Sea Witch and the Magician

by Savage, Vivienne

  But if she could break the curse, if he could fall in love with her as she was, Joren would never need to know.

  Caecilia dropped her hand and looked up to find him watching her.

  “Do you have anyone missing you at home?” he asked, his voice gentle and coaxing. When she shook her head, Joren’s eyes widened. “You lived alone? Is that why you came aboard the ship?”

  The corner of her mouth raised. He made it sound so innocent, when they both knew she had snuck on the Jolly Roger, but she appreciated his tact and nodded in the affirmative before gesturing with one arm to the passing landscape. The carriage moved at a leisurely pace, granting them a scenic ride from the palace to the city, and it was quite beautiful, even covered in patches of frost.

  “You’re quite adventurous, you know. That’s a trait I can admire. Once we get you outfitted properly, it’s my hope you’ll be more comfortable exploring my homeland. Jonquilles is the royal city, but in my opinion, it’s also the grandest and most beautiful in Eisland.”

  At the end of a downward slope from the icy mountains, they entered the city itself. Pedestrians paused in their walks or conversations to wave at them in passing, making it clear to her how beloved Joren was by his citizens. That affection was mutual, shown in the way he smiled and waved in return. He exuded genuine warmth, and it wasn’t a show for the crowd.

  Joren truly loved his countrymen. He addressed several people by name as they passed, asking about crops or families, or whatever other matter pertained to them.

  Her father had been a god, yet she doubted even he had known the names of so many of their citizens in the underwater kingdom.

  Eventually they reached the main square and the carriage drew to a halt. Joren stepped down first, then offered her a hand. She braced herself for the cold before pulling off the blanket. It wasn’t horrible, with the many buildings blocking the wind, but a chill started at her ankles and crept up her legs.

  Joren opened the door of a shop with coats and dresses displayed in the window. She stepped inside, instantly smitten with the wondrous colors laid out in neat stacks on the counters. Several dresses seemed to float in the air, but a quick inspection revealed the wire forms supporting the garments. She’d never seen anything like it.

  An older man with pale blue hair approached and bowed low. “Prince Joren, you honor me with your presence in my humble shop. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “It’s Master Jericho, correct?”

  A flush reddened the man’s cheeks and he bowed again, this time sweeping an arm out. Caecilia thought he’d topple over if he bowed any lower. “It is, my lord.”

  “Please, there’s no need to bow. I’ve come to find a dress for my friend, Coral Shell.”

  Master Jericho’s gaze darted to Caecilia’s left hand. She wondered why, noticing the color rising in Joren’s face afterward.

  “I see. Anything in particular?”

  “She’s from Neverland and accustomed to a warmer climate than our snowy winters. What are you able to do for her?”

  “You are in luck. We’ve just concluded our fall line, and I have some lovely warm garments.” He removed a length of ribbon from around his neck and gestured to Caecilia. “If I may?”

  She looked to Joren, uncertain.

  “He’s going to measure you for sizing. Painless, I assure you,” Joren said.

  Master Jericho led her to a raised platform and instructed her to stand tall and remain still. Then he fussed around her, using the ribbon to measure her at various points, moving her much like a doll to suit his needs. The entire process was as painless as Joren promised, though a little awkward, but soon enough the tailor stepped back with a satisfied smile.

  “I have something I think would fit her nicely. In fact, I only finished it this morning, a new style I’ve been toying with in designs. I’d be most honored for her to be the first to wear it.”

  Master Jericho hurried to one of the counters and pulled out a bundle wrapped in thin paper from beneath it. “Clara, I need you to help with a guest,” he called.

  A young woman, barely more than a girl, stepped into the room from the back and dipped into a curtsey the moment she spotted Joren. Then her gaze darted to Caecilia for a brief moment before her attention turned to Jericho. He passed the bundle to her, then laid out a few other items across it, including boots. He practically loaded the girl’s arms and Caecilia wondered how she could see around them.

  “Clara will assist you, Miss Coral Shell.” Jericho gestured for Caecilia to follow his assistant into a side room with curtains hanging in the doorway. Joren gave her an encouraging smile and turned to speak further with the shopkeeper. Once past the curtains, their low voices were lost to her.

  “Come with me into a changing room, miss,” Clara said. She had already laid the dress across a divan and stepped over to handle the laces at Caecilia’s back. The girl worked in silence and Caecilia wished she would talk, about anything. Most likely the girl thought her aloof and snobbish, a sobering thought.

  Had she been aloof in the past? She supposed she had, never seeking out any attachments beyond Croc and her attempts with Hook. Whenever an islander dared to seek her for help, she sent them quickly away once she gave them what they sought, and she made little attempt to disprove the damning fables passed down through the generations.

  Silent minutes passed as she first undressed and donned the new outfit. Jericho had provided everything, including stockings, which she found both odd and brilliant, if a little difficult to put on. They did, however, warm her legs and help the tall, wool-lined boots slip onto her feet effortlessly. Then came the dress. In addition to laces at the back, the bodice sported hooks at the front, cleverly disguised beneath the lacy floral accents sewn onto the velvet. Her assistant showed her how they worked.

  “A perfect fit,” Clara said in a quiet voice.

  With no other way to thank her, Caecilia took the girl’s hands in hers and smiled, before dropping into a shallow curtsey as she’d seen the servants do around Icedale Castle whenever Rapunzel or a noble entered a room. Clara blinked, looking to their hands then back to Caecilia’s face. She smiled shyly in return and gestured to the curtain.

  “Go let them see how you look, miss. I imagine the prince will be struck speechless.”

  The thought of Joren without words amused her, but even her laughter was silent, little more than a breathy rasp. Clara pulled aside the curtain for her. The moment Caecilia stepped through, Joren rose from a nearby chair. True to Clara’s prediction, his mouth opened and closed like a fish for a few seconds, not a single word coming out.

  “Yes, quite magnificent and as beautiful as I expected,” Master Jericho said. He clapped his thin hands together and held them steepled beneath his chin as he circled around her. “I had worried the hem might be too long, but it seems perfect as it is.”

  “It most certainly does,” Joren murmured. He shook off his stunned expression and smiled.

  “These mittens look to be the right fit.” Jericho passed them to Clara, who helped Caecilia pull them on. Like everything else, they were soft and warm, and unlike anything she’d ever worn before.

  “That looks lovely on you. Do you like it?” Joren asked.

  She spun around in front of the mirror set against the wall, running her fingers down the thick fabric of her dress. The softest fur she’d ever felt lined the inside of the skirt, warm against her bare legs. The same fur lined the matching boots and mittens. Had she anything to give, she would have eagerly traded it for the opportunity to express her gratitude in words.

  “One of my finest creations, I must say,” Jericho boasted. “The cold should not bother her at all in this, Your Highness.”

  “To be sure, I’d like to add a matching capelet. Something with a hood.”

  “Of course, my prince. I’ll fetch one.”

  Once the man left, Joren stepped beside her. “The color suits you.”

  Did it? She admired herself in the mirror a
nd considered his observation. The color reminded her of the berry wine made in Wai Alei. Hints of dappled crimson peeked from beneath the hem.

  She did look good.

  Not once during her many centuries had Caecilia ever worn so much clothing. No one in all of the merfolk kingdoms wore clothing underwater as more than anything but a decorative statement, believing garments designed for modesty to be a needless human invention.

  Occasionally, she’d donned a dress while walking on two legs among the mortals, wanting to blend in with Wai Alei society, but those were never more than light cloth. They had no velvets, no silks. Everything came from the fibers harvested from the islands’ flora or woven from the creatures that lived on them.

  The Eislandic style should have weighed her down beneath pounds of fabric. Instead, every layer surrounded her like a warm hug, a sensation intensified when Jericho draped yet another garment over her shoulders. A decorative clasp shaped like a golden flower held it closed below her throat. Thrilled, she burrowed her face into the luxurious sable fur trimming the edge of her cape.

  Joren stepped in close beside her. Her head snapped up, and their eyes met. He had the most beautiful, clear blue-green eyes she’d ever seen, reminding her of the Wai Alei shoreline at high noon, though she’d have sworn they were more like blue ice before.

  He touched the fur attached to her shoulders and raised a hood over her head. “There. Your cheeks shouldn’t be so cold now.”

  Without any concept of Eislandic money, she had no idea how much Joren spent on her comfort. Judging by the jingle of coins in the pouch he set on the counter, and Jericho’s pleased grin, she surmised it was a great sum.

  All for her, a near-stranger.

  Joren offered his arm to her again and escorted her from the shop. As they wandered down the lane, he played the role of a guide, pointing out popular boutiques, a market, and introducing her to a confection with the fluffiest layers of pastry filled with chocolate and cream. He purchased ribbons for her hair, beautiful silken strips in jeweled colors. All without asking anything from her in return beyond her company.

  “I wonder if you’d enjoy a visit to the spa,” Joren mused. At her raised brow, he grinned. “It’s one of many places frequented by women across Eisland. My…a woman I once knew would go twice a week. Sometimes more often than that.”

  A woman he once knew? The monstrous specter of insecurity arose, tearing her newfound confidence to bloody shreds when she realized how little she knew about the prince. Did he refer to a friend, a former lover, or some lady who had helped occupy the hours following his return?

  For the first time since she’d embarked on her journey as a mortal, she felt a fool. How silly of her to assume the man didn’t have a woman waiting for him at home.

  Whatever the spa was, she lost any curiosity for it. What did it matter if she was beautiful if the prince’s heart wasn’t free to be given?

  * * *

  After their day of shopping, Joren invited Coral to dine with him, but she declined and indicated the need to rest. So he let her be, but not before ensuring the servants had orders to provide dinner in her bedchamber.

  Something had changed in her, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on what. Her bright smiles had faded toward the end of the day, but he sensed it had been from more than simple weariness. Worry gnawed at his stomach, leaving him to wonder if he had done or said something wrong.

  Unable to solve the mystery, he set it aside and hoped for a clearer picture come morning. Not wanting to eat alone, he joined the guardsmen and caught up on everything that had happened in the palace during his latest absence. They raised a glass to their lost and fallen comrades on the Madeleine, which only further strengthened his resolve to recover their brothers and sisters.

  “There you are,” Muir’s distinct voice carried down the hall.

  Joren froze midstep and pivoted around. “I wasn’t aware I was lost.”

  Muir grinned. “Lost in thought from the looks of it. You never walk so slowly unless you’re thinking deeply.”

  “Guilty as charged. Did you need me for something?”

  “Rapunzel and I would welcome a visit, as would the children. You’ve been scarce these days.”

  “Sent you out to fetch me, did she?”

  “Keeping my wife happy guarantees a pleasant household.” Muir shrugged, a grin on his handsome face. “Besides, I think she has an ulterior motive.”

  “Of course she does. Even so, I’d love to join you.” Joren closed the distance between them and walked at Muir’s side. “How is the new aerie? Are your people settled?”

  “Aye. Your mountains are a good fit for my clansmen.”

  When Muir remained to become Eisland’s new king, many of his fellow griffins had followed, choosing to make a new home with their leader. Watching them fly from the mountains and dive in the ocean to fish was still breathtaking and wondrous to behold. The Oclanders, bless them, showed abundant patience to their adoring spectators and had won their way into the hearts of citizens across the nation.

  “I’m glad to hear it. Was that Sòlas I saw yesterday giving children rides on the shore?” Joren asked.

  “Him or Eilidh. They both enjoy the children. I believe it’s their way of hinting to Faolan to find himself a mate and give them grandchildren.”

  Joren snorted, followed by a quick, apologetic smile. “They’ll have a long wait if they keep pushing him.”

  “So I keep telling them.”

  Muir pushed open the door to the royal suite and gestured Joren through.

  “Unk Yuh-ren!” cried Elodie, rushing him. She barreled into his knees following the enthusiastic greeting, followed by her brother. He swept both into his arms and put them each on a shoulder while they squealed and pulled on his hair. He’d only missed their second birthday by a month, but they were large for their age and rather advanced. Were he not pacing in the corridor on the day of their birth, he’d have believed they were at least three or four years old.

  “Missed you little chicks so much.” Months out at sea meant each time he came home they looked different, growing too fast. Rapunzel had kept them out of his bedchamber during his recovery, and then days at the Jonquilles naval command had occupied his time.

  It felt good to hold his niece and nephew again and to feel their little faces snuggling into his neck. He cuddled them for a while and settled in a chair beside their mother, occupying both with stories of the sea until they tired of him and returned to their games.

  “They’re more beautiful each time I see them, Rapunzel.” He watched the twins playing on the floor, Elodie with a griffin figurine and Soren with a toy carriage. He bent over while rolling it along the floor, making the clip clop noises of a horse, only to wobble at the end of a sharp turn. A gentle nudge from his father kept him upright, but Soren abandoned his game and lunged into Muir’s arms, gleefully giggling the whole time. Not to be outdone by her brother, Elodie followed his example and pounced in her griffin form, bursting out of her pretty dress. From what Joren had learned, it took years to master shifting without ripping one’s garments to tatters.

  Muir fell back in his chair with exaggerated defeat beneath his children.

  “Beautiful and equally mischievous,” his sister said. “You’ve visited at a fine time. They’ve both had long naps and are ready to play.”

  “That’s because I’m too smart to visit when they’re grumpy and whining. The privilege of being an uncle.” And only an uncle, never a father, as he could find no woman wanting a second-rate magician. If they hadn’t wanted him when he had a claim to the throne, they certainly wouldn’t want him now. As Eisland’s admiral, he could offer them nothing but nights of worry and loneliness. He stole a quick glance at Rapunzel and found her watching him speculatively.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You’re a great uncle,” she said. “A great brother.”

  “Of course I am.” He played off his moment of introspection with a broad grin
that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  Some unspoken agreement passed between his sister and her husband. Muir scooped both children up in his arms, asking if the pair wanted to raid the kitchen for the chef’s famed tarts. Their unanimous giggles and cheers were lost behind the closing door.

  “All right then, out with it, sister.” He leaned back in his seat and stretched his arms across the back of the couch.

  “Don’t be like that, Joren. I only wanted to talk.”

  “Alone. Which means things you don’t want your children to hear.”

  She scrunched her nose. “It’s not as if I plan to yell at you.”

  “No, only meddle. Go on, I’m ready.”

  “You’re incorrigible,” she grumbled, but after a moment of silence, she released a pent-up breath and continued. “Fine.”

  “I knew it.” Try as he might, he couldn’t hold back his smug smile. “So, what did you want to discuss?”

  “Your stowaway.”

  The fine hairs on his nape rose. “What about her? She’s made no trouble.”

  “No, no, it’s nothing like that,” she said quickly, moving from her chair to sit beside him. “I only meant that I haven’t had a chance to spend much time with her, but I hear you’ve more than made up for that.”

  “She’s a stranger to our kingdom and she showed me incredible kindness during my illness. Introducing her to the city seemed the least I could do as repayment.”

  “I wasn’t criticizing, brother, only remarking. Her new dress is lovely, but if I’d known of her need, I would have loaned her something.”

  “I doubt anything you own would fit her, but the offer is appreciated.”

  “Well, the offer stands. Anything she needs, even if only my cloaks. Those should work well, regardless.”

  He relaxed again, only then realizing he’d tensed and leaned forward. “Thanks, Rapunzel. Truly.”

  “Of course.” She leaned against him, bumping their shoulders together. “All I ask is that you be careful.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s strange for an islander to leave their home, isn’t it?”