Captivate

by Vanessa Garden

  Finally, I exhaled.

  Sylvia clapped and I joined her. It truly was one of the most amazing dance performances I’d ever seen, weirdness aside.

  But there was no way I was going to perform this dance in front of the city. My stomach churned with nausea. I wouldn’t even do something so excruciatingly embarrassing in the privacy of my own bedroom at home.

  ‘Stephanie has kindly swapped partners for the week, so from now on you will practice with Philippe as your partner. You will be dancing together on the night of your performance, and Stephanie will be dancing with another. There will be twelve pairs,’ Sylvia announced grandly.

  There was no way I was doing this dance. Not ever.

  Sylvia, perhaps sensing my freak out, brushed a strand of my hair from my face and tucked it behind my ear. I flinched. Only my mother and nana ever tucked my hair behind my ear like that. I wanted to scream in her face.

  ‘It’s only a dance and Philippe will tailor the dance moves to suit your innocence. You’ll simply be dancing, without all the provocation.’ She tilted her head to the side and smiled.

  I squirmed uneasily beneath her vivid-green gaze.

  ‘The people will love you, Miranda. Everybody is beside themselves with excitement to meet the girl who is soon to be their queen and, hopefully, bearer of the first baby in Marin.’

  A glimmer of something—her vulnerability, perhaps her own longing for a baby in Marin—shone in her eyes before she quickly looked away.

  Philippe coughed pointedly from the corner, snapping Sylvia back into business mode, and soon Stephanie was instructing me on the solo part of the dance. We did it, step by step, and the more I focused on the technical side of the dance, the more I completely threw myself into it and found that I enjoyed dancing. It made me feel less like a captive and more like a girl away on some kind of theatre camp. It was even starting to get fun until we got to the part where I had to pretend my womb was empty and plead to the heavens. Stephanie kept getting snarky at me when I didn’t get it right.

  ‘If you hate my dancing so much, then I won’t do it!’ I shouted at her.

  ‘That will be enough for tonight,’ announced Sylvia, just in time. Stephanie caught her breath, and with obvious reluctance offered a hand to help me up from the floor.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, her normally pouty lips a thin line. ‘I can’t help but hate you,’ she muttered under her breath.

  Before I could respond, Philippe came and took Stephanie into a protective hold. He offered me an apologetic smile again, but flames of anger still licked my insides. How ridiculous and presumptuous of Stephanie. Of them all. What if I had some kind of medical problem I didn’t know about yet and couldn’t physically have children? How could she hate me for a capacity that I wasn’t even certain I had yet? By the time I’d worked myself up enough to have a go at them they were already gone, down the steps leading towards the city, leaving me with Sylvia and the musicians, who were deep in discussion.

  At the balcony I took a breather to calm my nerves and enjoy the view.

  My eyes followed Stephanie and Philippe down the steps until they were out of sight, and then drifted across the glimmering water channels to watch the little gondola-like boats glide along the water like tiny twigs.

  Laughter and hushed voices drew my gaze back up the steps where I spied Robbie and his date returning. I hid behind a nearby potted shrub and watched them.

  The woman whispered something in his ear and he laughed in response. When they reached the stop of the steps, she planted a kiss right on his lips. He kissed her back and they stood, whispering and giggling.

  I sighed, the endorphins I’d earned through dancing dropping to my feet. Robbie having a girlfriend just decreased my chances of getting out of here any time soon. How was I ever going to convince him to want to return to his real home when he had a supermodel for a girlfriend here in Marin?

  I waited patiently for them to head into the castle, but they kept standing there, chatting. I was shivering with cold and needed to get inside, but the last thing I wanted was more smirks and pity about how gross I looked in my leotard.

  They started to move in my direction, and I wedged myself into the shrub as deeply as I could go, so that my head was buried in foliage. I nearly gouged out my right eye on a branch.

  ‘Miranda,’ Robbie’s voice was light with amusement. ‘What are you doing in there?’

  I extracted myself from the shrub, cringing, and paused to detangle my hair from the branches. Bits of my leotard were also snagged by twigs. I took care not to tear any holes, not that it mattered: I might as well have been nude in that thing. When I looked up, the girl was smirking and twirling bits of Robbie’s light brown hair around her slender fingers.

  He shirked away from her touch and reached out to pull some random leaves from my hair, like a mother hen, before tossing them over the balcony.

  ‘I miss home and the land and the trees,’ I said dryly, ‘so I was giving this shrub a hug.’

  Robbie half-smiled in a sad sort of way, but the girl gave me daggers.

  I ignored her and stared at Robbie’s handsome face. The hollows beneath his eyes had vanished, and he looked like he’d finally caught up with his sleep. He seemed almost happy—except for the funeral eyes he was giving me.

  He cares already…just keep him caring…

  The endorphins climbed back up. I needed to speak to Robbie alone. Not only did I want to tell him what I had found in Frano Tollin’s room, but, after Sylvia’s shark threat, I needed to convince him right then to take me home. The sooner the better.

  I pretended to yawn, putting a hand over my mouth.

  ‘Oh well, I’m off to bed. All that dancing’s made me tired,’ I said with theatrical sleepiness. ‘But, I might choose a good book from the library first,’ I said, widening my eyes at Robbie for emphasis.

  ‘Good for you,’ the girl said, before tossing her golden hair about needlessly.

  Robbie frowned, ignoring my hint. ‘Goodnight.’

  Hopefully it was all an act, I thought. Hopefully he would come.

  * * *

  After a warm bath that soothed my aching muscles, I threw on a comforting pair of black tracksuit pants and an oversized T-shirt I’d found in my wardrobe.

  While slicking my hair back into a ponytail, I ran to the library, and, once there, took the second Harry Potter book and threw myself at the chaise. My eyes focused on the words, but this time I couldn’t concentrate.

  With a sigh I set the book down across my chest and started to fret. Was this the right thing to do? Asking Robbie to meet me here? Was it too soon to ask for my freedom? Would he keep my request a secret, or would he rush off to inform Marko?

  I banged the book against my forehead. Marko was like a brother to him, so of course he would tell. How could I have been so stupid to think otherwise?

  Sitting up with a start, I remembered the book Robbie had plucked from the shelf earlier—the book I hadn’t gotten to see—and darted across the room. I found it easily: he’d left the spine sticking out a fraction.

  The hairs on the back of my neck prickled at the title.

  The Collector.

  We’d read it in year ten English.

  The girl’s name in the story was Miranda, like me. She was taken, like me.

  I shoved the book back into its slot and headed back to my room.

  I was going to make sure my story ended differently.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I AM HOME again. Mum is sitting on the edge of my bed, stroking my hair.

  ‘Mum!’ I call out to her, my heart contracting with joy at seeing her again. But she frowns and starts to gently shake me by my shoulders.

  ‘Wake up, Miranda,’ she whispers.

  ‘Miranda.’ Mum’s voice sounded deeper.

  ‘Miranda, wake up.’

  My eyes flew open to find Robbie calling my name, his face hovering above mine.

  ‘What are you doing in here?’ I as
ked, confused for a moment.

  ‘I heard you crying.’

  I brought a hand to my face and found my cheeks were wet.

  ‘Oh. I was dreaming.’ I sighed and rubbed the remaining tears from my eyes. ‘You didn’t show in the library. I needed to tell—’

  ‘Marko needed me to run an important errand.’ He sat on the mattress at the foot of the bed and tapped his feet against the floor. ‘You can tell me now.’

  I decided to tell him about Frano Tollin’s room first. His reaction would be a good test of how trustworthy he was—a prelude to the freedom topic. I wasn’t about to risk a swim with the sharks on just anybody.

  ‘Swear not to tell anybody?’

  Robbie stared at me, his eyes brightening with interest. ‘I promise.’

  ‘It’s about Frano Tollin.’

  ‘What about him?’ I could tell by the rise in Robbie’s voice that he was more than a little curious.

  ‘Today, after lunch, I managed to break into his room… sort of accidentally.’

  ‘How is that accidental?’ he asked, a trace of a smile on his lips. ‘So that’s why Marko was locking the room when I saw you this evening.’

  ‘Yes. Anyway, I found something—a book of drawings.’ I made a grimace. ‘Drawings of human females slowly metamorphosing into mermaids.’

  Robbie let out a long whistle and rubbed the back of his neck.

  ‘There have always been rumours…but Marko hates talking about his grandfather, so I’ve never learned the truth.’

  The room felt cold all of a sudden, and I drew the covers up to my neck. ‘Cutting women up to turn them into…half of a fish. What kind of a sicko does that?’

  Robbie stared down at his boots and rubbed his chin.

  ‘I know. It’s sick. The story goes that Frano Tollin started to obsess about mermaids from a young age. Apparently, his father swore he saw one once, in the Adriatic Sea.’ Robbie sighed. ‘Marko thinks Damir takes after his grandfather. That’s why he doesn’t want Damir to rule in his place. He doesn’t want the people of Marin to suffer at his hands.’ Robbie gave me a pointed look. ‘So now you understand why he has to do this…thing.’

  ‘Actually, I do understand. But I still think he’s gone about it the wrong way. He could have taken the time out to go searching for a woman on land himself. Explain his situation somehow…’ My voice trailed off when I realised no woman, no matter how lonely, would say yes to a man who said he was the king of an underwater civilisation. It was too unbelievable to contemplate.

  There was about a minute of heavy silence, during which I could hear my own ragged breaths interrupted every few seconds by Robbie’s deep, lamenting sighs.

  ‘Is there a chance that one of Damir’s men could get into the castle? Or Damir himself?’ I asked, now fully understanding the threat of such a man, should he gain the powerful position of king.

  ‘It’s unlikely, giving the tightened security on the outskirts of the castle, and especially now that Marko’s banned all males from living within the castle walls—except me, of course.’

  ‘Why is that?’ I asked, after another lengthy silence had passed. ‘Why does he trust you so much?’

  ‘He knows I’m loyal, that’s all.’

  ‘But he’s known others here longer than he’s know you,’ I mused aloud. ‘It seems weird that he trusts you over them.’

  Robbie exhaled. ‘Fine,’ he said before raising his shirt and presenting me with his bare, broad back. A thick, ridged scar marked his smooth skin, dangerously near his spine.

  ‘I was there when Marko’s father was murdered by Damir.’

  I winced and sucked in a deep breath. ‘Right there, by the looks of things.’ I stood up and ran a feather-light finger over the mangled skin. Robbie stiffened at my touch, the muscles in his back cording, before he pulled down his shirt and inched away from me, his breathing slightly heavier now.

  ‘So Damir murdered his own father?’ I shook my head. ‘How did you end up hurt?’

  Robbie’s stared across the room and shrugged. ‘I spotted Damir, his dagger raised behind his father’s back, and without thinking threw myself in the way. Marko and I had been messing around with swordplay earlier, and I deluded myself into thinking I could be a hero. But I only got in the way. After Damir stabbed me, he stabbed his father in the heart, killing him instantly.

  ‘How old were you?’

  ‘Nine.’

  The image of someone plunging a dagger into a child’s flesh—Robbie’s flesh—sent shudders down my spine. ‘That’s just…horrible.’

  ‘So now you now know why Marko trusts me,’ said Robbie, his voice thick. ‘No matter what.’ He shrugged and half smiled, his cheeks tinting pink. ‘That, and the fact I’m one of the quickest and strongest guards in Marin.’

  I nodded my head, understanding now, on a deeper level, that Robbie would never betray Marko. Meaning, he would never set me free.

  ‘I should let you get back to sleep.’

  ‘Can you stay a bit more?’ I asked, desperate for some form of confirmation that all wasn’t lost, that freedom was still possible. ‘We could play War again. I think you’re ready for a win,’ I said, meeting his eyes. Then I decided to be honest. ‘I just hate being alone in this room. It would be nice to know I have a friend here.’

  Robbie stared at his boots for what seemed like forever.

  ‘You’re never truly alone, Miranda,’ he said, a note of sadness in his voice, before finally meeting my gaze.

  The way he was looking at me, with tenderness, brought my plea for freedom to the tip of my tongue. But how could I trust the guy who’d brought me here? The guy who, as a child, sacrificed himself to save the king’s life and got stabbed in the process? He obviously took loyalty to the serious extreme. And his loyalty would always lie with Marko.

  ‘There are thousands of us living in Marin; an entire city. You’ll make some friends soon, Miranda.’ He sighed. ‘As I said earlier, I won’t be around much over the next two weeks. But I’m sure Marko would like to spend some time with you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said bitterly, a lump forming in my throat. ‘But no thanks.’ I pulled the covers up to my neck and curled into a ball. ‘I don’t need friends in this place. I’ve got them at home. You know,’ I said, glaring at him, ‘that place you were stolen from.’

  ‘Miranda—’

  I wrapped my pillow around my head. ‘Can you just leave, please? I’m more tired than I thought.’

  ‘I like to think of us as friends.’

  My body froze, but I was dancing on the inside.

  ‘Then take me home,’ I said, the pillow still wrapped around my head.

  The mattress squeaked. A warm finger brushed my pinkie finger.

  ‘You don’t know how much I want to do that for you, Miranda. But I can’t just now. It would put you in too much danger. We’ll talk again after the dance.’

  At first I lay there in shock. Had the pillow distorted his words?

  Robbie wanted to help me. He wanted to discuss it later.

  I tossed the pillow to the floor and groped for his hand, ready to tell him I’d forgive him if he agreed to take me home. Hell, I was ready to beg him to take Aiden home, too. Because I knew now, with the possibility of returning home hovering in the distance, I wouldn’t leave—couldn’t leave—until I had my friend back.

  But it was too late. Robbie was already gone.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE NEXT MORNING, Sylvia poked her head into my room and informed me I was to put on one of the many leotards she’d hung in my wardrobe and be at the gardens by 9 am sharp for dance training. Bleary eyed, because I hadn’t slept much after Robbie’s confession, I stumbled to the wardrobe, yanked a black leotard from the hanger and got dressed. Over it I wore the black tracksuit pants I’d worn the night before.

  Breakfast was sardines on olive oil soaked toast, which I demolished in around two minutes flat. I threw an extra sugar in my coffee for energy, chugged it down
as quickly as possible without burning my tongue, and headed out of my room at 8.45. I figured if I threw myself into dance training it would save me from a gruesome death by sharks, as Sylvia loved to remind me about, and it would also help pass the time until Robbie had promised we would talk. ‘After the dance,’ he’d said. Who knew I’d be counting the days until the stupid fertility dance?

  By day three, the training really kicked in, and I was more fluid on the dance floor and able to remember the full routine. At night, my muscles burned and my feet throbbed from the intensity of exercising for several hours a day, but I was making progress and could manage to do the partnered piece of the dance without freaking out. It helped that I now knew I didn’t have to do any embarrassing hip-to-hip movements with Philippe. Because of this, I relaxed around him more, and we soon became friends of a sort. He even defended me when Stephanie accused me of purposefully tripping her up one evening—which of course I didn’t do.

  Despite the dancing success and the promise in Robbie’s words, something terrible was occurring with each passing day. I was forgetting little things about home. When I tried to picture the faces of my loved ones, I saw distorted images, with low definition and indistinct sound. My biggest fear was waking up one morning and drawing a complete blank. Robbie had mentioned something about a ‘compulsion’ to stay in Marin after a certain amount of time spent here. The idea of forgetting my loved ones and never wanting to leave this place left me feeling as cold as the bottom of the ocean.

  Thirteen days of training passed. I marked them off on a bed post with my dinner knife each night, making my total captivity thirty-two days so far.

  Finally, my last dance lesson arrived. After we finished the extra-gruelling session, Sylvia ordered me to eat a good meal of carbohydrates and protein—rice and fish—and to take a bath and get an early night. Philippe, along with Stephanie and two female guards, came to my door and wished me luck.