The Marked Ones (Fairytail Saga)

by Munt, S. K

  ⁓

  Eventually, Ivyanne turned and gave Lincoln a thorough look, as though assessing something. She cleared her throat-then said nothing, shoulders sagging as though defeated.

  ‘Hold on,’ she said, her hands going to the shell necklace she’d been wearing since that morning and pulling it over her head. ‘Dammit. Damn all of this!’

  Lincoln watched her warily, braced as though she were about to attack him. He still had no idea what was actually going on, and he didn’t like it. But who could blame him? Of all the times he’d imagined a reunion with Ivanna-this was not how he’d thought it would go. He couldn’t believe that the discovery of the two being one had been trumped by something even more fantastical.

  Ivyanne stared at the necklace in her hands for a moment, frowning, then lifted her eyes to meet his gaze. ‘I need you to trust me for a minute.’ She approached him slowly, like he was a snake about to strike. ‘Let me put this up to your ear.’

  He flinched, not ready for her to be so close to him. ‘Can’t I just hold it myself?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, it won’t work the same way.’ She tilted her head to the side. ‘Please? If you want answers, this is the only way I can give them to you.... you’ll see why in a minute.’

  Lincoln was mesmerised by her eyes, which were shining with earnest. ‘Fine.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Ivyanne stepped up to him, gingerly lifting the shell to his ear. ‘Just listen, okay?’

  The shell was cool against his ear. He instantly heard what he’d always heard when he did this-the ocean. ‘Ivyanne, so what? It’s the blood rushing in my ear amplified-I’m not a child, you know.’

  ‘Ssh...’ she said softly. ‘Listen, don’t speak. Close your eyes-it’ll be easier that way.’

  He glared at her. ‘Close my-?’

  Ivyanne pressed her lips against his so lightly that it was like an evening breeze across his mouth. Lincoln froze, blood pounding in his ears for real this time. He wanted to reach for her, to crush her against him and never let go-but something about the gentle way she kissing him told him that she’d bolt if he tried it. So he stood there, like a statue, his heart leaping- and allowed her to set the terms, his eyelids fluttering shut as gently as butterfly wings.

  Then it happened-the image flickered in front of his irises. A beautiful girl, so similar to his Ivyanne, dressed in a style that spoke of centuries before, mixing something with a mortar and pestle, standing alongside a fatherly figure, who was ripping the seeds out of an unfamiliar pod. Then she was outside, and she was happy. Her dark golden hair was piled on top of her head, tendrils floating around her face-her dark, sea-green eyes shimmering as she accepted a bunch of wildflowers from a man in a crown. She wasn’t like the man though, her clothes were those of a peasant.

  He felt Ivyanne’s mouth leave his, but he stayed, rooted to the spot, eyes closed, feeling the cool shell against his ear.

  The image changed, showed the girl-who was no older than fourteen or so, embraced by the same man, cuddling twin infants-from their curls, and their long eyelashes, he deduced that it was girls. They all seemed happy. But then the scene changed again-the man was yelling, the girl pregnant once more. Lincoln didn’t know how-whatever words they spoke were being muted, but he instinctively knew that the man was upset-he wanted a boy. The girl moved to the window, and suddenly, her eyes were Lincoln’s. He looked out and saw a crowd of people, angry people, yelling from beneath, up at the castle he was in. Lincoln heard the words witch, and peasant, chanted over and over again.

  He jumped away from the shell. ‘How are you doing this? Who is it?’

  ‘Just let it happen, okay?’Ivyanne’s eyes were burning emerald with intensity. ‘I can’t tell you the story, you have to feel it in your heart. But that girl is Anna L’autienne, the daughter of an apothecary, and the man is Prince Bernard L’Court. Now please, watch until it ends. Every time you stop, it starts over from the beginning. You do want to know more, right?’

  Lincoln nodded dumbly.

  ‘Okay, then watch...’ Ivyanne replaced the shell against his face, and Lincoln closed his eyes again. As Ivyanne had said, the entire thing began to replay, like a pantomime in his mind. Only this time, he held his tongue, and watched the man take Anna on a boat and drop her on an Island, a tiny one, with a small shack. He kissed her and held her and soothed her- but she was upset-she wanted to be safe, but she wanted her daughters. Yet the man sailed away and left her alone.

  Then, Anna’s body continued to grow, and Lincoln watched as she fended for herself. Bernard would come, from time to time, to bring supplies, but he would always leave. Anna learned to look after herself, she caught her own fish, and fed the heads to a pod of dolphins she knew well. They loved her, and she them. When she hurt herself and made her own remedies, she sang for hours, and even without hearing it, Lincoln knew her voice was akin to chimes, and her beauty, even heavily pregnant, closely resembled Ivyanne’s own.

  Then, Bernard came, and he hurt her. He told her he had impregnated a noblewoman, and she had ordered their twin daughters dead. He was sad, but he would have a son. Anna was to stay there, exiled for sorcery-bewitching him into marrying a poor peasant girl, then denying him a son.

  Lincoln’s heart spasmed as Anna’s grief hit him as surely as it were his own. She screamed, she beat him, she cursed him that he would never bear a child worth half of hers. Bernard got angry-he was afraid of her, he knew her to be a witch. He pushed her into the water, held her head down and screamed at her.

  A dolphin came to Anna’s defense-it tried to push the king away, ramming him with it’s beak, swatting him with it’s tail. But Bernard produced a sword and stabbed it before pushing Anna back under the blood-stained water. A full moon was glowing above and it made the water a hellish sight to behold. Anna held her breath and prayed that she could hold it until she could safely deliver her child, but then everything went black.

  Lincoln felt the tears run down his face. He saw the man leave, Anna floating facedown in the water, lifeless. But then the sun rose on a new scene, Anna, her clothes stained pink with blood, her legs fused with a tail. She was scared-and her fear was palatable, even to him. But then the tail began to dissolve and she screamed as her insides cramped up, forcing the baby out. They swum, until the water washed their bodies clean. Then she breastfed the infant and cried as she longed for her deceased daughters.

  Then the scene changed again, the color slowly fading from it. Anna rescuing a man in sailing clothes, her breathing into his lungs. His eyes opening, his legs fusing together. Anna smiled-and Lincoln’s heart began to swell with gratitude-she had a mate, and he owed her his life. The last thing he saw, before the pantomime dissolved, was the two, looking no older but surrounded by a litter of children, playing in the waves. The eldest child, a replica of both Anna and Ivyanne, more beautiful than any creature he had ever seen.

  Slowly, everything went black. Lincoln’s eyes began to open, but the images would not leave him. He saw Ivyanne staring at him, chewing on her lower lip, eyes wide with concern.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asked softly. ‘I know it’s a lot to take in.’

  Lincoln put a hand to his heart, taking the shell from her and gazing at it with wonder. ‘Who are they?’ he croaked.

  Ivyanne swallowed. ‘Anna L’Autienne, became Princess Anna L’Court. But she lived the rest of her existence as Anna Court-my great-grandmother.’ She smiled. ‘Our creator.’

  ⁓

  The first sign Tristan knew that anything was wrong, was when the small timber table between himself and Pintang suddenly lifted from the floor and was hurled into one of the large wooden poles supporting the roof of the barefoot bar. The cracking sound of the table snapping was astonishing.

  ‘Bastard!’ A furious male voice declared.

  Pintang squealed, leaping out of her cane chair so quickly that it tumbled over. ‘Ardhi!’ she yelped, some of her hair coming loose from the pins she’d put it up with. ‘Are you losin
g it?’

  Ardhi. Tristan thought, closing his eyes briefly. Perfect.

  Guests instantly began to scream and run out the door, sidestepping broken glass and crockery and Tristan’s now ruined mud crab linguine. He sat in the chair for a full moment, shocked but taking in the situation as calmly as he could. Tristan Loveridge was no hot-head, or coward.

  ‘I was enjoying that,’ he finally drawled, retrieving the crisp linen napkin from his lap and dabbing at his lips before slowly rising out of his chair and facing Ardhi. ‘I hope you plan on buying me a new one when your monthly cycle wraps up.’

  Ardhi practically had steam coming out from his ears. ‘You’re not funny!’ he said, fists clenched, jaw set. ‘You think this is all some big gag, huh? You’re messing with something vital here, Loveridge-something sacred!’

  Pintang rushed to Ardhi’s side, tugging on his arm. ‘You have to get out of here!’ she said imploringly. ‘Please? Before you get yourself tossed out and me fired!’

  But Ardhi flung her off his arm without a glance in her direction. ‘If you stand up for this creep, you’re dead to me Pintang.’

  ‘Don’t talk to her like that-and don’t get violent with her.’ Tristan said quietly. ‘She’s your sister.’

  Ardhi’s eyes widened. ‘Like you care about her feelings! It’s not half obvious that the girl is in love with you-but you take her out on a date, what... hours after you sleep with Ivyanne?’

  ‘What?!’ Pintang paled, her gaze flicking over to Tristan. ‘Did you?’

  Tristan felt ashamed. He forced himself to look at her. ‘It’s why I asked you here, Pintang.’ He confessed. ‘I wanted to tell you in person.... Ivyanne made her decision today, and she chose me.’

  Pintang looked stricken. ‘And so you took her to bed?!’ She screeched. ‘Oh my god!’

  The punch came out of nowhere. Tristan ricocheted off the wall, landing on his backside exactly as a well-timed kick sent a searing pain through his ribs.

  ‘You and Link are both dead, got it?’ Ardhi rasped. ‘No one takes what belongs to me! The king will have you both fed a great white when he hears about what’s been going on!’

  ‘Ivyanne’s choice has been made! And she chose not to belong to you! She never has!’

  ‘Maybe not, but once her father knows how close she’s gotten to a human, she’ll never belong to you either! He’ll overrule her judgement! Clearly, she’s not thinking straight!’

  But Tristan smirked to the wall. ‘Will he overrule his wife’s judgement too? Because Vana knows about Lincoln, Ardhi. And Ivyanne is going to tell her that we’ve made love and in the mer world, like chess, the queen trumps the king.’ Tristan sprang back up to his feet, whirling around to face Ardhi. The fist came at him a second time, but Tristan caught it, halting the inertia in it’s tracks before forcing his attackers’ elbow back into his own larynx. Ardhi’s eyes bulged, but before he could react, Tristan sent his free hand into Ardhi’s exposed jaw, smashing it from right to left with enough force that a humans’ neck would have snapped. Blood shot across the room from Ardhi’s mouth, and Pintang screamed, teetering backwards in her spiked blue heels which matched the blue linen minidress she was wearing.

  ‘Stop it!’ Remi came bursting out from behind the bar, gracefully avoiding a collision with Pintang and then holding the girl protectively in her arms. Her cheeks were the same shade as her hair, her full, almost too-large lips twisted into a sneer. ‘Everyone’s gone!’ She pointed to the door. ‘I don’t know what your problem is boys, but get-now-before the cops show up! Chase or Link will probably be here in minutes thanks to the hell you’ve raised!’

  ‘Tell Lincoln to bring it!’ Ardhi wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and pushed off the pole he’d staggered back against, glaring balefully at Tristan. ‘He’s gonna get some too the second I find that mortal sack of nothing!’ Ardhi pivoted to Tristan. ‘Does it feel good, Loveridge, to know that the only reason Ivyanne would have slept with you, was to prevent herself from sleeping with him?’ He sneered. ‘You didn’t see them the way I did. Our princess was practically purring in his arms. He made her itch-you were just the closest pole to scratch against!’

  Tristan’s heart seized, but he forced himself to stare Ardhi in the eye as he said: ‘And what a responsive kitty she was. Wanna see the claw marks she left down my back during her third orgasm Ardhi?’

  Ardhi’s teeth snapped together and he lunged at Tristan again, but Pintang intercepted him, shoving him into the wall. ‘Enough! Both of you!’

  ‘He’s not fit for the crown!’ Ardhi hollered, lunging at him. Tristan easily stepped out of his path and spun to face him, stance ready for battle.

  ‘Ardhi stop it!’ Remi put her hands pout, looking around her in horror. ‘Go before you ruin all our lives!’

  Tristan grabbed Ardhi’s shirt collar before he could get his balance, and used it to frog-march him out the front doors into the night air, keeping a wary eye on Ardhi’s hands, remembering Ivyanne’s warning about his powers. Ardhi flailed, but his strength was nothing compared to Tristan’s own. The glow from tiki torches just barely illuminated the backs of fleeing witnesses.

  ‘You heard the lady! Git!’ When he reached the crest of the hill, Tristan pulled him back against his chest so he could whisper in his ear: ‘She was the best lay you’ll never have, by the way!’

  ‘I’ll die before you touch her again!’ Ardhi grunted, struggling to get free like a wild animal.

  ‘Then you’ll die,’ Tristan released the shirt, and Ardhi stumbled, face-first, down the shadowy incline.

  29.

  Ivyanne allowed Lincoln to sit in reflective silence for at least ten minutes following her statement, and he was grateful for it. As far-fetched as everything seemed, something deep inside him had already accepted it all as fact. Eventually, his desire to know more, outweighed his shock. Lincoln frowned, examining the shell.

  ‘It’s the most depressing Fairytale I’ve ever heard.’

  ‘It’s not Disney, Link,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s my life. Your people speak of a man in sandals walking on water and placed humanity in his hands without a second thought. Well, as you know know, this is not some recycled and elaborated story-that is Anna’s memory, preserved, for eternity, within a vessel.’

  ‘I’ve put my ear to a shell dozens of times in my life.’ Lincoln said. ‘How have I not noticed that before?’

  ‘Because you’re not mer-only we can allow you to see what you just did. But it’s in every whelk shell I’ll ever touch.’

  ‘Why didn’t you just tell me?’ he asked.

  ‘Because I cant.’ She looked surprised that he’d asked. ‘It’s part of the deal. I can’t speak of it to anyone who does not believe.’ She smiled. ‘Neither will you now. You won’t be able to write it either, or type it.... you’re ability to express it to anyone, in any way, was a privilege I retracted the moment you caught a glimpse of Anna Court.’

  ‘Magic?’ he asked dubiously.

  ‘Yes. Our species is precious, and the elements which created it cloaked it in secrecy for a reason.’

  ‘But people talk about mermaids-’ Lincoln pointed out. ‘There have been sightings, for centuries!’

  ‘By drunk or lonely men out at sea.’ Ivyanne smiled. ‘No proof, just ramblings. Some of them were wrong, some of them were lying. But yes, there have been several instances where we’ve been compromised, and we haven’t been able to do to them what I just did with you and the whelk. They’ve run their mouths, and it could have hurt us-but we’ve remained a myth.’

  ‘Except to me,’ Lincoln said now. ‘I worked it out-before you showed me.’

  ‘Yes well that’s my fault, for not walking away after that first summer and leaving too dense a trail of memories.’ She sighed. ‘I’m just thankful that you confronted me alone. I chose to clear up the mystery and bind you to us with secrecy, but most people in my position would have dragged you out to sea and drowned you before resorting t
o that.’

  Lincoln blanched. ‘That seems a little extreme.’

  ‘Well it’s not. One human life to protect a thousand mer. This secret is our world, Lincoln.’

  Lincoln was confused. ‘So if I can’t tell anybody now, and you’ve been suffering all this time, why didn’t you show me the shell years ago?’

  ‘Showing the whelk shell to a human is an absolute last resort.’ Ivyanne said, eyes darkening. ‘Not so much for us, but for the person we share it with. Now that you know the truth, you’ll never forget about me, and I wanted the opposite for you.’

  Lincoln frowned. Like that had ever been a possibility! ‘But...am I safe?’

  ‘That,’ she said softly, licking her lips, ‘depends on you.’

  He frowned. ‘On me what?’

  Her sombre green eyes met his. ‘Letting me go.’

  ⁓

  Ardhi’s throat ached, his jaw throbbed, and his pride had been stripped and replaced with loss-but none of it diluted his anger. He stalked down the centre path of the staff quarters, eyes narrowed into slits, spitting blood and kicking up clouds of dust as his feet scraped up the gravel. His feet hurt worse than anything else. He could feel them, swelling with blisters, coated with grime. But he marched on, knowing that if he had to, he would turn over every bungalow until he located Ivyanne and forced some sense into her.

  How much more abuse can I take? He wondered. Ardhi honestly didn’t know. The evidence suggested that she’d chosen Tristan-but her motive for doing so was what baffled him-especially if she cared enough about Lincoln to confess it to her mother.

  Yes, he was sure that Tristan had been chosen for convenience and emotional detachment alone. She’d clearly overlooked Ardhi because she’d known that he had too much of a heart to enter a loveless marriage, whereas Tristan would take whatever curvaceous scraps he could get.

  Well, Ardhi wasn’t going to witness that shipwreck. If the human was the obstacle to Ivyanne’s heart, Ardhi would remove that obstacle.