“And I am Jane.” She smiled back at him, locked in his gaze. His shyness melted a little now. He sensed his looks pleased her, and he was suddenly grateful for any handsomeness he might possess, that it might bind her to him.
“I heard you recite, at the Pageant on Twelfth Night,” Jane told him, her voice tentative. He was grateful for her friendliness. “I, too, love Shakespeare, and I have loved him since I was a little girl.” She smiled again. He could not seem to stop smiling either. He remembered that a gentleman must be a little cool and aloof, as his father was, and he tried not to appear too overwhelmed by her presence.
“You do?” Blake said with enthusiasm. “Most girls are not familiar with his work. They know only the most famous speeches, or perhaps Romeo and Juliet.” He laughed a rueful laugh.
“What’s wrong with Romeo and Juliet? But the sonnets are my favorite,” Jane said simply. “They were read to me by my mother when I was a young girl. I didn’t understand the meanings at that age, though my mother would try to explain. I remember being soothed by the words themselves and the cadence of her speech. There is something musical about the sonnets, a rhythm...” she trailed off, seeming a little embarrassed.
Perhaps she thinks this will make no sense to me? Blake thought.
“I know,” he agreed, nodding happily. “They feel so good to the ears and on the tongue, the words themselves...” He shook his head and some sadness passed over his features. “Not everyone understands. Even my father can’t really understand poetry.” He smiled wryly in the dark, forgetting his desire to appear aloof, or to mimic his father’s cold demeanor. “He wishes me to be a magistrate, a politician, or perhaps a land squire. But I have no interest in any of that. I only want to act on stage, or write poetry or stories...”
“Don’t worry,” Jane told him in reassurance. “I feel certain you will find a way to do the things you want to do.”
“Do you think so?” he answered, brightening. “Maybe you are right.”
And together, they rode on in silence that was somehow comfortable, amiable. In time, and all too quickly, Jane must be dropped off, outside the house where her little brother played. Blake preferred to stay silent and let the moments with her pass so pleasantly, though they only looked at each other.
The footman held Jane’s arm for her as she stepped out of the carriage. Blake hastily rose and exited the carriage so that he could say a proper goodbye to her. He shyly mentioned that he would be at the Crown of Thorns later that evening. “Do you know it?” he asked her, a bit of worry creeping into his voice. “Is it a good place?”
“It’s lovely,” Jane answered. “You will have a wonderful time getting to know everyone.”
“Do you go there?” he asked her...before she could disappear into the night. She still reminded him of a unicorn, so white and unusual and so...elusive...rare.
His side burned suddenly. It hurt so much. It made tears spring up in his eyes, which he hoped she could not see for he was truly happy. Except for this cursed pain.
“I do,” she said, smiling. She looked so happy, too. “But not tonight.”
“Then perhaps I shall see you there...some night,” he said, looking into the greenest eyes he had ever seen. How they would glow in the sunlight!
“Yes, perhaps,” Jane whispered. She thanked the footman kindly and turned away.
His night had been like a dream, and he felt weak all of a sudden from all of the pain in his side, and all of his yearning for her. She was even sweeter than he might have imagined.
* * * *
As he toddled toward the front door, the Cupid greeted Jane with a smile, noting at once the otherworldly glow that suffused her features.
She bundled him up in her arms and kissed him. “I am so sorry I am late!” she whispered into his ear. At once she began apologizing to the lady who “cared” for him as well.
“I’m not upset,” the Cupid murmured into her hair, which was cold on his face, but fragrant as always.
“Tell me about your night!” he ordered, as soon as they were out of earshot, and walking toward the farmhouse. “Tell me everything, Jane.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Minerva met to talk with Neptune in a secluded glade near the shore. This was their pre-arranged rendezvous location. The weather was fine, and Minerva had brushed her hair carefully before the meeting until she was sure it would shine copper-gold in the hazy sunlight. She told Neptune about her experiences with the oracles, and explained the whole situation with the cunning, evil witch. The Sea God was concerned and frightened to learn of the dark forces that seemed to be gathering around his wayward daughter.
Minerva broached the subject of meeting with Jupiter to tell him of the whole situation. “If we wait too long,” she said, as gently as possible, “Jupiter will find out on his own, I think.” She stared into Neptune’s blue eyes, touched by his obvious concern for the girl. “Jupiter won’t be happy to find out we’ve kept this from him, you and I,” she continued. “We could suffer for this.” She was sure her face showed uncharacteristic strain. Never before had she concealed anything from her father.
“You’re right, I know, Minerva,” he answered in his gruff voice. “But I fear Jupiter, and I would rather continue as we are for a little while longer.”
Minerva knew that Neptune was not in Jupiter’s good graces after the last council meeting, and that he had no wish to expose himself to more anger and punishment.
Neptune argued with her; he still felt it would be safer to tell her father after they found the girl. At that point, if the old crone needed taking care of—with one of Jupiter’s legendary lightning bolts—they could beseech him to do the deed.
“I need you to keep helping me, but in total secrecy,” Neptune told her, his face grave. “Please, Minerva, I know it is a risk, but I’m sure we can find her and find her soon. We don’t need your father’s omniscience just yet.”
She stayed silent and stared down at her folded hands, thinking and deciding.
“Will you continue to help me?” he pleaded.
Minerva looked up at him and made her decision. “I will help you, Neptune,” she answered, her face growing hot. These conversations with him were always strangely intense and thrilling. They seemed to replay themselves in her mind for hours and days afterward.
Perhaps I need a challenge, she thought. My life is richer now with all these efforts to help the girl, and... She blushed suddenly—she was sure her face was red now. And Neptune, as well.
“I will try to find this village and your daughter without the help of...my father,” she told him finally. “Perhaps I may yet find an oracle to assist me, and if I am lucky, I can find Jane before the witch does. When the winter is done,” she promised, “you shall have your daughter safe and sound under the sea where she belongs.”
* * * *
Neptune glowed. He trusted Minerva with his very soul. He imagined a great celebration under the deep, of all his mermaids in their best ceremonial headdresses, and he, himself, in his special robe of silver-blue and his finest trident. Jane would wear the tiny crown that had been her mother’s once and smile up at him so lovingly.
His heart felt close to bursting with joy and happiness as he envisioned his life with his daughter close by his side. All the loneliness he sometimes felt would instantly be erased and soothed into nothingness by his beautiful princess who was so like her mother.
And, perhaps Minerva could come under the water, to bless their family.
Would she go? he wondered. I would like to show her my kingdom during one of our wonderful celebrations, when it is all so beautiful. So different from this dry and arid world where the cursed oxygen rasps in one’s lungs.
The underwater is warm, languid, beautiful...full of wondrous colors and strange lights twinkling...the caves, the sea creatures, the hypnotic waves and rhythms of the sea, the softness of the sea bed against one’s skin. Could I even begin to make her understand the magic of this transcenden
t world?
“I would like to try,” he murmured, smiling as he embraced the goddess and said goodbye. He proceeded to the shore where the waves would swallow him in their frothy, warm embrace and take him back to his home.
* * * *
Minerva also retreated to her own domain. It was a home in the sky, just northwest of the Sunlit Cloud, and conveniently close to the dwelling places of Jupiter and Venus. Some gods and goddesses preferred to go and live on Earth, but most of them were more comfortable in the celestial realm.
On this day, Minerva surveyed her perfect home with a cool gaze. The columns, a perfect bone white, surrounded her in perfect symmetry. Pale marble floors, as shining as ice, seemed suddenly too clean, too cold.
“It looks like a fortress of solitude,” she muttered. “No pictures, no flowers, no laughter.” She thought she might pick up some colorful things to decorate her space. “Perhaps a painting,” she murmured, “or a vase.”
She would place Calla lilies and wildflowers from earthly meadows in bunches and breathe in their scent while she worked. It surprised her now that she had lived this way, alone in this barren, monochrome palace, for so long.
She would consult Venus about livening up the place. Who better to help her decorate than the most decorative of all of the goddesses?
Perhaps, she thought, a smile breaking across her features, Venus had stolen another masterpiece that I can borrow.
Chapter Twenty-Two
After her carriage ride with the young Stirling, the Cupid watched Jane carefully. She had told him of their ride and of their shy conversations, her skin flushing with pleasure and embarrassment under the Cupid’s avid gaze. He gloried in the changes love brought to the girl’s eyes. He saw the way her face softened into dreamy wonder and anticipation when she daydreamed. He knew who she thought of at these times.
On the island, he’d waited in vain for the hands of destiny to grasp him and push him forward. When the young girl had come, with her strange tales of supernatural worlds and sea creatures, it had all become clear. He had known from the start that Jane would be the first to feel his power, and he had kept much from her as he set their course toward the fulfillment of his desires. He still remembered that pivotal moment on the island when she’d told him a Cupid should “unite lovers.”
To unite the lovers with his arrow was the most satisfying thing that had ever happened to him. It had sent shocks through his tiny body...ripples of pleasure that were felt over and over again as he thought back to that fateful night. He knew not how the whole romance would play out, but there was little doubt in his mind that, since the arrow hit Blake Stirling, the young lord would think of little else but the charming blond girl who was likewise bewitched. It was a certainty that Jane would be linked to both of them with the arrow.
“I must see Stirling,” he whispered as Jane slept close beside him one wintry night. “I must see the two of them together, see my work.” He felt a strange unease, though, as he stared down at the girl’s sleeping body. Her pale face and body were like a marble statue, a statue of a goddess, and her mouth was so soft and rosy pink. He remembered the night they’d flown over the storm as high as they could. He remembered how he had kissed her, fully a man at last, but not the same inside as he was during the day —not at all!
He had been freed...freed of his terrible curse and the tiny body that shamed him so much. He had loved her that night, and he still longed to protect her, even as he continued his schemes to push her toward a relationship with another.
The Cupid felt strange inside, and soon, he also felt the old familiar pain that had not returned since the night they had been close to death on the raft.
Then there were the terrible stabbing pains in his back, and he knew it was coming...the transformation that hurt him so much. It had not come for so long, he had almost told himself it was all over. For in truth, he could not control it, and it had been so long now. He felt sad to lose his wings, his power, but grateful to be free of the wracking pain that seized him and made him scream as though he was dying.
He groaned and sweat broke out on his forehead, and his skin started to glow green-white. He grabbed a pillow and smothered his moans as the pain grew worse. Jane stirred in her sleep, but did not waken.
Cupid ran toward the door as the pain accelerated. All the while, he fought the urge to cry out the haunting cry that had sent Jane searching the island that day they met. He closed the door that led to the snowy acres beyond their farmhouse and he ran out into the night wearing only his small boots and covered in a heavy cloak he had grabbed from a wooden peg near the door. He shivered against the cold as he ran for the dark, wooded forest. Would he have enough time?
Their home was in a secluded place. He had been pleased to note this when they arrived there for the first time. He knew the thick forest would be the perfect place to hide when the change came. He headed for a spot he had found near a small cave, moaning in pain. Although it was winter and the trees branches were heavy with snow and the ground was pure white, the night was still dark without a full moon. He finally allowed himself to cry out more loudly, and he felt the fear that always overcame him when the buds began to push through his tiny back.
He felt the blood pound in his temples. It was really happening!
He screamed out into the night air like a wounded bird, and his cries turned to desperate growls as he began to float over the forest floor, growing larger, his new, heavy limbs those of a man. The pain receded as he stared down at the snowy forest with his star sapphire eyes. Quietly, so quietly, euphoria took the place of agony.
I mustn’t go too high, he reminded himself, his huge wings flapping gently against the sky.
He could not control himself, though, because it had been so long since the last time. Soon, he was rising so high, over the roadways and fields surrounding the village. So high, that he felt butterflies in his stomach. He cared not that Jane was alone. He cared not that some creature might see. He was free. He thought for a moment of flying onward, flying anywhere, anywhere he could be free. Back to the island where there was no one to see or care, or to a new place, a place where he did not need to hide his true nature.
At last, I’m free again, he thought, staring out at the blue-black sky that surrounded him. He felt all the power in his muscled legs and his powerful chest. He felt all the vigor and passions of a man.
“Jane...” he whispered into the cold air as he gently banked and turned back toward the forest once more. “I must protect you.” The girl was all alone and his head cleared, the ecstasy receding as he realized the chance he was taking right now, flying where anyone on the ground could see.
He had always believed his powers were only visible to those who were not human. Why he felt this, he was not certain, but he had no proof that others could not witness the change. Of course, they would not know he was the little boy in the village, but it would cause such talk, and trigger some sort of witch hunt.
As he flew over the village road, back over the thick forest that would hide him once more, he saw a figure in the distance, so far away he could hardly make it out. Man or woman, girl or boy, he didn’t know. He quickly banked in the air, turning away from the silhouette that had suddenly stopped moving. He knew the figure was watching him. He cursed under his breath and prepared to land some minutes later in order to wait out the night.
He could go into the farmhouse, of course, where it was warm, but he felt no discomfort and had no earthly needs in this current state.
“Who was it?” he asked aloud as he ran his hands through his hair, hovering just above the ground. He prolonged his landing and stared down in joy at his man’s body. His folded wings felt as light as gossamer despite their amazing strength. There was no pain now, only a dark, sensual feeling of pleasure that warred with his worried thoughts of the person on the road who had watched him so quietly. In this state, it was difficult to be unselfish and hard to be rational.
He wanted to fly. He w
anted to show the whole world what he really was, and to flaunt his power. He must think of Jane, always, but tonight it was so hard. So long he had waited and paced the secluded patch of forest he had selected, wondering when the change would come once more. He always dreaded it and desired it at once.
He looked like a man, a tall, handsome man, and yet he knew, since Jane had told him, that there was an unnatural glow to his skin, and glimmering jewel brightness to his eyes when he was in this state so that he seemed to glow in the darkness. He might seem human to someone at a distance, when he was not in flight, and his wings were folded behind his body, but he would never pass as a man in company.
“Always, I must pretend,” he whispered, frustrated. Anyway, as soon as my feet touch the ground, at first light, I am doomed to change back, and so no one will be able to say who it was. And he set himself fully upon the ground just as dawn broke, and then he was a boy once more, though his mind was caught between the two states of being.
He thought of Jane as he hid in the forest, still unwilling to go back into the farmhouse to gaze upon her beauty and her innocence. He knew he loved her when he was in the air and a man, though she was now only fifteen and he would have to wait so long to really know her as a young woman and not a girl. The mere thought of Lord Stirling still filled him with a blue-burning anger.
She should be mine, and yet, it is my doing that her heart burns for another...I cannot understand, he thought sadly. By day, I destroy what I long for by night. And he walked about for a while, a strange, small figure in an ill-fitting cloak that was much too large for him.
There were tears in his eyes as he sat down in the snow, imagining the night he’d plucked his first arrow and killed his own love. He did not know why he was so different when he was this creature, but he was, and he could not reconcile the differences in his heart.
The Secret of the Emerald Sea Page 8
