Three Rings (The Fairytail Saga)

by S. K Munt

  ‘You’re on now sir,’ there was a click.

  ‘Mr Schorer?’ Tristan asked, easing his voice into the cajoling salesperson mode which had always worked so well for him, brushing invisible lint of his sharp charcoal CK suit. ‘Tristan Loveridge here. How can I help you?’

  ‘Hello Tristan,’ Mark Schorer’s accent was an amusing mix between a Californian drawl and a yiddish migrant worker’s. ‘You’re a difficult young man to get a hold of.’

  ‘Just busy,’ Tristan said smoothly. ‘I’m in Australia at the moment, settling a few contracts.’ He paused. ‘Let me guess; You’re calling me because you’d like to be signing one of your own?’

  Mark laughed. ‘Right to the point, I like that.’ A beat passed. ‘I assume you’re familiar with my corporation?’

  ‘Somewhat,’ Tristan said, trying to sound casual, even though he was practically bouncing in is chair with excitement. Mark Schorer was Big Time. ‘I was planning on calling you when I finalized my business in Santa Monica in April.’

  ‘Well, April you say? That’s a shame. I find myself in need of your services in the immediate future.’

  Tristan sat up straighter in his chair. ‘Is that so?’ he asked, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice. ‘We should set up a meeting fast then. What timeline did you have in mind?’

  ‘Well...How does this weekend sound? In Los Angeles?’

  Tristan almost fell off his chair. It sounded awful. And incredible. And impossible to say no to. Leave Ivyanne to fly to L.A? No. Hell no.

  But try as he might, he couldn’t force himself to say those words out loud. A plan came to him swiftly, and he grit his teeth and said a silent prayer before responding. He’d overheard Vana say to the king that Tristan’s greatest strength was the fact that he pushed Ivyanne’s boundaries and coerced her into doing things she wouldn’t have thought possible before. Well, he hoped she was right.

  Because he was about to call in his I.O.U.

  ⁓

  Lincoln began to regret his decision to give Ivyanne the cold shoulder by the time brunch had turned to lunch. The silence between them, the way she avoided his eyes-which was easy to do given how flat-out the bar was that day-caused him physical pain. It didn’t take long for Sherri’s company to lose its lustre, or for Lux’s prowling gaze to fall on a flattened ego.

  Yet despite the fact that his eyes tracked her every step, and that his lungs tightened whenever she left the room to do a sweep of the pool or fetch something from reception, he stubbornly maintained his façade of oblivion. And though she attempted to start a conversation with him several times, he’d find some reason to break away from it before three words had left her mouth-usually by finding some means to approach Sherri instead. He knew it was childish, but he was too hurt, too foolish, and too hell-bent on making it clear that he wouldn’t suffer anything like that again, to risk her laying a hand on him and melting his anger. Anger he was entitled to feel.

  ‘Can you tighten my apron please Link?’ Sherri asked, turning her back to him.

  ‘How tight?’ He asked, taking the thin linen strips in his fingers and knotting them.

  She winked at him over her shoulder. ‘Oh baby, bind me good to your apron strings.’

  He chuckled, pulling tightly around her slender waist. ‘Anytime.’

  Sherri giggled and flounced off.

  ‘You might want to drop the bullshit, you know.’ The statement was made into his ear in a low voice just as he was watching the sun set through the windows.

  He turned to see Remi standing beside him, reaching for a boutique beer in the fridge next to the one he was stacking. The light streaming in through the glassed walls gave her hair a pinkish gleam.

  ‘Excuse you?’ He felt affronted. Remi had never taken that kind of tone with him before! ‘What do you know about it?’

  ‘Nothing. But I know it’s a jealousy thing, and you’re fighting fire with gasoline by bringing a fourth party into it.’ Remi motioned towards Sherri.

  ‘I’m not into her.’ He said crabbily.

  ‘I know. Which makes it worse, because you of all people, should know how it feels to be a human caught between lovestruck mers.’ She squinted at him. ‘Hurting Ivyanne isn’t a game plan either, it’s self-sabotage. She’s a smart girl, boss, and she’s going to choose who makes her happy in the end. Not who throws the biggest tantrum. Take heed. And grow up.’

  Lincoln watched her walk away, at a loss for words, trying not to let her logic in. Incensed and embarrassed, Lincoln’s hands closed around the neck of a bottle of rum. He’d think about being a mer king tomorrow. Tonight, he just wanted to nurse his human, broken heart.

  It was at that moment that Ivyanne slipped in behind the bar. She looked at the bottle in his hands, then raised her eyes to his, but sighed and looked away, not commenting.

  ‘Are you staying here tonight?’ He asked her, needing to speak, just to make it clear that he was sober.

  ‘Are you talking to me now?’ Ivyanne asked, resting her hands on her hips. ‘Or just making sure that I won’t be in the position to blow Tristan on a whim?’

  Lincoln wiped a lock of hair off his forehead, confused by her shift in demeanor. ‘That was sharp. Where’s apologetic Ivyanne gone?’

  ‘She clocked off, when flirtatious Lincoln shouted one random girl one drink too many today.’ She snapped. ‘You wanted to prove that you can do just fine without me? Well, point taken. And now...the self-righteous Ivyanne is going to clock off too.’ She reached for the time sheets on the wall, snatching the papers with a rustle and slamming them down on the counter behind her. ‘I know it’s early still, and you’ll be a bit short-handed but the way I see it….screw it. I’m a god damned princess. And I want to go home.’

  Lincoln’s heart fluttered nervously. He stepped up behind her, rested his hand on her shoulder, all pretenses draining from his demeanor, along with his courage. ‘Ivyanne, no.’ He said softly. ‘Don’t swim off mad.’

  ‘Why not?’ She didn’t look back as she scrawled her name with a flourish then turned, putting the stapled sheets back onto their clip on the wall. ‘You did.’

  Anger seeped into his bloodstream again. ‘Because I didn’t want to hear you try and explain your inclination to give Tristan a blow job when he makes fun of me!’

  Ivyanne whirled on him. ‘Well, welcome to my side of the shark nets Link, because I don’t want to have to explain it either!’ She shrugged. ‘Maybe I can’t. Maybe I’m a whore. Maybe I’m just horny and possibly, he’s just that funny that it doesn’t matter who he’s cracking jokes at! Let’s face it-life sucks right now! The more someone can call it as the joke it is, the easier it is for me to smile.’ She swiped his hand away. ‘And I need to smile, Link. I’m hurting too.’

  Lincoln didn’t know what to say. When Ivyanne bent to retrieve her bag, her phone slipped out. That’s when he saw it-twenty-six missed calls, all from Loveridge. His bowels clenched.

  ‘Whoa.’ Ivyanne said, her thumb scrolling across the screen. ‘That’s odd. I hope nothing’s wrong…’

  ‘Maybe he just thought of another joke.’ Lincoln muttered.

  Ivyanne’s head snapped up. ‘I hope he did.’ She slung her bag over her arm. ‘I’m going home, and I’m going to call him back. And when I come back in the morning, I hope you’ve come to terms with what you claimed to understand two weeks ago-that my obligations really do overrule everything, even my heart. And if I’m obligated to him…’ She dropped the phone back into her bag. ‘Then I’ll do what’s right by the kingdom-not by you, and certainly, not by me.’ She stepped up, planted a gentle kiss against his jawline. ‘Goodnight, Lincoln, and I’m sorry. But not as sorry as I am for the way you handled this today. Because you broke my heart right back.’

  His hands reached for her, drawn despite his frustration, but she moved quickly, stepping out between the doors as Sherri barged in.

  The new girl took one look at his expression and winced. ‘Rum, right?’

/>   Lincoln nodded miserably, and when Sherri left to get him his poison, he shifted to face the wall, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye before it could drop to his cheek.

  ⁓

  Ivyanne hurried towards the shore, scanning her phone for an actual message from Tristan instead of a notification, wondering what on earth had come about to make him call her repeatedly for four hours. But there were none.

  ‘Ivyanne?! Is that you?’

  Ivyanne did an about face, looking up the blackened beach in the direction where the call had come from. The night was almost moonless, and so when part of the air before her began to shimmer like spun gold, she immediately realized who was pursuing her.

  ‘Tristan?’ she asked, her words as clearly loaded with surprise to her ears as they would have been to his. ‘What are you doing here? I just saw your calls-’

  ‘I was going to ask you the same thing!’ He loped towards her, his silhouette beginning to separate itself from the night around them. ‘I was just coming up to the bar, when I saw you...stomp...out?’ He smiled, teeth gleaming. ‘Care to fill me in? I’m always here to lend a supportive ear, you know.’

  Ivyanne rolled her eyes. ‘Same as last night. He’s still pissed, and deciding to take the situation and handle it like a monkey throwing poo.’ But she regretted the insult almost immediately, and decided to get off the topic before Tristan thought she was open to mocking Lincoln. ‘But I’d much rather talk about why you’re here, and not in Sydney!’

  Tristan grinned broadly. ‘I’m about to make a deal with one of the biggest housing contractors in California, Ivyanne. Absalom! Mark, their CEO, called me today and practically begged me for my services, which is unreal considering how many times I’ve tried to arrange a meeting with him and been rebuffed!’

  Ivyanne smiled. ‘Wow! I heard you mention that last night, when you were talking to Sven...this is terrific!’ She paused. ‘But couldn’t you tell me this over the phone? It seems like a long way to travel just to share some good news.’

  ‘It is.’ Tristan said, dimpling prettily. ‘But I didn’t come here just to tell you about it.’

  Ivyanne lifted an eyebrow. ‘Then….?’

  He grinned. ‘I came here to ask you to come with me.’

  Ivyanne’s shift in mood sprung back to darkness like a released rubber band.

  ⁓

  ‘Come with you?’

  When Ivyanne’s face froze somewhere between a smile of congratulations and a grimace of horror, Tristan knew he was about to take a knife to the heart. And yet he couldn’t stop his mouth from moving anymore than he could prevent his heart from wanting what it wanted. He took a deep breath and pressed forward. This was it. Sink or swim.

  ‘He wants to fly me over for a meeting-tomorrow. And I’d probably need to be there for a week. And because I said that I had a beautiful girl I couldn’t bear to part with-he offered to buy you a ticket too! Isn’t that great? I mean, you could get away from all of this depressing shit...’

  Ivyanne appeared to snap out of her shock. She gave him a long-suffering look before responding : ‘Oh yeah, nothing like an eighteen hour flight to cheer a mermaid up! Air-con and no water while soaring up in the atmosphere? Sounds awesome.’

  He chuckled nervously. That wasn’t the reaction he’d wanted, and yet it was the reaction he’d anticipated, so he was prepared to argue his point. ‘There’s a stopover in Fiji. First class, of course.’

  ‘They die too,’ Ivyanne muttered.

  He gave her a long, measured look. ‘Is Ivyanne Court seriously afraid of air travel?’

  ‘Like you wouldn’t believe,’ she admitted. ‘You know I’ve never actually been on a plane, right?’

  His jaw dropped. ‘Seriously?’

  She nodded. ‘Neither has mum. That’s where my paranoia comes from. It’s just...unnatural.’

  He crossed his arms across his chest, like he could cut off the rising sense of unease in his stomach with pressure. ‘What if I told you, that this is me, calling in my favor? The one you promised last night?’

  Ivyanne sagged dramatically. ‘You can’t mean that! Tristan, it’s too much to ask!’

  ‘No it’s not.’ He said quickly. ‘Whether you’re willing to accept it or not Ivyanne, you might be stuck with me. Why not come with me, just to get to know me better in preparation, if nothing else?’

  ‘And send Link off the deep end when it might not even be necessary? To cause more scandal? To get on a plane?’ She shook her head. ‘Sorry Tristan, but the answer is no. It probably always will be. You’re going to have to collect your favor some other way, because I’m not boarding one of those things anytime soon.’

  It seemed to take forever for her words to resonate with his brain. She wasn’t merely unenthusiastic or hesitant-she’d just snapped a flat-out no and seemed less apologetic than even her empathetic apology eluded to.

  ‘Tristan?’ Ivyanne frowned as she adjusted her dark, comely top. ‘Are you in there?’

  ‘I can’t believe this!’ Tristan couldn’t stop the words from exploding out of his heart and into her face. ‘Ivyanne do you even get that I just took two planes and a cab to get to you and beg you to come with me? And you’re turning me down flat without even thinking it over?’

  Ivyanne took his hand in both of hers, looking shocked. ‘Tristan please...don’t yell. I’m sorry that you went to so much trouble for nothing and I really appreciate the gesture so I’ll get mom to compensate you for it-but don’t guilt trip me here! It’s not your style. And the jet-setting thing isn’t mine.’

  ‘I don’t want monetary compensation!’ Tristan spat, yanking back his hand. ‘I want to know that you’re willing to overcome certain obstacles to be with me. I wish you’d just snap out of your comfort zone for two minutes and say yes instead of no for once!’

  ‘I’m not forcing you to leave!’ Ivyanne squeaked. ‘It’s your company, your choice! Just like it’s my comfort zone and my call!’

  ‘And it always will be, won’t it? Tristan gave a defeated sigh as he pondered what their future might end up looking like if the jet-setting millionaire married the girl who would sooner get on a three month trans-pacific barge ride than fly.

  ‘You’re thinking it’s gonna be a problem if we get married, aren’t you?’ Ivyanne suddenly said.

  He looked at her, surprised, and wary, that she’d read him so easily. ‘Do not make an issue out of it,’ he said quickly, not wanting her to see the potential weak spot in their future. ‘I’m only going to be able to do this for another twenty years or so until I have to retire from the public eye anyway.’

  Ivyanne clasped her hands together as though she was praying. ‘Tristan, you can’t shove problems into a corner and hope they get better. This is exactly the kind of thing we have to talk about realistically.’

  He looked down at her hand, feeling that anger stirring up again. ‘You won’t give me twenty seconds to reflect on the good things about us, but you’re pretty eager to get a con list going, aren’t you?’

  Ivyanne frowned at him, her face shadowy and disturbed in the watery moonlight. ‘Are you implying that I’m sabotaging our potential marriage before it gets off the ground so I can weasel out of it?’

  He met her gaze with an unwavering one of his own. ‘Are you?’

  Ivyanne turned her face towards the water, and it was as good as slamming a door between them.

  6.

  By the time the bar was closed and the last of the stragglers shooed out, Lincoln could barely see straight. He farewelled Sherri, closing the beach doors behind her, and thanked her for the day, then pressed his face against the cool glass, needing the chill to stimulate his eyes open.

  ‘How many drinks did you have?’ Lux slurred from behind him, where she still sat at her table by the window. She was too drunk to swim back to Bracken, so she’d booked one of the resort rooms for the night, calling a wary sounding Vana first to tell her not to worry.

  ‘Three.’ Lincoln heard t
he awe in his tone. ‘I’m such a lightweight now! No wonder mers don’t drink.’

  ‘Soft mers don’t drink.’ Lux muttered. ‘And that’s what the born ones are you know, Linky-baby. Soft. Not like us. Nothing’s harder, then living forever with a human soul.’

  ‘You’re right.’ He drawled, pushing off the door and staggering towards the opposite one. He needed to get out of the room. It felt claustrophobic, full of negative emotions. ‘But it’s only been two weeks for me, so it’s okay that I’m still soft, yeah?’

  ‘S’okay.’ Lux responded. She sat up, fanning her neck, her caramel blonde hair pooling between the wall and her shoulders. He marveled again at the lack of distinction between the shade of her skin, and her lustrous hair. She was like a golden statue, especially with the burnt-orange sarong twisted tightly around her curves on one side, leaving acres of leg exposed on the other.

  ‘You have time. Just don’t stop drinking.’ She pointed at him, smiling goofily. ‘Or I’ll have to crush on someone else.’

  ‘Crush? Pfft.’ Lincoln landed on, rather than grasped the thick steel bar to the door. He cranked it open with a screech of metal against metal.‘You’re just a deviant bitch, admit it. You’d shag me, and move on!’

  ‘You make that sound like it’s a bad thing!’ Lux rose as she said this, and teetered towards him. ‘Where we goin?’

  ‘Out of this box.’ He swept his arm out in a grand gesture for her to pass. ‘Ladies first.’

  ‘I’m no lady.’ She paused tugging on the collar of his shirt, looming forward until he could see little more than her lovely, heavily hooded eyes. ‘I’m a siren. There’s a big difference. And the sooner you learn that distinction, the sooner you can apply it to Ivyanne, and get some damn perspective.’

  Lincoln blew a messy raspberry. ‘Don’t talk about her. I’m so sick of talking about her. Thinking about her. Feeling about her….’

  Fresh air, he thought, lunging out the door towards the pool. Wait...does that make it better, or worse?