Parting Worlds - A Little Mermaid Retelling (Once Upon a Curse Book 4)

by Kaitlyn Davis

  When I turn to glare at her, I find she's gone, though she can't have gone far. The lily scent of her magic hangs like a weight on my shoulders, reminding me that my time is running out. She must be watching from the shadows, out of sight but still here.

  Erick doesn't seem to have heard. He glances down toward the hound, rubbing the dog's head softly. "You must be talking about Ru."

  "Ru?"

  "Oh, that's his name," he explains, finding my eyes again. I can't help but jolt a little at the contact. "He was born without a leg, the smallest in his litter, so the handlers didn't even bother naming him. They just called him 'the runt.' The Master of Hounds was going to put him down, until I brought him to the castle. By then it was too late. He only responded to runt, but I eventually managed to make Ru work instead."

  I don't know what a handler or a Master of Hounds is, but I don't want him to think I'm a fool, so instead I say, "Nice to meet you, Ru."

  The hound looks at me with his tongue lolling out the side of his snout.

  "Do you have dogs where you're from?" Erick asks softly. Then he scrunches his face and shakes his head. "Sorry, I must sound like a fool. But I've never met a faerie before. I've never even seen one."

  "You're not a fool," I say, smiling because his thoughts were so close to my own—he's just the only one who had the courage to speak them. "I've never met a human before."

  "Really?"

  I nod excitedly.

  "We're not so interesting," he mumbles with a shrug. "No magic. No common sense, either, apparently, to get lost in the woods in the middle of a storm. I hope you're not disappointed that I'm the human you stumbled upon. I think I would be, if I were in your shoes."

  Does he really think that? "Of course not."

  "Can I—" He pauses, frowning.

  "What? Go ahead."

  "Well, it's just—I don’t know how magic works. How'd you find me? The last thing I remember is being hit in the head by a tree branch, and then I woke up here. Did you get a vision? Did a tree tell you? Can they talk?"

  "No." I giggle softly. Talking trees? "The phoenix found me and bid me to follow. It used its tears to heal you before it flew away."

  "And how'd we end up here? Did we fly?"

  I shake my head with a smile. He says the funniest things. "Nothing quite so exciting. We—" My throat closes around the word and I pause, thinking of Nymia hidden in the shadows on the other side of the cave. I'm not sure she wants this human to know she exists. "I mean, I brought you. I had to drag you through the storm on a leaf, but it wasn't terrible."

  It's a slight fabrication. My arms still ache from the journey, but I don't want to make him feel bad.

  "A leaf?" Erick jumps to his feet, turning to look down. With a mystified expression he runs his fingers over the waxy pad he'd been sitting on, tracing the raised edge of a vein.

  "I stretched it out a little…" I murmur, unsure what he's thinking.

  "You did this?" He finds my eyes.

  I nod.

  "It's amazing." He grabs the leaf by the stem and holds it up as a sudden laugh escapes his lips. "It's as tall as I am!"

  "Oh, that's nothing."

  A wicked grin curves my lips. Nymia's magic prickles across the air in warning, but I ignore it as I draw on my own power. Stretching out with my senses, I focus on the saturated pores of his clothes, the droplets speckled across mine, the rivulets carving paths down our arms, the heavy weight clinging to my hair, using the magic to connect to every ounce of water that I can. Then all at once, I yank.

  In an instant, we're both dry.

  Erick gasps and steps back as his gaze sweeps around the cave. Liquid beads hang suspended in the air around us, twinkling like gemstones as they catch the firelight. Even my breath hitches. It looks as though I brought the entire night sky down around us, as though a whole universe of stars shines for the two of us alone. Our eyes meet across the distance, which seems impossibly vast yet entirely too close all at the same time. We're from two different worlds, but right now, none of that seems to matter. The only thing I see is him.

  "You're amazing," he whispers.

  I'm not. This is simple magic, yet something about the wonder in his eyes makes me feel special in a way I never have before. "Just wait."

  With the gentle strum of my fingers, I urge the water to spin around us, slow at first, then faster and faster, until we're in the center of a burning cyclone, standing in the middle of a bright flame. Erick pokes a finger into the circling wave, laughing as flecks of water splash against his cheeks, then looks at me. My cheeks flare with heat. My skin feels on fire. All I can think about is the need to cool down, so I gather a frigid wind within my chest, and blow. Immediately, the temperature in the cave drops. The water crystallizes, turning to snow. White flecks fall gently around us, disappearing as soon as they touch the rocky floor.

  Erick's gaze doesn't leave my face again.

  I don't want to break the moment, but there's something I desperately want to know. "Why'd you risk so much to free the phoenix?"

  "I'm not entirely sure. I guess I couldn't bear to think of it living the rest of its life in a cage," he answers, open and honest in a way we've been told humans never are. "There are animals we train, like Ru here, or the horses, or the falcons, who we can teach to come back, but I knew the phoenix was different. It was like a stallion found in the wild—needing to be broken before it could be caged. I've never much liked the thought of that, of breaking spirits rather than saving them."

  "Then why'd you help catch it in the first place?"

  Something akin to shame passes over his face. "My father doesn't like having a hound around that he thinks is of no use. Ever since Ru was a puppy, I've been training him to track magic, and what you witnessed was his first test. If he failed, they would've put him down"—I gasp—"so there was no choice but to succeed. We've only found items before, lost in the woods, not living, breathing things."

  "You didn't mean to find it?"

  Erick shakes his head.

  A spark of relief warms my heart.

  "Why were you there?" he wonders.

  "I've never seen a phoenix molt before. I just wanted to witness the magic."

  "I would've been happy with that as well." His voice is edged with apology. "But my father and brother are different. They only value things they can possess, a trait I'm sure is shared by a lot of men raised to believe they're better than everyone else simply because they were born with the right blood."

  I tilt my head to the side, confused by these human notions I don't understand. "Is it not your blood too?"

  "Only half," he murmurs, dropping his gaze to the ground. "And the other half is the only one that matters, because it whispers that I'll never be king. A fact for which I'm eternally grateful."

  "Well, if I were a human," I offer, trying to decipher all the hidden meanings in his words, aching to bring the light back to his eyes, "I think I'd prefer the wrong blood, if it meant I could appreciate the beauty of the world without feeling the need to conquer it."

  He retreats from his memories and returns his focus to me. The wonder leaves his gaze, replaced by something deeper, as though for the first time he's truly seeing me—not a faerie, not my magic, but me. "What's your name?"

  "Aere—ow!" I break off with a jolt as an electric zap pricks my bum. Nymia. I'd recognize the sting of my sister's magic anywhere.

  "Are you okay?" Erick crosses the distance between us, concern coloring his features as he reaches out to steady me, palm warm on my arm.

  Take that, I think toward my sister as though she can hear me. All she served to do was bring us closer together. "I'm fine. It must've been an annoying little gnat or something, not to worry."

  He relaxes, and loosens his hold, but—I can't help but notice—doesn't let go. "What did you say your name was? Ariel?"

  "No." I wrinkle my nose. "You can call me Aeri."

  "Aeri," he repeats, testing the word on his tongue. Then he smi
les, as though he likes the way it feels. "I'm Erick."

  "By the Mother, Erick." I murmur the faerie greeting. Normally, we'd press our palms together and exchange a little touch of magic, but I don't think I could move if I tried.

  His mouth rises into a lopsided grin and he slides his fingers down the side of my arm, gently skimming my skin so it feels on fire before coming to a stop on my palm. My heartbeat drums so loud I fear it will echo against the walls of the cave—a fear that only strengthens when he bows, lifts my hand to his lips, and softly kisses the topside. All the while, his eyes hold mine, smoldering brighter than the fire by our feet. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Aeri."

  We stay like that for I'm not sure how long.

  Ru's bark is the only thing that pulls us from the spell.

  "Is something there? Is someone coming?" I ask as I jerk my hand away and turn toward the entrance of the cave.

  "No, that wasn't an alarm call," Erick says as he walks over to the opening. I can't help but notice the sky is the slightest bit lighter, and the clouds have cleared. Dawn is fast approaching. "I think he wants to go home. The storm has passed."

  Has it?

  I can’t fight the sense that it's only just begun.

  "We need to go," Nymia calls from behind me. I would laugh at the way Erick jumps about five feet in the air, face going pale with fright, if my heart weren't sinking with the truth in her words.

  "Who are you?" Erick asks.

  "None of your business," Nymia blurts and grabs my hand, ignoring him. "Aeri, we have to go."

  "Has she been there the whole time?" he asks, still confused.

  I toss him a sorry look, then meet my sister's eyes. "Can't I just— I mean, can't we just—"

  "No." She shakes her head, adamant but also sympathetic as she gently squeezes my fingers. Lowering her voice so Erick can't hear, she whispers, "The priestesses will be waking up any minute. They'll wonder where we've been. We need to get back onto faerie lands. We've already been here too long."

  She's right.

  I know she's right.

  And yet—

  "Let me say goodbye," I murmur, sliding my gaze to the man I've only just met. How could I ever have been so stupid as to think one night would be enough? Why did I make that promise? Why, why, why? "Please."

  "Goodbye?" Erick questions, stepping away from the entrance and toward me.

  "I have to go," I try to explain. Nymia drops my hand and leaves us, granting my final request.

  "Meet me here again," he urges.

  "I can't."

  "Why not?"

  "I just— I can't."

  My throat clogs, choking on my frustration. There's still so much I want to know, so much I want to ask. What's that room in his house? How did he collect all those things? Why does he sleep some nights in a room full of horses instead of a comfortable bed? Why is he always alone?

  "What's the name of the trinket you left for me?" I ask suddenly, question spilling from my lips before I can swallow it back down. I need one answer, just one.

  "My pin?"

  "A pin!" I exclaim, emotions as wild as the storm last night, unruly in a way I can't explain, sad and elated and desperate all at once.

  "Aeri!" Nymia's sharp voice calls. I don't like the way she says that nickname, full of anger, when I'd like to remember it filled with awe instead.

  "Coming!" I shout back, not looking away from Erick. "I'm sorry."

  I turn to run, but he takes my hand.

  "Wait, please," he begs, tone as unhinged as mine, frantically trying to find some shred of hope to cling to. I give in, finding his deep blue eyes one final time, trying to memorize this moment and the sensation of feeling so wanted. "The full moon is in eight days. I'll be here waiting, until dawn if I must. If tonight has meant anything to you, please come. I want this to be more than a dream."

  "I—"

  "Aeri!"

  "I'll try," I finally blurt.

  When he smiles, my heart sings like a bird to the rising sun, filled with the promise of what's ahead. As soon as I step outside and take my sister's hand, it plummets. With each step toward faerie lands, it falls further still, growing more and more distant, until I feel hollow and empty inside. Then all at once, I realize what's happened.

  I left my heart back in that cave.

  I left it with him.

  And I'm not sure how to get it back.

  We make it back to the sacred grounds without mishap. When the priestesses ask where we were, we tell them we spent the night on the riverbank, basking in the power of Mother's storm. As long as we stay within faerie lands, we won't get in trouble—not real trouble, at least. Priestess Sytrene tells us to run along and eat breakfast, that today's lessons will be long ones.

  They are.

  In the morning, the priestesses pester us with games of riddles. If we saw a fox chasing a rabbit, who would we want to win—the predator or the prey? If a tree falls, do we bring it back to life or let it rot on the forest floor? How far should we let a wildfire spread before we fight to contain the damage? If we find an animal starving in the vacant deserts to the west, do we save it or let it die? All of life is a careful balancing act, they tell us. Take the first example. The fox might need to eat or it will starve, but the rabbit may have a den of kits depending on it to provide food. If too many rabbits die, plant pollination might be affected. If too many foxes die, rabbits might infest the forest. Nothing is good or bad—everything exists in accordance with one another. And we, as faeries, must remember that every time we use our magic. Our job is to maintain the balance, nothing more and nothing less.

  I want to ask where humans fit into this equation. If nothing is good or bad, why do we ignore them and label them as evil? Are they not of this world? Are we so different?

  I don't.

  I bite my tongue and do my best to pay attention as the sun arcs overhead. By midafternoon, we're working in the gardens, pulling carrots from the soil, plucking tomatoes from their vines, picking apples from a tree, then growing more in their stead. I'm so tired that by the time night comes, I fall into an exhausted sleep. In my dreams, I'm back in the cave with Erick, stuck in that moment where we were surrounded by all the wonder of my magic, yet he only had eyes for me, as though out of everything he'd seen, I was the most majestic.

  Nymia pinches me awake at first light.

  I sigh and meet her gaze.

  Simple as that, her eyes dim. She knows what's on my mind, but she won't release me from my promise, not yet, not when she thinks it's for my safety.

  We don't speak during our morning lessons spent practicing the art of bending nature to our will. All the girls-in-training have natural elemental magic given by the Mother, but that's only a small blip of what we're capable of with the right tutelage. Before the priestesses will trust us with the ancient words, we must learn the art of shaping the world. My earthen magic allows me to grow a vine from the soil, but it's something else entirely to pluck a leaf from the stalk and turn it into a bird. There was a strange malady the year before that nearly destroyed an entire species of deer. The priestesses took us with them when they traveled across the seas to grow a new population to replace what was lost. That's the true power Mother gave us—the power to give life. So far, the most Nymia and I know how to do is extend the size of the leaves, like with the boats we make, or twist petals into gowns for our clothes. Just when I think I'm this close to transforming a wheat stalk into a feather, the lesson ends.

  That afternoon, Nymia and I lie back with our feet in the river, letting the water cool us even as the heat of Mother's sun scorches our skin.

  "You know he's going to grow old, right?" she says suddenly. It's the first we've spoken all day. I let my head drop to the side as I meet her imploring gaze. "We won't even be initiated as full-fledged priestesses for another hundred years. By the time he's dead, we'll still be considered children."

  "I know," I mutter, looking back to the sky.

  "Hi
s people would never accept you. They'd try to use you, to hurt you."

  "I know."

  "The faeries will never accept him."

  "I know."

  "Whatever this is, it wouldn't last."

  "I know."

  Does that mean it's not worthwhile? A flower only blooms for one season, but in that short amount of time, it seeds the way for new life. Why should this be any different? Just because something won't last forever doesn't mean it shouldn't exist at all.

  Nymia sighs, as though she can hear my thoughts. "You know all that, but you still wish to see him again?"

  I don't answer.

  I don't need to.

  The silence extends—it's the first impassable divide to come between us. Nymia won't release me from my promise. I won't stop hoping she will.

  My sister rolls to her feet. I listen to the soft swish of her skirts against the grass as she walks away, but keep my gaze on the sky. With each minute closer to sunset, the shade darkens, reminding me more and more of Erick's sapphire eyes. No one comes to get me for dinner, so I stay there as the moon rises, noticing the convex curve.

  Every evening for the next few days, I trace the edge of that silver orb, aware my time is running out as it grows a little larger with each passing dawn. Nymia and I aren't speaking. The other girls have noticed and they make comments under their breath, but I can't bring myself to confront them. I don't have the energy to battle it out. I hardly have the energy for magic. My mood is as dark as the shadows that creep through the forest at night. I can't bring myself to care about anything except the countdown burning in the back of my mind.

  We've taken to sleeping on opposite sides of the meadow.

  Nymia stays with the other girls, close to the sacred flames, because she knows I won't risk speaking if there's a chance we'll be overhead. I stay in the outskirts, staring into the forest as though it might somehow contain the answers I need.

  On the night of the full moon, I corner my sister before she goes to sleep. The other girls slide their gazes our way, taking careful glances, whispering quietly to each other. I won't cause a scene. I don't have the energy for it.