Tears of the Sea

by Marylu Tyndall

  ♥♥♥

  This was the hardest test Savion’s father had ever sent his way. That’s why he knew if he could only pass, he’d be called home. He didn’t blame his father. Savion had risked his family, the kingdom, and everything his father had worked for when Savion had foolishly chosen to wed Lorelei.

  His glance wandered to Perdita as, unfortunately, it was prone to do. She looked so alone, so forlorn sitting on the rock down shore. His father had chosen the subject of the trial well. Perdita was the most fascinating woman Savion had ever met. Was she seductress or saint? Scholar or unschooled? Warrior or weakling? Regardless, she never failed to surprise him with her humorous quips, her fluctuating moods, and her unexpected actions. She had lied to him, tried to seduce him, and put him in dangerous situations.

  Yet all he wanted to do was take her in his arms.

  He must resist her. He would choose his bride well. Not based on beauty but on character: kindness, charity, honor, and morality. He would make his father proud.

  The swish of leaves brought his attention to the edge of the jungle. His men plucked their swords from their scabbards as people of all colors—dozens of them, all ragged and thin—emerged from the greenery. When their wide, hopeless eyes saw the blades, they froze. Others piled up behind them.

  Savion gestured for his men to lower their swords.

  A man with a bald head and gray beard stepped forward, his shirt nothing but tattered strips of cloth. Ribs poked the skin of his bony chest. “We knew you would come.”

  Savion approached him as more and more people squeezed through the jungle like rice through a sieve. “Who are you?”

  “We knew you would come,” the man repeated as he gripped Savion’s arm, his weathered face bright with relief. “We prayed to King Abbas to send help.”

  Savion glanced over the mob now filtering onto the beach. Dozens upon dozens squeezed from the tangle of green, their hair shaggy and long, their clothing shredded, their faces drawn. Men, women, and children. Savion swallowed down a pang of sorrow.

  His men, equally stunned, stared at the sight, still gripping their swords should the newcomers be a threat.

  “What happened to you?” Savion asked.

  “We’ve been stranded here for months,” the man replied. “We are all that is left of a merchant fleet transporting goods and people from Mirkesh to Zidron. We lost all our ships in a storm.”

  A young woman covered in red bites and carrying a baby stepped beside the old man. “We’ve been eating nothing but fruit and bugs. Please, sir, can you spare some food?”

  Savion swung to face his crew. “Put away your swords. Petrok, what food stores do we have on board?”

  “I don’t know.” The first mate sheaved his sword. “Verrad keeps track of that.”

  Hona scanned the needy crowd. “We brought only enough to feed us for our journey.”

  “Go get it, then, man. And be quick.”

  “Our food?” Nuto looked alarmed. “You’re giving them our food?”

  Hona drew Savion aside. “There won’t be enough. Not even for a quarter of them. Then what are we to eat when we set sail? What if another storm rises? We could starve before we make port.”

  “He’s right, Captain,” Petrok added. “Send them back into the jungle, and when our ship is repaired, we can sail to the nearest port and send back rescue ships loaded with supplies.”

  “We have to try,” a woman’s voice chimed in. Not just any woman. A woman who sent Savion’s blood racing. “We cannot leave them like this.” Perdita slipped beside Savion, her sweet scent drifting past his nose.

  He smiled her way then faced his men. “Bring all our sacks, crates, and barrels of food on shore,” he ordered. His crew complied—begrudgingly—and within an hour, the sand was lined with one sack of rice, a sack of grain, a cask of salted beef, two barrels of grog, two crates of corn, oranges, and a sack of hard biscuits.

  Savion’s men gathered wood for two fires, and Perdita helped cook the rice and make flatbreads from the grain.

  Once all the food was spread on top of a table made from planks stretched across barrels, Savion grabbed a hard biscuit, faced the crowd, raised the bread toward the sky, and said in a loud voice for all to hear, “Thank you, King Abbas, for all that you provide.”

  Murmurs of agreement passed through the mob that numbered over two hundred.

  Hours later, Savion knew Perdita hadn’t eaten anything all day. Yet there she was, bringing plates of food to the starving people, ensuring everyone received enough to fill their bellies, even the aged and infirmed lingering at the edge of the crowd. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her as she sashayed amongst them in her stained green skirts and cream-colored bodice, her hair spilling from pins like raven silk. She would be beautiful even in rags. Yet it was the gentleness of her touch, the way she smiled and stopped to talk with those who sat alone, her hurried efforts to deliver the food as quickly as she could, that made her glow.

  Did the woman never cease to amaze him?

  ♥♥♥

  After bringing food to a group of mothers and their children, Perdita returned to the serving table to see if there was anything left. When she’d gathered the last batch, only scraps had remained, and one of Savion’s men was about to scoop those onto a plate. Now, stopping before the table, she froze and rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. There was still some rice and dried pork! She quickly grabbed it and delivered it to those who hadn’t received any. When she returned, there was more—just enough to heap onto a single plate. When it happened a third time, Perdita asked Hona—who had just returned for more platefuls—where the extra food was coming from. He simply shrugged, grabbed his portion, and hurried away.

  Finally, as the sun made its way toward the horizon, she returned for more food and found the table empty. But it didn’t matter, everyone had been fed. She glanced over the crowd spread across the beach. Children played, women chatted amongst themselves, while men lay on the sand, rubbing their full bellies.

  Perdita had no idea what had just happened.

  Only Savion seemed unaffected by the strange event as he ordered his men to clean up and then strolled through the crowd, talking with people and making sure all was well.

  Perdita retreated to her rock down shore. Her stomach grumbled. She’d forgotten to eat anything, and now the food was gone. No matter. Every appreciative smile she received from each plate she delivered had brought her more joy than the most delicious meal she’d ever consumed. How surprising was that? She shook her head, pondering the revelation. Mayhap she had spent too much of her time during her many ephemeral redemptions serving herself and not others.

  An hour later, Savion approached, holding a plateful of food. Her nerves tightened when she saw Verrad following behind him, unshackled and smiling at her with that knowing grin that said he knew she was a mermaid, and he wouldn’t rest until he proved it to everyone else.

  “You haven’t eaten.” Savion handed her the plate, along with a pouch of water.

  “Thank you. I thought there was none left.” Rising to her feet, she eyed Verrad, who had stopped a few yards away. “Why did you release him?”

  “I couldn’t keep him on the ship like it is.” Savion glanced over his shoulder at the Scepter tilted halfway on its port side. “Rest assured, however, he is being punished severely. I’ve demoted him to deckhand, and he’ll scrub decks, clean the head, and do whatever is asked of him. That is, if I decide to keep him on board.” He stared at Verrad, whose eyes remained on the sand. A breeze tossed Savion’s hair in his face. He jerked it aside and planted hands on his waist. “He seems contrite, Perdita, and has asked for the chance to apologize.”

  Verrad inched forward. “I was mistaken, Miss Mulier. What I did to you was reprehensible. I was drunk and not myself.”

  They both knew that wasn’t true.

  “I beg your forgiveness for the injury I caused you.” The words did not reach his seething eyes.

>   Savion studied her, gauging her reaction. Of course she would not forgive him, especially since he wasn’t sorry at all. But Savion expected her to. He wanted her to.

  “I forgive you,” she finally managed to grind out with a sweet smile.

  “And,” Savion assured her. “I am keeping him under guard. He will not come near you again.” He nodded with assurance before he leaned toward her, a smile on his lips. “I am pleased at your mercy.”

  But, apparently, not pleased enough to keep her company. She stared at the men walking away. Verrad winked at her over his shoulder, sending a chill spiraling to her feet. After gobbling down her supper, she gathered palm fronds for a bed and lay down to count the stars poking through the dark canopy. How glorious, how magnificent the heavens were! She could never count all the stars. There were thousands upon ten thousands of them. Some said King Abbas had created the heavens. Others said they were formed by a random accident. Perdita couldn’t see how anything so beautiful and grandiose and precisely patterned could be an accident. With these thoughts in mind, she drifted off to sleep.

  A thousand needles pierced Perdita’s legs. Shrieking, she leapt to her feet and tried to focus in the darkness. The stinging continued. Seawater saturated her skirts, dripped from the hem onto the sand. She rubbed her eyes. A torch waved over her legs and feet, the flames dancing … crackling. A figure lunged for her and lifted one edge of her skirts. She slapped the hand and backed away, wondering if she was dreaming.

  But then the figure growled out a curse and slogged away, uttering, “I’ll prove it one way or another.”

  Verrad.

  She tried to settle her heart. What happened to him being guarded?

  A breeze swept over her, plastering her wet skirts to her legs. Shivering, she hugged herself and glanced down the beach toward the main camp, where Savion’s men slept around a dwindling fire. Offshore, the gray of dawn perched on the horizon, revealing the Scepter, tipped as if it were resting its head on the warm waters of the bay. She wished she could do the same. Rest and peace—two precious gifts that oft eluded Perdita.

  And apparently Verrad as well. She watched him grab a bottle from the sand, lift it to his lips, and march away. The man would not give up. She’d lived long enough to spot insatiable greed in someone’s eyes. Sooner or later he’d find a way to expose her.

  She was wasting her time here, anyway. She had started to believe Savion might care for her—dare she hope—mayhap even love her. But Verrad running loose on the beach proved otherwise. A man in love would do anything to keep his lady safe.

  She was wet, cold, and hungry. And worse—alone. Not exactly how she wanted to spend her time on land. Yet staying with Savion was proving to be even more tortuous. This island was as good a place as any to spend her remaining ten days. Then she would simply slip into the sea and be forgotten.

  Like all the other times.

  She scanned the sleeping forms down shore, her eyes latching upon one in particular. Savion. She could tell because his light hair looked like silver in dawn’s pre-glow. Even in slumber, he lay with the assurance of authority. She crept toward him, being ever so quiet, keeping an eye out for Verrad, who had no doubt gone off to plot a new scheme to destroy her.

  Not daring to come too close, Perdita halted two yards from Savion and watched him as he slept—studying the firm line of his stubbled jaw, the rise and fall of the medallion lying on his powerful chest, the expression of peace and control that always rested upon his face.

  Tears clouded her vision and she backed away, needing to leave, but not wanting to, not able to. Not yet. Who was this man? This wonderful, incredible man who spent his life helping others, who sensed things no man could sense, who multiplied food and defeated foes, a man who held to a standard of decency and honor she didn’t think possible. ’Twas as if he didn’t belong in this evil world at all. As if he’d come from another place where men didn’t lie and cheat and kill. And abandon. Even now as he lay in slumber, his presence called to every hope within her, luring her into a world she could never enter. A place she could never be.

  Because she was cursed.

  And cursed she would remain. For she knew now that though this man would risk his life for her, had risked his life for her, to allow him to trade his life for hers would be a travesty of epic proportions. What was she worth, anyway? What was her life compared to such a man?

  Though it meant another ten years of agonizing isolation, she could never put him in danger again. Kneeling beside him, she kissed her finger and laid it upon his cheek.

  “Good-bye, Savion, I wish you well.” Tears filled her eyes, and she rose and dove into the jungle before she changed her mind.

  Chapter 19

  Footsteps faded, leaves shuffled, and Savion looked up to see a flash of black hair and green skirts disappear into the jungle. He’d heard the woman approach, felt her staring at him, and was surprised by the gentle touch of her finger on his face. Even more surprising was her farewell. Where did she think she could run to on an island? And why leave now when it seemed all she ever wanted was to stay with him?

  Once again, the woman baffled him. She more than baffled him as a sinking feeling landed hard in his gut at the thought he’d never see her again. But wasn’t that the point of passing the test? Never to see her again? Savion stood and rubbed his eyes. Ripples of saffron and rose spread across the horizon and dabbed the sea with color. Another day dawned—another day, and he was still here on the Ancient Seas.

  Perhaps he shouldn’t have brought Verrad to see Perdita. But the man had been so repentant and had taken his punishment well. Savion’s father had told him that mercy was one of Savion’s best qualities. Best, and in this case perhaps the most foolish as Savion spotted the two men assigned to guard Verrad slumped against a palm, fast asleep. Great. Surely the man wasn’t stupid enough to go after Perdita again.

  Regardless, he couldn’t very well leave her wandering the jungle alone, where dangerous terrain, poisonous insects, wild animals, and who knew what else awaited her.

  Minutes later, Savion slid his sword into his scabbard and checked and stuffed his pistols into his baldric. “I’m going to find her.”

  Beside him, a sleepy-eyed Petrok scowled. “She obviously doesn’t wish to be found.”

  Gathering his water pouch, Savion flung it over his shoulders then faced his men. Petrok stared at him defiantly, Hona peered into the jungle, and Nuto shifted his foot through the sand.

  “I can’t very well leave her here all alone on this island.”

  “She seems like a woman who can take care of herself,” Petrok said.

  “The captain’s right.” Hona sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It wouldn’t be right to leave her.”

  “Even if she wants to be left?” Nuto chimed in.

  Verrad stood in the distance, arms crossed over his chest, and Savion wondered if he’d been the reason she’d left so suddenly.

  Nuto rubbed his chin. “She’s been nothing but trouble. Have you considered that Natas might have sent her to stop your mission … or worse? The Malum never attacked us directly until she was on board.”

  The man did have a point.

  “Nothing but trouble.” Nuto shook his head. “Nothing but trouble, I’m telling you.”

  Petrok grabbed Savion’s arm. “Don’t go, Captain. I have a bad feeling about this.”

  “I’m going with you,” Hona announced.

  “No. I need you here. I won’t be gone long. Repair the ship as quickly as you can.” He turned and headed toward the jungle, lifting a hand in the air to silence their ensuing protests, even as he wondered if he should heed them. His father had always said that a wise man considered the advice of counselors.

  Shoving aside leaves, he entered the green web and sought the peace within—not a web of confusion like the one spanning the canopy above, but a soothing river of peace, an inward knowing that he was on the right path. And there it was, in the warming of his medallion a
nd in the gentle voice deep within. He must go for the woman. Whether she was his mission or not, whether she had anything to recommend her besides her appearance, he knew he must not leave her.

  ♥♥♥

  Perdita made her way up a hill to the top of a cliff she remembered from her time on the island before and stood admiring the lush canopy below that stretched beyond the mountains to the azure sea. Birds, so colorful it seemed their wings were dipped in jars of paint, swooped across the green carpet as the chatter of monkeys and buzz of insects filled the air. Despite her burning feet and aching muscles from the climb, she drew in a deep breath of soil and life and sweet nectar and tried her best to appreciate the view she could never see from beneath the waves.

  A twig snapped, and she knew without turning around that Savion had followed her. She knew because her heart swelled and her skin began to tingle. Zost!

  “What are you doing out here?” he asked.

  She continued staring over the valley. “Thinking.”

  He slipped beside her and took in the view. His breathing came hard, and sweat molded his shirt to his muscled chest as if he’d run to catch her. But why? Wind blew his hair behind him as his golden eyes met hers, piercing and so full of life.

  “It’s not safe out here for you alone. Come back with me.”

  “Why did you follow me, Savion? I would think you’d be glad to be rid of me.”

  He heaved a sigh. “Not glad, Perdita. Just a necessity.”

  “Ah yes, how could I forget? I am merely a test.”

  Naught but the warble of birds and stir of wind could be heard as he uncomfortably shifted. “I shouldn’t have said that. Forgive me.”

  She said nothing, for there was nothing to forgive. Though her heart still stung.

  “You surprised me yesterday, Perdita,” he finally said. “Your generosity and kindness to those strangers. It was admirable.”