Serpent: Book II of the Asterian Trilogy

by Sarah Olson

  I rolled my eyes and followed the prince from the room.

  Chapter 23

  M Y THROAT WAS DRY, and my eyes stung with saltwater, but that meant I had to be alive. I survived somehow, and my body was pressed against something solid. I opened my eyes, ignoring the sting, and saw nothing but a blur of gray and green. I blinked a couple of times until I was able to focus on my surroundings. Water lapped against my legs and the sound of gentle waves filled my ears. I lifted my head from the gritty sand, pain shooting through my body from an unforgivable soreness, and slowly looked around.

  I was on the shore of a large cove. Cliffs rose up on either side, and a dense forest stretched out before me. The water was a clear blue and the sand a blinding white. I struggled to my feet, wincing at the pain in my back and legs. Everything felt stiff including my drenched and sandy clothing, but I had survived. I survived the deadly storm . . . but I was alone.

  Fear engulfed me. Where was Ethelyn? Where was Roy? They must have survived as well. Maybe the ship had not gone down, and they were still on it searching for me. My breathing quickened along with my heart as I spun in a circle, searching for any sign that I wasn’t alone. I gasped as my eyes caught the figure lying on the shore down by the rocky end of the cove. I stumbled across the sand, finding that my voice couldn’t escape my raw throat as I tried to call out. The sand slowed me down, only fueling my desperation until I was close enough to recognize him.

  Roy.

  I ran as fast as I could, my chemise and robe clinging to me, and fell to my knees beside him

  "Roy," I whispered, my eyes tearing as I took in the large gash across his torso.

  He lay still, his eyes closed and his arms and legs sprawled around him.

  "No," I cried, tears spilling down my cheeks. I reached my hand to brush back the hair that stuck to his forehead. He was still warm, and a flutter of hope filled my chest. I watched him carefully and realized that he was breathing, barely, but he was still alive.

  "Roy," I whispered again, staring down at the gash. It looked like it had stopped bleeding, but I didn’t know what to do. "You’re going to be all right." I didn’t know if the words were more for my benefit or his.

  I scanned the trees, hoping I would see someone that could help as a new fear took hold of me—what if we were the only ones on this island? It had to be an island since we weren’t close to the mainland when the storm hit.

  "Help!" I screamed, my voice rasping as I painfully forced it out. "Somebody please help us!"

  The tall cliffs answered with my desperate echo.

  "Anybody, please!" I begged. I looked back down at Roy hoping he would wake. He’d know what to do about his wound—how I could help him. I felt like an imbecile. Tristan had once insisted that I learn how to care for a wound, but I brushed the idea aside and chose to go to town with Catherine instead. How foolish I’d been, and now Roy would pay for it.

  There was a rumble in the distance, and I glanced up to see a storm was blowing in. We needed shelter. I gulped nervously and scanned the cliffs that were no more than fifty yards away. There appeared to be a cave right where the trees met them. Thunder rumbled again, closer now, and I knew I needed to act quickly.

  Trying not to think of the fact that I could be causing him more injury, I hooked my arms beneath his underarms and stumbled backwards, hauling him towards the cave. The clouds began to release their rain, and I struggled to move faster. My arms ached from his weight, and I cried out in frustration.

  Almost there. Almost there.

  Lightning split the sky with a crash just as we reached the cave. I pulled him in and set him carefully by the cave wall. The rain was deafening as it echoed across the stone walls.

  I pushed my hair from my face and knelt over Roy, inspecting the gash in the dim light. It was bleeding now. I was on the verge of becoming frantic, and I knew that wouldn’t be helpful for either of us. If I didn’t do something, Roy would die, and I couldn’t let that happen. I didn’t even let my mind go there. He would survive—he had to.

  I remembered the dagger he had given me and pulled my chemise up to reveal that it was still strapped to my thigh. I had put it there since he’d given it to me as it was the only thing that brought me comfort since the attack.

  "I guess you knew I’d need this," I said to him, forcing a smile as I pulled it out. Without another thought, I began cutting strips of fabric from the bottom of my chemise. I tried rinsing some of the sand off them in the rain and then set to work on wrapping his torso. I knew it wouldn’t be enough but hoped that it would help slow the bleeding. I just needed him to wake up and tell me everything would be fine.

  "Roy, do you hear me?" I asked, watching him intently for any sign of life. "You can’t die on me." The tears started again, and in seconds, escalated to uncontrollable sobs. I stroked his face, suddenly sorry that I hadn’t let him hold me the last time I saw him before the storm.

  "Wake up, please," I begged, tempted to shake him.

  I lay down beside him and placed my head gently on his chest, ignoring the smell of blood that seeped from the pitiful bandages. His heart beat slowly, and I felt the soft rise and fall of his chest. I stared out at the rain but didn’t move out of fear his heart would stop if I did.

  The rain slowed after what seemed like hours, and the clouds dissipated. Roy’s condition hadn’t changed. The bleeding appeared to have stopped, but he hadn’t stirred an inch. I stood carefully and went to sit at the mouth of the cave. The waves lapped at the shore, and the sun shone brightly. It was a couple of hours past midday now, and with each minute my hope dwindled. There would be no one to help us, and if the ship had survived, they could be miles away without any idea of where to search for us. This was not how I thought I would die.

  I walked back to Roy and placed my hand on his forehead. It was hot under my skin, and I bit back a sob at the fever. I lay down beside him, watching his slow breathing. There had to be a way for me to help him—I had to think.

  "Regina, Papa said we couldn’t go to the beach today!" a voice echoed through the forest.

  I shot up from the floor only then realizing that I had fallen asleep. I checked Roy again and then rushed to the entrance of the cave. I couldn’t have been asleep for more than hour.

  "What, you going to tell him?" a voice replied to the other. "Thought so."

  The voices sounded like they belonged to girls and they were getting closer.

  There was a crack followed by giggling.

  "Stop that!" It was the first voice.

  "What? Do you expect me to hold all the branches for you?" the second girl teased.

  Their footsteps got closer, and a young girl, no more than thirteen, emerged from the tree line followed by a younger one. They both stopped in their tracks at the sight of me, their eyes wide in surprise.

  "Help us," I rasped, my throat unforgivingly dry. "Please."

  "Are you hurt?" the older girl asked, her light brown hair swaying in the breeze.

  "No, but my friend is," I replied.

  When the girls didn’t move, I suddenly feared I was hallucinating.

  "Were you shipwrecked?" the girl asked. I could almost see her putting the pieces together in her head.

  I nodded. "Please, he’s going to die."

  The girl turned to the younger one. "Vivien, go get Papa, quickly!"

  "But then Papa will know we went to the beach—"

  "Now!" the girl yelled.

  Vivien turned without another word and dove into the forest.

  "Where’s your friend?" the girl asked.

  "In here," I said, gesturing behind me to the cave.

  She trotted over and followed me in, stalling right before she reached Roy.

  "He has a fever," I said, still hardly believing that I had stumbled across help.

  She knelt beside him and carefully lifted the bandages. "Doesn’t look too good," she said, making a face.

  I sucked in a breath.

  "But don’t worry,
my mother is good at healing." She gave me a reassuring smile. "My name is Regina," she continued, stretching her hand out.

  I shook it quickly. "I’m A—Norah," I said, hoping she didn’t catch my mistake.

  "And his name?"

  "Roy," I answered, placing my hand on his forehead.

  She pulled out a water skin she had hanging across her and handed it to me. "Are you thirsty?"

  I took it from her hastily and began to drink. The water felt incredibly refreshing as it ran through my parched throat. My fear for Roy’s safety had led me to ignore how hungry and thirsty I was.

  Regina watched me quietly as I finished the last drop and smiled. "Better?"

  I nodded and handed her the empty water skin. "Sorry."

  "Don’t worry; we have plenty of water at home."

  "Where are we?" I asked, looking out at the forest.

  "Blue Isle," she answered. "It’s the largest island of the Coral Isles."

  The Coral Isles? How did we get so far south?

  "Is something wrong?" Regina asked, a puzzled expression on her face. I noticed now that there were freckles splattered across her cheeks and nose.

  "I just didn’t realize how far off course the ship was," I replied, trying to picture the map in my head. "I mean, we weren’t terribly off, but we should’ve never been near these islands."

  "Where were you going?"

  "Asteria," I answered a sinking feeling in my gut. How long would it be now until I could see my family again?

  Regina’s eyes lit up. "I’ve always wanted to go there. Papa says it's beautiful. Is it?"

  I thought back to my home and the crashing waves on the cliffs below the castle. The Northern Mountains rising high with peaks always covered in snow. The rolling hills in the east and the farmlands that stretched for miles in the south. A smile found its way to my lips despite my current predicament. "Yes, it’s very beautiful."

  She sighed. "Perhaps one day I’ll be able to go. My parents are from there."

  "How did they end up here?" I asked, curiously. I was glad for the momentary distraction.

  She glanced down at her hands. "I’m not supposed to talk about it."

  I nodded but decided I would not press.

  "They like it here, though," she said. "My father is Lord of the Coral Isles." As she spoke, she sat up straight with pride.

  I smiled. "Well, perhaps one day you can come to Asteria."

  "I would love to!"

  Roy suddenly shuddered and began to cough.

  "Roy!" I exclaimed.

  He moaned, and his eyes barely flickered open.

  I leaned over him, taking his face in my hands. "Roy, look at me." I was surprised that my words came out so even despite the turmoil in my gut.

  Roy blinked as he tried to focus on my face. He opened his mouth and whispered my name.

  "Yes, it’s me, Norah," I said softly. "Don’t try to talk. You’re going to be fine. Help is on the way."

  He closed his eyes and began coughing.

  "Roy," I said again, desperation in my voice now. "Roy! You need to stay awake. Do you hear me?"

  Regina had moved over to the entrance of the cave and was impatiently looking out into the forest.

  Roy opened his eyes again, and this time they seemed clearer. "You’re . . . you’re safe," he breathed.

  "Yes, I’m safe," I assured him, trying to smile through the tears slipping down my cheeks.

  He reached his hand up hesitantly so he could brush his fingertips against my cheek.

  "They’re coming!" Regina cried. "I hear them!" She darted out of the cave. "Papa! Papa! We’re over here!"

  "See? Help is coming," I said.

  Roy gave me the faintest smile. "You’re so beautiful," he whispered.

  "Roy, you need to hang in there. You hear me?"

  "I love you."

  The words took my breath away. He couldn’t mean it—he wasn’t himself right now.

  My mind stumbled over words to say when his hand fell away and his eyes closed.

  "Roy!" I cried.

  Footsteps scraped at the entrance to the cave, and a man came in followed by a boy that looked to be a couple of years younger than I. Regina and the little girl, Vivien, hung back.

  "They were shipwrecked," Regina said as the man rushed to kneel across from me beside Roy.

  "How long has he been like this?" the man asked.

  "Probably all night," I replied, horrified at the realization. "He was just awake a couple of seconds ago."

  He nodded and looked at the bandage.

  "Looks like he stopped bleeding." The man looked up at me for the first time, and I could have sworn his eyes widened when he met my gaze.

  There was something familiar about him, but I couldn’t place it. He was clean-shaven with short blond hair. There were laugh lines around his brown eyes, and he couldn’t have been any older than my father—perhaps even younger.

  He shook his head quickly as if ridding himself of a thought and gestured that the boy come over to us.

  "Put the stretcher next to him, Francis," the man said, moving out of his way.

  They quickly got Roy onto it and hoisted him up between them.

  "Are you all right to walk?" the man asked. "It’s not far."

  I pulled my robe tightly around me and nodded.

  We moved quickly through the dense forest, and I was grateful for the pace despite the ache in my body. The sooner we got Roy to someone who could help, the more likely he would survive. Regina and Vivien led the way as I stayed by the stretcher. No one spoke. When we broke into a large clearing, the man and boy rushed the stretcher up the steps of a beautiful two-story white house with a wraparound porch.

  "This way," Regina called to me.

  I stumbled up the steps and into the foyer. There was the sound of bustling and orders being given from a room at the end of the hall. I followed Regina to the room where a woman was already tending to Roy.

  "Help your mother," the man said to Regina as he stepped out of the room.

  Regina obeyed and closed the door behind her.

  "I want to be with him," I said quickly.

  The man shook his head. "What you need is rest. My wife Rebecca has everything under control now. I’ll have one of our maids draw you a bath."

  "I can do that later," I insisted. "I need to be with him now." There was a chance that we were the only survivors, and I didn’t want to be away from him.

  He gave a reluctant nod and let me into the room. I rushed to the side of the table where Roy was as the man pulled a chair out for me to sit.

  "What’s his name?" Rebecca asked, not looking up at me.

  "Roy," Regina replied.

  Rebecca sighed. "The wound is infected, and he’s burning up."

  My heart sunk. "He has to make it," I whispered. "He has to survive."

  She reached across the table and placed her hand on mine. "I didn’t say he wouldn’t. Let me see what I can do." She let go of my hand and set to working on cleaning the wound.

  Tears pricked my eyes, but I held them back and reached out to take Roy’s hand in mine. It was too hot.

  Regina came over and placed a cold, wet cloth on his brow, giving me a sweet smile.

  "Don’t worry, Norah, we’re going to take care of him."

  Despite how pale he was, Roy looked peaceful. There was no sign of pain anywhere on his face.

  "You did well to wrap it," Rebecca said.

  "I didn’t know what else to do," I returned quietly.

  The door opened, and the man stepped in holding a dry robe in his hand. "I thought you might want to change out of the one you’re wearing, at least until you can bathe."

  I nodded and took the dry robe gratefully. My chemise would have to stay for now, but at least I could rid myself of the stiff and torn robe I had been shipwrecked in.

  "And I apologize I haven’t introduced myself," he added, with a smile. "My name is Richard."

  I nearly dropped the r
obe as the name registered. I knew why he’d been strangely familiar now.

  He was my father.

  Chapter 24

  W HEN MY MOTHER first explained to me that James wasn’t my birth father, it had been the worst day of my life. Though I appreciated her honesty, I hated the truth. James had raised me as his own. He had been there all my life as the strong person on whom I could always rely.

  As much as I didn’t want it all to be true, I became curious about my birth father. I asked my mother what he looked like, why he wasn’t around—many questions which were difficult for her to answer. It wasn’t until I was about thirteen that my mother showed me a painting of my father. She had hidden it from the rebels after they overtook the palace and captured King Luther. She told me she’d held onto it knowing that one day I would want to see it.

  I stared at that painting for hours before I decided I never wanted to see it again. That was the day I shoved Prince Richard from my life and denied any relation I had to him. Never would I have imagined that I would find myself in his home almost seven years later.

  Of course, I shared none of this with Richard the moment I realized it was him.

  "Norah," I whispered, reaching out to shake his hand.

  He seemed momentarily disappointed. He had recognized me; I could see that in his brown eyes—my brown eyes. I looked like my mother, everyone told me so. Our resemblance was nothing I could hide.

  He gave me a warm smile. If he wanted to say more or ask if I was sure about my name, he hid it well.

  "Who are they?" I heard a boy say from the door.

  He looked to be the same one that helped with the stretcher—Francis—but he was wearing different clothing. I stared at him, momentarily confused until I saw Francis walk up behind him. Identical twins.

  "I don’t know." It was Vivien standing beside him, watching us through wide eyes.

  "Richard, please close the door," Rebecca said when she heard the gawkers.

  "Norah, if you need anything, just tell Regina," Richard said as we walked toward his curious children.

  I nodded, and he left the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

  My heart pounded in my ears as the realization that I had met my birth father—the man that had abandoned me and my mother—sunk in.