Drowned

by Nichola Reilly

  “Down here it’s safe,” he says softly. “I would keep her safe if she were with me.”

  “What? You expect her to live down here?” I mutter, catching my breath. “Besides, she would never come down here. It’s beneath her. And you wouldn’t go up there.”

  “I’m sorry, Coe. You’re right. It is my fault. I’m an idiot. I wish I could...” He speaks in such a wounded way that I can’t help but feel as guilty as he does. “I’ll need to get to her.”

  I clench my fists. I want to shake some sense into him. How he could be so blindly led by that beautiful, silly thing is beyond me. Instead, I change the subject. “How can you see? Did you find another torch?”

  He shakes his head, and with a sudden click the room is bathed in pure white light, a thousand times brighter than the fire. I stare at the thing he’s holding in his hands, mesmerized. “There are boxes of them. Up near the chute. All you need to do is shake it. Watch this.”

  He weaves it around, making a pattern on the wall most dizzying. Then he puts his hand in front of it and doesn’t pull away. It should be burning his hand but it’s not.

  Fern applauds. “Wow. Can I try?”

  He hands it to her, and she flashes it around the corridor, her face bright with glee. It illuminates the face I never thought I’d see again, only minutes ago. I think about those creatures and cringe. “Can we go someplace warmer?”

  “Oh. Sure. You cold?” Tiam leads us back up toward the laundry chute. I notice as we walk that a lot of the crates have been opened, the contents have been rifled through. At the base of the chute, the crates have been arranged into a nice, safe little bunker. We climb inside. He’s laid out a little bed for himself made of shredded packing materials and a cloth blanket, and he has two or three of those portable lights stacked by a pillow, the can of honey and various other things I’ve never seen before and don’t have names for. Truthfully, it looks a lot more comfortable than the sleeping compartment. No wonder he’s not too excited to get back up to land. He finds a couple of cloths and hands one to me, then drapes one over Fern’s back, rubbing her shoulders vigorously. She plops down on his mat and he covers her feet. “You feeling better, Bug?”

  She grins and nods, then starts to dive in to his open can of honey. “Yum. This is the best place ever. Let’s never leave.”

  So funny how food, a few warm blankets—and Tiam—can make a dreary place a whole lot nicer.

  “One bad thing about these...” He shakes the light at us, then sits beside her. “They don’t give off heat.”

  She’s not paying attention. She’s rummaging through her bag. From it, she produces her wand, which she gently brings to his wound. It looks as if he might have succeeded in breaking the end of the scribbler nose off, somehow. He has wrapped some dingy fabric around his shoulder, but the blood is seeping through. “You are healed,” she says, with great flourish.

  He smiles. “Hey. It feels much better.”

  “Did you...break off the end?” I ask.

  “No. Just filed it down some. It’s good. Can hardly feel it,” he says, but he winces a little as he speaks, as if just the memory hurts.

  “You can’t leave it like that. It’s got to come out, right? It’ll get infected.”

  He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just stares at it. “Maybe.”

  There’s an odd noise coming from above, in the laundry chute, something that rises and falls eerily, like a woman crying out in pain. I listen, unable to keep the concern from my face.

  “It’s the tide. High tide,” he explains. “That’s the water you’re hearing, Coe.”

  “Oh.”

  Fern sits up, trembling. “The craphouse! I didn’t clean it. Ana will be so mad.”

  “I’ll take care of that,” I tell her, patting her knee. “Don’t worry.”

  Tiam says, “You look tired, Coe. You should rest for a while. Then we can go look at the signs I found.”

  I look for a place to lie, but there isn’t any room, unless I lie down right beside him. The thought makes my skin tingle. He sees my hesitation and moves over, leaving plenty of space for me. We can fit another whole adult between us. Which is just how I like it. And just how I hate it.

  Not long later, Fern is snoring away, her cheek pressed against the portable light, cradling it against her heart. For all the horror she has experienced, she is so resilient. I wonder how often a person can bounce back before they begin to crumble.

  “I have to get to Star, and quickly,” he whispers to me. “When the tide goes out, I’ll do it. I’ll go up the chute.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  “I have to...” he says, then gives me a sheepish look. I don’t mean to, but it’s hard to stop my eyes from rolling and my body from cringing at her mention. “Coe, I told you, I promised the king I would look after her. And she was good to you.”

  “She was good to me because you told her to be.”

  He sighs. “She might be silly and naive sometimes, but she’s not a bad person.”

  “She almost had us killed, Tiam. And she hardly cared at all when she thought you were dead,” I argue. At that moment, I want to hurt him. I want to make a hole in his heart as big as the one he’s created in mine. “She could care less about you.”

  But his response only makes me feel smaller. He nods as if he’s known that all along, and says, in a small voice, “Maybe so.”

  I look away, feeling guilty and stupid for being jealous. Over what? It’s not as if I have any claim over Tiam at all. He belongs completely to Star.

  The next few moments of silence only serve to make me feel worse and worse about what I’d said. So I’m relieved when he starts to speak again. “Look at this,” Tiam says after a while, handing me something. “I found a whole crate of them. Guess it’s some kind of weird food they used to eat.”

  I inspect it. It’s a long flexible brown stick, covered in red plastic. I read the words. TRUNDLE’S BEEF JERKY. “Did you try it?”

  He shakes his head. “It looks a little...questionable.”

  Suddenly it hits me, why he’s showing it to me. The piece of plastic that he’d wrapped around my wrist all those tides ago. My bracelet. I smile sadly. That’s exactly the kind of bracelet I’d get. It makes sense. If Star is worth a pearl, I’m worth that. Whatever it is. Its red plastic is meant to adorn only weird, questionable things. I put it aside and close my eyes.

  It suddenly grows very quiet, and just as I’m certain Tiam has turned away to let me get some rest, I open my eyes. And he’s staring at me.

  Holding a pile of shimmering pearls in his hands.

  He’s threaded fishing line through each one, into a long string. I wonder how he managed it. It must have taken him forever. I can just picture him, sitting here by torchlight, carefully making the tiny holes. “They’re beautiful.”

  “They’re yours.”

  He waits for me to extend my hand, to take them, but I won’t. There’s some mistake. Or they’re not real. I’ll touch them, and they’ll disintegrate into dust. I bite my tongue. “But you need to give them to Star.”

  “To Star? Why? These are for you.”

  “For me? But I can’t wear pearls. Why would you...”

  He swallows. “I know. I mean, I was hoping...” He takes the pearls away and shoves them hastily into his pack. “You deserve nice things,” he whispers. “I wish I could give them to you.”

  Oh, now it becomes clear. He’s trying to pay me back for rescuing him that night he’d been hurt. It’s a nice gesture. So fair. So very like Tiam. I suppose it’s been killing him all these days being in my debt, with no way to repay me. “They’re not practical for me,” I say, very businesslike. “Give them to your bride.”

  “Oh. Yes,” he says absently, beginning to chew on his thumbnail. There seems to
be something he wants to say. I hold my breath, hoping we can share some tender moment, until I remember that he is focused only on our survival and nothing else. He doesn’t know what tenderness is. “I don’t feel like Star is my soulmate,” he mutters.

  I roll over onto my elbow and stare at him. He had heard. He’d heard the story of Sleeping Beauty I’d told to the princess last night, when she’d climbed into my bed. “You...what?”

  He shrugs. “If it is true that another person can hold the other half of my heart, then there is no question who that person is.”

  My mouth opens, but it’s useless. My elbow gives way, and I have to catch my head from smashing against the floor. “What?”

  “Well, you and I have always been together. You’re the one who stands next to me in formation. I know our spaces were assigned, but I swear to you, Coe, there is no one on the island I’d rather be next to. I always felt like it was the two of us, against everything and everyone else. And I’d thought you felt the same way. After all, you’re the one who came to my rescue. Not Star.” He shrugs, embarrassed. “I know. It was just a story. Forget I said anything.”

  “But, no...” I say gently. I want him to continue. I don’t want to scare him away.

  “No. I’m marrying Star. I gave my word. I shouldn’t do this.” He clenches his fists and places them solidly against his thighs. Then his face hardens, and he becomes Tiam the Survivor once again, leaving me to believe the past few moments of conversation were only in my head.

  “No. Really. It’s okay,” I urge, trying to draw him back. I want to reach for him, do something to bring him back to me, but I can’t bring myself to move, to touch his skin.

  He clamps his mouth closed. I think I’ve scared him. But at this moment, I’m more scared than ever. Scared that I’m going crazy. Scared that I’m not. And I know in my head that it’s better if he stays on his side of the wall, while I stay on mine. Even if my heart has other plans, anything between us is wrong. “What I said before, about Star not caring about you,” I confess, my voice soft, “that was a lie. She loves you. You’re all she has left.”

  He nods, a small smile playing on his lips. “I know. But what do you have?”

  I look away and tell the biggest lie I’ve ever told. “I don’t need anything.”

  After a few moments, it’s as if the tide washed everything away. He stands and brushes himself off. “Let’s check out the signs,” he says.

  “What about Fern?” I nod to the little girl, sleeping without a care.

  We walk outside the bunker, and he pushes a crate against the opening. “She’ll be safe.” Then I follow him to the maze of passages. He shakes the portable light, and it easily illuminates things I hadn’t seen before, like the nests of cobwebs suspended from the black tangle of pipework on the ceiling. It makes Tiam’s skin look almost white, angelic. He’s lost a bit of the sun’s glow he used to have. In a moment the black letters B MT ENT come into view.

  The silence begins to get uncomfortable. It’s as if he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore, for fear of saying too much again. “Star said we used to play a game where we would try to guess what these words said. That you thought it was a code to a secret treasure,” I say to break the tension. “Do you still think that?”

  He nods as if it’s obvious. “I know it.”

  “And what would you do with a secret treasure?” I ask, trying to be playful.

  “The treasure is not a treasure in the common sense,” he explains, taking another step past the sign. His voice is toneless and cool, and his movements are aloof; he doesn’t look back to make sure I’m all right, just keeps pressing forward, into the frozen passage. “Something more valuable than jewels or gold. Something that all of us would kill for. Something I’ve always wished for...but never thought it might actually exist.”

  I wrap my arms tightly around myself and breathe in the frigid air. “What is that?”

  “An escape.”

  My teeth stop chattering. “You mean...” And then it hits me. Is that possible? So all this time, he’s been talking about a way out... Not out of the castle... Out of this island? “You’re talking about an underground tunnel. To somewhere else? That’s crazy.”

  “Coe, think about what you read to me. In that diary. That girl wrote about a castle with room after room. And a giant door in the mountain. People were hiding in the mountain. When you read that to me, I knew it was more than a legend, which is why I’ve been staying down here, trying to find it,” he answers, shining the portable light down the small crack of a passage. “King Wallow told me. He has known about it for some time, but until you read that diary to me, I thought it was just the ramblings of a dying man. The way out isn’t by ocean. It’s been under our feet all along.”

  Seventeen

  Trembling with Tenderness

  “You’re crazy. Why would he stay here if he knew the way out?”

  He raises his eyebrows at me. “Think about it.” I know immediately what he means. The Wallows’ lives here have forever been perfect. They have been waited on hand and foot, their every desire catered to. They had enough food to last them for seasons and seasons. Here, they are important. Who knows how they’d be treated somewhere else? They have no reason to want to leave.

  “That’s why Star was talking about leaving. She kept saying she was going to gather her things and go....” I exhale, hold my head between my arms and squeeze it like a vise. “I thought she was crazy. But if Wallow always knew, then that means...”

  I can’t even wrap myself around the idea, it’s so hideous. That the man who I thought kept us safe all this time was in fact just keeping us. Like prisoners. It’s such an odious idea it makes me shake. All the things we’ve seen. All the terror we’ve been through. This life that is more like death... Because he wanted to feel important? I think of my poor father. “So...what about the Explores he commissioned?”

  “I think he always knew they were pointless. He commissioned them because the people were looking for a way out, and he wanted them to see him doing something. He wanted to show them he cared.”

  A sharp pain stabs at my heart. I can’t erase the image of my father, shipping off in his raft, promising to see me again. “He didn’t care. He knew my father would die.”

  “Your father volunteered for that mission, Coe. He—”

  “He wouldn’t have gone on it if Wallow had shown us the way out!” I scream in a voice I never knew I had. I want to run far away, just collapse somewhere, alone, and sob myself dry, but I don’t know where to go. So I just stand there, in front of him, tears sliding down my cheeks. He watches me, confused, as if he wants to help but doesn’t know what to do. I know this is frustrating him beyond belief—he is Helpful Tiam, after all. That is what he does. Our lives have always been about being strong, about showing no weakness. It’s funny that even the great Tiam, who can do everything, is completely helpless when it comes to tenderness.

  I wipe the tears away with the back of my hand and peer into the first small opening in the passage. “Did our king give you any idea where the exit is?” I can’t keep the bitterness out of my tone as I say this.

  “No. He doesn’t know. But a long time ago, before we were born... Coe.”

  But I’m not listening. I’m drowning in my own tears. Because Wallow sent my father, the only person who ever cared about me, to certain death. Buck Kettlefish meant to do good, to be helpful, and instead, he was sentenced to die.

  I’m stopped in my tracks by Tiam’s cool hand on my bare shoulder. My whole body quivers. I look down at his hand, then back into his eyes. “Coe...” he begins, but he’s baffled. He doesn’t know how to act or what to say. But I know he’s fighting for it, I know that he wants to do something to make me feel better, and that’s all I need.

  I move against him. “You could hold me,” I whisper. �
�Like this.”

  I lean forward, open his arms and slide inside. His arms are first stiff, then slowly envelop me, wrapping me completely in his warmth. I press my ear against his firm chest so I can hear the thud thud thud of his heartbeat, and I feel his breath on my cheek. This is the thing I’ve been missing, I think. We’ve all been missing this. I never want to let go.

  “I feel better now. Thank you,” I say, when I finally, reluctantly, pull away.

  His expression is peculiar, as if he’s lost in thought, trying to solve a riddle. He looks as if he’s still trying to figure out this maze of rooms. My cheeks flush madly. He didn’t want it. He didn’t even enjoy it. When he opens his mouth to speak, his voice is very businesslike. “Was that a kiss?”

  I blink, surprised. “No. A kiss is when your lips, well...touch, I guess.”

  “Oh.” He nods, but then his face wrinkles again. “Like how? Show me.”

  “What?” I burst out, turning all shades of red now. “Oh, no. I couldn’t. Your bride should. It’s supposed to be, well, special. And it’s not something... I’ve never done something like that....”

  Before I can protest any further, he reaches for the back of my head, tangling his fingers in my hair before pulling me to him. “Like this?” he murmurs, brushing his lips against mine.

  “I...I don’t know....” I breathe, trying to keep my knees steady, my heart from tripping out of my chest. I can’t help myself. I reach around his neck and pull him to me, then we kiss, and we kiss, and we kiss. Or maybe it isn’t kissing. Maybe it’s just our lips and our bodies melting together as if they belong this way. Whatever it is, there can be no better feeling. He presses his body so hard against me until I can feel every part of him I’ve ever gazed at with longing for so many thousands of tides. I’ve never wanted so much to have my other hand. I run my only hand feverishly over the smooth, muscled skin of his back, wanting it to memorize every inch of his flesh because this is a dream and it will never happen again. And I can’t stop. At times I can’t even breathe and I don’t care because I just want more and more and more of him.