by Ward, Tracey
My father glanced at the sky. He shook his head. “The world is most dangerous when it appears benign. You can’t stay here alone.”
I glanced at the tombs. Not where my mother lay, but farther up the hill where the royals rested.
“I’m not alone,” I whispered.
“Stop being childish. Get in.”
I took another step back, glaring at him. “I will not get in that carriage. Either stay with me or leave me.”
He stared at me, seething. I wondered why I was doing this. I knew better than to make him angry but I also knew, though I didn’t know exactly why, that I could not leave this place. Not yet.
“Fine,” my father replied calmly. “Do what you want. I’ll return for you at sunset and we’ll discuss your behavior then. When we’ve both had a chance to calm down.”
I bit the inside of my lip but kept my face carefully blank. I would not let him know how absolutely afraid I was. When the carriage pulled away I found myself stuck to the spot where I stood. I stared at the grass on the hill forever, not thinking of anything. I was comfortably numb and perfectly happy to remain that way. Finally, as the light began to fade, I turned toward the slope leading to the top of the hill and the larger tomb. I knew I’d never enter the building that housed my mother, not willing. I passed it carefully, giving it a wide berth as I crested the hilltop. It was a sheer drop off the side of the hill down into the ocean, just as it was beside The Shallows. The wind whipped harder here in the open. My dress flapped against my legs angrily, my hair flying away from my face and swirling behind me. I felt the way I had the night I’d nearly run off the edge of the cliff. The night he’d saved me.
“I wish you were here,” I whispered into the wind.
Suddenly a mad gust rushed around me, changing directions, snagging my clothing. My hair flew in my face. As I lifted my hands to clear it away, my mother’s black shawl was torn from my grasp. It spun in the air out over the sea, hung for a moment like a small dark cloud, then plunged into the water below. It happened so quickly I didn’t even have time to cry out, to try and recover it. It was simply gone.
“Please don’t run after it,” a low voice said from behind me. “I don’t think I can save you this time.”
I spun around in surprise.
Standing there, a wish granted true, stood Ro.
He looked exactly as I remembered him but entirely different as well. He was taller, dressed in a long dark coat and darker pants. Even his skin was darker, making his brilliant blue eyes stand out bold and bright. Roarke had been a beautiful child and a handsome young man, but as an adult he was stunning. He was broad and dark like his father but light and lithe like his mother. He looked like a song; all harmony and grace, brooding and beautiful.
I burst into tears as I hurled myself into his arms.
“Uh oh,” he said lightly, pressing his hands to my shoulder blades. “It’s because I grew ugly, isn’t it? Tell me honestly, I can take it.”
I was surprised to hear myself chuckle through my tears, the first honest laugh I’d had in a long time.
“You’re positively disgusting,” I said tremulously.
He nodded, his chin bobbing against the top of my head.
“I knew it. How bad is it? Troll under the bridge?”
I paused to consider. “Stealing children and grinding their bones to bake your bread.”
He whistled long and low. “It’s worse than I thought.”
His shirt was becoming soaked from my crying. I balled it into my fists, pulling him to me. He took the open flaps of his coat and wrapped them around me as best he could. Though he was there in front of me, even though I could smell, feel, see and hear him, I worried he was a fantasy, one that would disappear at any moment. And so I clung to him tightly and willed his body closer. Closer than decency would allow but not close enough for my singing, running, pounding, weeping heart.
“Why are you here?” I whispered into his chest.
He rested his chin on top of my head, sighing deeply.
“Because your mother is dead.”
My eyes clenched tightly as I stifled a sob that lodged in my throat. He must have felt me tense because his arms held me tighter.
“I’m so sorry.”
“I’m so glad to see you,” I replied inadequately.
His lips brushed the top of my head, his warm breath tickling across my scalp.
I didn’t want to say anything else. Not ever. I didn’t want to move from that spot. I wanted to stay forever rooted there on the grass in his arms and in his eyes, near my mother and away from the castle and my father, obligations, plans, Saints, priests, kings and fools. Rules and promises made that were never mine. Words given that I never uttered.
But the sun was setting and my time was ending. My father would return for me soon and he could not see me with Roarke. I would rather know he was mine, a secret desire never to be fulfilled, than have my father rip him from me. I couldn’t stand our separation to be an absolution. And so with reluctance I have never known the likes of again, I pulled myself free of Roarke’s embrace.
“How are you getting home?” he asked.
I looked down the hill, checking that we were still alone.
“My father is coming back for me. He said he would come before nightfall.”
Roarke lifted his eyes to the sky, scowling. “It’s coming soon.”
“Too soon.”
His eyes found mine again, but he hesitated. His mouth opened once, closed, then opened silently again.
“Speak your mind, fish.”
He chuckled in surprise. “What?”
I grinned wanly. “Something my mother would have said.”
“Your mother would have called me a fish?”
I imitated him opening and closing his mouth, making exaggerated popping sounds with my mouth.
“She would be right,” he muttered. “You know better than to speak to fish, don’t you?”
“Is that another riddle of yours?”
“It’s a warning.”
I cocked my head at him. “Not only have you grown ugly, old friend, you’ve somehow managed to grow more mysterious.”
Roarke laughed, nodding as he looked out to sea. “The perils of my job, I suppose.”
“Are you a farmer like your father?”
He looked at me with amusement. “Who said my father was a farmer?”
“Your father,” I replied slowly.
He shrugged. “I guess he is, among other things.”
“He said that too. You sound just like him. But what are you?”
“I would be a fisherman.”
“Among other things?”
“Yes.”
I sighed, unable to hide my smile. “You’re insufferable is what you are.”
“Now you sound like my mother,” he said with a grin.
“How is your—“
I spun at the sound of hooves on the hard packed dirt behind me. A carriage, undoubtedly my father’s, was coming swiftly up the hillside. I turned quickly back to Roarke.
“Ro, you have to hide, please. He can’t see you. He can’t know I know you.”
Roarke’s face darkened, making me want to weep all over again. “No, of course not. You’re right.”
I couldn’t bear it. He had it all wrong and I had no idea when or if I’d ever see him again. It couldn’t end this way.
I grabbed his face between my hands and stood on the tips of my toes, bringing our eyes nearly level. He stood still, stunned by my sudden proximity.
“You are the only thing in my life that he has never touched, never tainted.” I spoke urgently, my eyes searching his. “You’re all that’s left that has ever been mine. Please help me hide you and keep you in any way I can.”
His breath pressed evenly in and out against my face, warming and chilling me over and over again. I didn’t know if he’d answer me, I didn’t even know if he believed me, but then he pulled my hands from his face, kissed each of my palms and stepped
back into the shadows of the tomb. I took a ragged breath, closing my eyes against the sight of him leaving again.
“Anna,” he called softly.
I barely heard him over the wind and thunder of the approaching carriage. I opened my eyes, found his in the darkness.
“I’ll find you again,” he said confidently. “They won’t keep us apart any longer.”
That was the last time I fell in love with him.
Chapter Eleven
Two nights later found me on yet another cliff overlooking the sea. I see the folly in it now. Then, I was merely looking for peace in all the wrong places.
I couldn’t sleep. I spent my days in my room with the tall, dark curtains drawn to block out the light of the world. I longed to see Roarke. I knew he promised to find me, but finding me shut up in my darkened room set deep in the castle was a tall order, even for someone as cunning as him. I didn’t want him to see like this, though. I didn’t want anyone to see me this way. I took no visitors and attended no meals. Food was brought to my room but I pecked at it reluctantly, only accomplishing that when The Governor stood over me watching. She was a constant companion then. A shadow I could not shake.
That night I waited until she finally fell asleep in her room, her door sitting wide open to watch my comings and goings. Lucky for me she slept like the dead. I was able to creep past without being seen. I didn’t know where I was going, only that I was going outside. I needed to get air, to feel the open space of the world free of the castle walls. I waited for nightfall when everyone was asleep, hoping it would grant me the solitude I worked so hard for during the day. Thankfully as I walked the grounds I did not pass a single soul. I went through the gates half expecting the guards to stop me on my father’s orders, but either they weren’t given any or they weren’t awake enough to heed them. I had no plan in mind, no destination, but somehow I still found myself walking toward the cliff’s edge. To the outcropping beside the Shallows.
I stood at the edge of the cliff starting down into the abyss. It was a dark cauldron of swirling mist and shifting shadows, but I saw nothing else. Nothing but the sea and the salt on the air. I was disappointed. What a horrible thing to be disappointed for, I realize, but I still felt it. You can’t control what you feel, only what you present to the world and standing there alone at the edge of my universe, I let my sorrow show. I wanted to see The Saints. I wanted to know that all of this hiding in the mists, avoiding the outside world, following their rules and judgments and decisions was worth it. I wanted to know that maybe, just maybe, they would offer my mother safe passage into the next world. But as much as I needed that, and I needed her safety more than I’d ever needed anything in my life, I didn’t call out to them.
“You do realize how stupid this is, don’t you?”
I startled at the sound of Frederick’s voice. A small cry escaped my lips as my right foot slipped off the edge, sending pebbles and dirt into the plunge. A strong arm wrapped around my waist, holding me steady.
What it was with men sneaking up on me on cliff edges, I would love to have known. To me, that was what was stupid.
I moved to face him.
“Stop,” he commanded. “Don’t turn around. I don’t have my mask on.”
“You wear a mask now?” I whispered, shivering at the feel of his warm breath beside my ear. It was such a contrast with the cold night air. I wished he would pull away.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked, ignoring my question.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“And this place was your solution to that?”
“Would you be angry at me if I asked how you were?” I asked, ignoring his question.
“Immensely,” he replied without hesitation. “And you? Would you be angry if I asked you the same?”
I shook my head, feeling my hair press against his face. “I would tell you I’m fine, thank you for asking.”
“So you would lie to me.”
I smiled thinly. “Without hesitation.”
He chuckled softly. I felt myself relax.
“What brought you here tonight, Annabel Lee?”
I paused, unsure what the answer to that question really was. “I think it was The Shallows.”
“Really?” he asked, his voice becoming tight. Worried.
“I couldn’t tell you why, but yes. I came to see them.”
“You shouldn’t have come here,” he growled. “No one should ever come here.”
“You’re here,” I pointed out.
He chuckled again, this time without even a hint of joy. “I’ve paid my passage. Have you come to pay yours?”
I was suddenly afraid of this conversation, though, like my trip to The Shallows, I couldn’t say why.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I breathed tensely.
I felt him nod beside my head. Then, his voice low and grave, he said, “I’ll show you.”
He lifted me off my feet, hovering me over the ground. Then over air. I gasped as he took a step forward, his own feet barely on solid ground. There was nothing but his strength to keep me from plummeting to the rocks below. I opened my mouth to cry out but shut it quickly. Grasping his arms with white knuckled hands I looked down at the moonlit waters. They were churning softly. Frothing white caps appeared as shadows slithered through the light stung Shallows. There was something in there. The beasts I had always been warned of but never really believed in.
These were the Saints of the Sea.
“How are you doing that?” I whispered breathlessly.
“I’m not,” he said, his breath hot against my clammy skin. “You are.”
“I am? No, I—how?”
“Because they want you.”
My breath hitched in my throat. “For what?”
“Forever.”
I shook my head violently. I began clawing at his hands. The waters moved more aggressively beneath me as more shadows appeared.
“Frederick, put me down now. Make it stop. Make them stop. Please!”
“Since you said please.”
He brought me back over solid ground. I trembled in cold terror, feeling faint when he released me.
“Go home, Annabel Lee, and don’t ever come back here,” he said softly. Then he kissed me on the neck. His lips felt mismatched and strange, but they were also warm and dry, soft like silk. “Tell your father you’ll die a withered old maid.”
I shook my head in confusion. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“It’s everything.”
His voice was already retreating. I panicked. I had so many questions. Questions that now felt incredibly important.
“Is that what you want for me?” I called after him. “To grow old and die alone?”
“I only hope you’ll be so lucky.”
I turned to face him, to call out to him, to ask him my million questions, but I only caught a glimpse of his back disappearing into the darkness.
I was alone.
Chapter Twelve
“Milady!” Mrs. Pomphel called to me from the kitchens.
I stopped, placing myself in the doorframe. The familiar smells of the kitchen wafted warmly toward me. Fresh bread baking, salt, fish, butter. These smells were a precursor to others. To sweet fruit on trees. Sunshine on the warm air. Grass beneath my skin.
“Mrs. Pomphel, how are you?” I asked with a practiced smile.
“I’m well, dear, but shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
My smile faded. “I would rather you didn’t,” I replied blandly.
Mrs. Pomphel nodded knowingly. “As I thought, so I won’t. But if you need anything…”
“Thank you. I appreciate it. All of it.”
“Especially my silence?”
I grinned. “You know me too well.”
I noticed behind her that the tables were covered with pies. She was making all different kinds with all different fruits. Apple, pear, peach, strawberry. I smiled sadly at the sight of the apples.
> “Did you pick them yourself?” I asked.
She frowned, looking behind her at the table. “What? The strawberries?”
“No, the apples.”
“Heaven’s no. What would I be doing picking apples on the other side of the island?”
“I thought maybe they came from the orchard on the grounds.”
“What orchard?”
Now I frowned. “The one beside the maze.”
She shook her head firmly. “There is no orchard on the grounds and the only thing beside the maze is a wall. On all three sides, the gardens are on the fourth. Wait just a moment!” She hurried away, going to one of her tables to get something. I stared after her, wondering if she was going crazy or if I was. She was back to me in a flash before I could decide who was more insane. “I have something here for you.”
“I wish you hadn’t,” I replied warily, instantly thinking of my room and the dark curtains I longed to pull, to hide behind. I only slept in the day now. The nights felt too haunted by what Frederick had shown me.
“I didn’t,” Mrs. Pomphel said, bringing me a small bundle. “It was delivered.”
I froze when I saw the package. My entire childhood slammed into me in one swift motion, knocking my breath from my lungs. It was artfully wrapped in a thin black, shawl and tied off with a ribbon. A brilliant blue ribbon.
“When? When was it delivered and by who?”
“Just a few moments ago,” Mrs. Pomphel replied, watching me with tender eyes.
“Was it—was it him?”
“Yes,” she replied softly.
I snatched the bundle as I launched myself across the stone floor of the kitchen, out the open side door and into the sunlight. It blinded me immediately but I ran anyway, knowing the path by heart. My feet carried me wildly across soft grass and rocky path, my soft shoes kicking up gravel and spraying it behind me.
I was a child again then. Seven years old, full of hope, promise and love.
As my vision righted itself, I could see the outline of a man in the distance. Tall, broad shouldered.
“Wait!” I cried, knowing I shouldn’t. If my governess saw me sprinting, if my father heard me shouting… there were not words for all that could go wrong. But I couldn’t stop. Not now. “Please stop!”
