Sea Foam and Silence

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Sea Foam and Silence Page 10

by Lynn E. O'Connacht


  “Come on!”

  The princess does not wait for me.

  She sets off at a run.

  It is all I can do to follow her. >>

  She does not slow

  Until we are near the cave.

  I think my feet are bleeding again. T_T

  They hurt, at least, and there are stabs

  In my side and my thighs.

  I have not run like this before.

  The princess seems utterly unconcerned.

  “Bernhard!” she calls out. “Where are you?”

  I could have told her he would not answer,

  But I hear his voice very faintly.

  “I’m over here! Help!”

  My prince turns out

  To have caught himself

  In a thorn bush

  Just outside the cave.

  Apparently, he stumbled down

  The side of the hill

  Because the snow blinded him.

  It takes the princess and myself

  A good half an hour to pull him free

  And we sit on a felled tree trunk,

  Cold even though we wiped it

  Of its thick layer of snow.

  The physician at home would scold my prince,

  But the thought does not amuse me

  The way it does when I picture him

  Scolding me for something.

  My prince’s clothing is torn

  And the princess gives him her cloak.

  She talks to him,

  All the while,

  And tells him the story

  Of Queen Dagmar and

  Her shieldsister.

  My prince seems to be

  As puzzled by it as I was.

  But the princess persists

  And finally he smiles at her.

  I am… confused? Flustered?

  Still, I am not used to tall-crab speech. :/

  The princess knows he doesn’t want to marry her.

  I am surprised! Did he tell her?

  He did not tell me he would tell her. O_O

  Why didn’t he? T_T

  I do not understand them.

  They both seem relieved that

  My prince does not want to marry the princess.

  Why?

  Tall-crabs make no sense!

  I stop trying to follow their conversation

  About marriage and alliances and desires

  Because something has caught my attention.

  There’s a glimmer from the darkness

  Gaping right in front of us

  And I get up to investigate it.

  “Maris!”

  Both their voices intermingle.

  They startle me and I spin

  To face them instead of the cave entrance.

  “We should leave here,”

  The princess says.

  “It’s a bad place. Evil lives there.”

  It does not feel like an evil cave. :/

  But my prince and I follow her.

  On the way back,

  The princess talks to us

  About shieldsisters

  And shieldbrothers.

  Society on this island

  Is not the same as it is

  In the land my prince is from.

  It is… It reminds me more of home,

  The way that the princess describes it.

  “I do not care for mating,” I say.

  It has taken me half the way

  To understand that is what the princess means

  When she talks of shieldsisters.

  I do not want to be her shieldsister.

  I do not want to be my prince’s shieldsister.

  I do not want to be anyone’s shieldsister.

  The princess looks at me,

  Mouth quirking in ways I do not understand. :/

  “I don’t either,” my prince says.

  He scuffs his feet in the snow.

  “I’ll have to, with you, but.”

  He falls silent.

  I almost finish the sentence for him,

  But I think the princess understands

  Because her smile is sad and she

  Pats his shoulder gently,

  Careful of the scrapes and cuts.

  “We’d make a good family, the three of us.”

  My prince and I both ask ‘why’,

  But I think his is the only question

  That the princess has noticed.

  “Because I don’t want to lie with men

  And this way we’d be with someone

  Who wouldn’t force us into anything.”

  My prince looks thoughtful.

  “We could adopt,”

  The princess says.

  “Secretly. No one needs to know.”

  The prince shakes his head.

  Before he can speak, she continues.

  “Marry me now. Today.

  They won’t.”

  I don’t think I want to know

  What it is they won’t do. ><

  My prince sighs.

  The path we’re on is empty.

  There are some stubborn plants

  Growing to the side,

  But no rocks to sit on,

  Nothing to hide behind.

  My prince settles down

  On the ground.

  It must be hard as rock

  And cold as molten snow,

  But at least it is not icy.

  The princess looks

  Like she’d like to pull my prince up

  Out of the snow and scold him

  For being a fool.

  But she does not.

  I do it,

  Because I cannot use my hands to speak

  And haul him up at the same time

  And someone needs to do it.

  I don’t want him to get sick.

  The princess talks to him,

  Low and quiet. Something about

  Laws and obligations and differences

  That I do not understand. :/

  “All right,” he says at last.

  I tell them that I do not understand.

  The prince looks at the ground,

  Hunching his shoulders

  And trying to pretend that

  He is not here.

  So it is the princess who speaks.

  She takes my hand in hers,

  Just for a moment,

  I can feel the calloused warmth,

  Just to get my attention.

  Then she lets go

  And when she speaks

  She uses hands,

  Slow and precise,

  Deliberate.

  That makes me happy

  Because she is talking about things that

  I do not understand.

  Her people…

  They are like my sisters

  In their mating.

  That makes it easier.

  I want to marry my prince

  If it means he will not have to mate. ^_^

  So does the princess.

  I think.

  I think she is sad

  That I do not want to mate with her.

  “I like hugs,” I say.

  I do not know if she does. :/

  My prince laughs

  Suddenly.

  “She really does.”

  The princess bites her cheek.

  She is so very much a tall-crab.

  I have seen them do this

  When they are uncertain.

  It does not seem like a good way

  To sort out one’s thoughts to me.

  “I do not want to force you,”

  The princess says at last.

  Her hands are even more precise.

  Not like mine are

  When I am too angry to want

  To speak to someone,

  But careful, hesitant.

  “But I would like to get to know you.”

  “Perhaps,” my prince says.

  He clears his throat,
<
br />   Stands and tries to dust the cold off his clothes.

  “We should not marry yet.”

  “But it is auspicious!

  Great things happen on the feast for Dagmar!

  We do not need to like each other, Bernhard.

  We only need to agree to leave each other be.”

  “That’s not how the stories go!”

  But since my prince and the princess

  Are not looking at me, I am unheard.

  “I would like to get along

  With who I marry.”

  My prince’s voice is strained,

  Like he would rather yell.

  He has pulled himself up

  To his full height,

  Which makes him only a little taller than her.

  “I would too,” the princess says,

  “But how many men will be like you?”

  She crumples then,

  And I find myself catching her before she falls.

  She feels so fragile in my arms,

  Like paper soon to blow away.

  “I’m scared,”she whispers.

  My prince does not know she spoke.

  Her breath tickles my ear

  And I try to stand with her

  Before the cold can seep into my being.

  My prince is there,

  But she beats his assistance away

  And stands to face us both.

  “I’m scared,” she says again.

  “Me too.” My prince smiles.

  “We’ll be here all winter.

  That’s plenty of time to decide

  Whether we can make it work.”

  The princess gives us a wavery smile,

  And my prince takes both our arms.

  “Let’s go back to where it’s warm.

  My butt is freezing.”

  We laugh all the way back

  To the house. ^_^

  The evening of my birthday is

  Not a quiet celebration.

  Yet it is nothing like

  The feast when my prince

  And I first arrived at his castle.

  It is… closer, louder, and less structured.

  There is little room to breathe. T_T

  I would flee the house,

  But I have spent most of the day

  Outside in the cold already

  And I am too comfortable

  Near the fire to move.

  And people would notice it.

  I am not comfortable

  With so much attention,

  Even when my prince

  And the princess

  Sit at my side.

  I am nestled between them,

  Warm and crowded.

  My hands are tired,

  So I do not speak much.

  Most of the people

  Cannot understand me anyway.

  At least they are having a good time,

  Singing and drinking and dancing.

  Even though I would like to flee

  And find myself in solitude

  I can feel myself getting drowsy.

  Loud.

  I wake to noises.

  People shouting.

  Yelling.

  My prince is arguing.

  His voice is soft

  Compared to the others,

  But it is near me

  So I can hear it.

  The princess is growling.

  It takes me a while

  To understand what is happening.

  Some of my prince’s companions

  Are arguing with him about… something.

  They are talking too fast for me

  To understand what they are saying.

  All their voices mingle and it is hard

  To pick out individual words and thoughts.

  Except my prince’s voice,

  Because he is right above me.

  My head is lying against his thigh.

  I push myself up.

  I do not mind.

  I do not even mind the princess

  Pulling me away from my prince. :/

  She is gentle, no longer growling.

  “What is happening?”

  I ask her. “Why is everyone shouting?”

  She shakes her head and gets up.

  I take her held-out hand and let her

  Pull me to my feet.

  I do not think anyone has noticed us.

  The princess’s people are wary,

  As are the sailors we came with.

  It is only my prince

  And his advisers who are yelling at one another.

  The princess beckons for me to follow.

  The princess leads me outside.

  The wind has died down,

  Though it is snowing.

  A flake lands on my nose.

  We keep walking until we get

  To the grove.

  There are lights in the darkness,

  Lights the warmth of candles,

  Not the coldness of the stars.

  I thought no one would be here now

  But the princess explains that night

  Is when the elders do much of their work.

  “What’s going on?” I ask again,

  Once we are in a place where there is light enough

  For us to see what I am saying.

  “Bernhard’s countrymen…

  Did not like to see you so close.”

  I am confused.

  “We have always been this close.”

  The princess shrugs lightly.

  “Who understands people?”

  Who understands tall-crabs indeed.

  “I think they were upset

  On my behalf,” the princess says

  With a wry laugh. Then she sighs.

  I do not know what to say

  So I place a hand against her cheek.

  It is cold and she starts,

  Then smiles at me.

  “You truly don’t like anyone?”

  It is with voice she asks.

  “I like Bernhard,” I say.

  “And I think I like you.”

  The princess laughs

  And shakes her head,

  But she says nothing

  For a long time.

  “Not all shieldsisters share a bed,”

  She says at last. Quiet as a squirrel.

  “I hope you’ll both stay here.”

  It strikes me then that perhaps

  The princess does not want to leave here

  And come home to live with us.

  But I do not feel right asking.

  No one has followed us

  And the elders do not seem inclined

  To bother us or chase us away.

  So we find a place to sit

  And wait for… anything at all.

  The grove does little

  To protect us from the cold

  So we huddle together,

  Sister against sister

  And let our hair turn snow-dust white.

  The world is grey

  When my prince joins us.

  He is stomping onto the snow

  Hands balled into fists.

  And like shadows

  The elders come to bar his way

  Into the grove.

  The princess and I rise,

  Both at once,

  And come over.

  The snow falls down my back,

  And I shiver where my body

  Turns it into cold water

  Running down my spine.

  I wish, strangely, for the Witch.

  Her presence would be a comfort.

  A sense of the familiar,

  As I do not know this person

  My prince has become.

  “You cannot wed with anger in your heart.”

  That is one of the elders.

  I know what he says only

  Because the princess translates

  The words under her breath.

  Her hand finds
mine and I squeeze it lightly.

  I do not pull away. I am scared too.

  I wish I was a mermaid.

  It is less complicated.

  “You shouldn’t make decisions now,”

  The princess says. I am not certain

  What is happening, but I nod.

  I do not like to see my prince so riled.

  “I’m not going back,” he says.

  “I’ll relinquish my claim to the throne.”

  The princess gasps, I think.

  It is hard to tell since that moment

  Another molten snowflake

  Traces its way along my spine

  And I wriggle against the cold.

  “They’ll have to accept that.”

  The princess and I both reach out to him.

  She touches one arm and I the other.

  He flows into our embrace like water.

  It feels like home. ^_^

  It takes a month

  For my prince’s advisers to listen.

  He spends much of his time

  Arguing with them or

  Discussing laws and obligations

  That do not interest me.

  I spend more time on the beach

  Than anywhere else. Where would I go?

  The princess, too, goes her own way,

  Though she joins me from time to time.

  We talk about fish.

  I talk about the sea.

  She does not understand

  My aversion towards pearls.

  The weather starts to get warmer.

  I did not know it gets warm beyond the endless! ^_^

  The princess starts to lead me inland,

  To farms and houses that I have not seen.

  Some of the people I recognise.

  Others I do not.

  I discover roads and fields.

  There are even sheep!

  I think… I would not miss the sea

  As much if I stayed here. ^_^

  “You don’t have to stay.”

  My prince tells me this

  As we wander along the beach.

  The water is still cold,

  But I like to walk in the tide,

  On the wet sand tickling between my toes

  And with the sea caressing my heels.

  It reminds me of my sisters.

  If I stay here,

  I will never see my sisters again.

  If I leave on the ship,

  I will never see them either

  And then I will be alone.

  I’ll miss the baker’s boy.

  I already miss the baker’s boy.

  “I want to stay with you.”

  Because I’d miss my prince even more.

  He laughs at that

  And tries to ruffle my hair.

  I tied it in a bun,

  So that does not work.

  Looking over, I can tell

  That he was not expecting it to

  And that amuses me.

  “I’m glad,” my prince says.

  “I’d miss you if you left.”

  He smiles, brightly, “So would Asta.”

  I smile back.

  I think I would miss her too.

  They are my sisters,

  My tall-crab family.

  My prince puts his arm

  Around my shoulder

 

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