over her belly. At least there would be some part of her remaining when she returned to the sea.
The ceremony was held on the headland, the bright ocean shining beneath. Eiric said the words, and Muireen emphatically nodded her agreement. Together they let the priestess tie a braided cord about their clasped hands, then jumped the broom while the villagers cheered.
That night they feasted on mutton and ale, and Muireen felt, for a small time, part of the human world.
* * *
Despite her insistence on going out in the boat with him, the time came when Muireen’s belly was too large for her to be of much use. Too, a melancholy had settled in her soul. Only three months remained until she must leave Eiric forever and return to the sea. Ah, and the Sea Witch would reap well her harvest of tears, for already the sorrow of parting felt unbearable.
Eiric attributed her moods to the state of her body, and was ever patient and kind with her. If he feared that the babe growing within her was less than human, he never spoke a word.
She worried, though, with thoughts that kept her awake and fretting into the cold nights. What if the child was born with fins, or a tail? What if she and the baby were cast out, or killed?
Be well, she thought fiercely at the little life inside her. Be human.
From one day to the next, spring came upon the land. The days grew longer and a warm wind blew over the sea.
And Muireen bore a baby girl, with no fins or tail, and her father’s dark hair.
“We shall call her Brea,” her father said, holding her up and smiling bright as the dawn.
Caught between great joy and great sorrow, Muireen smiled at him through her tears, and nodded. Now that her baby, her daughter, was born, she knew the pain of leaving would be doubled.
But for the month that remained to her upon the land, she could not let that shadow fall over her days. So, with great effort, she pushed it away. Instead, she concentrated on all the perfect moments: Eiric’s smile and the scent of him, the soft skin of her daughter, the warmth the three of them made, curled up together in their bed.
The moon waned, and went dark, and that night Muireen dreamed of the Sea Witch.
“Tomorrow,” the witch said. “Tomorrow you come back to the sea. If you are not in the water’s embrace by sunset, your legs will disappear and you will be revealed for what you truly are. And you will be killed for it.”
Muireen woke, shivering, and knew the witch spoke truly. Even if Eiric tried to protect her, he would not be able to stand against the villagers. In her mer form she would be too strange, too frightening. They would take her life, and little Brea’s as well.
When Eiric woke and made ready to go out to his boat, she caught his arm and shook her head at him. Don’t go.
“What’s this, love?” He gazed down tenderly at her.
She touched her heart, then his, then glanced down at the babe sleeping in her arms. This was their last day together.
“Aye, I love you and our family with all my heart. But I must go out and fish.”
She took his arm again, all her sorrow rising in her eyes, and he relented.
“Very well. But only for today.”
She gave a small nod. Yes. Only that day—for tomorrow she would be gone forever.
She packed a lunch, put Brea in her sling, and they roved out over the headland. Eiric collected a bouquet of wildflowers for her, and she kissed him, wishing that she could speak of what was to come.
They ate, drank cool water from the stream, and she led him to the path down to the tiny beach where they’d first met. The first shadows from the lowering sun began to fall across the land.
“Should we not be returning home?” he asked.
She shook her head and started down the path. How comfortable her legs had become in a year, how deftly she stepped around stones, feeling herself balance upright in the air. Even carrying the small weight of her baby, it seemed a simple thing, to stride across the land.
When they reached the sliver of sand, she sat, facing the ocean.
Eiric settled beside her, one strong arm around her shoulders as she fed Brea for the last time. When the baby was finished, Muireen handed her to her father, her arms aching with loss.
The banners of the clouds were beginning to turn silvery orange. Heart aching, Muireen stood and stripped off her clothing: shawl, blouse, skirts and shoes. She unbraided her hair until it fell loose about her shoulders, brushing her back and belly.
Eiric watched, his gaze solemn.
When she went to her knees before him, a single tear slipped from his eye.
“Ah, beloved.” His voice was choked with sorrow. “Is this our end, then? Must you return to the sea and leave me cruelly alone?”
She set her han
d on Brea’s head, then looked deep into the eyes of her fisherman. Be strong, for our daughter, she thought, even as her heart was breaking.
Their lips met. The sun dipped lower, kissing the horizon.
Then Muireen pulled away and flung herself back, into the arms of the sea. Pain ripped through her as her legs cleaved together. She gasped, and in that moment found her voice.
“Remember me, Eiric,” she called. “You are my true love.”
“As you are mine, sea maid.” He rose, cradling their child in his arms. “Will I ever see you again?”
“Look for me in the bright dance of the waves. In the foam upon the shore. Where you go, there, too, my heart goes.”
Uncaring of the pain—what was one more stab when her soul was shattering?—she hooked her fingers beneath one of the scales of her newfound tail and ripped it free. Even as a dark current swirled in to bear her away to the Sea Witch, she flung the scale to shore.
The last thing she heard was the sobbing of her husband, the thin wail of their child.
* * *
“Oh, such bounty,” crooned the Sea Witch as she captured Muireen’s tears. “Not only mourning the loss of your love but of your baby. Such power.”
At last Muireen pulled away from the witch, shuddering, her grief drained dry.
“A pity that’s the last of it.” The Sea Witch held up the vial containing Muireen’s sorrow. “Or is it? Tell me—where is your missing scale?” She pointed at the gap in Muireen’s tail.
“I threw it to him,” Muireen said, defiantly.
“Ahh. Listen then, and I will offer you joy and despair in equal measure. Every year, upon this anniversary, I can use my magic to let you see the world of the mortals, via the scale you left behind. I hope your husband keeps it safe and close by.”
“He will.”
“Then you will be able to gaze upon him, and your child, for a brief time And when you say farewell and once again the anguish falls upon you, I will take it for my own uses. Do you agree?”
Once Upon A Kiss: Seventeen Romantic Faerie Tales Page 21