Between the Sea and Stars

by Chantal Gadoury

  “The star,” Edwin explained, his features softening as his white gaze lifted to meet hers.

  Relief washed through Lena’s body as she studied the sketch. Its loveliness contrasted starkly with the first. She traced the bridge of stars at its edges.

  “What does it mean?” she queried.

  “That is for you to discover,” Edwin replied, and slowly began to gather the cards back together, reforming a unified stack. “We sailors use the stars to navigate the sea. Did you know that Lena?”

  She shook her head, though he couldn’t see her. He seemed to know her answer already.

  Edwin slipped the stack into its pouch. His voice was low when he spoke again.

  “Are you searching for something, lass? Or someone? Is there a place you long to discover, or return to? Are you lost?”

  “Yes,” Lena whispered, uncertain which of his questions she was answering.

  “I often feel a bit lost myself,” Edwin smiled. “But I’d much rather be lost with a friend, than lost and alone.”

  13

  “The bathing room is in here.” Jace clutched Lena’s elbow as he led her into a narrow, white-walled chamber.

  Lena rubbed her arm when he released her. His grip had been a bit tight, his impatience clear as he’d jostled her along. Perhaps his earlier visit from Lord Jarl had put him in a foul mood. She hadn’t seen him since their midday meal. She had spent the rest of the afternoon listening to Edwin talk about his time as a sailor, all the beautiful sites he’d seen from the railing of his cargo ship. She’d lost herself in his stories, marveling at the details he’d recalled. Perhaps ordinary memories became lovelier when one could no longer see.

  Evening had arrived far too quickly, and Jace along with it. He’d tapped his foot as she’d embraced Edwin and bid him goodnight, then shouldered her off, depositing her in the kitchen.

  Supper had been another bowl of soup that Lena had barely touched.

  Now, Lena passed her gaze over the quaint bathing room. The ceiling was low, the pale walls affixed with wood-framed paintings and swirling, iron adornments. A latched window invited the yellow moonlight to puddle at her feet.

  “A little sparse,” Jace admitted, glancing around, “But it’s got the essentials. Sink, tub.” He gestured to an oblong bowl of blue ceramic, large enough to fit a body inside, with ornate, iron feet somewhat like the claws of crabs.

  “This room is specifically for my mother and I, and now you. Tenants have a washroom at the other end of the hall.”

  Lena nodded, doing her best to conceal her confusion. Why didn’t humans simply wash themselves in the sea? It was large enough for everyone . . .

  “Tub’s a bit old-fashioned,” Jace explained, his voice rife with disdain. He led her across the room, his fingers pinching her skin. “Hot water, cold.” He flicked the first of a pair of brass knobs. Lena startled as a rush of water sputtered and then, began to pour in earnest from a slim, metal spout. Jace returned the knob to its original position, and the water ceased. Lena wobbled slightly as she gathered up the hem of her skirt and lifted a foot into the tub.

  “You don’t have to—” Jace began, breaking off his words as he tugged her backward. “These are private quarters, Lena. Family quarters. No one’s going to walk in on you. You don’t have to bathe with your clothes on.” He cocked a brow at her. “Do you . . . need help getting undressed?”

  Lena shook her head.

  “It won’t bother me,” Jace rushed to say. “It’s not like I haven’t . . . seen you already. On the beach.”

  “I can manage,” Lena replied, and thought she saw a flash of hopefulness wink out in his eyes. Was he truly trying to help her? Or did he suspect her deceit? What if a stray scale lingered somewhere on her skin? What would he do if he found out what she truly was? What she had been? Would he want her blood like in the stories?

  Jace mustered a shrug. “Clean linens are in the closet,” he said, clearing his throat and thumbing toward a slim set of doors at the far corner of the room. Mor will want a bath too, when she finishes up with the guests, so try not to take too long.”

  With that, he exited—somewhat hurriedly, smacking the door shut behind himself.

  Alone, Lena staggered to the window, careful not to lose her footing. She was getting a bit steadier on her feet. Her fingers grazed the wooden sill as she gazed through the glass, heart lurching after the sea just beyond the Wyatt’s property. A soft pattering of rain rippled its moonlight-stained surface. Lena eased open the windowpane. She let her lashes flutter shut and breathed in the scent of the gently weeping heavens. Beneath them, the damp meadow was sweetly aromatic, emitting a soothing perfume that wrapped around her very soul. How she wished Javelin could be here with her, inhaling the same strange smells, discovering the human world at her side.

  But Javelin was gone, and it was her fault.

  Loneliness stabbed Lena’s heart, a swift penetration that sent ripples of unbearable pain ricocheting through her veins. She backed away from the window, stumbling slightly. Edwin’s earlier words echoed in her ears as she struggled to peel the dress away from her body.

  “Death. Death has plagued you. Death has sealed your fate.”

  Did he mean the death of her brother? Because of Javelin’s death, she’d been forced to flee Sogen Hav and use the shell of Mette to transform into a human. Death had sealed her to the human world. Poseidon was death. Who would he take next if she tried to go home? Her father? Asger? She couldn’t risk it, so she could never return to the sea.

  Lena took a steadying breath and deposited her garment neatly on the floor. Crying wouldn’t bring Javelin back, wouldn’t relieve Poseidon of his wrath. So why did she long to cry and cry and never stop? To create an ocean all her own with her tears?

  She turned the knob on the large washbowl and watched as a steaming channel of water gushed out and began to rise. She waited till the tub was nearly filled to the brim. Then she twisted the knob back into place and gingerly, stepped into the sloshing water to bathe.

  She sighed as she dipped one sore foot and then, the other. The water was impossibly warm, soothing the sting of her overworked muscles. Lena sat and then, lowered herself to the nose. The sea had always been cool, comfortable. This heat was akin to sitting beside Edwin’s melodiously crackling fire. A heat that flushed her skin and set her very bones aglow.

  A soft hiss of pleasure escaped Lena’s lips as she tipped her head back and pulled handfuls of hot water through her hair. She closed her eyes and dunked her face completely, relishing the familiar feeling of being submerged, though an anxious pang in her lungs quickly pulled her back up for air.

  She heaved in a breath. She was more human than merrow now. Entirely human, it would seem, though in this moment, her whole body felt like it was straining for the most cavernous depths of the sea.

  Her mind wandered back to the cavern, to Carrick. Had Asger gone to him right away? How had he explained Javelin’s death, or her own hasty retreat? How was her father faring, now that he had no one to care for him? No one to prepare his meals, no one to stroll with him through the gardens of coral, no one to listen to him recount the days of his youth, or laugh at his little jokes?

  Would Asger hire someone to tend to him? To keep him company? Was he okay?

  Lena clenched her eyes shut. She had so many questions and no possible way of ever finding out the answers. Not unless Asger came to the shore looking for her . . . Would he? Her eyes drifted back to the window and the moon beyond, wondering when next it would be full.

  She envisioned Asger—his slick blue-black hair and broad arms. His dark eyes, somehow both eager and sly. Water lapped her chest as she leaned back against the gently sloping wall of the tub, remembering the feel of Asger’s hands as they’d caressed her; his voice whispering into her ear. Would it have been so horrible to have bound herself to him?

  Lena submerged herself once more, squeezing her eyes shut, pretending she’d never come ashore. But a sense of famili
arity didn’t pulse through her this time. The tub was confining, nothing like the infinite ceaselessness of the sea. She shifted her hips, but her glistening tail no longer swished beneath them. Instead, her knees knocked together, awkward and clunky. This was her body now, but it still felt like it belonged to someone else.

  She bargained with her aching lungs as long as she dared, then lifted her face from the water and breathed deeply. With a sigh, she pushed herself back up to sit. Her hair was plastered to her cheeks. Beads of water dribbled down from her brow, sliding into the crook of her neck and over her bare, scaleless shoulders.

  How could she hope to convince the world that she belonged on the surface if she couldn’t even fully convince herself?

  She leveled her gaze with her lap, examining her figure closely for the first time. Her fingers moved to the tops of her thighs, then began to explore the length of her legs. She traced a line from her knee to the arch of her foot, then drew her finger back and began a new trail toward the innermost part of her body.

  Goosebumps cascaded over her skin as she caressed the new curves and swells of her soft, supple flesh. A pleasant chill shuddered over her spine, though the water was still warm. There were parts of herself that she didn’t understand, places that had been concealed by the garment she’d worn. Places that felt lovely and yet, somehow like a secret. She couldn’t ask Jace or even mor to explain the puzzling aspects of her new form. Then they’d know she’d never seen herself before—never seen herself like this.

  After several minutes of quiet pondering, Lena willed her wobbly legs to stand. She exited the tub and retrieved a long stretch of fluffy fabric from the closet Jace had indicated before. She dried herself, glancing warily at the washbowl, wondering how exactly she was expected to get the water back up through the spout. Perhaps she’d leave that to Jace when he returned.

  She tugged back into the white dress she’d worn earlier, marveling once again at the strangeness of covering herself up so completely. As a merrow, she’d concealed her breasts with her long strands of hair and her pearls, and had never worried when a blustery current exposed her. Here, humans adorned their bodies with layers and layers of clothing.

  She tucked her wet, tangled curls behind her ears and turned toward the door. She’d do her best to get back to her room without stumbling and making a fool of herself even more.

  Pressing her hand to the wall for support, she navigated the darkened hall and slipped into her room. The bed was devilishly soft as she crawled into it, a far cry from her slab of stone at the cavern. Lena wriggled her body beneath the sheets, stretching her legs languidly over the cool, crisp linens. The upper edge of the bed was lined with large, frilly pouches, stuffed with fluff and luxuriously soft. She nestled into them and they contoured around her face like a mountain of sand.

  Her window had been left unlatched and ajar. A breeze whistled softly into her chambers, perfuming her quilted coverlet with the clean scent of green grass and salty sea spray and rain.

  Lena’s lashes quivered and began to fall shut. Exhaustion made her limbs heavy, and the bed yielded beneath her, as pliant as the sea. She could almost hear the ocean calling to her, beckoning her back. Taunting her as it lavished the shore. Whispering on the wisps of the wind.

  She closed her eyes, consciousness blurring steadily to dreams. She could feel the current gliding between her fingers, sashaying around her tail. She could hear Javelin’s laughter, could see Carrick’s smile as he waved her home.

  Her mind darkened.

  Asger floated in behind her eyes, his body branded with new marks, deeply black. Beautiful. Horrifying. The marks of yesterday’s shipwrecked sailors. The marks of stolen human lives. Her eyes shot open as she realized one of those marks could one day be hers.

  “You awake?”

  Lena’s eyes slowly opened at the sound of a husky, sleep-addled voice. Wakefulness lanced through her as she gazed around herself, alarmed by her unfamiliar surroundings. Memory returned on a gasp of dry air. Yesterday hadn’t been a dream.

  She was human.

  Her brother was dead.

  Sorrow gripped her. A chill whipped through her core, though her skin and blankets were warm. She was struck suddenly and completely by the desire to remain in bed, stiff and unmoving as a stone. To stare into a void of nothingness as the hours turned into days. To spend the rest of her life just like this, warding off all feeling, all memory. To sleep forever, eternally embraced by her brother and father in her dreams.

  “Hey.”

  She lifted her gaze and saw Jace hovering at her side. He clamped onto her arm and shook her.

  “We’ve got a lot of work to do,” he said. “Get up, get dressed, and meet me in the kitchen.”

  Lena groaned and drew the soft coverlet over her face. The scent of wild green fields had dissipated, replaced by a stale, muted stench. It certainly didn’t do much to hold her in place.

  She dragged her body up to sitting and rested her chin on her knees.

  “There’s clothes for you in the wardrobe. Mor’s old things. Don’t take too long getting ready. We’ve already started serving breakfast to the guests downstairs. Once it’s gone, it’s gone.”

  Lena nodded groggily and yawned.

  Jace clapped his hands in front of her face, and her eyes pinged open. She nearly glared at him, but caught herself in time and softened her eyes. He might be a bit . . . brusque, she reasoned, but he’d been nothing but helpful since he’d discovered her on the shore.

  He was dressed differently today. His clothing was brighter, cleaner. Somehow stiffer. His white sleeves were rolled to his elbows, his sandy bangs combed neatly away from his brow. Dark circles under his eyes gave away that he was tired, just like her. Had he slept at all? Had the prospect of his meeting with Lord Jarl kept him tossing through the night? Lena didn’t doubt it. She wouldn’t want to be alone with a man like that either.

  “Up and at ’em. Quickly. Or you won’t eat till lunch.” Jace gave her a stern look and marched back into the hall.

  Lena sighed heavily. She’d never felt so utterly tired before. Her bones wailed for sleep, and invisible hands seemed to pull her down, down, down, back into the bed.

  She rubbed her fingers over her eyes, then rose up and raked the hair away from her forehead. Her feet felt numb as she dropped them to the floor. She tried to shake the feeling back into her soles, eyeing the tall wardrobe at the opposite side of the room, hoping she could make it there without falling on her face.

  She crossed the cool wooden floor with care, only stumbling twice and selected a simple, faded garment from among those left for her. Her fingers explored the rough fabric, finding the clasps and strings she’d need to use to secure it.

  Her balance faltered now and then as she dressed herself, but she managed to stay upright. The bodice she’d chosen was lined with rows of buttons shaped like small, brass flowers. Lena smiled as she tugged them into their slots. She could do this, she realized—walk on her own, however clumsily. Dress on her own. Fool people into believing she’d always been human.

  She fluffed the hem of her skirt around her feet, pushing her wild hair back when it fell into her eyes. The sea had always scooped her locks away from her face. Lena considered her curls, still damp and wavy from her bath yesterday, and wondered how they might be better tamed.

  The scent of food wafted through the door, pulling Lena out into the hallway. She paused at the top of the staircase, knuckles turning white as she gripped the wooden banister. Muddled conversation rose up from beneath her, where long, cloth-covered tables had been arranged. A swarm of young men drank from steaming mugs and stuffed meat into their mouths. They laughed heartily, licking the oil from their fingers and smacking the crumbs away from their laps.

  Jace appeared at the kitchen threshold, a plate of food in each hand. His eyes snapped to hers and he jerked his chin forward, hastening her down.

  I can do this, Lena told herself, and took the stairs one at a time unti
l she reached the landing.

  “Here’s your morning meal,” Jace muttered. He shoved a plate into her hand.

  Lena wrinkled her nose at the odd cuts of meat. “What is it?” she asked.

  “Sausage and rye bread. There’s jam in the kitchen.”

  “Jam?”

  Jace was hardly paying attention to her, his eyes shifting over the room.

  “Boysenberry,” he replied absently, lifting a finger as a guest raised his empty mug into the air. “Come on.” He began to guide Lena to an empty table. “You’re doing better today,” he noted, glancing at her feet.

  Lena nodded, and folded herself into a chair.

  Jace hesitated briefly, eyes returning to the crowd. Then he shook his head and sat down beside her. Lena watched as he piled the charred sausage onto his thick slice of rye. He curled the bread crusts around the meat and took a large bite.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked, swallowing.

  Lena shook her head, no.

  “Giving me the silent treatment then again, I see.”

  “No, I . . .” Lena stammered.

  Jace’s eyes hardened, and he stood abruptly. Had she offended him? Lena flicked her gaze to his, but he wasn’t looking at her. His focus was trained on the entrance of the inn.

  She twisted around in her seat, following his gaze, and stiffened at the sight of Lord Jarl. He stood in the foyer, his spine straight as a spear. The front door was swung wide behind him, propped open by a warped block of driftwood. Sunlight basked his back, brightening the dark coverings he wore. His eyes passed ruefully over the boisterous masses before landing on their table.

  With a sneer, he advanced toward them, careful to touch nothing and no one as he strode across the room.