by S Lawrence
Just as I had left him in the cave. Shaking my head, I try to shake the feeling of guilt. I had worked quickly in the cave, leaving water within reach of his hands. Liam stayed at the entrance. I’m not sure if he protects me or the man; either way, I pray he is okay.
Glancing toward the house, I smile at her, my mother in every sense of the word except birth. Snapping one last pin into place, I stoop over and pick up the empty basket, straightening slowly as I roll my stiff shoulders.
My fingers stray to the chain around my neck, rubbing down it to the pendant that hangs low between my breasts. It has always been with me. My mother told me once it was all they found with me.
Walking across the cool grass, I stop only when I reach her side, and she nods at another pile of laundry ready to hang before the sun rises higher. There is a slight breeze, but this time of year, we always have a stiff wind as the sun heats the air.
I yawn, and it’s one that forces your mouth wide and your eyes shut. After blinking a few times, I notice she has stopped her scrubbing and is watching me closely.
“Did you not sleep?” I consider lying but know there’s no point.
“No, not really. I..,” I glance back at the cliff. “I just feel restless.”
Her eyes narrow. “Did you go back out to the cliff?”
I want to tell her no so she doesn’t worry but I also want her to tell me nothing is wrong. “I can’t seem to help myself. I don’t even mean to but somehow I just end up there.”
She dries her hands on her apron before pulling me tight to her. My face rests against her neck, and I am once more amazed by our differences. She is ivory with freckles dotting almost every inch of her body, bright red hair wild with curls frames her face, and I, on the other hand, have dark hair and dark blue eyes. Even my skin has a different tone; I’m fair but with golden tones. I tan and she burns.
My father also has fair hair and skin. It was the stark differences the summer I was nine that led them to tell me. After spending long, hot days in the sun, my skin was as dark as the hawk feathers I had found and braided into my midnight hair.
My mom had been sitting under a tree shelling peas when I stopped chasing the kittens our cat, Penny, had delivered at the end of spring. They all looked like their mother except one who was solid white with pale blue eyes. Picking her up, I brought her to my face, rubbing the soft fur over my cheek, and suddenly, some thought that had been rumbling around in my brain for a while locked into place.
Their differences highlighted my own. Carrying Petal, as I had named her, with me, I joined Mom under the walnut tree, pushing fallen nuts around with my bare feet.
“Mom?” She kept shelling but looked at me. “Why don’t I look like you and Dad?”
I remember feeling nervous when her hands stilled. “What do you mean?”
I was irritated that she pretended to not know what I meant but I just stared down at the snowy kitten in my lap. I waited in silence, refusing to look up until I heard my father’s footsteps draw near.
“What’s wrong, Rosie?” I instantly feel bad, knowing I’ve upset her. “Reyna?”
“I think we have to tell her, Robbie.” My momma’s voice was sad and it drew my eyes.
My dad, the strongest man in the world, as far as I was and am concerned, had tears in his eyes as he lowered himself to the ground. Tears. My mom’s fingers were intertwined, the knuckles white as she gripped them tightly.
I just remember wondering what could be so bad. So scary. I suddenly didn’t want to know. Leaping up, dropping the kitten in the process, I ran. Ran from the truth I already knew, truth that had been whispered about me for years.
They found me quickly enough, for they knew all my hiding places. This time, I had chosen my fort underneath the low branches of a group of trees. I had spent days at the beginning of the summer weaving them together to make a shelter, a place to hide from the other kids in our village. I had always been on the outside, not ever quite fitting in, but this summer, it had been on a completely different level.
I had escaped from everything there in the trees, letting nature soothe my hurt feelings. The silence drowned out everything else. They both stooped low as they came in, stayed low until they sat upon the blankets she had let me bring out.
“Sweetheart.” Daddy’s voice is filled with love, and I look directly into his eyes. “We love you more than anything.”
“I know. I really do, but just tell me. The others, they have been saying it anyway.” My hair is twisted tight between my fingers.
And so they do; they tell me everything, making it all seem a little fantastical. They had found me on the very cliffs I can’t seem to stay away from now, wrapped in a quilt made of dark blue and silver fabrics. Daddy said it was like the night sky itself had held me safe.
That quilt and the chain around my neck were all I had with me. They brought me home and that night, the very moment they found me, they claimed me. The next day they introduced me to the village as their daughter.
The village doctor had told them I was only days old, days old and dumped at the water’s edge. I found out a few years later they had tried for years to have a baby. Maybe whoever left me knew that and had chosen them.
I like to think that, even now.
I finally pull back, forcing a smile and hoping she won’t worry too much. “I’m just tired, Mom. Promise.”
“I don’t like it.” Neither do I, the not knowing why, the strange desire or need for the cliffs and sea. I’ve begun to lose my fear of them and what they bring.
Chapter 3
PIRATE
The sea is still beneath me.
I lay unmoving on what I am assuming is the hard deck. My head feels like it’s about to split right in two. I keep my eyes tightly shut, knowing the light will be like a shard of glass in my brain.
It’s quiet. Entirely too quiet. I hear none of my men, no sounds of wind in the sails. What the hell is going on? Shifting to my side, I prepare for the pain to come. A growl locks my muscles in place. A dog. Not on my ship.
A feeling of dread washes through me. Not on my ship. I open one eye and fight the nausea beating at me. It takes a long minute before the stars fade and I see the massive beast sitting in an opening, the light behind it.
Wolf or dog, I’m not sure, but it’s the size of a horse. It growls again, lifting its lip, showing me a gleaming white fang.
How did I get here? Where the hell is here? Turning my head slowly, I glance around, letting my other eye open slowly, swallowing the spit that floods my mouth as my stomach tries to revolt.
A cave. My gaze lands on a cup filled with water. Reaching for it, my hand freezes when another rumble bounces off the stone walls.
“Just need a drink. It was left for me, wasn’t it?” Another growl is his response, but he stays where he sits, watching me. Still I raise the cup slowly to my lips.
I stop just before drinking to sniff at it. I smell nothing, but many poisons have no smell. Two choices -- drink it and risk death, or don’t and risk death. Fast or slow. That is my choice.
Fuck it. I drink deep, draining the glass before sitting back on the stone floor. “We’ll see in a bit, won’t we?”
He has apparently decided I’m not going to make a break for it, laying down and lowering his head to his paws. I’m not stupid, though. He will be on me in a second if I make the wrong move.
I let my eyes travel around the cave as I fight my churning stomach. My head is pounding, feeling like it will split open at any moment. Bracing on one hand, I reach up with the other and feel along my skull. My fingers brush against fabric hardened with my blood.
Someone had bandaged me. Someone had brought me here. Someone had saved me.
Who?
I don’t even know where I am. I do know how I got here though. A traitor. A traitor on my own ship. I can only hope my crew killed him or holds him so I can kill him.
I wonder how long I have slept here. How long was I adrift in the sea?
Sweat coats my body in minutes, and my muscles begin to tremble simply from the effort to remain upright. I feel both hot and cold. Damn is my last thought as I sink both to the floor and into darkness.
I wake off and on, shivering with my clothes drenched. I have no awareness of time, for the cave is the same every time my eyes open.
I dream of a dark haired beauty, humming a low song, covering me with a quilt, and wiping at my burning skin.
Chapter 4
REYNA
I returned as soon as I could sneak away. I crept down the stairs, stopping in the kitchen to get food and water. Wrapping it all in my apron, I hold it with one hand while grabbing bandages with my other. Listening closely for any movement upstairs, I open the back door and steal away into the night. Grabbing the lantern I had hidden by the back gate, I race down the street and make my way to the cliffs, letting the moon light my way until I get below the edge.
Tucking the bandages in my apron with the other things, I set the lantern down, pull out a match, strike it against the boulder, and set it to the wick. As soon as it catches, I lower the glass and straighten, using the light to make my way back to the cave.
Liam is where I left him, and his head raises as I approach. He is on his feet in seconds, bounding to me.
“Good boy. You’re such a good boy.” I look past him at the opening. “Is he still here?”
He bumps at my hip before racing down the rocks to the water’s edge. I watch for a while as he runs back and forth, nose to the ground, peeing on everything in sight as I roll my eyes at his antics.
I realize I’m delaying, but my heart is pounding at the prospect of entering that cave with that pirate. Just the idea is terrifying. I ask myself once again why I’m doing this and again I have no good answer. Turning, I look at the opening and take a deep breath to steel my nerves.
I’ve only gone a few steps when Liam nudges at my hand with his head. “Thank you.” I rub over his coarse fur. “For everything.”
He moves in front of me, going first through the entrance, protecting me like always. He pauses as I slide through the tight opening, his head lowered and turned toward where I left the man. After a moment, he looks back at me, and I begin to move forward again, trusting him completely.
The pirate is where I left him, eyes still closed. The cup is turned over beside him, empty. His clothes are wet, stuck to him, and as I draw near, he moans. The sound forces my feet to move faster, and seconds later, I’m kneeling beside him. Even without touching him, I can feel the heat of his fever.
He moans once more as I reach out to touch his forehead. His eyes flutter, and with the help of the lantern, I see his green eyes, beautiful even clouded with fever and pain. His skin is dry with heat, his body dehydrated. His body shakes with tremors, and I know I have to do something to help him.
I strip off my apron and my heavy skirts and leave on just my long shirt and undergarments. I tuck the voluminous skirt around his body before turning to mix some of the broth with the bread crust to soften it. Setting it aside until he wakes, I look at him again. His body is still shaking but less for the moment.
I put more water in the cup, setting it and the bowl by his side before standing and moving away. Pulling at the hem of the shirt and making sure it covers the curve of my butt, I’m glad that I have long chosen to wear mens shirts, thankful for the extra fabric.
My fingers run over the cave wall as I walk around the room marveling at the glistening crystals; I’m amazed that no one in the village knew of this place. How had no one ever found it? Surely our fear of the water and what it holds wasn’t immediate. My blood feels like it has bubbles in it as something between apprehension and excitement begins to grow inside me.
Something about the forbidden, the hidden, calls to me; this place calls to me. A cough causes me to spin, my heart pounding, and his eyes flutter for a moment before staying open. The haze of fever is gone when those eyes lock on mine. They remind me of the shamrocks I used to search hours for as a child, tucking them like treasures away between the pages of my books.
“You brought me here?” His voice is rough from the fever and it reminds me of something decadent, like a sweet dessert.
I nod, not trusting my voice, afraid it will give away my thoughts and feelings, which are all over the place.
“Why?” Why indeed.
How do I answer that when I don’t know myself? “You were hurt.” It comes out a whisper.
“I suppose I owe you a thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” I stay at the wall, frozen until he begins to struggle for the cup, and then my feet move on their own accord. “Let me help.”
“I can get it,” he argues stubbornly even as sweat breaks out across his brow.
Kneeling, I pick up the cup, my arm pausing as I notice his eyes locked on my bare legs. My free hand pulls at the shirt tails.
“Sorry, I…” He swallows. “Just surprised.”
I let my eyes slide down to his lap and his follow, noticing what covers him. “You had a fever, and it was all I had.”
His fingers graze over the embroidered flowers that I had stitched around the hem even as his eyes come back up to meet my own.
“Thank you.” His tone has softened, and I find it more tempting.
I let the cup continue forward until it touches his lips before tipping it up, letting the cool water flow into his mouth. He drinks his fill, his hand closing over mine, startling me with its heat. He lets me pull back after a moment.
He surprises me with his gentleness. Nothing like the stories of pirates I’ve heard. Picking up the bowl and scooping the broth and soggy bread into the spoon, I bring it up to his mouth, holding it there until he decides to take it.
It has grown cold, but he swallows it and another until the bowl is empty. His face is pale from the exertion as he lies back slowly.
“You should rest,” I murmur, gathering the bowl and cup. “I should go back before I’m missed.”
I start to push up, but his hand moves quickly, locking around my arm and drawing a yelp from my throat. That tight grip softens instantly, the thumb tickling over the inside of my wrist.
“What is your name? I am called Fallon.” I can’t focus with his hand on me. My eyes are locked on it.
His fingers tighten slightly, snapping me out of my stupor.
“Reyna.” It comes out breathy and I feel my cheeks heat.
“Your skirt.” He pulls it up, and I let my breath out slowly, taking it from his other hand. He holds on for a moment longer before letting his fingers slide over my skin slowly.
This time, I do push up and back away, carrying the skirt with me to the small opening.
“You never told me why you brought me here.” I look back over my shoulder to find that he is watching me closely.
“Because you were hurt.” His head tilts to one side, and the look on his face says he wants more. “I don’t know why.”
I am sliding through the opening before the last word leaves my lips. The sky is getting light when I reach the other side.
Pausing, I call back, “I would stay here, if I were you; the others will not be so kind.”
I leave, taking Liam with me, and I don’t bother to sneak. I climb to the top and stand facing the east, waiting for the sun, letting the wind whip through the folds of my skirt and my hair.
I taste the salt of the sea on my lips and I have a moment of wonder. I’m lost in my imagination when I hear footsteps.
Chapter 5
FALLON
“Reyna.” I smile. She is unexpected and beautiful and the first thought when I wake up.
She seemed as surprised by her actions as I am, for landers are not known for their love of us, and with good reason.
Most that roam the seas are an ugly, vicious tribe. After the world went watery, those that were strongest took to the mountains and the seas. Those on land rebuilt, making communities, establishing laws, and creating families.
&nbs
p; Those on the seas turned to lawlessness, pirates, like they had heard stories of or watched olden movies of. I’ve heard of those movies, heard of the deeds of those pirates all my life. I have seen how those stories shaped the men that sail the seas even now.
I’ve read all the books I could find about pirates from the past and I think people have forgotten the brotherhood that was at the very core of them. Those now choose to ignore what they fought for, instead focusing on the parts that were vilified. It’s how my brothers and I grew up, watching the men that stole us from our families do horrible things to those on the land.
It wasn’t always just those on the land though, and our hearts hardened with every crew that was killed for their ship or the stores they had below decks. We weren’t even men when we rebelled, and then the captain dumped us on a deserted island in the same waters I had read about.
Gritting my teeth, I try to push away the memories. Fifteen children had been beaten and stranded on that island; five had made it to the next. The others had died from internal injuries or starvation.
I would have joined them, we all would have, if it hadn’t been for the storm. It raged for days. We were weak, barely able to stand when the trees began to be ripped from the ground. We did the only thing we could think of -- we tied ourselves to one and let it carry us away. I welcomed the rocking of the waves, even if I was certain they would be our grave.
We held onto each other as lightning lit up the sky, even when our minds slipped into darkness. Hours turned to days as we drifted, all of us certain we were dead but none of us able to say the words out loud, unwilling to be the one who gave up on the others.
It was dark and the sea was calm when Cyder cried out, the sound barely audible because of his swollen, dry throat. I could barely raise my head to look at him as the others stirred. I was swallowing the minuscule amount of spit in my mouth, trying to wet my own throat, when I felt it. Sand. The sandy bottom of the sea.