by S. K Munt
‘Fine. Play it that way then. Time will tell what you refuse to so...’ He stared back out at the pool, smiling stupidly just because she’d acknowledged him. And now that she had, he couldn’t take another minute of the silent treatment. He didn’t look at her when he said: ‘I just can’t believe you’re still mad at me. I mean, a few weeks ago you thought I was dead and-’
The sound of a chair scraping against the floor made him turn. He watched, his hopes fading as Ivyanne moved to the other end of the table, plugged a set of headphones into her iPhone, and then placed them over her ears, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
Tristan sighed and turned back to face outside, shaking his head ruefully. Ivyanne liked to preach about how emotionally hardy mers were, but she could sure hold a grudge!
*
‘Hey Sahori!’ Lincoln trotted eagerly down the deck on Saturday night, tapping his shift-partner on the shoulder. ‘Grubs up. Your turn.’
‘Grub?’ Sahori asked, not taking her eyes from the dark water before her. She was sitting on the edge of the dock with ramrod straight posture, keeping vigil as Ivyanne swam.
Lincoln couldn’t see him through the inkiness of the night, but he knew Garridan was posted on the edge of the rocky outcropping fifty meters to the right where the coast dipped in to form the tip of Funnel Bay. Despite his six-man guard, Garridan insisted on chaperoning Ivyanne’s every swim.
‘Yeah grub...dinner. Sushi-Pintang’s special kind. You get fifteen minutes, and then you need to go swap with Lachy on the roof so he can eat too.’
‘Okay.’ Sahori asked no more questions. She got to her feet, holstering her little silver handgun and motioned for Lincoln to take her spot. ‘Her majesty has already stretched her limbs with and is fluttering about with a school of fish around the yacht. There has been no sign of Ardhi.’ She strode away, her long black braid glinting under the dock light. Even her walk was efficient and eerily silent against the timber dock.
Lincoln shook his head as he sat and dangled his own legs over the edge, shivering as cool, fresh water licked the soles of his aching feet. He removed his gun and rested it on the dock beside him as he scanned the silhouette of the hillside to his right for signs of movement. There were none. So he turned and studied the bay in a similar fashion, using all of his senses-his eyes, searching for scales or limbs in the distance that should not have been there, his ears, waiting for a slap of fluke against the sea that didn’t belong. Even his nose played a part-testing the air for Ardhi, who had a scent as fresh and crisp as ozone, contrasting with his dark character. But there was nothing.
Wet hands wrapped around his ankles and tugged at that exact moment but Lincoln tensed, resisting the gentle pull, his heart rate accelerating, but not from fear. A moment later Ivyanne surfaced, pouting.
‘Boo?’ She ventured.
He shook his head at her and smiled. ‘Sorry honey. I’m not as jumpy now as I used to be.’
‘Damn.’ Ivyanne curled the fingers of one hand over the timber edge and ran the other from her forehead to the back of her crown, smoothing her sodden cloak of hair back from her face and over the opposite shoulder. ‘I liked you vulnerable.’
‘You’re going to like me invulnerable a hell of a lot more.’
‘So it seems.’ Ivyanne smiled. ‘You’re doing great, Link. I’m enjoying watching your progress. And I swear you’ve shot up two inches!’
‘Somedays I feel it.’ He admitted. ‘Though the height thing is really a strength thing-I’m standing taller now, is all.’
‘Ahh. That make sense.’ She cocked an eyebrow. ‘I’m not the only one noticing either. Grace is pretending that she doesn’t-but she’s checking you out every time she thinks I’m not watching her. Which is at least three hundred times a day.’ She whistled between her teeth. ‘That’s some crush Grey! It seems like your energy intoxicates the Londeree’s, doesn’t it?’
He cringed, thinking of the reference of Bane’s dream. ‘Yeah well, if you’d kindly refrain from bringing that up publicly again…’
Ivyanne giggled-intoxicating him in an instant. He loved the way the sound started as low and throaty and quickly bubbled up the scale and ended with a quick intake of breath.
‘Sorry. But he had it coming.’ She frowned. ‘Marcus took it a little better than I would have liked though..’
‘Ugh! Let’s just not okay? Grace included on the conversational boycott. Crush or not, she’s not speaking to me at the moment and I intend for it to stay that way until the sight of me repulses her.’
‘Not going to happen…’ Ivyanne sang. But then, she cocked her head. ‘I noticed the silent treatment thing. Why is she mad?’
Lincoln reached out and pushed Ivyanne’s hair off her forehead. ‘Why do you think?’ He asked softly. ‘I’m in love with someone else and she doesn’t have a shot in hell. I figured it was kinder to say it, then play along.’
‘Oh.’ Ivyanne bit her lip. ‘Poor kid.’
Lincoln pushed the sight of Grace’s heart-achingly broken expression from his mind and said softly: ‘Yeah…I know.’
Ivyanne glanced towards the house, which looked beautiful and festive when lit from within. Soft jazz music-Joyce’s choice-was filtering out into the night. Over that, Lincoln could hear the animated conversation of the dwellers within as they gathered around the outdoor table, some standing, some sitting, all digging into Pintang’s fare.
‘Well if you’re here then it must be chow time for Sahori, and I must admit, my appetite is coming back.’ Ivyanne said. ‘I always feel so hungry after a swim-don’t you?’
‘Actually no.’ Lincoln thought of all the occasions when he’d swum, collecting his emotions afterwards like shells in a basket and examining them. ‘I feel...perfect. Aligned.’
Ivyanne shrugged. ‘Just wait...if you ever get to spend the majority of the day in the water for months on end, as I did growing up, you’ll see how it changes. It’s like coffee-the more you have, the more you need. Swimming can cure me of hunger and lust and irritation, but if I don’t stay in long enough it can make it worse.’
‘Yes well…’ Lincoln couldn’t help himself. ‘Nothing is going to curb my lust so long as you’re around, your highness, so I’m grateful that swimming at least takes care of my hunger and caffeine addiction or I’d be a nervous wreck.’
Ivyanne laughed. ‘Sorry. But you know you’re not in that boat alone.’ She nodded to the dock behind him. ‘Can you pass me a towel please so I can get out?’
Lincoln glanced over his shoulder and saw a thick cream towel folded neatly on the boards. He was about to reach for it when he noted her words: ‘So I can get out.’ He turned back slowly, risking a peek towards the dark water which he suddenly realized was lapping against her collarbone. Her neck, under her hair, was bare.
‘Are you...not wearing a swimsuit?’ He asked, shocked and instantly overheating.
Ivyanne blushed and mumbled: ‘Look….Sahori was on duty...Garridan was way out..it’s dark…’ She made a face and moved her hands together, as though she’d be able to cover her naked form with delicate forearms. ‘Can you just pass me the damn towel please?’
Lincoln got to his feet and stood, not taking his eyes off hers. ‘No.’
Ivyanne’s jaw fell open. ‘Excuse you?’
Lincoln smiled. ‘No.’ He gestured to her. ‘What do you think hiding your body from me now is going to do when I have every inch memorized already?’
Ivyanne looked flustered. ‘Lincoln...please-’
‘No.’ He repeated. ‘We were engaged Ivyanne. We were lovers. If you think putting on a towel now will stop me from violating you in my sleep every night in my own dreams, then you’re insane.’
Ivyanne’s lashes lowered to veil her eyes. Water beaded on her shoulders and knuckles. ‘I’m just trying to make the temptation more bearable Lincoln. For both of us.’
‘I’m on fire, no matter what you do or wear or attempt to hide.’ He whispered. ‘The least you c
an do is give me a glimpse to tide me over.’
Ivyanne looked up at his hand, her conflicting feelings evident. ‘If I get out of here naked, you’re going to kiss me,’ she whispered. ‘And I’m going to kiss you back. But if I stay here and wait for you to get your senses back, I won’t toss and turn tonight, knowing I let temptation lead me astray again.’ She stroked backwards, opening the gap between them. ‘So I’m going to stay right here where I’m safe.’
Lincoln uttered a low moan. Ivyanne had moved out of the shadows, unwittingly providing him with the view he’d been anticipating through water now made translucent by the glow from the dock light. Her submerged breasts were buoyant and bleached ivory in contrast to her shoulders and face, and the shadow between her gently cycling legs was all too provocative for his body to ignore. He grew hard instantly at the sight, knowing why men had leapt to their deaths for such a view.
‘Wrong.’ He said, his muscles coiling.
‘About what?’ She asked, looking confused.
‘For thinking distance solves anything for me when it comes to you.’ Lincoln launched himself over the edge of the jetty and slid, feet-first into the water, sinking at first and then resurfacing against her slender body before she’d had the chance to react. He circled and arm around her waist and spun until she was up against the pole driven into the sea bed that supported the private jetty. ‘You can break my heart a million times, my love, but one kiss is all I’ll ever need to heal it.’
Ivyanne’s head turned to his, her expression desolate and desperate. ‘Baby I-’
Lincoln kissed her, because there was no other option. But his tongue only had brushed against the sweetness of hers, when reality fractured the moment.
‘Well!’ A sardonic voice from above announced his rival’s arrival. ‘This is nice. Good to see you taking your responsibility so seriously Lincoln, and you fighting him off as always, my queen. I was coming to see if you were hungry but it looks like you’re about to devour the fish you’ve hooked.’
Lincoln swore. By the time he pulled back to squint up at the dock, all that was visible of Tristan was his retreating back and his halo of golden curls.
*
The image of Ivyanne and Lincoln’s clinch felt like it had been burned onto Tristan’s retinas. Of course he’d known she’d done such things-and more-with the man she had been engaged to, but until then, he’d been fortunate enough not to actually see them as lovers. He’d never even seen them kiss!
He flopped down on his bed and screamed into his pillow. His skin was crawling, and his vision kept blurring with tears. It was natural for what he had just witnessed to bother him on many basic levels-but it was surprising just how it had stolen both his breath and his will to live.
It wasn’t just about the act, but Lincoln’s approach-which Tristan had been unfortunate enough to catch most of and too thunderstruck to actually halt. He’d always seen Lincoln as being somewhat rigid and uptight. Sexless, almost. And yet there had been nothing polite or restrained about the explosive, watery embrace he’d just barged in on! He couldn’t stomach the idea that Lincoln was shedding his human inhibitions so rapidly, or that Ivyanne would be subjective to more than his competition’s sentimentality and refusal to let go. Tristan had had her cornered in the library the week before, telling her he could make her hotter than anyone else ever could. But what if he was wrong? Was it possible that Tristan was about to lose the role of top-dog to a puppy? The way he’d seen his niece, Saraya and Adele eyeing Lincoln was proof that Lincoln had some pull. The question was, how much? And what did it say about him, if Ivyanne could live without kissing him, yet was unable to resist that and more from his rival within full view of the shore and sea?
‘Under the dock? Really?’ He cried, punching his pillow so hard that feathers shot out from the pillow slip. ‘Naked?!’
There was a knock on the door, and Tristan looked up to see Garridan poking his head inside the room. His hair was still damp from his swim, his brown eyes full of concern. ‘Hey bud…’ Two words had never conveyed more sympathy than those did. ‘Can I come in without resembling that pillow afterward?’
Tristan grunted, tossing it to Lincoln’s bed and motioned his uncle in. Strangely, he wasn’t in the mood to be alone. Lately, it seemed like he was always alone, even in a crowded room-and usually when he needed company the most.
‘I hope you have a damned good pep-talk up your sleeve.’ He warned his uncle. ‘Like the Martin Luther King speech good.’
‘I only caught the tail end of...a wet Lincoln and a flummoxed looking queen.’ Garridan said slowly, his expression cautious. ‘I was kind of hoping he’d just fallen in...Then I come in here and see you looking like a ghost so…’
‘Looking like a ghost?’ Tristan parroted. ‘More like, feeling like a ghost.’ He sighed, folding his hands behind his head to stop them from breaking something and staring moodily up at the ceiling. ‘I died, and now am forced to haunt the people I knew in life, watching them find happiness and move on without me. Under the dock.’ He glowered. ‘While one is naked.’
‘Oh. Well...shit.’ Garridan sighed. ‘I’m sorry if you saw something you didn’t want to. That’s precisely why I try to keep both of you separated from her.’
‘But I’m the only one honoring the deal. And she didn’t seem to mind him pawing her so I guess I’m the only one who cares!’
A hand rested on his shoulder. ‘Come on Tristan, don’t jump to conclusions or assume the absolute worst. These Court women are complex creatures, torn between what they want, what they need and what everyone else wants and needs from them. And despite all of the little voices in their heads, telling them what to do, they’ve got the same urges as us, telling them to do the opposite and make a right mess out of everything.’
Tristan glanced at Garridan in amazement, wondering if that was the longest sentence his uncle had ever uttered on a subject that wasn’t work-related. ‘You’re some expert now?’
Garridan shrugged. ‘A century or so ago, I sort of was.’
Tristan sat up, curiosity tempting him from the need to sink into a coma. ‘Come again?’
Garridan made a face, and the few lines in his skin deepened to prominence. ‘Well in all honesty...I have firsthand experience when it comes to romancing the trunk of this family tree.’ His uncle’s complexion was reddening as he appraised the back of his hands. ‘And I can tell you right now that it doesn’t matter how right you are for one of them, or how much they need you, they’re going to do only what they think is right in the end.’
Tristan couldn’t believe his ears. ‘You...romanced a Court?’
Garridan raised an eyebrow. ‘That hard to get your head around, eh? I must have lost my looks. Be that as it may, a couple of dozen decades ago, I was where you are now-the one everyone assumed would become king.’
‘It’s not your looks, but the mathematics of the situation throwing me for a loop here!’ Tristan sat up like a schoolgirl eager for gossip. ‘You’re...three hundred and twenty six? Too young for Anna, of course, and Ivy was married centuries ago…!’ He felt himself flush with scandal. ‘You and Vana?! How could I not know this?’
‘Because it was buried.’ Garridan answered softly. ‘Our people bury everything unpleasant as quickly as they can. Surely you’ve noticed that?’
‘You and Vana?!’ Tristan repeated, stunned.
Garridan nodded grimly. ‘I was one hundred and eighteen when her first husband died, and her mother started looking for a second straight away. Ivy wasn’t trying to be heartless-but Vana hadn’t had children yet, and time is a valuable thing, even to us.’ He exhaled slowly. ‘So I was put forward for Vana’s hand-the first of the Marked to be volunteered- and we got along like clams.’ Garridan smiled. ‘Ivy gave Vana a year to decide if we were a good match, and left us to it,’ he wriggled his salt and pepper eyebrows. ‘And boy, did we have fun trying to work that out.’
Tristan’s mouth fell open. ‘Out of wedlock?!’ he de
manded, incredulous.
His uncle grinned. ‘Well, she’d been married before. And I had quite the way with the uh, ladies so no one was out to guard my virtue…’
‘So that’s where I get it from!’ Tristan snorted, thinking of his father Emilia who was a dark, withdrawn man who’d only ever had the one partner-the woman he’d married.
‘Well sort of, but from your mother too. She was an ostentatious flirt.’ Garridan chuckled. ‘She’s the reason why french girls have such bad reputations! And it wasn’t just men she was attracted to either. I lost a girlfriend or two to that sly sister of mine!’
‘Um... ew.’ Tristan said, grimacing. ‘Any time you want to stop breaking my world, feel free to.’
‘Sorry.’ Garridan said, looking too amused for it to have been a sincere apology. ‘Anyway, Vana and I had a very passionate coupling. But there was a problem, when it came to impregnating her. We tried and tried, but got nowhere.’
‘How long did you try for?’ Tristan asked.
‘A year.’
‘Just a year?’ Tristan couldn’t believe it. ‘But that’s nothing!’
Alas, his uncle shook his head. ‘My problem was more technical than that-I couldn’t actually uh, well…’ his weathered face scrunched up. ‘Nothing happened, to end things. Well I felt it, but the piping didn’t work.’
Tristan was relieved. That was hardly his problem. ‘Do you know why?’
Garridan nodded. ‘There were complications when I was born, so we think it stems from there. I just don’t produce semen.’ He patted Tristan’s arm. ‘Sorry for the over share, as you youngins’ say.’
‘Sorry for me?’ Tristan shook his head. ‘I had no idea! I just thought you had a low fertility or something.’
‘Nope-zero fertility. And it’s not like our kind can just run off to a doctor to have some tests done.’ He sighed. ‘Anyway, to make a long story short, it became pretty obvious that I’d never have children.’
‘So she left you?’
‘It wasn’t quite that simple,’ Garridan’s eyes shone. ‘She loved me. She wanted to be with me anyway. She begged Ivy to even try for more children, but she was far too old by then to give her a sister or brother. For a little while, I thought she was going to run away with me anyway, even though that would have been the worst thing for the kingdom.’
