Sea Witch and the Magician

by Savage, Vivienne

  He backhanded her away, but she held on tighter, twisting.

  “Ye gods, let me go you crazy bint, let me go!”

  “Here, sirs! They’re in here!” the girl’s voice echoed down the alley.

  Caecilia’s aggressor swore and punched her with renewed resolve to free himself, snapping her head back. Still, she held on. Just a few moments more, and the city watch would be there.

  He hit her a third time, pain exploding across her face. Bitterly determined, she squeezed harder. Her victim shrieked like a small child. On the next strike from him, she lost her grip. Freed from her, he leapt up and grasped a rung on a ladder suspended from the building ledge. His dark coat fluttered around him as he made his swift exit, vanishing over the edge of the roof. She was mad enough to follow, jumping and swinging her hands at the ladder. On her fifth attempt, when she did grasp it, the slick blood on her hands sent her tumbling down, her feet slipped out from under her, and Caecilia’s ass met the icy ground.

  Three city watchmen burst into the alley.

  “Where is he?” the leading watchman asked, pivoting on a foot with his blade drawn. His gaze searched the shadows. Upon finding no one present but Caecilia, he sheathed the sword. “Are you all right, my lady?”

  “Seems he’s gone,” said the second, glancing down at the blood trail and man-sized foot tracks in the snow leading to the escape. “Injured and gone. I’ll go after him. You both stay and look after the little ladies.”

  Little? Caecilia started to puff up, until she realized they were certainly much larger than she and Margaux.

  “Doesn’t look like an Eislander,” one of the guards said. “Looks Samaharan to me.”

  “Nah, mate. Samaharans are a touch darker than she is, hair black as pitch usually. She looks like one of them Neverland folk. See the flower in her hair? Used to see them every so often while I was in the navy, piloting their own little boats on the Viridian. Bloody good fishermen, that lot.”

  “What’s she doing here then?”

  “Good question. Somewhere we can take you, madam? You got a sponsor, maybe? A host?”

  “Speak up, miss. Cat got your tongue?”

  “Perhaps she’s in shock. Attacked by an arsehole like that, can’t much blame her for being unwell.”

  “Too true. Gods, look at all of this blood. She’ll need to see a healer.”

  Caecilia blinked down at her palms and the angry, raw and open wounds. He’d sliced her so deeply across her right palm that attempting to close her fist brought tears to her eyes.

  Funny how she hadn’t noticed the pain until he pointed it out.

  “She can’t speak to you,” Margaux said. “She’s a mute.”

  “You know her then? Praise be. She looks wealthy, like someone’ll miss her. You wouldn’t happen to know where she calls home, would you, miss?”

  “The palace, sir. She’s a guest of the prince.”

  * * *

  Joren paced outside of Coral’s bedchamber. He’d been at the shipyard organizing a rescue operation with six other captains when the urgent news reached him from the palace runner—flyer, technically, as the young man was one of Muir’s people—and said his guest had been viciously assaulted in the city.

  His mind jumped to the worst outcomes.

  The moment his sister stepped from the room, he was at her side. “Well? How is she? What happened? No one has been able to give me a clear picture.”

  “Perhaps because you look like a man about to murder someone and everyone is afraid to speak with you.”

  Her blunt reply made him stop and blink. “Do I?”

  “You may as well be breathing fire.”

  Rather than argue, he drew in a calming breath and closed his eyes, only then realizing how tense his shoulders and back were. Rapunzel waited patiently while he got himself under control with a few moments’ meditation—a trick taught to mages with temper management problems at the collegium. He’d been one of them, quick to anger.

  “Please, how is she?”

  “I did what I could to soothe her pain until an expert arrives from the healing house,” Rapunzel said, voice low. “Some salve, some heavy bandages to stop the bleeding. He cut her fingers deeply on the left hand, and I’m afraid there may be permanent damage if I were to try. I don’t want to risk it.”

  “No, I don’t blame you. Healing isn’t my wheelhouse, either. What else did he injure?” he said, carefully phrasing his question.

  “Thanks to magic, the bruises are already fading, but she has a minor concussion. I think. Again, I’m not the best healer.” She bit her lower lip.

  Finally, he couldn’t bear another second of waiting in the dark. “Bruises where?”

  “Why, her face, you git. Where did you think I—? Oh. Oh. Gods, no, Joren. I’m sorry. I would have said that straight off. It began as a robbery. Margaux gave us the clearest picture of what happened, said she had a package to deliver to Matron Nathalie, and this…cretin stalked her into the alley she took for a shortcut.”

  His brows hitched. “Was Coral with her?”

  “No. They crossed paths just prior. Coral must have followed her, which is lucky for Margaux, or she might have been found in a ditch. They both could have died, Joren.”

  Her prediction sliced him like a blade to the heart. “Is Coral ready for visitors?”

  A faint smile touched Rapunzel’s lips. “She’s always ready for a visit from you. Haven’t you noticed?”

  “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

  His sister clucked her tongue and muttered something under her breath. Then, after an exasperated sigh, she gestured to the door. “Yes, she’s awake and able to have company.”

  “Thank you.”

  Joren knocked on the door. After a while of waiting and knocking a few more times, he remembered she couldn’t answer and that her hands were bandaged.

  Shit. He stood there, torn between instinct and manners, the latter requiring a man to always patiently wait at a woman’s door until she permitted him entrance, instinct telling him Coral wouldn’t want to be alone, that his company may be welcome.

  “Rapunzel, I—” He turned and noticed he was alone. “Blast.”

  With few options left to him, he chose concern over decorum and opened the door.

  “Coral? It’s only me. I don’t mean to intrude on your privacy, but I realized you couldn’t grasp the knob.” He searched the spacious bedchamber, spotting her on a divan near the hearth with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her features in profile. A dark watercolor of bruises spread from her temple to her cheek.

  When a sharp breath hissed between Joren’s teeth, she jerked away and put her back to him, hunching her shoulders, curling inward on herself to hide her face.

  Did she blame him? He wouldn’t blame her if she did. Their last night on the town had been magical, and then he’d spent the entire day absorbed in his work without so much as a message inviting her to dinner.

  “Coral, please look at me.” Her shoulders trembled. “Please,” he requested again, voice softer.

  He touched her chin and turned her face toward him. Before Rapunzel’s healing magic, the eye must have been swollen shut. In the seconds since his first glimpse of her, regenerative magic had already faded the magenta contusions until they were green and faded yellow. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

  She said nothing, as he’d come to expect.

  “What you did was a very brave thing. To go up against an armed man when you have no weapon of your own to defend someone weaker than you is the very definition of heroism.” Gods above, he wanted to kiss her. There was nothing sexier than a fearless woman, even if he wanted to throttle the man who dared to hurt his Coral. “You may have saved Margaux’s life, and I find that very—”

  “Joren?” Rapunzel called, rapping on the door. “Healer Adelaide is here. May we enter?”

  A response rested on the tip of his tongue, but he glanced at Coral first. She nodded, barely dipping he
r chin. “Yes. I imagine she’s quite ready.”

  Rapunzel and Healer Adelaide entered, the latter an older woman with rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes, the very image of a jolly sweetheart. The healer’s snowy hair fell around her shoulders in a cascade of ivory silk, and she wore bright pink robes with fluffy white fur trim. She knelt before Coral and set her leather bag of supplies at the young woman’s feet.

  “May I?”

  Without looking at him further, Coral gave Adelaide her full attention and offered her bandaged hands. Joren resisted the urge to resume pacing and took up a position beside his sister.

  Seeing the bruises hadn’t prepared him for Coral’s hands. The flesh had been rent open, slicing through muscle down to the glistening white bone. Joren had seen worse injuries, but the sight of them took him by surprise just the same. For Coral, he forced a stoic mask on his face when her gaze drifted toward him.

  “You were right to call me here, Your Majesty. The damage is extensive. Severed nerves and sliced tendons. Healing them with a rapid regeneration spell would have crippled her.”

  Coral blinked a few times, eyes glistening. She didn’t need to speak for Joren to know what was on her mind. As an islander, she needed her hands to participate in their active way of life.

  “Can it be fixed?” Joren asked, masking his rage behind what he hoped was an even expression.

  “Yes, though it will take time.” Adelaide tilted her face up to Rapunzel. “You did an excellent job of cleaning these, my dear. You were always my favorite pupil. Now, if you’ll both step out, I’ll begin.”

  Clinging tenaciously to both decorum and his patience—he wanted dearly to hunt down the animal who’d hurt her and slowly carve out the man’s intestines with the same knife—Joren nodded curtly and rose, only to notice a tug on the edge of his coat. Coral had grasped it between both of her stockinged feet, tugging him back.

  And then any fury, any need to rage at Coral’s transgressor, melted like candy floss in the rain. “You’d like me to stay?”

  She nodded.

  “Then I will.”

  Joren sat beside her on the divan and wrapped an arm around Coral’s shoulders while Adelaide tended to her decimated hands, poking the wounds with steel instruments, cleansing them anew with ointments and healing tinctures.

  “I’ve applied a pain-dulling salve, but I can’t numb you entirely, as I will need you to move your fingers on occasion,” the healer murmured to Coral. “I apologize in advance for any pain that I may cause, my dear.”

  Coral nodded again.

  He dried her face when she cried, rage building anew and simmering inside him. Every soundless whimper, every sharp exhale, was one punch he vowed to inflict upon her assailant. One time he’d kick the ever-loving soul out of a man vile enough to attack two women in a dark alley.

  Three hours later, Adelaide finished. By then, Coral was trembling against his chest, soundlessly sobbing and no longer making any effort to put on a brave face.

  “It’s done. The swelling will linger for the next hour or so but should rapidly diminish afterward. It’s crucial that she rest her hands until morning, at the very least, before removing the bandages. The wounds are no longer open, but they’ll remain tender. The nature of the spell I cast is a gradual healing.”

  “How long until she has full functionality?”

  “I’d like her to rest for the remainder of the week, at the very least. After three days, I’ll come to check on her again, unless she needs me before then.”

  “I’ll see that she takes it easy.” He glanced from Adelaide to Coral. She’d fallen asleep, exhausted by the entire ordeal. He swept her up and carried her to the bed, and with the healer’s assistance, tucked her in. “Anything else?”

  “No, Your Highness. Make sure she eats to keep up her strength and she’ll be right as rain in no time.”

  “Thank you.”

  Leaving Coral to sleep, he escorted Adelaide out. The moment he saw her into a waiting carriage, he turned and made his way toward the royal guardhouse. Halfway there, he ran into the man he sought.

  Captain Olivier saluted him. “Your Highness, I was coming to see you.”

  “And I, you. You’ve been briefed on what happened this afternoon?”

  “Yes. I finished speaking with the three city guards who found the ladies only a few moments ago, and I have their full report.”

  “Good. I want that ruffian found at once.”

  “The city guard have looked in all of the usual haunts for his ilk. They claim there isn’t a man fitting his description anywhere.”

  “Then they haven’t looked hard enough and the coward is lying low. I’d like you to personally lead this search. Our city brethren are good at what they do, but none have your experience.”

  Jules Olivier had helped free Eisland from darkness, one of the resistance fighters who supported Rapunzel. Since then, he’d risen through the palace guard ranks and earned his position as captain. Joren trusted his insight, his dedication, and his tactical appraisals.

  “I won’t fail you, Your Highness. If this miscreant is fool enough to remain hiding in the city, I will find him.”

  “Good.”

  With only a few short weeks remaining before the day of their departure, he wanted to gift Coral the peace of mind that her attacker would never hurt another person again.

  Chapter 11

  Joren knocked before opening the door and poking his head inside. “Coral, are you up for company?”

  A gentle tinkle rang from the left, near the balcony doors. He followed the sound of the bell and found her sitting in a sunny patch with a closed book in her lap, a tea service set out on the nearby table.

  “It seems someone beat me to asking you if you’d like tea.” He smiled and clasped his hands behind his back. Coral gestured to an empty seat, which he took with a quiet, “Thank you.”

  He took it upon himself to refill her cup from the pot. The tea had gone tepid, but an effortless warming spell remedied the situation and sent curls of steam rising from the surface. Coral’s smile widened and she mimicked clapping, barely pressing her wrapped hands together.

  “You know, I’ve never seen you fazed by any magic you see. Did you have a shaman or mage in your family growing up?”

  Coral nodded, a hint of a smile playing around her lips.

  “Your father? Mother?”

  She nodded twice again, and he wondered what had happened for the gift to overlook her. Magic could be a fickle thing, sometimes skipping a generation or even two, but that rarely occurred when both parents had the knack for sorcery. He and Rapunzel had been fortunate to inherit their grandmother’s magic.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re not frightened by it. Magic is so much a part of my life. Some people find it intimidating but you…you’re different. Stronger and braver.”

  Coral ducked her blushing face and, for a moment, he felt silly for spouting off so many compliments. Except she deserved each and every one.

  “I mean it,” he pressed on. “I didn’t get to finish telling you yesterday, but what you did for Margaux truly impressed me. Not only because you saved her, but because you cared enough to try.”

  When she met his gaze again, a new light shone in her eyes. She leaned forward and touched her lips, then traced the shape of a woman in the air.

  “You want to talk to someone? To Margaux?” When she shook her head and pointed to him, understanding dawned. “Have I spoken with her? Yes. I visited her last night after you fell asleep. She was rattled but well and grateful. Worried about you, in fact.”

  Coral’s brows drew together and she frowned. After a few seconds of intense focus, she flicked her wrist in the air. When he failed to say anything, she repeated the gesture, this time with exaggeration, her whole arm moving.

  He observed her for a moment. “I don’t understand. You’re…miming a whip?”

  Coral nodded harder, rose from her seat, and pointed down below toward the young maid trailing
behind the palace’s matron, a plump woman with a round and jovial, ever-smiling face. She’d come onto the staff less than two years ago to organize the ruins of the palace, hiring new staff to replace those murdered during Gothel’s bloody insurgence.

  Jabbing her finger toward the woman, Coral repeated the whipping gesture with her other hand.

  “She was whipped?” When she shook her head and pointed to another servant, something dawned on him. “You’re saying she does it? When?”

  Her shoulders drooped. It was maddening, wishing she could converse with him normally, but biting his tongue to show her the patience she deserved.

  “All right. You don’t know when, so am I right to assume you didn’t see it? Ah, all right. Then someone told you. Could you take me to this person and point them out?”

  She held up her hands, indicating the bandages.

  “Coral, please forgive me, but I don’t understand. Matron Nathalie didn’t hurt you, so I’m not certain—” He caught himself and sucked in a breath, thinking back to what started the strange new turn of topic. “Margaux? Are you trying to tell me Margaux is being abused in the palace?”

  Her nod stirred a cold fury in his gut. “She told you this?” Another nod made him want to fly into a rampage, but cool logic prevailed and told him to keep his head. Going after the matron directly would only cause problems if the story wasn’t true. Not that he suspected Coral would lie.

  “I’ll have a word with my sister and ask her to speak with Margaux. Would you like to be there when she—?” Coral flew to her feet and held out her hand. Joren blinked, then chuckled. Patience, while certainly one of her strong suits, had no place under the circumstances.

  “All right, we’ll go now, but afterward I’d be honored if you join me for lunch. There’s something I’d like to show you.”

  * * *

  Ghost Hawk was a damned liar. He’d claimed body language would be sufficient, but conveying complicated thoughts to Joren mentally exhausted her. She could have thrown herself into his arms, or sagged in relief when he finally grasped her meaning.