Harley Merlin 15: Finch Merlin and the Everlasting Vow Page 18

  I turned slowly to find that Erebus was, indeed, approaching. The Purge beasts in their glass bubbles, lining the narrow avenue he walked through, transformed out of their vortexes of black miasma, as if entranced by his presence. And where he strode, the marine Purge beasts twisted and coiled beneath the black glass that separated the two halves of the Bestiary. The naiads clawed at the dark underside, their mouths open in silent howls. Pale, eerie mermaids joined them, their long hair flowing like tendrils of seaweed, while their mouths stretched to reveal the serrated rows of shark-like teeth that sailors did not see until much too late. Their scaled black tails, like those of eels, thrashed wildly as they tried to garner Erebus’s attention.

  “Erebus.” I welcomed him coolly.

  He took pause and proffered an arthritic bow. “I did not wish to disturb you, Kaya, but I had to speak with you. I thought I might find you here.”

  “You will address Her Highness in the proper manner!” Iso snarled, stepping in front of me to act as a furry and formidable bestial shield.

  Erebus attempted to match her fearsome stance. “This does not concern you.”

  “I should say that it does!” Iso retorted. “You intrude upon the princess’s sanctuary when it is obvious she wants to be alone, and then you deign to speak to her in such an informal manner. If she had not forbidden me, I would expel you from my Bestiary.”

  “It is quite all right, Iso.” I defused the situation before it could escalate. Judging by Iso’s ruffling feathers, there was every chance she would kick him out regardless of what I had said. “We will walk awhile, and if I do not like what he says, then you may remove him.”

  She growled. “Very well, Your Highness. Call for me at the slightest hint of bad behavior, and I will come running.”

  “Like a good little pet.” Erebus smiled slightly.

  “Pardon?” Iso snapped her jaws.

  “I said nothing.” He feigned a look of innocence.

  “Iso, really, I will be fine. I will shout if I require assistance.” I needed to separate these two before they added an explosion to the Bestiary’s ongoing problems.

  She shot a seething glower at Erebus before stalking away through the bubble forest and melting into the shadows. Even with her white-striped fur, she had a majestic way of camouflaging herself in the darkness. I had a sneaking suspicion that she might follow us as we walked, but I found the idea of a guard’s presence comforting.

  “Why did you come here?” I chose to forgo any preamble.

  “May we walk first?” he replied.

  I raised my shoulders in a weary shrug. “I suppose.”

  He fell into step with me as we wandered through the Bestiary, our footsteps the only sound that permeated the silence. The glass orbs that held back the Purge beasts also served to keep them silent, which was highly beneficial considering the noise that some of these creatures could produce. The Atlantean collection included wailing widows—shifting specters of ragged darkness with ghostly faces and pitch-black eyes that bored into the very souls of those who dared to look at them directly. They inhabited gravesides and cemeteries as omens of death. And if one happened to hear their terrible cry, it meant a loved one would soon pass from this world to the next.

  Beneath the black glass of the floor, I noticed the thick, slithering body of Jörmungandr, a sea serpent once thought to be wrapped around the circumference of the earth, or Midgard, as the Norse called it. I had always delighted in legends from the surface world as well as those of Atlantis, and as the tale went, the mighty serpent grew so large it was able to surround the earth and grasp its own tail in its jaws. When it released its tail, Ragnarök would begin. However, the truth was far less magnificent. Jörmungandr was simply an overgrown serpent birthed by a supremely powerful Norse magical many moons ago, and now he resided within our Bestiary—one of our main sources of power, though it had diminished somewhat with his advancing years. That happened as a matter of life’s cycle, even with Purge beasts. He would soon return to Chaos, having existed for far longer than his expected two thousand years. I only hoped that, when he finally disintegrated, it would not unleash Ragnarök. After all, if I believed the legend of the Luminary, who was to say there was not some truth in Jörmungandr’s mythology?

  “They are restless today.” Erebus paused beside a large orb containing a wyvern with autumnal scales, which had been captured off the coast of England by Atlantean hunters. “Tell me about this one.”

  That took me by surprise. “Pardon?”

  He smiled. “You adore these beasts. You know all their stories. I want to hear about this one.”

  “Why?” He had never been interested in, well, my interests, prior to this. Even when he masqueraded as Bellerophon, he had never listened much when I spoke of the things I admired, or adored, or was intrigued by. Not unless they also interested him. If they did, my goodness, he could speak for hours on the subject! I supposed, back then, I had mistaken that for attention, and I had been hooked on every word, preferring to hear him speak over the sound of my own voice. Now, however, I expected more from a potential partner. And I appeared to be getting it.

  “I want to listen,” he replied. “There is a magic in your voice when you are recounting a tale. And I know you learned their stories from your mother. They were important to her, and they are important to you, so they are important to me, also.”

  Puzzled, I decided to humor him. And I did so very much enjoy this particular story, which was filled with action and mystery. “Well… it hails from northeast England, where they called it the Lambton Worm. Although, as you can see, it is more dragon than plump, wriggling worm. A legendary creature, for all intents and purposes, but the mythology does not quite match up to the facts.”

  “In what respect?” he prompted, his gaze relentless.

  “Are you truly interested in this?”

  He gave a wry smile. “Is it so hard to believe that I missed the sound of your voice when I was away?”

  I fidgeted, dumbfounded by this sudden willingness to listen. “Very well. It is said that the Lambton Worm was killed by a man named John Lambton, but the being has Regen properties which allowed it to piece itself back together once its sections had been tossed into the River Wear. There, it found its way to the sea, where Atlantean hunters seized it to add fuel to our Bestiary.”

  “Come now, don’t skip to the end. Start at the beginning,” he urged, making me even more unsettled. He really did appear to be interested.

  “Ah… so John Lambton fished the nascent creature out of the river in his youth, only to throw it back due to its small size. He grew tired of life in England and went away to fight in the crusades. He returned seven years later to find his homeland in turmoil, terrorized by the very creature he had thrown away, which had swollen in size over time.” I settled into the musicality of the story, repeating it the way my mother told it to me. “He decided to destroy the worm but required guidance. He sought the aid of a local witch in nearby Durham. She instructed him to cover his armor in spearheads and fight the worm in the river itself. She also made it abundantly clear that he needed to kill the first living thing he saw after the worm had been defeated, or his family would be cursed for nine generations to never die peacefully in their beds.”

  Erebus’s smile widened. “This story is already brimming with excitement.”

  “Are you mocking me?” Perhaps that was the explanation for this sudden interest.

  “Not at all. As I said, this is important to you, and I realized that in the past, I never took the time to discover your pastimes and delights. I would like to make up for lost time, in that regard,” he explained, apparently sincere.

  I frowned and continued, out of sheer desperation to cover my unease. “John did as the witch had asked and arranged with his father to release his favorite hound upon the death of the worm, so he could kill the dog and prevent the curse from taking hold. Three blows upon the hunting horn was to be his signal.” I paused for dramatic
effect, as my mother had always done. “Unfortunately, when John sounded the horn, his father was so overcome with joy that he rushed to congratulate his son and did not release the hound. In that way, his father became the first thing John saw after he triumphed over the worm. Naturally, he was unable to kill his father, and persevered with the plan to dispatch the dog, but it was too late. The curse had been released, dooming the Lambtons to nine generations of miserable deaths.”

  “Did the curse come to pass?” Erebus peered at the worm with every appearance of enthusiasm.

  I glanced at the wyvern, as if it could explain the sudden change. “Apparently so, at least for three generations. And the ninth also suffered an ill fate, but those from the fourth to the eighth generation seemed to die peacefully in their beds, so I suppose it only half came to pass.”

  “So not all prophecies are completely true,” he mused, turning to look entirely at me.

  My brow furrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?” I had not spoken to him of the legend of the Luminary, and Finch could not have done so, as he did not know about it—well, not from me, anyway. And yet, the inference seemed pointed.

  He shrugged. “It isn’t supposed to mean anything. Merely an observation.” He paused, his shoulders sagging. “Must we always be in conflict, Kaya? It’s not what I want. I do not want to feel your anger every time we speak. I only want to be close to you, and listen to you, and speak as we used to.”

  “We cannot return to the way things were, Erebus. That ought to be clear to you by now.” I shuffled uncomfortably, unused to seeing this side of him. He seemed… vulnerable, as if all his walls were finally down. But a quiet voice in the back of my mind urged me to believe it was all a ruse. Why else would he be doing this? It was not as though people, or Children of Chaos, could truly change… could they?

  “We loved each other once, Kaya. My feelings haven’t changed,” he persevered in earnest. “Can’t you remember what it felt like when we first met? I can. I think of it every day, and I have thought of little else these fifty years. I think of the moment I first managed to make you laugh, the way you smiled at me across ballrooms and dinner tables—a secret smile, only for you and me.”

  My heart ached. “Stop, Erebus.”

  “I know it is painful, but I do not want to give up. I want us to love one another again, as we loved each other then. I want to make you smile, and make you laugh, and walk in the gardens with you, as we once did. I want to sit in the library and watch you read and listen to the excerpts that delight you.” He had transformed into that charming gentleman again—the one who had formerly worn the face of Bellerophon. The one who had stolen my heart entirely, fifty years ago. I could not bear it.

  “You ruined all that.” My voice shook. “You broke us, shattering us into so many pieces that we can never be put back together again.”

  Erebus’s face fell. “If a legendary worm can put itself back together again, why can’t we? Perhaps our relationship has Regen properties.”

  I steeled myself, ignoring the intense stares of the Purge beasts surrounding us. “Relationship? What relationship? You only wanted me so I could bear your child. You do not care about me, for me. You only care about what I can give you. That is all you ever sought, from our first meeting. It was all a deception. Yet you speak of us as though we were something real.”

  “I admit, that was my purpose in coming here fifty years ago, so I could woo you and have a child with you. However, I did not take into account how remarkable you were, and still are. I did not expect you to be… breathtaking, in every way. Kaya, I fell in love with you. I wanted to tell you the truth, but I had entangled myself so far into my own deception that I did not know how to escape. But I did love you, and I do love you. And that is one of the few honest things I have ever said.”

  “You had every opportunity to tell me the truth. To protest otherwise reveals nothing but your own cowardice,” I retorted, staring at the igneous glass beneath my feet. Even the marine beasts had stilled to listen to our discussion. And I sensed Iso was nearby, awaiting any hint of instruction to forcibly haul Erebus away.

  Erebus took a step closer, until only a few inches remained between us. I resisted the temptation to stagger back, lest I lose ground in the argument, as well. “You are right. I was a coward, but I have paid for it dearly. I lost you, and when I was removed from this city, I had to face the wrath of the other Children. Yet here I am, again, baring my soul to you. I care only for you, and I want to make amends for my former wrongdoings. I need to find, once again, what I lost.”

  “Do you expect me to sympathize?” A lump formed in my throat, and foolish tears threatened to well in my eyes. He had suddenly learned to say all the right things, but I could not allow myself to trust the sentiment.

  “No. I just want you to know how I feel. I do not expect anything from you,” he answered solemnly. He edged even closer, and my breath left my lungs. I did not move as he lifted his hand to my face, though I ought to have slapped him away.

  “We cannot fix this,” I murmured.

  Erebus leaned in. “Could we try?”

  “I…” My voice trailed off as our gazes locked, my heart drawn to his center of gravity, an inescapable pull. I could not even think. I could only focus upon his black eyes and look upon his lips, longing to kiss them.

  “Let me repair what I broke. Let me love you again,” he whispered. He was so close that it almost hurt. All I had to do was stand on tiptoe, and I could feel that kiss again. Never had such a short distance seemed so impossibly vast.

  He held my face in his hands and dipped his head, until a hair’s breadth stood between our lips. I would have kissed him. I wanted to. However, just before I gave in to temptation, my resolve returned in an indomitable show of force. This time, I did step back.

  “I am sorry, Erebus, but I meant what I said—our love cannot be restored. You and I cannot be. I must put my future queendom ahead of everything else, including you.” I swallowed the lump. “This is how it must be.”

  “Kaya.” He walked toward me again, but I raised my hands to ward him away.

  “I am sorry.” I turned and strode away, battling tears. Behind me, he called out.

  “I will not give up, Kaya. I will prove to you that I am worthy of your love. I will show you that this can be fixed, that I can stand at your side and help your city. I have come so far—we have come so far. It would be foolish to abandon our love now! Kaya, please!”

  A tear splashed onto the black glass as I kept on walking. It took every ounce of my willpower not to run back and kiss him and swear our love could be fixed. But it was too late for that. Fifty years too late.

  Twenty

  Kaya

  Leaving the Bestiary far behind, I did not stop in my pursuit of solitude until I reached the palace gardens. Members of staff and stern officials attempted to gain my attention in the hallways, but I did not stop to speak with them, instead dismissing them with a promise to talk at a later date. I barely slowed my step until I emerged from the palace and felt the supple carpet of grass beneath my tread.

  There were too many others strolling these divine grounds, but I knew of a place where no one would disturb me. I rushed between the sculpted hedgerows, where red-petaled blooms adorned the emerald-green foliage. At every turn, I paused and peered around the hedges to make sure nobody had spotted me.

  My feet moved swiftly across the lawns until I broke the tree-line of a small copse. Shadows enveloped me, and the air grew cooler as the Atlantean sunlight struggled to penetrate the overhead canopy. Fallen leaves crunched underfoot, and my shoes slipped slightly in the mulch, but I did not let that delay me. I inhaled the earthy scent and let the cool atmosphere be a soothing salve to my burning cheeks while I followed the familiar path through the woods.

  Ten minutes later, I finally halted at the edge of the copse. A wide pond glistened ahead, with jeweled dragonflies skimming the water and spectral fish coiling beneath the surface like drown
ed souls. I scanned the vicinity for any other signs of life, but it appeared I was, at last, alone.

  Thank Ganymede… I headed for the narrow pier that protruded into the pond. A boathouse, painted in pale blue and white, stood upon algae-warped stilts at the beginning of the pier. The paintwork had begun to peel and crack, since no one came this way anymore. My mother had prohibited the pastime of fishing in this particular pond, so people felt little desire to journey to its still waters.

  I approached the boathouse door and unlocked it with an easy spell before entering. Old canoes and broken oars hung from the rafters, and fishing paraphernalia had been stuffed unceremoniously upon every available shelf and counter. A single wicker chair sat at the farthest end of the cramped room, offering a charming view of the pond through the open front. Once upon a time, boats came right up to that open edge. I closed the door behind me and went to the chair, finally taking the weight off my weary bones while I took in that beautiful view.

  There, at last, I allowed myself to cry. I grasped the arms of the wicker chair and leaned forward, heaving gasps and groans and rasping breaths of misery. All the while, hot tears coursed down my cheeks in unending torrents, the salt of them trickling into my mouth. With no tissue at my disposal, I wiped my running nose upon the sleeve of my gown, and I did not even care about the mess. I could not hold back these overwhelming emotions any longer, or they would turn inward and poison me.

  I should have kissed him one last time. But would that have made me weak? It was no easy feat, trying to be strong all the time and fighting to reconcile my emotions with reality. Erebus and I could never be, but did that mean I had to kill every feeling I had for him? Did that mean I could not have stolen a goodbye kiss?

  Why did you have to come to me? I had been doing fairly well with the prospect of my future marriage until that conversation with Erebus. Now… it had all been thrown into turmoil, making me the greatest of hypocrites. I had told Finch we would both be fine under the influence of the love spell, but it had only been an attempt to convince myself of that fact. An attempt that was wearing thin. It would be well once we had supped of that nectar, but reaching that point had become a seemingly insurmountable task. How could I live and last up to that moment, with thoughts of another—a real love—broiling within me?