Crown of Coral and Pearl

by Mara Rutherford

  “The port,” we said simultaneously.

  He took a deep breath. “It could work. Their next market isn’t for more than three weeks. That may be enough time for you to arrange things.”

  “But how would I find you? You told me the port market is enormous.”

  “There’s a man who sells kites. He’s easy to find because he ties several of his kites to the stand. We could meet there, at midday.”

  I settled back into the boat, exhilarated and overwhelmed. “I might not make it the first time.”

  “I know.”

  “But keep coming, every month. I’ll do everything in my power to get there.”

  “So will I.”

  We bought what we needed at the floating market quickly, neither one of us wanting to waste any more of the time I had left. As Sami began to row us home, a family passed us, their faces grim. If they recognized me as the village outcast, they didn’t say anything.

  Then I noticed the dark cloth in the bottom of their boat, covering a lumpy object about five feet long.

  A body.

  The family was going to bury their dead. Sami and I dropped our heads at the same time, touching our hearts in a gesture of sympathy. The father nodded at us when we lifted our heads again, and they continued on in silence.

  Varenian funerals were private, solemn rituals. Only the immediate family attended. That way no one else needed to feel as though they had to avoid certain places out of respect for the dead. I had attended one funeral as a child, that of my father’s father. He’d been killed by a windwhale, a predatory white whale with a giant dorsal fin that acted like a sail, making it one of the fastest creatures in the ocean. My grandmother had been left a widow. Fortunately, most of her children were grown then, and she went to live with one of my aunts.

  I didn’t remember the words my father spoke, only the way the cloth had clung to the body as it hit the water, briefly revealing my grandfather’s features. He was weighted down with rocks and sank quickly, though we’d all known it wouldn’t be long before the sharks gathered.

  Why don’t we burn the bodies? I’d asked my father, thinking anything would be better than being eaten, even if you were already dead.

  Because, child, as we take from the sea, so must we give. Through Thalos, the ocean provides us with our food, with the pearls we harvest. It makes us strong and healthy. And when we die, we must return to the ocean, so that it, too, can have nourishment. So that the blood coral may grow from our hearts, and begin the cycle anew.

  I touched my scar as the memory faded. “Everyone thinks I tried to hurt her, Sami—maybe even kill her.” I looked down, my eyes burning with unshed tears. “I think my own mother started the rumor.”

  “Maybe, but it’s Alys’s mother who spread it. She’s furious that you were chosen in Alys’s place.”

  “Not because I’m more beautiful than her. Only because they had no choice.”

  He reached over and squeezed my hand. “Listen to me, Nor. You’re not a second-rate girl. You never have been.”

  I chuckled wryly, but he didn’t join me.

  “I mean it. I can’t think of any other girl who would be willing to spy on the king, not even Zadie. Your mother taught you to believe your scar made you ugly, but it has made you brave.”

  “Brave?” I kicked at the sack of grain. “I’m terrified, Sami.”

  He laughed, a deeper version of the laugh I’d always loved as a girl.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You’re not afraid of anything, Nor. You never have been.”

  He was wrong. I was afraid of leaving Zadie and Father, of leaving the only home I’d ever known. I was afraid of being alone among strangers, of having to pretend to be someone else. I was afraid of marrying a young man I’d never seen, knowing I had no more choice in the matter now than when I’d been betrothed to Sami.

  And worse than that, I was frightened of the person I was becoming: a woman who lied to everyone, who disrespected her parents, who helped her sister injure herself. A woman who would spy on a king.

  A woman who would steal a crown.

  * * *

  There was no celebration that night. The big send-off that had been planned for Zadie, as well as the announcement of my engagement to Sami, had been called off after the accident, and the village was as quiet as it was on a typical evening.

  It was just as well. I couldn’t have taken the whispers and stares.

  I would see Sami one last time in the morning, when he took me to shore. Other than him, the only two people who wanted anything to do with me were here in our house, so home was the only place I wanted to be tonight.

  Even if my mother still wouldn’t look at me.

  “Do you have everything?” Zadie asked. She was able to sit up now, and a bit of her color had returned, though I could see she was still in a good deal of pain.

  “Yes,” I said, patting the trunk of belongings that should have been hers. Father had insisted I take it, despite Mother’s protests. “Please, you don’t have to worry about me.”

  “No, it’s always been your job to worry about me.” She squeezed my hand. It wasn’t an accusation. She was acknowledging my sacrifices, not just now, but every day for the past seven years: rowing to spare her hands, taking the blame for every misadventure, staying behind with her when Sami wanted to go exploring, and she was too worried about the cost to her beauty. How ironic, now, that it had all been for nothing. That here I was, with my rougher hands and sun-kissed skin, going in her place.

  I had cooked my final supper here in Varenia, as Mother refused to and Zadie couldn’t (and Father, well... Father couldn’t prepare porridge if he was starving). All we had was bread made with the grain Sami had bought for us, and some dried fish. If he didn’t marry Zadie, I was afraid they’d run out of food even sooner than Elder Nemea foretold, even with the bride price, assuming the prince accepted me and actually sent it. I found most of the pearls we traded at market, and even if she hadn’t been injured, Zadie wouldn’t be able to dive enough to make up for my absence.

  She made a valiant attempt to lighten the mood at dinner. “Just think, you’ll get to see a horse tomorrow, Nor. A real horse, up close. You may even be able to ride one.”

  “Do you think so?”

  She nodded, and we shared an excited squeal. For the first time in days, it felt like the old us again.

  “Imagine how much you’ll see on a five-day journey on land. Far more than you’d see in five days at sea, I’m sure.”

  It was strange, how the conversation had turned. These were the kinds of things I used to say to Zadie. Was she trying to boost my spirits by reminding me, or was she regretting her decision?

  “Remember your manners when you go,” Father said, the most he’d spoken since this morning. “You still represent this family, no matter how far away we may be.”

  “She does not represent this family,” Mother snapped. “She is as good as dead to us.”

  Zadie placed a hand on her arm. “How can you say such a thing? Our Nor is going away forever, and these are the words you’d have her remember you by?”

  “I would hope she would remember me by all the sacrifices I made to ensure that she have the best possible marriage prospect, despite her...flaws. But she chose to throw all that away, so she can remember me however she likes.” Mother stood up and disappeared behind her bedroom curtain, leaving her bread and fish untouched.

  “Don’t listen to her,” Zadie said weakly.

  I realized that no one had eaten, not even Father. Maybe Mother was right. Maybe I had acted ungratefully. She could have arranged a marriage between me and someone else in the village, but she had chosen Sami. I may not have been beautiful enough to marry the prince, but she’d still considered me worthy of the governor’s son.

  If I could bring myself to believe
that any of her actions had been done from a place of selflessness, perhaps I could have understood my mother. But as things stood, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to.

  “Come, let’s get you to bed,” I said to Zadie, helping her back to our bedroom. She couldn’t bear any weight on her injured leg, but she had enough strength to stand now, and that was promising. Perhaps she’d be able to see me off properly tomorrow, at least from the balcony.

  I unwove the braids in her hair and helped her wash with a cloth and fresh water. Even weak and sickly, she was beautiful, her gold eyes radiating love and compassion, a sad smile on her soft pink lips. When she laid a hand on my cheek, I set the cloth down and covered her hand with my own.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I can’t believe I’m never going to see you again.”

  “Oh, Zadie.” I knew it was true, but if I let myself think like that, I’d never be able to get through this.

  “I was terrified to leave Varenia, but I never considered how frightened you would have been to watch me go. I was so focused on being forced to leave that I never thought about what it would feel like to stay.”

  That was the difference between Zadie and me. Though I had always imagined the day she would leave Varenia from my perspective, I had also dreamed it a million times from hers. And I’d always felt staying was the worse option.

  “You’ll be all right,” I said. “You have Mother and Father. And Sami.”

  She squeezed my hand. “But I’ll never have the one person I love best of all. He may have my heart, but you, my dear, beautiful Nor, are the twin of my soul.”

  I wept then. We both did. For all the years we had both sacrificed for Mother’s foolish dream, for the things we had borne for each other—me, the knowledge that I was not and never would be enough in the eyes of our mother; Zadie, the weight of having to be more than enough, of having to achieve perfection. Here and now, as raw and vulnerable as the wounds on my sister’s legs, we were beautiful in a way our mother would never understand.

  In that moment, I realized how foolish it was to be jealous of my sister’s love for Sami. I knew now that I couldn’t possibly love any man more than I loved my sister. We had spent almost every moment together for seventeen years. What could possibly touch that? What could break it? Not Mother and her dreams. Not even Thalos himself.

  I should have prepared myself for the morning, should have carefully washed and plaited my hair as Zadie would have done, and laid out my best outfit and slathered my skin in oil and perfume. But instead I fell asleep in my sister’s arms, still wearing the tunic I’d worn all day, my cheeks stained with the salt of our tears, and my heart beating in time with hers.

  Mother had given us one gift, at least, that no amount of time or distance could erase: each other.

  10

  I woke to the touch of Zadie’s fingers on my temple in the gray light of predawn. “What is it?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

  “It’s our last sunrise together. I didn’t want you to miss it.”

  She laughed when I sat up.

  “What?”

  “Your hair. It would make a fine nest for a wayward bird.”

  “Zadie!” I gasped as I touched my head. “An entire family could roost in here!”

  “I’ll fix it later. Now hurry!”

  We sat on the balcony outside our room, our legs dangling over the edge like always. I prayed for a spectacular final sunrise, and the sun did not disappoint. The horizon glowed bright orange just above the water, then slowly made room for the bright yellow orb that pushed the orange up and away, spreading the light into the fading darkness and out over the water.

  Zadie rested her head on my shoulder, and I pressed my cheek to her hair. I tried not to think about this being our final sunrise together, the final time I would hear her voice or see her face. I couldn’t. It wasn’t fathomable. Surely tomorrow I would rise from the same bed and return to this same porch, the only home I’d ever known. How could I imagine anything different when I’d never even left Varenia?

  “Girls,” Father called. “Sami will be here soon. Nor needs to prepare.”

  “Yes, Father,” we chimed in unison.

  True to her word, Zadie undid the damage from last night, first telling me to wet my hair with fresh water so she could comb and plait it. I asked her to keep the braids loose; I had no idea when I’d be able to remove them.

  “What should I wear?” I asked, flipping through my small stack of clothing.

  “A simple tunic and skirts. There will be clothes for you in the carriage. And leather-soled shoes, or so I was told.”

  I stared down at my bare toes. Mother sometimes forced me to wear slippers for special occasions, but I preferred to go barefoot. “I have to wear shoes?”

  Zadie’s head fell back as she laughed, and I realized she didn’t appear to be in pain for the first time in days. The worry lines on her brow were gone, and she no longer winced every time she moved.

  “Are you feeling better?”

  “I am, actually.” She unwound the bandages on her thigh, and I was pleased to see that the wounds, though still pink and raw, showed no sign of infection. An image came to my mind of Sami someday tracing those winding scars with his finger, and I felt a moment of peace. As long as they had each other, I wouldn’t worry for my sister. She loved it here. She always had.

  I changed into my best white tunic and pale blue skirts. Zadie helped me apply the stain from Elder Nemea to my cheek, and we both marveled at how well it worked. If I waited just a little while, it didn’t come off even when I rubbed at it. After, I ate a small bowl of porridge with dried figs. I was afraid I’d be ill if my stomach was too full, and I didn’t have much of an appetite anyway.

  “Nerves,” Father said. “I expect it’s normal to be anxious on a day like this.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  We turned at the sound of Sami calling from outside the house.

  “It’s time,” Father said.

  I looked around for Mother. “Where is she?” Even she wouldn’t miss saying goodbye to me, I thought, though doubt nibbled the corners of my mind like a hungry fish.

  “She said she had something she needed to do.”

  “But surely she’ll be back to see me off?”

  He shook his head. “She didn’t say.”

  I clenched my jaw to keep it from trembling and picked up the trunk. “Help Zadie out, would you? She’s doing better today, but she could still use a hand.”

  I went to where Sami and Governor Kristos sat in their boat, both looking dignified in their finest clothing. I’d always thought Sami looked more like his mother, but today I saw some of his father in him.

  He reached up to help me with my trunk. “Are you ready?”

  I nodded, though the eel in my belly writhed violently. “I think so.”

  “Where’s your mother?”

  I shrugged, trying to mask my hurt. “She’s not here.”

  Even the governor frowned at my words.

  “It’s fine,” I lied. “Let me just say goodbye.” I turned to my father, who held my sister in his arms like a child. He set her down gently so he could remove something from his tunic. It was a long silk pouch, red with pale pink embroidery.

  “What is it?” I asked as he placed it in my hand. The object inside was hard and thin.

  “It’s a knife, made from the blood coral that nearly killed you.”

  I nearly dropped the pouch. “What?”

  He smiled. “Don’t worry. It’s sheathed.”

  I slid the opening of the silk pouch down an inch, revealing an ivory handle carved with seaflowers. “Why do you have this?”

  “While you were sick, when we thought we were going to lose you, I found the blood coral and smashed it to pieces with a mallet.”

 
“What were you thinking?” I asked. “You could have been killed!”

  “I was careful. Well, careful enough.”

  I removed the knife from the pouch. The sheath covering the blade was made of stingray leather. I pulled gently on the handle, just enough to glimpse a sliver of the coral blade.

  “The coral itself can’t hurt you,” he explained. “Not when it’s dead. But if it breaks the skin, the cut will be lethal.”

  I searched his eyes. “Why are you giving this to me?”

  “Turn it over.”

  I obeyed him and gasped. Even Kristos’s eyes widened at the sight of the massive red pearl set into the hilt, the size of my thumbnail and perfectly round. But it was the color that shocked us all: a bright, radiant red, as red as any blood coral I’d ever seen. I hadn’t even known red pearls existed. It had to be worth as much as twenty pink pearls.

  “Where did you get it?” I asked, stroking the pearl reverently.

  He tucked a stray hair behind my ear. “From the oyster you and Zadie found that day.”

  “Why didn’t you sell it?” I asked, thinking of all the food and supplies we could have purchased with it.

  “It belongs to you. It always has.”

  I tucked the knife back into the pouch and wrapped my arms around my father, squeezing him tightly. “Thank you, Father, for understanding me so well. I will miss you.”

  “I will miss you, too.” He didn’t try to stop the tears welling in his eyes. “Thalos blessed this family when he brought you to us. Both of you.”

  “Take care of Mother,” I said, my voice breaking on the words. “She doesn’t know it yet, but she will miss me.”

  “Of course she will.”

  I turned to Zadie and cried harder.

  “Don’t cry, darling,” she said, though she was weeping as hard as I was. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too.”

  She managed a smile. “Now who’s the one who will be as swollen as a puffer fish?”