by Amy Laurens
WITH THIS RING
Amy Laurens
Copyright 2011 Amy Laurens
Cover design copyright 2011 Amy Laurens
Cover image: Rovaro via stock.xchng
‘With This Ring’ first published online in Tower of Light Fantasy, Winter 2010.
Discover other titles by Amy Laurens at
WITH THIS RING
By Amy Laurens
Orkney slipped into the cool water with barely a splash. The afterglow had faded from the horizon and the river was quiet and still. He shivered in anticipation. Perhaps tonight Faroe would accept him.
A rustle from the riverbank drew his attention upwards. He found himself staring into a pair of stunning blue eyes, the kind one could drown in…
#
Orkney shifted in the pre-dawn light and stretched into wakefulness. He blinked, disoriented by the room he found himself in. What was this place, with its smooth, even walls and the ceiling so high above his head? What was this softness he lay on, covered by a heavy warmth?
The room brightened and the first sunbeam shot over the horizon, straight through the clear pane in the wall and into his face. Orkney flinched, shying away from the heat on his fur.
His heart leapt. Not fur. Skin.
He glanced down and his eyes widened. How had he gotten into his human form? He didn’t remember changing.
Orkney concentrated, taking deep, even breaths. He remembered waking yesterday evening – at least he hoped it was yesterday. He’d stretched, scratched, crawled out of his burrow, and slipped into the stream. He’d meant to swim over to Faroe’s, maybe ask what she was doing for a few hours. After all, it was June. She’d choose a mate any day now.
He remembered a noise, something distracting him. He’d looked up, right into a pair of beautiful, blue, human eyes.
Human.
The word tickled his consciousness, and he rolled over. Human.
He inhaled. Facing him, lashes curling on her sleep-softened cheeks, dark hair splaying on the pillow in waves and curls, lay the most exquisite woman.
The sun rose further and golden rays fell across her face, caramelising her skin and revealing copper highlights in her hair. Who was this beauty?
She opened her eyes.
Orkney inhaled sharply, shocked by their intense blueness. And he remembered. Lia. She was Lia.
A dimple sprang to life in her cheek. “Morning, sexy.”
He grinned in response. “Morning, gorgeous.” He reached out and drew her into his arms. The warmth reminded him of something –a burrow, perhaps? – but Lia pressed up against him and he could feel every curve and hollow, and nothing else mattered for the next few minutes.
By the time they’d finished he had decided that he must have dreamed of water and fur, and as they broke apart he sighed. “Lia?”
“Mm?” She lay with her eyes closed again, breasts rising and falling as she breathed.
“I love you.”
Her lashes parted. For a moment she stared at him, then her lips curved into a soft smile. “I love you, too.”
#
Lia left not long after breakfast on some errand or other, and Orkney found himself wandering through the house. Though he’d seen it all before, today it felt new and unique, and he was enjoying poking into all the odd corners and crannies. Even if his gaze did keep drifting to the strange brownish-yellow ring on the third finger of his left hand.
Given Lia’s happiness and the twin ring on her third left finger, he guessed he must have given in at long last and proposed. He felt slightly squeamish at the fact that he couldn’t remember it, but Lia hadn’t said anything, so perhaps he wouldn’t be expected to discuss it.
He tiptoed out of the spare room, closing the door behind him. One room to go: Lia’s study. He grasped the handle and his heart hammered and his mouth dried, sticking his tongue to his palate.
He frowned. He’d been in here plenty of times before. Why should he feel nervous?
Shaking it off, he turned the knob and pushed open the door. For a long moment he paused in the doorway. The air inside was still and uninviting. No dust danced in the sunlight, and the books that lined the walls seemed to hold their breaths.
Orkney realised he’d been holding his, and exhaled. Books couldn’t hold their breaths. Nonsense.
He strode towards the nearest bookcase, bending over to stare the books in the spine.
“Myths of Northern Scotland,” he read aloud. He blinked as a memory hit him. Lia had always loved northern Scottish folklore. Icelandic, too. She loved everything from that part of the world and longed to visit. It was an expensive trip from Australia – but maybe he’d try to save up and take her for their honeymoon.
He pulled the book from the shelf and crossed the room to Lia’s desk. Seating himself, he opened the book at random. “As soon as the seal was clear of the water its skin sloughed away to reveal a man, dark-haired like the seal and strong.” He flicked a few pages. “...woman went to the sea and wept seven tears. Right away the seal came to her...”
Orkney tilted his head, wondering why the book sounded so familiar. He’d never read it before – he’d never read any of Lia’s books before, he made a point of it – so how could he know these words?
A glimmer of light caught the corner of his eye, and he glanced sideways and down. He exhaled, muscles relaxing – just a drawer handle, catching the morning light. Nothing to worry about.
But something about it held his attention, and he peered closer.
“Huh.” His nostrils twitched as he realised it was made of the same stone as the ring that encircled his finger. He opened the drawer.
His eyes widened. It was empty but for a single ornate key, larger than his hand. The shaft and handle of the key were wrought in the same stone, animal figures leaping and twining their way along it.
I wonder what it opens, he thought, turning it over in his hands. Like the words in the book, he knew he’d never seen it before – but it seemed familiar.
He sat back, staring aimlessly around the room. He frowned as his gaze came to rest on the large windows, covered by thick drapes. Either the windows were a lot wider than they looked, or the curtains were covering a large portion of wall. How odd.
Key in hand, Orkney tiptoed over and pulled back the curtain. A large wooden door greeted him, bound with strips of iron and secured with a heavy stone padlock.
He glanced down at the key. Couldn’t hurt to try...
The key slid into the lock and turned with a well-oiled click. Orkney pulled off the padlock and cracked open the door.
A musty smell met his nose, damp and animal. He shivered and flicked on the light.
His stomach flipped.
Shelves lined the walls, shelves covered – he bit back the bile – in bits and pieces of animals. Horse hooves, several sets of different-sized antlers, a fox’s bushy tail – even the damp, rubbery skins of some frogs. A thick, grey seal pelt took up one of the back shelves, and above it...
Orkney gasped. Treading carefully, he moved towards the strange object. It looked almost like a duck’s bill, except it was brownish-grey and much broader. He knew what it was, of course – he saw it almost every day, on the back of his small change – but his mind didn’t want to bend around what it meant.
He drew a deep breath. Inching his fingers closer, he strained his ears for any sign that Lia might have returned. If she found him here, with this…
A shiver ran down his spine. She couldn’t.
His fingertip brushed the platypus bill and he froze, knowing that if any moment was the one for Lia to burst in, this was it.
But she didn’t. He snatched up the bill and raced out into the study, slamming the secret door behind him.
The r
iver. He had to get to the river.