Tears of the Sea

by Marylu Tyndall

  Perdita took another tentative step forward, her mind spinning with questions. “How did he …?” She glanced at Savion, still unconscious from the pain. “How did he …?”

  “Fight off three trained Malum warriors?” The one they called Verrad gave her a crooked smile. “He has”—his lips tightened as he studied his captain—“unusual powers. If only he’d use the full force of them, we could defeat Natas and his Malum forever.”

  Petrok snorted. “There will come a time for that. We will wait. We all know Savion is destined for greatness.”

  The ship creaked over a wavelet, and Perdita shifted her weight. “But why does he even bother to fight Natas’s rebellion with only a ship full of men? Natas was the mightiest general in all of Erden before he betrayed King Abbas. Surely such battles are best left to the king’s armies.”

  Hona slid onto a chair beside his captain. “He says it’s everyone’s duty to fight evil.”

  Nuto shook his head. “Yet it seems we make no progress. We are victorious in one city, and Natas attacks another. We rescue those he imprisons in one place, and he only captures more.”

  Verrad shrugged. “Maybe Savion hasn’t enough power, after all.”

  Petrok swept fiery eyes his way. “Why stay with him then?”

  Verrad huffed. “Not for the treasure, that’s for sure.”

  “None of us signed up for treasure, Verrad. If that’s what you want, you should leave!” Nuto snapped.

  “For the honor.” Hona lifted his chin. “We joined Savion for the honor, for the purpose, for all the good we do.”

  “And someday when he conquers Natas,” Petrok added. “Perhaps King Abbas will make him ruler over the Ancient Seas and we will rule by his side.” His eyes flashed above a wide grin.

  “Rule? You?” Hona tossed a rag at him. “You can’t even decide what to eat for breakfast!”

  They all laughed, and even Perdita smiled.

  Soon, the conversation lulled and the men grew weary. One by one, they rose and left, all except Hona, who sat by his captain’s side, unwilling to trust anyone with his care—especially, it would seem, Perdita. But finally after much reassurance on her part and heavy eyes on his, he relented, but only so far as to move to the other side of the cabin, where he promptly lay on the deck and fell asleep.

  Perdita sat in the empty chair beside Savion and took his hand in hers, remembering how she’d done the same a week ago in her cave. Haddeus had removed the stitches Perdita had sewn in Savion’s forehead where the wound that would have killed him was now naught but a tiny pink scar. The sway of the ship sent lantern light oscillating over his strong stubbled jaw, the regal curve of his nose, and his sun-streaked hair, and she wondered how she’d ever thought him ordinary. In truth, after seeing the kind of man he was, she found him strikingly handsome.

  His bare chest rose and fell with each breath, lifting the medallion he always wore. She couldn’t help but stare at the taut muscles still twitching from battle, stretching over his chest and down his arms where the lion tattoo on his bicep seemed to roar at her. She rubbed her thumb over the calluses of his rough hand and thought of the strength in those hands. Where did his “special powers” come from? ’Twas like he hailed from another type of being.

  He moaned and shifted under the blankets, his expression agitated. Perdita began to sing. Though her tone was not as pleasing when she was in human form, mayhap it would help soothe him.

  “Destined to roam the waves and the sea

  I will forever be lost to thee

  Will thou love me enough to die

  Sailor boy, don’t make me cry …”

  She sang for several minutes until Savion settled into a peaceful sleep.

  His crew was right about one thing. This was no ordinary man. This man was indeed destined for greatness. Yet despite his skill in battle and his inward premonitions of evil, he was still mortal. He could be wounded. And even die. Then why did he toss fear and good sense overboard and charge into a deadly battle as if he were merely attending a spring festival?

  Risking his life for people he didn’t even know!

  A strange sensation caressed her heart, a gentle yearning, an uncontrollable pull. Admiration, attraction, respect, even care, all budded within her. Nay! She did not want to feel any of those things. She never wanted to feel them again. They only caused vulnerability and heartache.

  Leaning back in the chair, still holding his hand, she closed her eyes and eventually succumbed to the gentle roll of the ship lulling her to sleep.

  To a place where nightmares haunted … Duncan Mallory’s blurry face came into clear focus as he leaned across the linen-clad table and caressed Perdita’s hand, admiring the sparkling ruby he’d just slid onto her finger. Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed it as his gray eyes remained on her, sparking with interest, with love, even a hint of desperation. “Do say you’ll become my wife, Perdita. I shall go mad without you.”

  It was the year of King Abbas, 1523, and Duncan had ordered his servants to set up a table overlooking the falls of Credon—the most beautiful waterfalls ever to be found on the island of Jamak. Complete with white tablecloth, fine china, silver serving dishes, goblets of wine, and a golden candelabra, it was a scene right out of the myths of Nevaeh. His servants stood at a distance, offering them privacy but ready to come at a snap of Duncan’s fingers.

  Rich, powerful, handsome Duncan. Perdita could hardly believe her luck in finding him. And now after twenty-five wondrous days together, she knew he was the one. He loved her. He truly loved her! He’d already proven it by going against his father’s wishes and offering Perdita his troth, even at the risk of losing his inheritance. The ten Ivans before Duncan were like shadows, mists that were soon whisked away in light of this man’s wisdom, charm, looks, and kindness. There was naught he wouldn’t do for her. She had but to mention a craving and within a day he produced whatever she fancied.

  The soothing melody of rushing water accompanied the laughter of leaves beneath a tropical breeze. “Yes! Yes! A thousand yesses!” Perdita smiled, and Duncan leapt from his chair and pulled her into his arms. Laying her cheek on the silk of his coat, she drew in his scent and felt a twinge of guilt at her plans for the morrow. But if all went well, no one would be harmed. Perchance the test was only in the risking of one’s life, in the sincerity of the heart, not the actual sacrifice of life. Perchance true love would win in the end, and once Perdita was freed from the curse, she and Duncan would live together in loving bliss.

  Oh, how she did love him! Mayhap even more than Sir Ivan of Morehead.

  That one thought propelled her forward with her plans to lure him down to the docks of the city, down to the alley between the wharf and the fish market where the pirates she hired waited. Their instructions? To capture her and threaten Duncan with death if he attempted her rescue. They were also commanded to do him no harm and were paid well for their trouble. Duncan would come to her aid, of that she had no doubt. Otherwise, she wouldn’t put herself—and him—in the hands of such ruffians.

  No sooner had she and Duncan entered the alleyway, arm-in-arm, then the brigands grabbed her and held a knife to her throat—the drawing of her blood a little too realistic. Her heart soared as, when expected, Duncan fought off two of the pirates. She could almost feel herself becoming human again. Any minute now the tingling would begin, the itching like a thousand bugs crawling through her insides. Then the curse would be lifted, and she’d be free!

  One of the pirates held a pistol to Duncan’s head. “If ye don’t stand down an’ run along, I’ll carve yer gizzard out an’ fry ’em up fer supper.”

  Perdita frowned. Inexcusably dramatic. She would have to speak to them about that later.

  Her rescuer, her champion, froze, his wild eyes darting toward her in the dim light of the alleyway.

  Fight, my love. Fight! She urged him silently. And we will both be free!

  Instead, sorrow breached his eyes, and his handsome face crumpled li
ke dust. “I’m sorry, Perdita.”

  “Sorry?” She struggled against the pirate’s grip. “But I gave myself to you.”

  The pirates chuckled. “How’s about givin’ us a bit o’ that sweetness, darlin’?”

  Ignoring them—along with the terror cinching her heart, she turned disbelieving eyes toward Duncan. “But we are betrothed. I am to be your wife.”

  “I don’t want to die, Perdita. Forgive me. I’ll get help.” And before she could answer, he turned and fled into the darkness.

  She suffered more than a broken heart that night. She suffered a battered, violated, and beaten body as the pirates reneged on their deal, took her back to their ship, and passed her around like an old blanket for two days. In the end, they tossed her into the sea, where she drifted in unbelievable pain for another day before she transformed back into a mermaid. Back in her cave, she nursed her wounds for a month, but there was naught to do for the gaping wound in her soul. She removed Duncan’s ring and tossed it in her chest of treasures.

  But she could not remove him from her heart.

  She had loved him. Mayhap even more than all the others. And he’d promised to love her forever. Yet in the end, he hadn’t loved her at all. His love went only as far as the happiness and pleasure she brought him. But was that love at all?

  That’s when she determined two things. One: never to fall in love again. And two: to learn how to fight.

  Chapter 10

  Familiar creaks and groans drew Savion out of his sleep. Pain in his side brought him fully conscious. But it was a tight grip on his hand that startled him. Opening his eyes, he blinked in the dim light of a waning lantern to find Perdita slumped in a chair beside him, chin on her chest and her fingers intertwined with his. The soft roll of wavelets told him they were still anchored at Skivia as memories crowded his mind of the events of the day.

  He thought to pull his hand back, but for some reason, he liked the feel of her soft skin next to his. He liked it a lot. Too much. He also liked gazing at her when she wasn’t looking. Hair like shimmering ink spilled from her pins down the front of her gown over a delicate frame that held enough curves to drive a man to distraction. And her unique smell. A scent he couldn’t quite place—a sweetness that reminded him of the sea. Women like her knew they were beautiful and expected attention from men. He wouldn’t give her that satisfaction.

  She moaned and said something he couldn’t make out, but her tone was so melancholy, so despairing. “Duncan, please. Please don’t leave me. Why didn’t you love me?”

  Ah, one of her many lovers, no doubt. Savion yanked back his hand.

  Jerking awake, she sat up and stared at him as if trying to remember where she was. “Savion, are you all right?” True concern shadowed her expression as she leaned toward him. “Does your wound pain you?”

  Something in the measure of her voice, the way the lantern light flowed over her hair and sparkled on her skin, gave Savion a sense of having lived this moment before. Impossible. He closed his eyes, but still the images came in bursts: candlelight dancing over the slick walls of a cave, the sound of water dripping, and a black-haired beauty hovering over him. Just like this one was doing now. He also remembered songs, ballads, sung in the sweetest voice he’d ever heard.

  Wait. Perdita had sung to him earlier in the night—her off-key voice even now etching uncomfortably down his spine. He’d pretended to fall asleep just to get her to stop. Nothing like his memory. Still …

  “I’ve seen you before.” He rubbed his eyes.

  She shifted in her seat, bit her lip, then rose and strolled to his desk. “Of course you have, Savion. You rescued me nigh three nights ago.”

  “No, from somewhere else.”

  But she wasn’t paying attention. She was filling the lamp with oil, pruning the wick, and chasing shadows from the room. She was hiding something. He could sense it. But what? His thoughts drifted to the recent battle in Skivia.

  “You are either very brave or very foolish. I haven’t decided which. Either way you disobeyed a direct order.” He tried to sit, but the pain in his side prevented him.

  “I am not one of your crew, Captain. Besides, I thought I could help.” She kept her back to him and stared into the darkness outside the stern windows.

  “I doubt that. After all, how much help could you be?”

  At this, she spun around. “Because I’m a woman?”

  The arch of one dainty brow made him chuckle. “Precisely. If you think you are any match for the Malum, you are as delusional as I first assumed.”

  “Delu—” She slammed her mouth shut. “You forget I had a pistol and a sword.”

  And a shrewish wit to match, he thought. “If you are so adept at protecting yourself, why did I find you stripped of your clothing and left on a beach at the mercy of two men?”

  She moved closer, a coy lift to her lips. “I said I had a pistol and sword, not that I knew how to use them.”

  Behold, the seductress returned. Somehow, he preferred the shrew. Visions of that shrew being overlooked by the Malum as if she wasn’t even there caused unease to ripple through him. “Why weren’t the Malum interested in you?”

  She lowered to a chair and fidgeted. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “There were two of them … heading straight toward you, but they passed you by and went into the store.”

  She shrugged, looking away. “Mayhap they didn’t see me.”

  “They saw you.”

  She traced a finger over the intricate carving on the arm of the chair. “In good sooth, Malum never pay me any mind. I have no idea why.” She gave him a sarcastic smile. “Mayhap because I’m a lowly woman, as you so aptly pointed out.”

  In good sooth. Who says that anymore? He narrowed his eyes. “Malum prey on the weak.”

  She huffed and waved a hand through the air. “They eventually came after me. You saw them.”

  “Only when their leader noticed my concer—me looking at you.”

  “Indeed?” She smiled again—one of those deliciously mischievous smiles. “A bit egocentric, aren’t we?”

  Infuriating woman! Savion made another attempt to rise, but his side caught on fire. His moan brought her rushing to him. She examined the bandage as if she knew what she was doing, then brought a glass of water to his lips.

  “Enough of this nonsense. Stay still. You need your rest.”

  He drank the liquid, staring at her over the rim. The tenderness in her eyes swept away all thoughts of Malum. All thoughts of pretty much anything. For she did seem to care about his wellbeing. Snores drew his glance to Hona sound asleep in the corner. He smiled at his friend’s loyalty, then shifted his gaze back to Perdita. The shadows beneath her eyes spoke of her exhaustion. Still, she had stayed awake to tend to him. Lorelei would have never sacrificed a moment’s rest for his needs. Or anyone else’s, for that matter.

  He had determined never to trust beauty again, and this particular beauty wore many masks. Which one was the real Perdita? What was she up to? For he sensed a restlessness in her, a duplicity that pricked his nerves. And his good sense.

  Despite his misgivings, during the next week, he found her to be a skilled nurse, almost saint-like in her ministrations.

  Savion knew his crew cared for his welfare, but their talents did not include nursing the injured. More oft than not when he was ill, they left him alone in his cabin. One time when he’d been down with a fever, he’d had to drag his searing body up the companionway ladder just to ask for a drink of water.

  But not this woman. She hovered over him as a mother would an only child, tending to his every need, allowing him the peace he needed to recover. Only once did Petrok enter the cabin and that was to get orders on where to set sail. “Kadon,” Savion replied, keeping his promise to Perdita.

  On the second day, when Savion’s fever abated and he was able to sit, Perdita read to him from The Chronicles of Maylon with perfect pronunciation and faultless elocution of the archaic la
nguage in which it had been written nearly two hundred years ago. Not only that, her passion for the words, the story they told, was like none he’d seen during all his studies.

  “You must have had the privilege of an education, Perdita.”

  She seemed surprised and looked down, her sweep of lashes fanning her cheeks. “Yes, my father insisted. He had only daughters and wanted us to have the same education he would have given a son.” Sorrow lingered at the corners of her mouth.

  Because she missed her family or because they had all departed this world? “Tell me of your childhood.”

  She would not look at him. The ship bucked over a wave, and a breeze from the porthole spun through a lock of her hair. “There is not much to tell.”

  Rising, she closed the book and moved to replace it on the shelf lining the bulkhead. “I was but a poor shepherd’s daughter.”

  “Rich enough to afford an education, it would seem.” His tone emerged with more sarcasm than he intended.

  “You doubt me?” She faced him, indignant, her green skirts whirling about her legs. She’d found a gown somewhere—one without bloodstains. But unfortunately, this one was just as tight as the other. “Education was important to my mother. She hailed from privilege.”

  “Is that why you use expressions from our ancient tongue? ’Tis, ’twas, naught, mayhap, and forsooth—of all words? Because of your mother? Was she some sort of historian?”

  Her jaw tightened. “Yes, if you must know.” But then her shoulders slumped, and a look of longing replaced her anger.

  “Forgive me.” Savion chastised himself. Whether she was telling the truth or not, he had no right to belittle her. “Your parents must have loved you very much to ensure you were properly taught.”

  She stared out the window. “My father wanted me to marry well. He always said with my beauty I could catch a prince.” She gave a sad smile.

  “Why haven’t you then?”