There were at least twenty souls on board, maybe more.
My hand shook as I brought it to my forehead. What did I do?
Father was right. I should have listened and waited until spring to sail.
I sat on the sand and stared out at the water, at the waves that were now so calm. I could see a bird in the distance. As it flew closer, I saw how big it was. Another albatross. Its stark white body looked too clean for its soot colored wings. They were stretched wide, probably longer than I was tall. It flew overhead and landed on the window sill beside the girl in the tower. Her hair disappeared.
I should have known we were in trouble when the sea birds disappeared. Animals had a peculiar sense about impending storms, and now it felt like every one of those men surrounded me, glaring at me from beyond their watery graves. My chest tightened like the knot in my throat. Why did I survive when I was the one who least deserved to live?
The wooden door at the bottom of the tower was gray and brittle. It stuck in the jamb, so I shouldered it open and stepped inside, looking around for her in case she decided to skewer me. Once the sun set, the night air had begun to sting my face and chap my lips. “Hello?”
“I bet you’re freezing,” she yelled back from upstairs.
I was. My lips were numb from the biting, cold wind.
“I made soup,” she added cheerfully.
In that moment, those were the best three words I’d ever heard. My legs were weak, muscles quivering as I climbed the seemingly unending spiral stairs. At the top, the light from inside her room flickered. I paused, glancing around.
“I won’t hurt you,” she called. “I’m sorry about earlier. I just... I was scared of you.”
I understood that. If I were a female alone on an island and a male washed up on the shore, I’d be wary, too.
“I won’t hurt you,” I vowed. “I owe you my life.” Lumbering up the last few steps, I closed the hatch behind me and turned to find her ladling soup into a small wooden bowl. She added a spoon and held it out to me with a smile. “Hungry?”
I blinked to clear my head and accepted the food she’d prepared. She was pretty. Dainty and small. Feminine, but strong enough to survive in this place by herself. The light blue dress she wore looked homemade. It was patched with purple material from something else, and was shorter than the fashions worn in Galder, exposing the calves of her legs and small, bare feet.
Bringing the spoon toward my lips, the steam warmed my frozen cheeks. “Thank you for sharing your food with me.”
She smiled and ladled soup into her bowl, and then took it to the small table and sat in one of the chairs. The room was circular; great wooden beams spaced around the walls, supporting the ceiling above.
“There’s another chair if you want to sit down,” she offered.
I slurped another spoonful, the soup warming me from mouth to stomach. “Thank you.” I sat across from her and an awkward silence stretched between us. There was so much I wanted to ask.
At the same time, we each began to talk. “I apologize,” I murmured. “Please continue.”
She shook her head. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions. I’ll try to answer them.”
“Let’s take turns.”
She nodded in agreement, watching me carefully. “That’s fair enough, but I insist you start. You’re my guest.”
“Can you tell me how you found me?”
“I didn’t. Tross did.”
“Tross?” Was she addled? There was no one else here. Was there? I scanned the room, trying to appear nonchalant. “And who is Tross?”
“The albatross you saw today,” she explained.
“You can speak to the albatross?”
She pursed her lips before answering. “I’m not crazy,” she sniffed. “I found him on the sand a few years ago. He’d broken his wing, so I wrapped it up for him and he stayed here while it healed. This is his home. I don’t know where he goes when he isn’t here, but he always comes back. He was sitting there the night of the storm.” She motioned to the western-most window, the one she’d been sitting in earlier. “Somehow, through the blizzard, he saw you and flew down to the beach. The wind was gusting so hard and he knew not to fly in winds like that, but he did it for you. When I went outside, he was pacing beside you on the sand like he didn’t know how to help but... it was like he knew you were hurt the same way he had been hurt. Like he knew you needed my help, too.”
A bird saved my life. I let that sink in a moment.
“How long have I been here?”
“The storm was last night. You washed up on shore just a few hours after dark. When I found you, you weren’t breathing. I thought you were dead.”
“How did you revive me?”
“I pushed on your stomach a few times,” she admitted, looking to the side.
She wasn’t telling the whole story, but I supposed she was panicked at the time and maybe the details had become muddied. I rubbed my chest. It was sore and bruised, right in the middle.
She winced. “That’s where I hit you. I didn’t just push on your stomach. Nothing would work, so I banged my fist on your chest and you coughed and spewed up a ton of water, and then you started breathing again. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“It worked,” I admitted with a shrug. I finished my soup and sat my spoon down beside the bowl.
“There’s more in the pot.”
I nodded in thanks and took my bowl to the hearth to get more. “Your turn to ask something.”
“You said you were a prince of Galder. Have you heard from Paruth lately?”
“No. No one’s heard from Paruth since the plague hit. Most of the population fell ill and died. A few survivors who lived on the outskirts or in the forests fled to neighboring kingdoms before they took ill, but there were probably less than a dozen survivors in all.”
She sucked in a breath, looking toward the wall and blinking rapidly. Then she sniffled.
My muscles stiffened. “Are you okay?” Is she crying?
“I’m fine,” she answered, her voice wavering. She was definitely crying.
“Where are you from?” I asked carefully, settling in front of her again.
“Paruth.”
I shook my head. “That’s not possible... Wait, how long have you been here?”
Her spoon clattered to the floor as she abruptly stood and walked to the window sill, crying as the moonlight cast a cool glow over her skin. She sat in the small space and drew her knees to her chest, sobbing. I didn’t know what to do or how to help the girl who’d saved my life.
She was quiet for a long time, and I sat and waited for her. When she finally spoke, she turned to me and remarked, “I knew they were gone. Deep down, I knew it. Hearing it is just hard.”
“What’s your name?”
“Raya,” she rasped.
“How long have you been here, Raya?”
She looked up, her big, arctic blue eyes blinking toward the ceiling. “A little more than ten years.”
My mouth dropped open. “That’s not possible.” Latching onto the only plausible explanation, I asked, “Are you a lighthouse keeper?”
She shook her head. “I just live here. It was supposed to be a temporary home, a sanctuary of sorts.” She took a deep breath. “When the plague struck, my father and mother were terrified. People weren’t just getting sick, they were dying within hours of their first cough. There was a witch who worked as a healer in the palace. She flew me here to keep me safe.”
As she spoke, I took a moment to look around the tower. Next to the hearth was a small kitchen. An open cabinet held a few plates and a bowl that matched the ones we were using, and a set of mugs. Pans and pots were piled beneath a small counter. On that counter sat a bowl filled with fresh fruit. Fruit that shouldn’t be available this time of year.
I knew witches existed, but they were forbidden in Galder. Witches were half-fae, and fae were tricky and manipulative. Her parents should have known bette
r than to deal with one, though I supposed their dealings with the witch in the end saved her life.
“Does she come back? This witch?”
“No, no one’s ever come for me. She brought me here, and then went back to Paruth. She was going to get my mother and then go back for my father, but she never returned. I imagined a million scenarios over the years. I thought maybe she survived and took the kingdom for herself. Or that the plague was still killing people, maybe on a smaller scale, and that it still wasn’t safe to return. Or that the witch wasn’t as good as Mother thought, and she was holding me for ransom. Maybe she asked more from my parents than they were willing to give, or maybe I was her prize. And then there was the most likely possibility—that my parents had died, that the witch, upon returning to get them died, too, and that no one knew I was here. I guess I chose to hope someone was coming rather than admit they weren’t.”
“Your parents must have been powerful and very important,” I mused.
“As important as yours, I imagine,” she croaked.
“The King and Queen of Paruth?”
“Yes,” she answered quietly. “I am the Princess and heir of Paruth…or at one time I was.”
Thinking back to the bowl of fruit, I asked, “But if you’re here alone, how do you get food and supplies?”
“Magic,” she replied softly. “My mother and the witch, Hildegard, were friends. Apparently, Mother saved Hildegard’s life at one point. I heard them talking one day about it. Their friendship ran deeper than most, and I think Hildegard truly cared for my mother. When Mother asked her to take me away, Hildegard didn’t even argue. She did what Mother asked as quickly as she could, and when I asked her to go back, she only hesitated for a moment, and only then because she was worried about leaving me here. Before she left, she spelled everything just in case something happened to her. I never run out of food, or firewood, or fresh water in the bowl. It replenishes itself somehow. We have what we need for as long as we’re here,” she informed sadly. “Which will be a very long time.”
“My father will send ships to look for me once he realizes I’m missing.”
She brushed away a tear. “They won’t find you.”
“What happened to having hope?” I tried to tease.
She shook her head forlornly. “There is no hope in this place.”
Chapter five
RAYA
I should’ve been glad to have someone with me. For once, I had what I thought I wanted. Companionship. I wasn’t alone anymore. But alone was what I found myself wanting to be. I needed time to process my newfound knowledge and grieve anew for my parents. I had to accept they were gone. Everyone I loved, my past and my former world, didn’t exist anymore.
Deep down, I knew it all along, but wasn’t willing to admit it to myself. It was easier to pretend.
“How old were you when the witch brought you here?”
“Twelve. I’m twenty-two now.” My voice was hollow, as empty as my heart now that all hope had leaked out of it.
“I’m twenty-six,” he offered.
Staring out at the water, watching the moonlight dance on its surface, I could feel the change in the wind. I sat up straighter. This one would be worse than the last. How long had this tower withstood the elements? How much longer could it?
“Do you happen to know where my ship went down?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t see any new bones. Did you run aground?”
He pinched his bottom lip. “No, an enormous wave knocked the ship over onto its side, and then pummeled it until we went down. It wasn’t shallow where we were.”
“There are really shallow places close by, but I know there are sharp rocks and deeper spots, too. From up here, you can see the differences in the color of the sea.”
He scooted his chair back and walked to me. “Are you okay?”
“I will be. I don’t have much choice in the matter.”
“There’s always a choice.”
“What about you?” I challenged. “Tell me if I’m reading you wrong, but it seems like you feel guilty for the ship wrecking.”
He paused, anguish marring his features. “I’m the one who insisted that we sail in winter, the one who knew we’d have to go into the North Sea, and the one who was warned about the winter storms and ice.”
“Did they warn you about the spring storms, or the summer or autumn ones?”
“What?” he locked his eyes on me.
“Did they warn you that a storm can pop up on the sea at any time, and that if you’re on it, your ship might sink?”
“That’s common knowledge.”
“So, you didn’t sail with the intention of the boat sinking. This wasn’t your fault.”
He pursed his lips together. “I made the decision.”
“Accidents happen every day, on land and on the sea. But that’s all they are, Trevor. Accidents.”
“I should’ve listened!” he argued. “It was more dangerous to sail this time of year. I should’ve waited. I could have waited.”
“Why didn’t you?” I asked.
He stared at the ocean. “I wanted to get away.”
“You got your wish,” I allowed.
“Yeah, and killed more than twenty men in the process. Their families—” his voice cracked on the word.
“—will understand that you’re a victim, too. Because you are. These men, these sailors… weren’t they happy to sail you to... where were you going?”
“Roane,” he snapped.
“Weren’t they excited to sail to Roane? To be on the open sea? Maybe it was their time and they died the way they wanted to; not as old men who couldn’t remember their loved ones’ names or how to feed themselves, but doing what they loved.”
“Like your family? Do you say the same about them? Were they excited to wither away knowing you were safe and sound?” he snarled.
It was like a slap in the face. I slapped back. “You wear your guilt like a heavy coat, Prince. Wade into the water and it’ll drag you to the bottom.”
He ignored the jab and pointed his finger at my neck. “And don’t think I don’t see the albatross you wear around your own throat, Princess. Maybe you should heed your own advice.”
He strode across the room and threw open the hatch, jogging down the steps. But he didn’t open the door at the bottom. He didn’t leave the tower.
I curled up on the bed and pretended to sleep. Eventually, he came back up. Sometime in the night, he draped a fur over me and whispered that he was sorry.
A tear fell from my eye when he said it.
Because I was sorry, too, but too cowardly to tell him.
TREVOR
I paced around the tiny bottom floor of the tower, trying to think of what to do to fix this. I lost my temper. The weight of being here, the guilt... It wore me so thin until she could see right through me, but I could see through her, too. Maybe that was why I snapped. She was just as upset about being alive as I was, yet she’d saved me anyway.
And I was glad.
I wish I would have been strong enough to want to go down with the ship, but I remembered the moments before it sank, clinging to anything I could to stay above the water’s surface, avoiding anything that might snag me or drag me beneath the waves with it. And when the wood I was perched on disappeared into the water and I felt the pull, I kicked and fought, clawing toward the surface. I wanted air, but more than that, I wanted to live. I didn’t want my father to mourn me.
The water was freezing, and my hands and feet went numb first. Then the prickling feeling spread into my limbs. I fought against the waves until I lacked the strength to kick and couldn’t paddle. Until I couldn’t move anymore. The last thing I remembered was Ella’s face as everything faded to black.
My heart was pounding as if it was happening all over again; like I was still fighting those waves and struggling to get to the surface.
I took deep breaths, threaded my hands together behind my head, paced, and sat on one
of three old wooden trunks before jumping up and pacing again. Then I took the stairs to the top floor. She lay on her bed, curled into a ball, her breathing steady and even. I took one of the furs she’d covered me with earlier and covered her. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. I’d tell her again when she woke in the morning, and hoped she forgave me.
Something soft brushed my hand, and I blinked awake to see an enormous bird snapping its beak in my face. I screamed, sitting up and jumping away from it.
Raya giggled from across the room. The bird let out a high-pitched shriek and lunged at me again. I grabbed my fur blanket and jumped to my feet, holding it out in front of me as a rather ineffectual shield. The albatross looked to Raya, who just shrugged with a smile. “Maybe he doesn’t like kisses,” she concluded.
“Kisses?”
“He wants a kiss,” she explained. “Tross loves kisses.”
“That’s ridiculous. He’s a bird.”
“He’s my friend,” she tutted. “Don’t be rude.”
The bird was almost as tall as my waist. “Why is he so large? Is this typical?”
Raya shrugged. “It is for him. He’s an amazing hunter. Aren’t you?”
Tross nodded at her. I tilted my head to make sure I’d actually seen the movement, and he nodded at me in return.
“I guess I owe you thanks,” I told him, lowering the fur.
He snapped his beak rapidly at Raya, making a clacking sound.
She sighed and turned her attention to me. “He really would like a kiss from you. It doesn’t hurt. It’s how he shows affection, and since he saved you, he feels a connection with you.” She bit her lip to keep from laughing at my expression. “I can show you if you like.”
I didn’t know about this… “Okay,” I conceded.
I watched as she took the few steps toward Tross. She knelt and pursed her full lips, letting the bird touch them with its beak. A moment later the bird took a step back, its webbed feet slapping the stone floor. “Simple as that,” she smiled, standing up. “Your turn.”
Gritting my teeth, I knelt on one knee and waited. “Pucker up,” she entreated with a smile.
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