Midnight Pearls

  Her legs gave way, and she sank slowly to a seat on the sand. James is going to marry her! She felt as though she couldn’t breathe, and within moments tears were coursing down her cheeks. Awkwardly he dropped back down to the sand. At last the wave passed and she glanced at Kale.

  “You really care about him, don't you” he asked.

  “It’s … complicated,” she said.

  “Why is it complicate? Either you love him or not.”

  “It’s just not that easy:”

  “Why?”

  “He’s my best friend and my prince,” she answered, not sure why she wanted to suddenly pour her heart out to this stranger. He doesn’t feel like a strangers, though. There’s something so familiar about him, like I’ve known him all my life. Warning bells were going off in her head. She shouldn’t be speaking with him, a strange man alone on the beach. And she definitely shouldn’t be telling him anything about her relationship with James.

  “But you love him” he pressed, his voice wistful sounding.

  She answered despite herself. “I don’t know. I think I have feelings for him. I do have feelings for him, I just don’t know if I love him.’

  “Then you don’t,” he said confidently. “If you have to question whether you’re in love, then you’re not.”

  She shuddered. “It would just be so easy to be in love with him. It would solve so many problems.” She sighed, frustrated. “But it would create so many more. He’s a prince and I am nothing.”

  “That is a lie!”

  Startled, she stared at him. “What do you mean?”

  “You are not nothing, and anyone who said you are is lying.”

  “How—how do you know that?”

  He smiled gently, “I told you, I have been searching for you for years.”

  She looked at his earnest face, pale skin, and silver hair and believed him. Her heart began to pound. “Do you know where I come from? Who my real parents are?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are they alive?” she asked, fighting to speak around the lump in her throat.

  “Yes, And they will be very happy to find that you are too. They searched for you for years after you disappeared, until they finally resigned themselves to believing that you were dead.”

  “They thought I was killed in the storm?”

  A look of puzzlement flitted across his face for only a moment, “They weren’t sure what happened to you.”

  “And you. You say you kept searching for me?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve traveled far?” she asked.

  He laughed shortly, “Farther than you know.”

  His words held the ring of truth. There was more than that, though. Something about him drew her to him. As if sensing her thoughts, he reached out his hand to her.

  She touched his hand with her own and he clasped it in his, lowering them to rest on the sand. She stared at her pale fingers wrapped in his. We must have come from the same place, she thought with growing excitement. “Are you my brother?”

  “No, I’m not. We are not related.”

  “Good,” she answered before she could stop herself. She felt a blush rising to her cheeks and was grateful that he couldn’t see it.

  He was rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb, and her skin tingled where his touched hers. James did the same thing to my hand two days ago and it felt good, exciting, hut nothing like this…. Something about him feels so right, even though I don’t know him.

  She was suddenly nervous; the silence around them felt like the air did when a storm approached from across the sea. She spoke just to calm herself. “You’ve been searching how long?”

  “Thirteen years.”

  “How did you know it was me if you haven’t seen me in so long?”

  “How does the whale know when to swim to warmer waters for winter? How do the fish know when a predator is near? How do you know when love is real? You just know.”

  He was close, so close that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body. She felt herself flush again, and tiny chills raced up and down her spine. “You speak of love so intimately. Have you known it yourself?”

  “I have,” he whispered.

  Disappointment flooded her. He was in love with someone. She should not sit so close to him, or let him hold her hand, or think the thoughts she was thinking. “Who … who are you in love with?” she asked.

  “You.”

  “Me!” she gasped.

  His voice dropped down to the barest of whispers. “Have you ever known that something was going to happen just before it did, or acted without knowing quite why?”

  She remembered the boy she had saved from the runaway cart. She had known something was wrong a moment before she realized what it was. That was why she had been able to grab him in time. Nor is that the first time something like that has happened. But I have never told anyone.

  “Yes.”

  “Then I am sure your instincts tell you what I’m going to do next.”

  She held her breath as he slid his hand up her arm and along her neck until he was cupping her chin. He bent forward and kissed her, his lips soft: against hers. She could taste the ocean on him as his kiss turned from the gentleness of lapping waves to the passion of a storm. As he wrapped both his arms around her she knew that she was drowning in his embrace.

  The last ray of the setting sun was shining upon his face when they parted. She touched his cheek wonderingly. “Who are you?”

  “I am Kale. I am your betrothed.”

  “My what?” she gasped.

  Before he could answer, she heard her father’s flute, the notes drifting to her on the air, calling her home. She stood up quickly, confused and suddenly upset. “I have to go.” She turned and headed away at a run before he could gain his feet.

  “Adriana!” he shouted after her.

  She kept running, confusion ripping at her.

  “Adriana!” he called again. Just as she passed behind the hill she heard him cry out, “Pearl!”

  She had no idea what had just happened, but she knew she had to get home. She needed time to think. When the cottage came into sight she saw a few horses in front of it. She slowed to a walk, breathless. Father must have visitors. She smoothed her dress and checked her hair. She brushed away her tears and entered the cabin.

  Three men in fine garments stood talking with her parents. Both Mary and Finneas looked agitated. Finneas glanced over at her, and his face broke out in a smile of relief.

  “Ah, here she is. My lord, may I introduce my daughter, Pearl. Pearl, this is Robert, marquis of Novan, son of the duke of Novan.”

  She curtsied low, ducking her eyes. She jumped when he picked up her hand and kissed the back of her fingers. “My lady, it is an honor to meet you at last.”

  She gazed first from him to Finneas. Both men were smiling. Mary, too, was smiling, though Pearl could tell that she had been crying.

  Finally she turned back to Robert, “My lord, to what do we owe the honor of your visit?”

  His smile grew broaden “Well, I’ve actually come to speak with your father on a matter of great importance. As your father, it is his privilege to tell you.”

  “Tell me what?” she asked, turning toward Finneas. Tears were gleaming in his eyes too.

  “You tell her, my lord.”

  “Finneas, given our new relationship, I believe it would be proper for you to address me as Robert.”

  “What relationship?” she asked, wishing someone would tell her what was going on.

  Robert smiled and took a step closer to her. He bent down and peered into her eyes. “My dear Pearl, I am your betrothed.”

  Faye sat upon the sand and tried to scream. The pain was more than she could bear. Her tail had been ripped in half and forced into the shape of two human legs. Bone and muscle and nerves had been twisted, torn, and re-formed into something new and totally strange to her. She screamed and screamed, but no sound came out. Her voice had been sacrif
iced to the Sea Witch.

  She fell onto her back and could feel the sand burrowing into the pores of her flesh. The sun beat down upon her, and pain seared through her. Her skin felt as though it were drying out, her eyes burned, and her lungs heaved while trying to breathe the air. Surely she must die; merkin could not survive outside of the sea, and it had been folly to believe that she could.

  She would have rolled into the ocean but she didn’thave the strength. So, I am to die here. Away from my family, my people, my home. I was a fool.

  She managed to flip onto her side. More pain sliced through her body, and she whimpered. The gravity of what she had done shot through her. She had one week to find the man she loved and win his love. If she failed, she would die. If she succeeded, she would live, but in the state she now found herself. Maybe it is better to die quickly than spend a lifetime in agony.

  She rolled over onto her stomach and began to cough. Seawater poured out of her mouth and seeped into the sand. At long last her chest stopped heaving. Suddenly the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

  “Pearl? Are you all right?”

  She turned her head and saw him. Her heart began to sing. “Sorry, I—I thought you were someone else.” She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him of her love, but no sound came out. Frustrated, she shook her head.

  He came closer to her, “Do you need help?”

  She nodded fiercely. He looked at her wide-eyed before hastily shrugging out of his outer garment. He handed it to her and then averted his eyes.

  She felt heat rising in her cheeks as she took the garment from him. She had watched him remove his arms from part of it and she tried to emulate that. At last she had it wrapped around herself.

  He still stood, face turned away, and she had no voice to tell him he could turn back. She picked up a handful of sand and threw it at his leg.

  He whipped his head back around to look at her, and a smile broke out on his face. He crouched down beside her. “That’s better. So, where are you from?”

  She twisted and pointed out to the ocean, marveling at how the pain in her limbs seemed to have lessened since he appeared.

  “From far away, then” He scanned the horizon. “You must have been shipwrecked. How long have you been here?”

  She looked up at him, helpless to answer. He is so beautiful! His hair was dark, like the depths of the ocean. His eyes were brilliant blue, like the surface of the water. She ached to touch him, to smooth his hair back from his face and to tell him he was everything to her. Hear me, know my thoughts if not my words! He stared back at her, and slowly his eyes widened. He crouched down and touched her hair with his hand. “You, you were the one who saved me?” he asked.

  She nodded eagerly, her eyes beginning to sting. Did he hear me or is he just remembering? It doesn’t really matter so long as he knows.

  “You were the one who pulled me from the sea?”

  She nodded again.

  “And you were the one who—”

  She leaned forward and kissed him. When she pulled back there was a light dancing in his eyes.

  “Yes, you were the one,” he whispered.

  The castle was enormous, and Faye felt small within its shadow.

  At the beach the young man who introduced himself as James had left her briefly and returned with some simple garments more appropriate for her to wear. It had been a struggle, but she had managed to get into them. Walking had proven even more difficult, and James had finally picked her up and carried her.

  The building would have frightened her had it not been for James’s arms around her. Their entrance seemed to generate a great deal of excitement. People were running around everywhere, some whispering, others shouting.

  “This is my father’s castle,” James explained. “He is the king and I am the prince.”

  She smiled at him encouragingly. Like my brother. At least that would please my parents, she thought, laughing.

  “It’s not every day they see me walk in carrying a gorgeous woman ” He laughed.

  An older man approached them. “Highness, may I be of assistance?”

  “Yes, Peter. This is the young woman who saved my life. She’s the survivor of a shipwreck. Can you see that she is taken care of?”

  Peter glanced at her, taking in her disheveled appearance. He looked like a kind man, and Faye smiled at him. The ghost of a smile touched his lips in return. “I’ll see to it that she is presentable by dinnertime.”

  “Sooner, if you can. She and I have a lot to discuss. She seems to have sprained her ankles and she’s lost her voice.”

  “Then you’ll be doing all the talking and she’ll be doing all the listening. That sounds familiar” Peter remarked dryly.

  James laughed. “I listen to you.”

  Peter snapped his fingers, and a large woman with a merry face scurried forward. “Sarah, help me get the lady to her room.”

  James gently set Faye down on her feet. She began to sway, but Peter and Sarah caught her. They urged her to drape her arms around their shoulders and walk between them. She did as she was bid.

  Each step was less painful than the one before it, and by the time they reached the end of the room she wasn’t wobbling half so much. Once they got her upstairs and into a room, they lowered her down onto a piece of furniture that seemed made for sitting upon.

  She sighed in relief and rubbed her feet.

  “My lady, I will be leaving you in Sarah’s care. She can see to anything you require,” Peter said.

  She nodded that she understood. He bowed deeply and left the room.

  Sarah gazed cheerfully at her. “Well, my lady, let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”

  Before she knew what was happening, she had been dumped into a large tub of hot water. She laughed silently. Looks like I’m back in the water again! The water was different from what she was used to, though. It felt different on her skin and it smelled and tasted different as well.

  She could tell that Sarah was laughing at her, but she didn’t care, it just made her laugh harder. By the time she made it out of the bathtub she was exhausted.

  Next, Sarah tried to dress her in yards and yards of fabric. They both had the giggles by the time it was done. At last Sarah stood back. “Well, you’re looking like a lady now, and a beautiful one at that,” she asserted.

  Faye blushed, pleased by the compliment.

  “Now, let’s not keep the prince waiting any longer,” Sarah gushed. She led Faye from the room and downstairs to the main floor. Off the great hall was a chamber with a roaring fire and several chairs and couches.

  Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized James pacing before the fire. He turned to see her, and a huge smile wreathed his face. He strode forward and clasped her hands. “You look radiant.” He turned to Sarah, “Thank you, Mrs. Goodman. I appreciate your efforts.”

  It was Sarah’s turn to blush as she curtsied deeply. She excused herself and hurried out, leaving them alone.

  James led her to a seat and she accepted it gratefully. Her legs seemed to be getting stronger by the minute, but they were still sore and a little weak.

  “I want to know everything about you,” he told her, sitting beside her. “Is your voice any better?”

  She tried to speak even though she knew she would not be able to. No sound came out, and she shook her head.

  “It’s no matter. I’ve had an idea,” he told her. His enthusiasm was contagious, and she couldn’t help but smile.

  “I have parchment, a quill, and some ink. You can draw the answers.”

  He showed her a large, flat piece of paper. He pulled an ornately carved wooden table over in front of her and placed the parchment on top of it. He also put down a bottle of dark liquid that made her think of the ink an octopus would spit at an enemy. Mer-kin had learned to use that ink to make markings upon rocks and shells. Lastly he handed her a slender instrument topped with a feather. She stared at it, puzzled.

  With a laugh, he took it b
ack from her. “Let me show you. You dip the pen in the ink, and draw upon the parchment like so.”

  She watched as he demonstrated. At last she grasped the pen and gave it a try, delighted as dark lines sprang to life on the parchment. The markings looked clearer and they required less effort than the manner of writing they had at home.

  “Excellent!” he encouraged her. “Now, where do you come from?”

  She thought for a moment and then drew the waves on top of the ocean. He studied it for a moment with a puzzled frown.

  “Ah! Your people are seafaring, like the Norse.”

  She wanted to tell him that she came from under the ocean, that she dwelt among the fish and other sea creatures. She bit her lip, debating whether to try to tell him. She looked into his eyes and believed in her heart of hearts that he would accept what she had to say.

  Still it would be better to wait, a voice told her. Better to let him truly know her before she burdened him with that story. She sighed.

  “I have a friend who looks a lot like you,” he commented as he touched her hair. “She was found at sea when she was a child. Her name is Pearl. I wonder if your people are hers?”

  Faye smiled weakly and shrugged her shoulders. She would have to tell him about Adriana eventually, but was less sure how to go about that than she was about how to tell him about her own ancestry.

  “What is your name?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts.

  She was at a loss as to what to draw and just looked at him helplessly. He seemed to sense her difficulty and hurried to ask, “What does it sound like?”

  She didn’t need pen and parchment for that one. She touched his face.

  “Face?” he asked, looking startled. “It sounds like ‘face’?”

  She nodded, then held her hands at shoulders’ width from each other and then brought them slowly together.

  “It’s shorter than face, it sounds like only part of face?”

  She nodded eagerly.

  “Ffffaa—”

  She nodded again.

  “Faye?”

  She clapped her hands together and smiled.

  “Faye,” he said again, beaming. “Well, that was simple. I am James, prince of Aster.”