Coiled

by H. L. Burke

  “Oh.” Her heart shivered like a wounded bird. “And you … you’re a man in the darkness?”

  “But a monster in the light.”

  A cold hand gripped Laidra's chest, and her breath escaped her. Her voice trembled as she asked, “A monster like the serpent I saw last night?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid that was me. I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?”

  She swallowed, clutching her tunic to stop her hands from shaking. “Not that I saw. Wouldn’t you know?”

  “No, the transformation affects my mind as well as body. I become a beast. It eventually fades when I escape the sight of people, but the memories of what I’ve done are always fuzzy. That’s why I’m out here, so I don’t hurt anyone.”

  She averted her eyes. If I’d seen him at any point, he would’ve transformed and killed me. Oh gods, what have I gotten into?

  “I thought about not telling you, of sending you on your way none the wiser, but—” He cleared his throat. “I don’t often get to talk to people. My mother visits when she can, but that’s it. I know you must want to go home to your loved ones, and I will let you leave. I just hoped you would first spend some time with me, talking.”

  His voice tugged at Laidra’s soul. And I thought I was lonely.

  “No one can look at you? Not even your family?”

  “That’s the gist of it.”

  Something inside drew her towards him. “Can they touch you?”

  “Yes. It’s only sight that triggers the curse, not the other senses.”

  Laidra hesitantly held out her hand. He flinched when she found him, making her jump. Steadying herself, she squeezed his shoulder. His skin felt warm and firm through the cloth of his tunic. Softness crept through her at the experience of touching someone and not having them pull away in disgust. “So you finally put some clothes on?” She smiled.

  “Of course.” He laughed. “I’m a monster, not a barbarian.”

  He didn’t sound much like a monster. “Do you want me to stay here to keep you company?”

  “It’s a silly idea,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I’ll find a way to get you home.”

  “I don’t have a home.” Her throat tightened. “My family doesn’t want me. They let Gan take me to face a monster without a word of protest.”

  “To face me.” Calen’s shoulders slumped beneath her hand.

  “He seemed to think devouring me would poison you or something. Maybe because …” Her mouth clamped shut before she could speak the words. So silly and vain. Just tell him. It isn’t as if you will be able to hide it forever, but maybe you can. A man you only know in darkness will only know you the same way. Oh, but to live that lie … She drew away from him. The temptation called to her, to let him think her beautiful, or at least not repulsive.

  “Laidra,” his voice softened. He reached for her hand, and she quivered. “Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than what I told you about myself. You’re sitting here with me, knowing what I am. Let me grant you the same courtesy.”

  She shut her eyes as tears trickled down her cheeks. She forced the words out as if prying them from grasping fingers. “My sister and I were also mirror cursed. Not as dramatically as you and your brother, but one of us is doomed to be kind of heart but hideous of feature, the other beautiful to look at but cold and cruel.”

  His hold on her hand tightened. “Obviously, you’re the kindhearted one.”

  She laughed bitterly. “And the ugly one.”

  “Well, I turn into a giant snake whenever someone looks at me.” He gave a half-hearted chuckle. “As long as you don’t have scales, it can’t be that bad.”

  “Whatever you’re imagining, it’s worse.” She stood and strode to the fireplace. A cold emptiness settled in her stomach. “You wish to be with me now, but when you see my face, you’ll draw away. Everyone has, even my own family. They thought me better dead than alive.”

  The silence hung in the darkness like a noose, set to execute the last hope she had for someone to care about her. The dying coals flickered.

  The couch creaked as he stood. “We have options. Considering the nature of my curse, it would be quite possible for me to simply never see you. In some ways, it is only fair, for you will never be able to see me.”

  The knots around her heart loosened as she turned towards him. “That might work. What other options are there?”

  “This castle was designed with my particular needs in mind. To prevent me from transforming unexpectedly, there are secret passages and peepholes so I can check to see if a room is empty before entering. Also, well, even if she can’t reciprocate, sometimes I like to see my mother’s face.” His footsteps padded across the floor as cautiously as a man approaching a cornered animal. “Can you trust me to look upon you? I know it must be difficult, but if I would spurn you for your face, then I would not deserve your friendship.”

  Though he did not touch her, he stood close enough that she could hear his breathing. A faint scent lingered about him, like sea air mixed with cedar. She wanted to be near him, to be near anyone, but in that moment, particularly him. Her gaze returned to the coals.

  “Not yet. We just met, and as much as I want to trust you, I’ve endured too much rejection. The darkness is my shield and my protection as much as it is yours.”

  “All right.” His tone was steady. “If that is what you want.” Though she searched desperately for any trace of disappointment or relief in his tone, she found neither.

  Her stomach grumbled. Loudly. She blushed. “I hate to be rude, but I’m starving. Could I have some breakfast?”

  “Oh, of course. I should’ve known you’d be hungry. It’s well after midday.”

  “Really?” She glanced around the darkened room.

  “Yes, I figured you’d be tired after what you went through last night, so I waited to wake you. As soon as the door shuts behind me, I’ll have the guardian light the lamps and guide you to some food.” His hand brushed against her arm, intentionally or not, she wasn’t sure. “I hardly dared to hope you’d stay, but on the off chance you agreed, I had a room prepared for you. It’s where my mother stays, so it is literally fit for a queen.”

  Laidra’s ears twitched. The guardian had called Calen a prince, but she’d pushed the information aside. Her mind flashed to the conversation she’d overheard between Volen and Gan. They’d referred to a curse—and then when Volen had come out of the water—Calen is Volen’s brother?

  “Thank you,” she whispered, ignoring the questions swirling in her brain.

  “A hearty meal will do you good. The island is safe, usually. No one lives here but myself, and there aren’t any predators larger than foxes. If you wish to take a walk, you may. Or there’s a library of scrolls, everything from history to poetry. Whatever you want, it can be fetched for you.”

  “Thank you,” she said again. “I really don’t know how I’ll repay you.”

  “Easily enough—can we talk again tonight? For just a little while?” The yearning in his words mirrored her own loneliness and once again, she felt a pull towards him, as if here, finally, was someone who might understand her.

  “I’d like that.” She nodded.

  “Good. Have a nice meal, and I’ll speak with you again tonight.”

  Chapter Eight

  After a good meal of lamb and chickpeas, Laidra tried to explore the castle; however, after a while, she grew frustrated with the building's quirks. Each twist and turn of the stone halls seemed only to lead to similar stone halls, all badly lit but swept clean. Weary of the unending maze, she tried to find her way back to the entrance.

  Part of her longed to catch—not a glimpse, she supposed, but some sign of Calen. She wondered what he did all day. Perhaps the need to be hidden had driven him to be nocturnal, and he was curled up asleep somewhere. Would he still transform if she gazed upon him while he dreamed? What did he look like?

  If her guess was correct, and he was Volen’s brother, then they�
��d likely share some traits, probably the dark skin of the Cartan race. She vaguely remembered thinking Volen handsome before his expression flooded with contempt.

  She paused at yet another fork in the continuous series of left and right turns that made up the fortress. Tapping her fingers against the stone, she called out, “Guardian? Are you nearby?”

  The oil lamps flickered before her. “Do you have need of me?” Even having summoned it, she jumped when the disembodied voice came from less than an arm’s length in front of her.

  “I don’t suppose there is some sort of map to this place.”

  “No, mistress, but if you wish to find a specific room, I can guide you.”

  “Please, call me Laidra. Actually, I was looking for a way out. I think some fresh air might do me good.”

  “This way.”

  The oil lamps flared in sequence once again, leading her through a series of turns until she came to a tall wooden door.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  The guardian didn’t answer, but the door opened.

  When Laidra stepped outside, the wind whipped around her, sharp with the scent of the sea. For a terrifying heartbeat, she was back on the raft, clinging to the rickety boards for dear life. Then a memory of Calen, of his sea and cedar scent and how calm his voice had been in the face of her fear, rose within her. The storm subsided, and she smiled.

  The castle stood at the center of the island. From her perch, she could see the coastline curving away beyond the sparse date palms. She slowly circled the stone walls and found it had only one other door and very few windows, all high and narrow.

  From every point, she could hear and smell the sea, and from most, she could see it. In a few spots, trees or stacks of boulders obscured the breakers. From one such rocky outcropping trickled a freshwater spring. She followed this past a patch of plants in neat rows.

  The stream flowed over rocks before carving a channel through the beach and joining the ocean. Laidra wiggled her toes in the sand.

  Calen’s tunic flapped around her body in the wind. The sun warred with the cool breeze, making her chilled one minute and warm the next. It was freeing to have her face exposed to the elements. Hiding away on this island, unseen by judging eyes, would be tempting.

  But I’d never be able to use my gift again. I would like to have some purpose beyond mere existence.

  She rounded a patch of weathered rock and stopped. In the distance, so far away she had to squint to make him out, sat a man on the shore. A small wooden boat rested near him.

  Laidra looked over her shoulder then back at the man. He shouldn’t be here. It was dangerous. Should she warn him about Calen? But what if he was a danger to her? A pirate—or worse—some agent of Gan. Still, he seemed to be alone and just sitting there. If he didn’t know about Calen, he needed to be told to leave.

  She crept forward. The man looked Cartan—dark of skin and broad of shoulder—but with gray tinted hair. He held a woven net on his lap, repairing it.

  Looking up, he waved.

  Her whole body stiffened. She had no veil or hood. If she approached, he would see her in all her ugliness, every wart and discoloration, every out-of-place hair. She almost ran.

  Well, if I ever want to live among normal people, I need to learn to be seen. I did not choose my face. It’s not caused by any evil I have done, so why should I be ashamed of it?

  Even with these brave thoughts, her hands shook as she strode forward. As the man grew clearer, she distinguished wrinkles and furrows in his skin. He worked the cords of the net with quick, sure movements, only glancing down occasionally to check his work. His expression remained neutral, even in the face of her ugliness.

  “I am not used to seeing others here,” he said, his voice deep and soft.

  “You shouldn’t be here either.” She nodded her head towards the castle. “Don’t you know who lives there?”

  “Yes, but the prince rarely ventures from his walls in daylight. Even if he did, he could see me long before I saw him and avoid me.” He set the net down and stood, his posture straight in spite of his aged face. “My eyesight isn’t what it used to be.” He tilted his head to one side. “And you? You know what he is, yet you remain?”

  She shrugged. “I have nowhere else to go, and he has promised me his protection. The prince seems kind. What he is isn’t his fault.”

  “No, it is his father’s.” The man leaned against his boat and stared at her. His eyes were unnaturally blue, pale pools in his dark face. Though he made no mention of her looks, she still squirmed under his scrutiny. “You do not appear to be Cartan.”

  “I’m from Oleva.”

  “Ah. Has the tale of the princes’ curse traveled to your land?”

  “No. I learned it from Calen himself.”

  “And did he say why the curse was visited upon him and his brother?” A hint of a smile crossed the man's face.

  A feeling like spider's legs tickled the back of Laidra's neck. “Just that his father had enemies.”

  “His father made enemies. His father had a brother.” The man closed his eyes. “Decades ago, Carta’s queen bore two sons within minutes of each other: twins, yet not twins. Two children who shared a womb, but not much else.” He sat down cross-legged and traced a circle in the sand. “You see, in those days the gods were much more interactive with their followers, especially Jovan. From early on, it became obvious that one prince was slightly uncanny. Some whispered that Jovan had meddled with the queen, causing her to bear one child for her husband, the King of Carta, and one for Jovan, the King of the Gods.”

  Laidra inhaled sharply. “Is that even possible?”

  “What isn’t possible for a god?” The man shrugged. “King Ren was a crafty old soul. He ordered his soldiers to sever any tongue that dared speak such rumors about his heir, for he knew the risk of offending the gods. Some would say raising the child of a god is an honor rather than a burden. Still, while Cibron was the first to leave the womb, and therefore the rightful heir, Ren favored Gan and taught him his trickery.”

  “The war, that was between the brothers?”

  “Aye, for upon his father’s death, Gan objected to his brother’s ascension, claiming Cibron was, in fact, no son of Ren and no rightful heir to Carta.”

  “And the king of Oleva sided with Gan in the war,” Laidra whispered. No one had ever been able to give her a motive for her cursing, but if Cibron had mirror cursed Calen and Volen for their father's betrayal, he could've easily brought a similar punishment upon the heads of King Lucan's offspring. Was this why she'd suffered? Because of Cibron and Gan's rivalry?

  The man smiled in a way she did not like. “He did, didn’t he? It seems defying the son of a god may have not been the best choice for either king, in the long run. Half-gods tend to have powers beyond what mortals can comprehend.”

  Laidra stared at the man, contemplating his strange eyes and his knowledge of the curse. Something quivered within her. “You aren’t just a fisherman who has stumbled upon this island by chance, are you?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Perceptive.”

  “What do you want?” Laidra crossed her arms.

  The man stood, somehow growing taller. His wrinkled skin smoothed, and the gray in his hair turned ebony. An eye-blink later, the only thing marking him as the same man were his unnerving blue eyes.

  Revulsion rippled through Laidra. This was Cibron, the man who had cursed Calen, and possibly her as well.

  “What do I want?” he asked. “To see what has become of my work. I told my brother he would be forced to choose between his issue, to see his sons tear him apart the way he tore apart our bond as brothers. The time for such choices comes soon.”

  “Gan has already made his choice.” Her family had as well. Heat flared in her breast. Everything she had gone through, her loneliness and grief, was due to Cibron, all for the sake of a grudge formed before her birth. She stuck her chin in the air. “I’m not very impressed with you, son of a
god or not. A real man would strike out against the one who harmed him, not innocent babes who have done ill to no one.”

  “Ah, but killing your enemy ends his suffering. Harming his children, however, dooms him to a life of pain.”

  “A good man, yes. An evil one will sacrifice others for the sake of comfort and security, even his own children.” Her throat swelled shut. Her own parents had been far too willing to cast her aside. She had no faith in familial love as an absolute. Cibron's attempts to harm his enemies had cost Gan and Lucan little, but her and Calen so much. Her heart faltered at the thought of the normal life she might've had if not for the curse.

  “Perhaps. Either way, I’m interested to see how this plays out and what part you will take in it. I had not factored you into this production; I thought you a bit player at best.” He leaned closer. “Yet here you are, in the middle of things. Or are you simply here to be fed to my nephew the beast?”

  She clenched her fists. “You gave me a gift when you cursed me, and with it a desire to ease pain. Calen’s in pain. If it is in my power, I will help him. Excuse me, I think I should return home.”

  “Be wary, girl,” Cibron called as she turned away. “You have set yourself between titans. Get out of the way or, like as not, you will be crushed.”

  Laidra didn’t stop running until the door to the castle closed behind her.

  Chapter Nine

  Calen closed his eyes as he plucked at the strings of his lyre. The music vibrated through his fingertips into his soul. The tune rose in graceful swells and sweeps. Rather than play one of the handful of songs he remembered from his youth, he preferred to improvise, playing his mood or the rhythms of nature such as the breeze or the rush of the waves. Today he played the wind through the grass. The song filled his chambers, and he sighed.

  His solitude left him with much free time. He’d read all the scrolls in the library, and while his mother occasionally brought him replacements, he often tired of reading and walking the all-too-familiar shores of his island home. At only eight, not long after his father had decided keeping him in the palace was too dangerous and sent him to his new “home,” he had asked his mother for instruments. He’d always liked music. It calmed him, soothed his loneliness.