by Lucia Ashta
Marcelo sat down on my bed without regard for propriety. We were engaged to be married, however that didn’t change the fact that we weren’t married yet. But I didn’t care about the transgression that would have enraged my mother.
I slumped against the headboard, still weak from my fall against the terrace, and now tired also from the intensity of the vision and the effort at recounting it to Marcelo.
Marcelo’s shoulders hunched as he bent over his legs and put his face in his hands. I watched him surrender to what seemed like an endless stream of situations we would never have wished.
He rubbed his hands across his face and then through his hair. “If what you saw is true—and it likely is, since your previous visions of the battle proved incredibly accurate—then Mordecai is in danger and in need of our help.”
“I just hope we can find the room with the yellow-tiled floor quickly. It took you three years to find it to rescue me.”
“Yes, I hope so too. Losing you to the merpeople was bad enough. I won’t lose Mordecai to them too. You’re sure it was Mirvela you saw with Mordecai?”
“Oh yes. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget a thing about her. After all this time, when I close my eyes and think of her, I can still see her face clearly. I see her with that terrible expression she had when she realized you were pulling me away from her, her turquoise eyes big and menacing, her teeth bared, her face contorted with rage. It was definitely Mirvela. It couldn’t have been anyone else.”
Marcelo stared into space, and I wondered what he saw there. Did he see a conglomeration of worries, responsibilities, and lost loved ones? Or was he able to see past that to where there was always more?
“I can’t understand how Mordecai could’ve ended up there. He’s more familiar with the dangers and trickery of the castle than anyone else alive. How could he have fallen for the merpeople’s trap so easily?”
“We don’t know how easily he fell into the illusion. Besides, isn’t it possible that the merpeople might’ve changed the way they lure victims into their world? Perhaps it looks different now, and they moved the entrance to their underwater world closer to the places Mordecai most frequents? Right?”
“Yes, I suppose it’s possible. They could’ve changed many things. I asked Mordecai and Albacus about the merworld when I first escaped from it, but they didn’t know much about it. They didn’t even know which of their ancestors might have allowed the merpeople into the castle in the first place. I went through all the books that preceded the brothers that might have addressed the merpeople in the castle, but I found nothing. If the brothers’ predecessors were aware of the merpeople, they didn’t write about them.”
Marcelo stood. “I’ll tell the staff to prepare us to depart today. Mirvela’s very powerful, and Mordecai is weakened by grief. It’ll be easier for her to fool him now than ever before. We can’t allow that to happen if we can help it.”
He looked at me. I knew I didn’t look well enough to travel. I tried to compose myself for Mordecai’s sake, but I didn’t convince even myself of my well-being.
“You can ride in a carriage for the journey. Do you think you’ll be able to travel without increasing your discomfort?”
“Yes, of course.” Although I didn’t mean it. Already, my head throbbed with a dull ache that worsened any time I moved. Traveling by carriage would be far better than traveling on horseback. Still, the journey back to Irele would be a very long and bumpy one.
“I’ll send Anna to stay with you in case you need anything.” I nodded, and my head hurt. Marcelo walked toward the door.
“Marcelo, I know we’re in a hurry to leave now, but might I visit the sea before we go? I’ve never been to a sea before, and I feel particularly drawn to this one.” I felt selfish for asking, but there it was.
Marcelo studied me for so long that I began to fidget with self-consciousness. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning instead of today. It’ll give you more time to recover for travel. I’ll speak with the staff and get them preparing everything we’ll need. Then, I’ll take you to the sea.”
“Can’t I just go with Anna if you’re busy?”
“No, you’ll go with me. I’m not going to leave you alone to explore your magic ever again. I should’ve learned that lesson before, but at least I’ve learned it now.”
“I’m not planning on doing magic. I’ll be all right without you there.”
“Oh, so you aren’t planning on doing magic? Everything will be perfectly all right then? And you never accidentally do magic or make a large lake bubble without meaning to, do you? I won’t worry then, just as I didn’t worry when you went to do a bit of safe exploration of your powers. Only to find you almost broken on my father’s terrace and have Sir Lancelot tell me you were flying. You’re right. Everything should be fine if you aren’t planning on doing magic with the sea.” And Marcelo walked out of the room amid a cloud of uncommon yet thick sarcasm.
I didn’t resent Marcelo for his reaction. He was worried about his loved ones, especially me, and I wasn’t safe from my own powers. Count Washur’s threat lay heavy on him, mysterious in its scope. His nephew was in the clutches of a mad, evil man and seemingly didn’t want to be saved.
It was a lot for one man.
I slid down in the bed to rest until he came to get me to take me to the sea, grateful that the difficulty of travel was at least a night away.
But anything could happen in one night. Everything could change.
Chapter 17
I woke from a restless dream. The pain in my head had intensified with rest. It didn’t make sense, but I couldn’t deny it. I blinked rapidly, trying to wipe away the pain and the remnants of the dream.
The image of Count Washur’s cat lingered long after the Count receded to the place where dreams went to be forgotten. I couldn’t understand what it was about Mina that disturbed me. Yet I had a disturbing feeling about Mina that I couldn’t shrug off.
Could Count Washur be using Mina to haunt me? Could he be sending her to me so that I wouldn’t know peace until he came for me? Neither Marcelo nor Mordecai knew the extent of Count Washur’s magic, and I knew much less than them.
Mina made me nervous, like something was wrong. The dream world couldn’t coexist with the waking world, could it?
The walk down to the sea was far more treacherous than I imagined. Even without the pounding in my head, I would have found it difficult, and I considered abandoning our trek multiple times. But before I could voice my thoughts, the five-petal flower at my chest thrummed loudly, sounding out its encouragement with each pulsing of my heart. It continued until my enthusiasm for reaching the water renewed, and then it faded, and I began considering quitting again.
A rock slid to the right as I stepped on it, and I leaned my weight into Marcelo to recover my balance. “Thank goodness you suggested I wear my riding boots.” It was the third time I’d expressed my relief since we left the castle on a narrow and treacherous path that descended steeply down the side of the mountain.
I crouched to step down and over several boulders clumped together as if by an angry, petulant god. “I don’t understand. Why isn’t there a better route to get down to the sea? Don’t the people of Bundry work the sea? Don’t they fish or something?”
“No.” Marcelo stepped confidently down the same boulders, at ease with his long stride, pants, and boots. “The people of Bundry are scared of the sea.”
“What? I’ve never heard of such a thing before. Towns that abut water usually make their living from the fruits of the sea. Why would they be frightened by it?”
“I told you. Bundry isn’t like other places. Everything’s a bit different here, including the sea.”
“Still, that doesn’t account for people being afraid of it.”
“No, that doesn’t, but the legends about this sea do.”
“What legends?”
“They say this sea is possessed of magic, but that it’s neither light nor dark magic, but something in between. T
hey say the sea can help you or turn on you, but you won’t know which until it’s too late.”
“Well, I’m not sure that’s different from what can be said of most large bodies of water. After all, the water element is magic.”
“Yes, that’s true. But of course, the villagers don’t know about magic, they just know that those people who went out on this sea died and never returned. Not even their bodies were found. Eventually, people stopped coming down here altogether.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before we came down?”
“Would it have made a difference?”
“No, I suppose not.” I would have wanted to come, anyway. “But I’m surprised you didn’t try to keep me away.”
“Who says I didn’t?”
I focused on my footing. The path that left the castle wound instead of taking us toward the sea in the most direct route. A cliff bordered the castle, and the sea was at the bottom of the cliff. The trail curled down the cliff to abate the severity of the incline. Even so, I didn’t want to think about how my leg muscles would burn on the way back up.
We’d reached the bottom of the cliff and were now crossing a shore that was more rock than sand and seemed to serve as a warning to all who approached that this sea wasn’t gentle.
A wave rolled in, too far away to reach us, but the first spray of mist caressed my face. The wave crashed and diffused its essence until it touched me.
I didn’t recoil. I didn’t pull away from it. I didn’t think of keeping my dress dry or of the chill that came with the mist.
I longed for more—more of this sea, more of the water element, more magic, and more knowledge of my powers. I reached for Marcelo’s hand so he could help me across the rocks to reach the sea quickly.
“Why did you agree to bring me down here?”
“Because I feel the sea calling to you. Who am I to interfere with that?”
We’d reached the sea. It greeted us with an arcing spray of water that soaked us. But I didn’t feel the wetness or the cold of the water, and I didn’t have to worry about getting my clothes wet anymore.
My hair and clothes stuck to me. While the sea inhaled, preparing for more, I looked at Marcelo. He was as wet as I was, though I didn’t think he’d noticed.
The sea was calling to him too.
Chapter 18
Although the sea spoke to us both that day, its message was private, different for each of us. The sea, as rough and powerful as it was, spoke to me gently, in whispers that glimmered and faded as if they, too, were made of mist. They left a film on me of salt and mystery and of knowing that was somewhere in between the two.
Even now, when only a night passed since the sea talked to me, I wasn’t able to remember exactly what it said. Did I ever know? I wasn’t sure I did.
I just knew that when I stood at the mouth of the sea, I was one with it, unconcerned by its ability to sweep me away to join it. A part of me wanted it to.
I stood as tall as I could next to a sea that dwarfed me, that showed me how small I was compared to a vastness that swelled toward the infinite. And that immensity humbled me even now, filled by a silence that was equal parts awe and curiosity.
I had so many questions to ask Marcelo. What was it that limited my powers when they felt as if they might be as grand as the sea? Why were some magicians more powerful than others? Couldn’t we all access the same elements that were the foundation of magic and life?
But questions would have to wait, even productive thought did, absorbed by my reverie. So much had happened in so short a time that my mind and emotions struggled to process it all.
We’d walked our horses down the steepest part of the mountain and then ridden them into the village, where Marcelo’s family kept a pair of carriages that couldn’t make it up the mountainside to the crest of Bundry—unless the family wanted to announce its use of magic. The label of magician was still dangerous. People, fearing what they didn’t understand, continued to clamor for the execution of witches all across the countryside. Even people as powerful as the Count of Bundry had to be careful.
So we put on the necessary show of walking down the mountainside as if we had no other alternative. As if we were ordinary—something I realized I’d likely never been.
Once Marcelo settled Sir Lancelot and me in the carriage and set off, pointing us in the direction of Irele, the owl grew tired of my pensive silence quickly and flew from the carriage to ride up front with Marcelo, who’d decided not to bring servants with us to avoid stranding them unnecessarily in Irele.
Sir Lancelot couldn’t get much conversation out of Marcelo, his attention fixed on the road in front of us and on any threat that might approach, but it was more than he’d get from me.
I allowed the rocking of the carriage and the muted sounds of horse hooves to lull the pain in my head and take me to sleep where my last wish was to be free of Count Washur and his cat. I’d only get half my wish and some rest.
I lost whole hours of the journey to nothing I could identify, yet the hours and then the days passed, and I was placid, staring out the window at the forests that came and went. After two nights of rest at unassuming inns available for travelers, the forests soon gave way to mountains again. And then the horses began the arduous climb toward Irele.
The inefficiency of the last many days of travel from here to there and back again confused me. Why had we left Irele for Bundry only to end up in Washur instead, then remained in Bundry only long enough to show us we had to return to Irele? It seemed like a lot of wasted effort.
However, when I leaned out the window to look up at the castle that crowned a lonely mountaintop, I knew everything was just as it was supposed to be.
Would I ever understand the true reasons why we did things? Did magic ever fully reveal its secrets?
Chapter 19
Mordecai didn’t come to the front gate. Even when Marcelo opened it with his magic and it creaked noisily to admit our horses and carriage, Mordecai didn’t appear to welcome us. He wasn’t there when Marcelo drove the carriage over to the carriage house either.
“Certainly Mordecai must know we’re here,” I said, tentatively.
“He must,” Marcelo agreed, his voice even, perfectly concealing his emotions.
Sir Lancelot was back on my shoulder, where his talons tightened around my cloak in anticipation of what we’d find behind the door to the Castle of Irele. Marcelo and I were relieved the long journey from Bundry was finally over, but we were wary of what awaited us here.
We drew out the walk across the courtyard toward the large front door. My arm threaded through Marcelo’s. We were somber, drawing in strength for whatever we’d encounter.
Still, we weren’t ready for what happened when Robert opened the door.
We stepped in and waited. Our eyes adjusted to the darkness of the interior and darted all about, looking for something—a pixie, a weeping maiden, or a ghost. But only silence rose to meet us, and it worried me more than when the depraved satyr greeted me.
Marcelo didn’t bother with hellos. “Robert, where’s Mordecai?” His voice was tight.
“His lordship’s in the dining room, milord.”
Marcelo and I exchanged a look that had nothing to do with Mordecai taking his dinner. It was so quiet that Mordecai must have dealt with all the art escapees. Yet when we left him just a week and a half ago, he hadn’t seemed focused or strong enough to deal with much.
“We’ll join his lordship for dinner, Robert.”
“Very well, milord.” Robert turned to lead us into the dining room. He crossed the archway and stood to the side to allow Marcelo and me passage, but I didn’t continue in. My feet had stopped working.
There was no room for any thought other than the one that pulsed through my mind so alarmingly that it sounded like a rushing wave of fright. The thought cascaded through my brain, swelling, building to terrible heights until it reached its crescendo, and then it crashed with a great violence that sucked the b
reath out of me and brought my hand to my heart.
Marcelo walked a couple of steps into the dining room before my arm pulled on his, and he turned. “Clara, what is it? Is something wrong? Do you feel all right?”
I didn’t look at him. I wasn’t even sure I’d heard a word he said.
There was only that one thought. And turquoise eyes and black silken hair.
What was Mirvela doing sitting to dinner with Mordecai?
“Clara! Marcelo! Sir Lancelot! How lovely to see you all, and what a surprise. I didn’t expect you back so soon.” Mordecai was cheery and acting normal, more normal than I’d ever seen him act before. “How was your journey to Bundry? Was it a success?”
Neither Mordecai nor Sir Lancelot were aware of who Mirvela was, and they had no way of knowing. Only Marcelo and I were forever branded with her image.
Mirvela looked stunningly beautiful, but otherwise unremarkable, sitting at the large wooden table. I didn’t understand how it was that she’d emerged from the merworld or how she was free of her usually-glittering turquoise tail—two things I’d wrongfully assumed she couldn’t be free of—or how she’d come by clothing from the latest fashion for the upper class. But she fit the part of a lady of the aristocracy exquisitely.
Sir Lancelot looked to Marcelo and to me, back and forth, waiting for us to answer Mordecai. When it became apparent we weren’t going to, Sir Lancelot, who couldn’t abide by discourtesy, stepped in. “Our journey was quite remarkable, but I’m not yet certain whether we can call it a success. It was… eventful. How’ve you been in our absence, milord? The castle is surprisingly quiet.”
“Yes, yes. It is, isn’t it? Thanks to my new friend here. Lady Mirvela, may I introduce you to my son, Marcelo, Count of Bundry, and to his fiancée, Lady Clara.”
Mirvela stood and bowed her head graciously to Marcelo and me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”
Marcelo didn’t even bother addressing Mirvela, and I could feel Sir Lancelot bristling at his rudeness. Marcelo spoke sharply. “Mordecai, this woman is deceiving you. She’s a merwoman, and a dangerous one. She’s the leader of their tribe.”