Bursts of laughter echoed down the hallway, then silence, then the sound of footsteps. I flattened myself against the wall, hiding in the shadows where the moonlight could not reach, and said a little prayer to Aphrodite.
Lysander came down the hall alone. He staggered a little and braced himself against the wall, but he was smiling. He hummed softly to himself.
I whispered his name.
He stopped short and stared down at me. "Little one -- what are you doing up at this hour? You should be sound asleep by now."
"Why?" I asked. "Why should I be in bed with the sun? Because I'm just a child? Is that how you think of me?"
Lysander's smile faded. He reached out and touched my bare shoulder, where my tunic had fallen away. "No, that's not what I meant. Did I say the wrong thing? I didn't mean to hurt you."
"I know. Lysander, I -- it's just that I --" I faltered and swallowed hard.
"Please, little one, I'm tired. Whatever it is -- can't it wait until morning?" He tried to brush past me.
I clutched at his sleeve. "I've got to tell you now." The words tumbled from my mouth like a gush of underwater bubbles. "Lysander, I love you. I want to be with you forever. I've loved you ever since I first saw you. I've given up everything for you, everything, and I -- please, if you don't --"
Tears welled up in my eyes. They spilled down my face. Angrily, I dashed them away with the back of my hand.
Lysander bent and kissed my forehead. His weariness made half-moon shadows under his eyes. "Don't you cry, little one. I do love you, but not the way you mean. There's someone else -- the girl whose face I saw once, in my dream -- I can't stop thinking about her. But you'll always have my friendship. You know that."
I clenched my teeth in frustration. How could he not recognize me? It was my face he saw that night at sea. I was the girl he loved, the girl he was searching for. "I'm the one --" I began, before my throat tightened and cut off my breath. I'd started say that I was the mermaid who rescued him and carried him to land, but I could not manage it.
Lysander must have seen the agony in my expression, because he winced and laid his palm against my cheek. "You know I would never cause you any pain, but I -- please don't cry again, little one. If you just give it some time, you'll outgrow --"
"Am I not pretty enough? Is that the problem?"
Lysander shook his head. "You're lovely. When you're older -- when you've grown up a little more, some man will --"
A sob caught in my throat. "Lysander, no. Don't say anything more." I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my lips against his to stop the hurtful words. How could he deny the strength of my feelings? I would never outgrow my love for Lysander, never.
At first he didn't respond, and then his mouth softened under mine and he kissed me back. Moving closer, I molded my body to his. Lysander groaned and caught my face in his hands. He pushed me against the wall and deepened the kiss.
I lost myself in the heart-stopping joy of that kiss. I felt a surge of triumph. I would make Lysander want me. I would force him to love me.
The sound of footsteps interrupted us. Lysander jumped back. He bumped his head against the wooden shutter on the opposite wall. I looked up and gasped.
There stood Lysander's father. His eyes blazed with anger as he stared down at me.
"Go to your chamber," he ordered, in a voice that rumbled like thunder. I fled, slamming the door behind me. My heart thudded in my chest as I tumbled into my bed. Even through the thick mud-brick walls, I heard Philemon chastise Lysander.
"Have you no self-control, boy? I won't have you sneaking around under my roof with that child. Find yourself a slave girl if you must."
I heard Lysander's subdued reply, but I couldn't make out what he said. I crossed the room and pressed my ear against the wall. Philemon's voice took on a pleading note. "Think, son. She's trying to ensnare you, can't you see? She appears on the beach, worms her way into our family, and now she's after you. I wouldn't be surprised if it's all a ruse, if she hasn't lost her memory at all."
"I can't believe that." Lysander's voice rose in anger. "She's a sweet, innocent child. Why would she do that?"
"Well, isn't it obvious? You're the only son of a wealthy family. When I'm gone, my business will be yours. And I'll be damned to Hades if I let some conniving little girl with no name and no family get her claws into you!"
"You're wrong. She's nothing like that."
"It is true, and I won't have it. You'll keep away from her, do you hear?"
Lysander's voice dripped defiance when he spoke again. "What if I won't?"
"You'll do as I say, by Zeus!"
I could not make out Lysander's reply as they moved off down the hall. I waited, but there was nothing more to hear. Shuddering from the chill air, I changed into a night dress and slipped under my blankets. I'd grown used to them. They no longer chafed my skin.
Philemon was wrong about me, but only in part. I did not want Philemon's money. Father possessed riches far beyond what the human merchant could imagine. But I did want Philemon's son. I wanted Lysander so badly I didn't care about anything else. I would have lived with Lysander in one of the village's poorest huts, with chickens pecking at the dust around my feet. I would have dressed in rags and eaten nothing but porridge for every meal. I just wanted to feel his mouth on mine again. I wanted to feel him respond to me the way he had just moments ago in the hallway.
As I tossed and turned on my sleeping couch, I swung from misery to joy and back again. I was afraid that Philemon might succeed in keeping me from Lysander. He might send me away, and where would I go? On the other hand, Lysander seemed determined to rebel against his father. Philemon's disapproval might drive Lysander straight into my waiting arms.
I sighed and rolled over on the couch. I was afraid of what the morning would bring, but at the same time I could hardly wait. After tonight, I knew, nothing would ever be the same again.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Lysander and his father left early the next morning, well before sunrise. I woke in the dark to hear the mumblings, shufflings, and bumpings of their preparations. Apparently Philemon no longer suspected that a storm lurked on the horizon.
Or else he simply wanted to get Lysander away from me.
The day after Lysander went away, I sat spinning with Corinna. Though I still didn't understand the necessity of wearing clothes in the heat of the day, I'd learned to work at a loom like the other human women. My cloth came out bunched and knotted, not smooth like Corinna's, but it was good enough to make tunics for the slaves.
The work was dull and repetitive. My thoughts drifted. I couldn't wait for Lysander to come safely home. What if there was another storm, and I wasn't there to save him? If something happened to him, I did not know how I could stand it.
I wondered if Lysander thought of me now, as he sailed with the west wind. Did he miss me as much as I missed him? I closed my eyes and remembered the feel of his hands cupping my face, his body pressed against mine, his lips. . . .
I tried not to think about the part where he said he didn't love me. I knew I could change all that.
I opened my eyes. Corinna leaned toward me and studied my expression. "You seem far away today, my dear," she said. "What is it? Have you perhaps remembered something about your family?"
I took up a spindle and began to wind up the thread from the spinning basket. "It's nothing, really." I blushed. "Something foolish."
Corinna brushed a strand of hair from my face. Tears sprang to my eyes at the tender gesture. "Don't worry, Nyx. Nothing you say can make me think less of you. Does it have anything to do with that nonsense between Lysander and my husband?"
I raised my head and searched her face. "Yes, I know something of that business," Corinna went on. "Philemon came in to bed last night raving about this and that, tossing out silly accusations."
&n
bsp; She saw the frightened look on my face and reached out to squeeze my hand. "Don't you worry. I didn't believe a word of it."
I gripped her hand with both of mine. My voice quavered when I spoke. "You won't turn me out?"
"How could you even ask? And if my son fancies you, I'd be proud to have you as my daughter-in-law. You do love Lysander, don't you?"
Surprised by her bluntness, I could only nod.
"My husband believes, like most, that one should marry for practical reasons. I daresay my father's wealth played a part in Philemon's decision to wed me." Her lips went thin for an instant, and she gazed off past my head. "I, however, think a love match is much preferred. There was a boy, once, and I thought I --"
She broke off and gave herself a little shake. "Never mind. If you love my son, and he cares for you, I'll do my best to persuade Philemon to let you marry."
"Thank you," I whispered. I leaned over to embrace her. She smelled rich and dark, like sandalwood and smoke.
"What more could I ask, but that the two people I love most in the world find happiness together? Only --" she pulled away and frowned down at me, so fiercely that her straight black brows nearly met in the center of her forehead. "Only promise me you will guard your heart a little. Lysander is still very young, and somewhat . . . impetuous. His emotions sometimes run ahead of his common sense. I think you are much the same."
I knew Corinna spoke the truth. I often acted without thinking. How else would I be here on land, rather than living deep in the blue-green sea? But I knew I loved Lysander. If I was sure of anything, if there was anything I knew with my mind, body, and spirit, it was that I loved him.
"Don't worry," I said, smiling as I piled the thread and spindle back into their basket. "It will all turn out for the best. Just you wait and see."
I spent the next two weeks with Corinna. The other women in the household had little use for me. I was not a slave, but neither was I quite a member of the master's family. Perhaps I might have befriended some of the village girls, if I'd cared to try. Instead, I spent my time alone. On good days, when my legs didn't ache so much, I wandered off to explore the island.
Life on Theros bustled and hummed around me, but I felt as if I were barely there. Every evening I walked down to the beach. I stared out at the horizon, watching for sails. I hardly felt the sea breezes or saw the sun-drenched hills. Even the shadow of a fishing boat in the distance made my heart beat faster.
When Lysander did return, however, I was off picnicking by myself in an olive grove. I'd walked too far. I limped and staggered by the time I managed to drag myself back. Still, when I crested the hill and saw the ships on the beach, I managed to break into a slip-sliding run down the gravel path. They'd returned early.
I found Lysander coming from his bath, in a fresh tunic with his hair wet and darkly glistening. He caught me up in a fierce hug. I hugged him back and laughed with joy. But we had no chance to speak. His father came up behind us and glared. Reluctantly, I let Lysander go.
At supper, talk felt muted and strained. Philemon described the success of the trading, Kiros' superior hospitality, and the fair winds that bore them back in record time. Lysander barely spoke at all, but I noticed that his eyes lingered on my face far more often than before.
Behind Philemon's back, Lysander and I exchanged sweet, secret smiles. Time apart had done wonders, or perhaps it was his father's opposition.
"I have an announcement to make," Philemon said. He smiled a greasy, self-satisfied smile.
My blood ran cold as the deepest sea.
"I spoke with our host on Kiros," Philemon went on, "about a matter of some concern to me." He addressed his wife, but his gaze met mine, and I saw triumph written on his florid face. "Nicias has a daughter, a lovely girl, intelligent but quite obedient. I'm told she's been serving in one of Athena's temples the last few months." He paused to stuff a hunk of goat cheese into his mouth.
I held my breath.
"I've arranged for our son to wed the girl."
Everything in the world went still, even my heart. My wide eyes found Lysander's face. He hadn't known. He turned white, and his jaw clenched in anger.
No one moved. No one spoke. A sob rose in my throat and caught there, unable to break through into the silence. Corinna's gentle smile never wavered, but a muscle near her eye twitched a little. She glanced at me. I saw sympathy in her expression. It was more than I could bear. My hands began to tremble. I could not hold them still in my lap.
Slowly, with what I hoped was dignity, I stood up. My legs threatened to fold under me. I steadied myself. My composure was like a coral reef, delicate and brittle, ready to crumble at a touch. I couldn't bear to let Philemon -- or Lysander -- see me fall apart. Without a word, I walked from the room. No one called me back.
Out on the patio, I leaned heavily against the waist-high stone wall that ran around the outside of the property. Far below, sunset turned the sea to blood. I couldn't seem to catch my breath. I hadn't expected Philemon to move so fast.
"Little one?" I turned to see Lysander standing in the doorway. His arms hung limp at his side. His face was still pale. He came up behind me. "Don't worry."
"Did you see her?" I whispered. "The girl, I mean. Was she very pretty?"
Lysander took me by the shoulders and gently turned me around. He smiled down at me and stroked my cheek with the ball of his thumb. "I didn't meet her. If I had, it wouldn't matter. I won't do it. I won't marry her."
"But your father. . . ."
"He'll threaten to disinherit me, but he'd never really do it." His voice was surprisingly calm. "I'm not a child anymore. He can't make me wed her against my will."
"No," I said. My lips trembled. "No, of course you won't marry her. You're still in love with the girl from your vision."
Lysander shook his head. "That was a dream, little one, that's all. Just a dream. I thought about it the last few days, and I've made up my mind. It's time for me to grow up now."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that she doesn't exist. I imagined her." He kissed my forehead with lips as cool as marble. "If I don't marry Nicias' daughter, I'll still need a wife. Why not choose someone I know, someone I like, over a stranger picked out by my father? Why shouldn't I choose you?"
"Oh. Do you mean --"
"Will you marry me, little one? No matter what my father says?"
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"Oh, yes," I breathed. "Oh, Lysander, yes."
"Good." He gave me a quick hug. I searched his face, hoping to see that he shared my joy, but his eyes were distant and his expression rigid. "It won't be easy. Father's in an awful rush. He's invited Nicias and his daughter to stay with us."
"Here? The girl's coming here?" My heart gave an odd little jerk.
"They arrive in two days. I've got to convince Father to send them away again. He'll be angry, but I don't care. Once Nicias is gone, Father will know I mean what I say. I won't marry anyone he's chosen. Then he'll have to let us wed."
I stood on my tiptoes so I could stare into Lysander's eyes. He didn't seem to see me at all. I caught his face in my hands and forced him to look at me. "Why should we wait at all?" I asked. "Why don't we just run away together?"
He pulled away. "We cannot marry on Theros without my father's permission."
"We'll take one of the boats," I said, nearly forgetting my fear of the sea. "We'll sail away together and make a new life. Please, Lysander."
He shook his head. Irritation flashed across his face. "No, that's absurd. We'd have no place to go, no money, nothing."
"We'd have each other. What more do we need?"
His expression softened a little, and he pulled me close again. "Trust me, little one. I'll stand up to my father. He'll have no choice but to allow it."
"But --"
"Hush, now." Lysander kissed me on
the cheek and then softly on the mouth. "Just be patient. Let me take care of everything."
I took a deep breath and nestled into his arms. It was nearly dark now, and getting cold. "Yes, all right," I said.
We stood looking out at the horizon, where the sunset had faded to pale silver streaks. I realized that Lysander hadn't said he loved me. I wanted to ask whether he did, but I didn't dare. I was afraid to hear the answer.
I tried to pretend it didn't matter. If Lysander didn't love me now, he would -- with enough time, I knew he would.
I tossed and turned that night, too worried to fall asleep. I should have felt ecstatic, but I didn't. So many things might go wrong. Lysander's promises seemed so terribly fragile. He had proposed marriage on impulse; he might change his mind on a whim.
When I slept at last, I dreamt again of the palace beneath the sea. This time I was in Father's chambers. My grandmother was there, and Father, deep in conversation. I floated closer, but they didn't look up. Their mouths moved without sound. Grandmother shook her head, grasping Father's hand as if to plead with him. Father remained unmoved. He pulled away from her.
The scene changed. This time, Thetis lay sleeping in her new husband's arms. As I watched, she twitched and cried out in her sleep. Her flailing arms struck King Meros' son in the face. He woke and caught her arms, then pulled her tight against his body and whispered in her ear. Her eyes fluttered open. I couldn't hear what her husband said, but his words seemed to soothe her. She let out a deep sigh and relaxed back into slumber.
I gave a hard kick with my tail -- in my dreams, I had my tail back -- and swam out of Thetis' room. It felt wonderful to swim again. The water caressed my body. It filled up the empty space between my skin and the rest of the world. I'd forgotten how good it could feel to move without pain.
The Sea King's Daughter Page 8
