Sea Witch and the Magician

by Savage, Vivienne

  “I didn’t—”

  “You did. No one knows the entire story, but I’ve pieced together enough in the past five days to get an idea. You met a young woman on the island. Something happened. One moment, you were discussing potentially remaining docked at Neverland for another day, then suddenly you were on the deck, roaring for us to collect our shit and haul anchor.”

  “I didn’t roar.”

  Cara moved inside and shut the door behind her. “You roared, love. Like one of those big black and orange kitties from Samahara.”

  “Tigers.”

  “Whatever. You stormed the deck, roaring like a bloody tiger and smelling of Hook’s volcano rum. Scared the life out of everyone. Now they’re all tiptoeing around.”

  Joren scrubbed his face with one hand. “I hadn’t meant to. It’s just…gods, I’m not making excuses for my behavior. I’ll go out and apologize.”

  “No need,” she said, perching on the edge of his desk. “We know it’s over a woman, and even the densest of naval officers has sympathy for relationship plights. We just want you to feel better.”

  “I don’t think I can feel better,” he confessed.

  “What happened? Kendra’s an excellent secret-keeper, by the way. Wouldn’t utter a word. So, you have my ear if you need it. I need the distraction from my own troubles.”

  Joren sighed. “It is a woman, and the moment we reach Jonquilles, I’ll be sailing back to Neverland for her.”

  “You’re going to turn this big ship around and have the men sail for yet another fortnight?”

  “Yes, I—” He came up short and frowned as her words sank in and understanding dawned. It would truly be selfish of him to keep the crew away from their homes and loved ones for his own personal matters. “I’ll take my yacht and make the journey alone.”

  “You must really care for her.”

  “I do.”

  “But…?”

  “She hid things from me. Important things. I suppose it’s similar to how you felt when Camden chose to stay.”

  Cara’s gaze dropped to her lap. “You feel betrayed, but the love remains.”

  “Yes. I mean, could you ever hold back forgiveness from your brother?”

  “Yes. No.” She sighed. “I don’t know, it’s complicated. Right now I’m too angry, I think. Too hurt.”

  He reached across the desk and took her hand. “I understand, believe me.”

  She glanced up and smiled, turning her hand over so she could lace their fingers together in a friendly gesture. “Thank you for telling me. You should know by now you don’t have to brood alone. Did I not hold enough of your secrets and confidences during elementary magic school?”

  “You’re right, I should. I didn’t want to burden you with my problems when you have your own, so...thank you. As for your brother, we won’t leave him behind. Whatever his reason for staying behind, we’ll find a way to get him back among his people where he belongs.”

  Along with everyone else still among the missing. Once he made things right with Caecilia, he’d ask her to help him plan an attack, and they’d bring everyone home.

  In the meantime, he had a brunch to attend and officers sorely deserving of his attention. Later, he would contact James via mirror and plead with the pirate to take word to Caecilia.

  He needed her to know he still loved her. That he’d return for her.

  Pleased with his plan, Joren rose from his desk, bowed, and offered Cara his arm. “Join me for brunch, my lady?”

  “I’d be honored.”

  * * *

  Fireworks burst in the sky, casting silver, gold, blue, and purple light across the city and the ships moored in the port. All of Jonquilles celebrated Eisland’s triumph over the Ridaeron Dynasty, and would continue to host extravagant revels for another two nights, though Joren suspected the unofficial festivities would last much longer.

  And why shouldn’t they? The victory deserved celebration, but if it weren’t for his sister’s insistence that he be present, he would have turned around already and started the voyage back to Wai Alei. Because while he rejoiced in the safe return of nearly all his crew, the absence of Coral at his side took the joy away.

  “We’re off to bed,” Rapunzel said as she struggled to rise from her seat by the window. “I’m too tired to stay up all night anymore.”

  He turned to his sister and waved a hand at her belly. “For good reason. You’re huge as a whale. Anyone would be exhausted before midnight, dragging a stomach that large around.”

  As expected, his tease earned him a swift smack against his shoulder. “Ow. Muir has taught you to throw a proper punch, I see. That one hurt more than usual.”

  “You deserve it.”

  “I do. You don’t look like a whale, more like a beautiful, glowing mother...”

  “Thank you.”

  “...porpoise,” he finished. “What? Porpoises are adorable, graceful creatures.”

  Rapunzel threw up her hands and glowered at him. “You are entirely impossible. Lucky for me, I arranged to have your yacht stocked for your journey so I won’t have to listen to your slights against my figure any longer.”

  His teasing grin dropped. “Truly? You did that for me?”

  “Of course I did. These celebrations are a result of your actions, but you deserve to enjoy them with the woman you love. So go and get her.”

  “What? Right now?”

  “Well, maybe not right this second. Get a good night’s sleep, then set out with the dawn tide.”

  He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.” As he was a kind and loving brother, he didn’t ask to rub her belly like the Lucky Kitty statues beloved by Liang.

  “Goodnight, Joren. Safe journey in the morning.”

  He remained at the window long after his sister left for bed with her family. Excitement and nerves warred within him. While he wanted to race to his personal vessel and set sail immediately, he recognized the wisdom in his sister’s words. He needed a night of rest, a few hours in a warm bed without stirring in the middle of the night. Now all he had to do was find the ability to sleep and remain resting until the morning.

  As he turned away from the window, a slow-moving figure on the road below caught his eye. Fat snowflakes fell in heavy puffs, adding to the ivory layers already blanketed on the icy ground. The figure hunched against the biting wind coming down from the mountain peak, and stumbled twice in its effort to reach the palace gates.

  Oh gods.

  Though there were lanterns shedding light on the winding path, the heavy snowfall created an unforgiving white curtain and shielded their visitor’s identity, revealing only a silhouette.

  That was all Joren needed. He knew the crooked spine, the familiar gait that alluded to unspoken agony and pain, a lurch he’d seen before on the deck of the Cannon and in his own personal cabin.

  It couldn’t be. It isn’t possible.

  Caecilia had come to Eisland. At that moment, he realized dreams could come true after all.

  * * *

  The second Caecilia emerged from the frigid water, she wanted to reconsider all of her life’s choices. Not just the foolishness that led to the demise of Henri and his crew, but the decision that led to her swimming hundreds of miles north to Eisland without so much as a coat to wear once she stepped from the water.

  The cold bit into her skin and settled like a merciless blanket on her wet limbs. She’d used all of her magic to reach the island nation and create legs, lacking anything else to conjure appropriate wardrobe, let alone dry herself.

  Fireworks burst above her in colorful and sparkling displays while music echoed across the city, joined by laughter and cheers. No one noticed her passing by, too consumed with their celebrations to mind the passage of a wretched beggar woman. Not that it mattered. By dawn, there would be nothing left of her for anyone to see. All the more reason she had to make the long trek to the castle to say her final goodbyes.

  Caecilia kept to the shadows and the darke
ned lanes where the street lamps weren’t planted closely together, and the pools of light didn’t overlap. She crossed roads slick with ice, and soon lost feeling in the soles of her bare feet.

  “Hooray!” someone cried from beneath an overhang. The cork popped from a wine bottle and fizzy drink came bubbling out of it into glasses. She envied these people with their tolerance for the cold. They huddled close together, some sipping the cold wine, others holding steaming mugs they filled from casks of mulled wine. There seemed to be one on every corner.

  Despite her pain, she smiled. It was nice to see happy people, and Jonquilles deserved the night of celebration.

  “Miss? Miss!” a woman called. When Caecilia didn’t stop, hurried footsteps thumped against the snowy ground. “Miss! It’s far too cold to be walking these streets like that. Here. Gods, take my shawl.”

  Warm weight settled around Caecilia’s shoulders.

  “And my scarf!” a younger male voice said.

  Twisting around on her rickety, protesting joints brought her face to face with a middle-aged woman and a teenage boy. The woman smiled. “Pour her a cup of mulled wine, love. Be quick about it.”

  “Yes, Mum.”

  “I couldn’t—”

  “Please. You’re welcome to watch the show with us, if you’d like. Coldest night of the year, the weathermages are saying. You’ll catch yourself a case of frostbite—oh goodness, and no shoes!”

  The boy returned with a mug. His mother took it and pressed it into Caecilia’s hands. The heat sank into her swollen knuckles, soothed and chased away a fraction of the chill. The first sip was ambrosia.

  “Let us find some shoes for you,” the woman insisted.

  “Shoes, you say?” shouted a man from across the lane. “A woman in need of shoes?”

  “Oh, please, I don’t—”

  They wrapped her in another shawl and someone emerged from one of the homes with a pair of shoes far too large for her feet, but they were better than the cold ground.

  A touch warmer than before, she thanked the kind people and continued toward the palace.

  But the snowfall continued and only picked up speed afterward, as if the skies had opened at once and unleashed the whole of their wintry bounty in a single blizzard. Somehow, it didn’t detract from the celebration lights, enriching the display instead, as if each flake was infused with color.

  The wind howled its fury, cutting straight through her shawl like a razor and slicing into her bones. It wasn’t until she reached the base of the mountain that her doubts resurfaced. On that long and twisting mountain road, the snow had collected shin deep and her feet sank into the thick, wet stuff. Shooting pain flew up her ankles, though she suspected it wouldn’t last for long, and she wondered whether to be thankful or alarmed by the numbing tingle in her toes. At least that was one part of her body that no longer hurt.

  I can’t do it. I’m not strong enough to do it.

  She huddled against the mountain face with her arms wrapped around her woefully underdressed body and she wept. Even with the gifts so generously given to her, she couldn’t do it.

  It was no longer about Joren and wanting to see him one final time. She had to apologize to Rapunzel, the queen who had hugged her like the sisters she’d missed for three hundred years. She wanted to exchange words with Margaux now that she had a voice to speak. To thank the maid who fluffed her pillows and dressed her. To hug Phillip, the kind and brave boy who had been willing to take a beating if it meant his family could eat.

  And she had hours to do it before sunrise and she disintegrated into seafoam.

  Failure was no longer an option. She had to make the climb. The optimistic words of Tinker Bell returned to her then.

  I believe in myself. I survived three centuries of exile. And I will endure this.

  Each step brought searing agony, but she pushed through the pain and continued up the cobblestone road. More than once she wanted to stop, to go back to the sea and let the pain end, but then the faces of castle servants who had endured worse than her swam in her vision, and she found renewed strength.

  She could make it. She had to. Joren deserved the truth and she deserved a chance to say goodbye in a proper manner.

  Even when the knee-deep snow claimed her borrowed shoes, Caecilia continued on.

  * * *

  By the time Joren burst outside, the figure had reached the outer gate. One of the sentries who stood watch was already en route, rushing to meet him, no longer wearing his winter cloak.

  “Your Highness, there’s a visitor come to see you. An old woman. Says her name is—”

  “I know who she is.”

  He broke into a run across the snow-covered courtyard, and with each step closer his resolve strengthened.

  “Caecilia?”

  At the sound of her name, Caecilia tilted her head up. The guardsman’s oversized woolen cloak and hood swallowed her smaller body, and her bare feet had no protection against the elements. He swore aloud and crossed the final distance between them, then swept her up into his arms.

  “What—”

  “No talking. Not until you’re inside and warm,” he said, more brusquely than intended. Gods, he wanted to throttle her for putting herself through so much misery. In his arms, Caecilia weighed little more than a brittle leaf, and she quaked as much as one tossed about in a windstorm.

  Rather than take her to his quarters, Joren veered into the closest room with a roaring hearth, a sitting room designated for guests. At this late an hour, it was empty, but the servants hadn’t yet come by to bank the fire.

  “You’re freezing,” he chided, kneeling to set her down on the thick rug before the fireplace. He pulled off the royal guardsman’s cloak and the two thin shawls, then grabbed a blanket from a nearby settee and wrapped that around her bony shoulders. Those were all stitched with enchanted thread from Samahara and guaranteed to return the warmth to her. “You shouldn’t be here, Caecilia. Coldest winter we’ve had in ten years, and you’re only wearing…gods, barely anything at all.”

  He knew the rags she wore beneath it, all old linen stitched from torn cloth. He suspected she wore castoffs from the islander women. Unable to bear her suffering, he rubbed his hands briskly together and channeled a heat spell before taking one of her frail feet between his palms. The rocks had cut them, and her toes were blue.

  “I had to come,” she said, teeth chattering together. “Hear me out, that is all I ask. Consider it a dying woman’s request.” She licked her dry lips and continued before he could get a word in. “I understand why you’re angry, and you have every right to be. Even so, I need you to know how sorry I am, and that my feelings for you were—are—real. And if being with your friend makes you happy then…then I wish you the best in your life moving forward.”

  Even after she fell silent, Joren waited, kneading the ball of her small left foot. After a moment, he took in a deep breath.

  “My turn now?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Now then, whatever are you talking about when you say me and my friend moving forward?”

  “You and C-Cara,” she stammered. “When you left Neverland, I saw you on the balcony and you looked…you looked very close. At least, I presume the woman in your arms was Cara.”

  He arched a brow. “A woman on my balcony. What did she look like?”

  “Taller than you. Waist-length blonde hair.”

  “That’s definitely Cara, but I can’t say I’ve kissed her since we were children at the collegium.” He cocked his head, studying her. “Are you positive that’s what you saw?”

  “My eyesight has been better, but I know what I saw. I’m not blind, I only appear to be.”

  “No.” It didn’t take much to repair the shallow cut on her heel, but her frostbitten toes required more attention. He worked over them, infusing more magic, brows knit in consternation. “I’m only saying I wasn’t with Cara on the balcony.”

  “But I saw…I was positive I saw y
ou and her.”

  He shook his head again. “I’ve only briefly entertained the idea of a romantic relationship with Cara, but it was far too strange to act upon. She’s more of a sister than anything. We grew up together.”

  Caecilia’s pallid face fell. “I would have swum to the ship the morning you left. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for lying and deceiving you and everything else I’ve done. I just…when I saw you on the deck of the Madeleine dancing with your crew like a friend, I wanted to meet you more than anything. Then the opportunity was there, and I knew no other way to do it.” Her cloudy gray eyes brimmed over with tears. “I’m sorry.”

  “There’s nothing more to forgive, Caecilia. I decided during the voyage home that I’d turn right around and sail back to the island for you. I was set to leave in the morning. Didn’t James relay the message?”

  “Message? No. He told me—” She gasped. “He only told me to haul my tail to Eisland as quickly as I could.”

  Joren grimaced at the thought of her walking from the shoreline through Jonquilles, ascending the mountain trail to the palace across ice and snow-covered rocks. “I’ll beat what bloody sense he has left out of him when next we cross paths. For now, how do you feel? What possessed you to walk all this way barefoot on…” He trailed off as he remembered her former words related to her curse. “You were in agony this entire time?”

  She gave a tiny nod, barely moving her chin.

  “Caecilia, why? Why didn’t you use the shell pendant and spare yourself the pain?”

  Caecilia bit her lower lip and dropped her head, breaking eye contact. “After you stormed away, I couldn’t bear to look at it again. I tossed it aside. I was furious at it and myself for what I’d sacrificed to have it, and even angrier that I’d chased you away.”

  “Your life. That was the cost of your beauty. Of being Coral Shell, wasn’t it?” At her meek nod, he sighed. “I have little understanding of curses and blood magic, as neither are my forte, but I know there are circumstances to neutralize and even reverse them. Where is the shell now?”