Ripples (DROPLETS Trilogy Book 2) (29 page)

     A throb tightened around my heart, but I ignored it. “Do you think it’s the blades which give the powers of a merman or mermaid, and then the scales are what transform humans into merfolk?” I asked, the thought provoking. I knew I was asking too many questions and the king didn’t know everything, but he was my only hope of finding out what really happened the night Morven changed me.

     “I believe so,” he concluded. “It’s what makes sense. Patrick was a skilled soldier before Nerissa captured him, and he spent many years on the island practicing his abilities. Without being transformed, he was as skilled a fighter as the best Hyvar had to offer.”

     It all made sense. The way Patrick had fought and killed the Hyven soldier on the night of Nixie’s wedding showed he was able to contend and defeat those who were supposed to be more powerful than him. I remembered how good his hearing had been that night, how he had been able to suspect the threat even before it had reached my ears, a direct result of the powers Nerissa’s blade had given him. Then when Morven had transformed him, he gained his merman abilities of strength and speed, which combined with his innate talents, made him a lethal weapon.

     “Then when I turn eighteen, he’ll do to me what he did to Patrick,” I said softly, the words not a question but a statement of what I knew was coming.

     “Sadly, there is no doubt in my mind Morven will come for you. Until your eighteenth birthday you are safe. But on that day you will become our biggest asset and Morven’s main goal.” 

     “But then, why did Morven change me into a mermaid first? If he was planning to recreate what his mother had done, wouldn’t it make sense to put one of his blades in me, to give me strength and speed?” I asked, even though the idea of having one of his blades in my back was enough to make me shiver in dread.

     “Ahhh,” the king seemed pleased by my understanding. “That is where I got lost too, but I think I know the answer. You were too young to be transformed into a siren. If Morven had put his blade within you, you wouldn’t have grown. Therefore, you would have been frozen in time, just as Patrick was. He needed you to be eighteen so you would gain your mermaid attributes.”

     My hands flexed involuntarily and I could feel the tingling of anticipation in my fingertips. Secretly, I wished for my eighteenth birthday to be here. No more would I have to worry about being weaponless. The idea was intoxicating and part of my mind wondered how strong I would be. If the blades worked in the way the king suggested, then I would be as fast and strong as any merman. The very notion was ridiculous.

     “It’s also my belief, and this is only a theory” the king said, cutting into my thoughts, “the reason Morven was born, was so he could create you.”

     My eyes widened in total shock. What could he possibly mean? Were our lives really that twisted together?

     “W-w-ha? h-h-o-w?” I stuttered in confusion, then cleared my throat. “Why wouldn’t Pyron create me?” I asked, pulling the name of Nerissa’s lover from my memory, as my skin prickled at the thought of Morven’s existence being tied to my own.

     “Think about the type of person Nerissa was,” the king looked at me seriously and I was surprised he was treating me as such an equal. “She wanted power and wanted it all to be her own. Why would she let some merman, who was not her own flesh and blood, be the creator of her siren, regardless of whether she loved him? Instead, I think, she used Pyron to give her a son of her own. Someone she could control and use to turn you into a siren.”

     Suddenly, it all slipped into place. King Oberon had it right, he had to. Nerissa had decided to change Patrick first because she needed Morven to be older. Pyron, whether he had died or been killed, wasn’t someone she could trust to create a siren. She needed her own flesh and blood to create and control it. When Nerissa had been killed by Cordelia, Morven was only a boy, but he had decided to finish what his mother started. But by that time, Patrick was lost and couldn’t be found until the night of Nixie and Daggin’s wedding. He was unchanged due to the mermaid blade that rested in his shoulder. It was only after torturing him and making him believe I was dead, Morven finally placed his scales within Patrick and thus created his warrior. Zale was the creature Nerissa had long ago desired—a warrior with both mermaid and merman abilities. All that was left was to place the blade in the mermaid, and the siren would join the warrior.

     All of this filled my mind too quickly and I raised my good arm and pressed a hand to my head, trying to take deep breaths to still the panic that was creeping up within me. My days were numbered and I now knew there was more of a meaning to my turning eighteen than there had been before.

     King Oberon sat silently for a while just letting me think. He was patient as he waited and it was a long time before I opened my mouth.

     “I will fight this,” I tried to still my shaky voice.

     A soft smile graced his face, crinkling around his eyes for just a moment. “I knew you would.” With a sigh, he stood up and stepped closer to me placing his large hand gently on the side of my face. “Take care of yourself.”

     I nodded and winced slightly at the jerky movement that made my head throb. The king stepped away from the bench and walked to the door, his hand was resting upon the wooden frame when he paused.

     “It might be best if you go home to practice,” his eyes glinted sadly. “Living where your lost loved one was, is not something I would wish upon anyone. You’ll be safe there and can practice in secret, but remember you will only be safe until August third.”

     Without another word, he left the cabin and I sat in the same position, with my eyes fixed on the closed door. My thoughts ran in a whirlwind and as the skies deepened in color, my mind drifted off to sleep, where a dark haired man reigned in my nightmares. I saw the water running in streams down his broad heaving chest, his cold eyes as he looked at me through the shrouded darkness of the thundering storm. His mouth opened and he said the name, and I shuddered.

     It became a mantra, the name pouring from his lips over and over again.

     That dreaded name.

    
Marina
.

Stirring in my sleep, I opened my eyes to the darkness of the small spare room. My head hurt, but I didn’t know if it was from the pain it had endured the night before or from the constant nightmare that played in my mind. With a sigh I rested my hand on my forehead, the feeling of the sheets around me were a comfort to my aching body. The long trek across the bridge between the cabins had taken most of my strength after the king left, but the softness of the mattress had been worth it.

     I yawned and began to check my joints, testing how stiff they were. If it was possible, they felt worse than when I had woken up earlier that morning. Pain was going to be my friend for quite some time.

     Out of the corner of my eye I saw a shadow and startled, the movement jarring my left shoulder.

     “It’s just me,” the familiar, deep voice said and I relaxed immediately when he slid his hand around mine. His large palm gingerly held my right hand that lay on my stomach, his thumb rubbing over my skin in calming reassurance.

     “I missed you,” I said, my voice thick from sleep and emotion. I remembered all too clearly the look in his eyes when he had left my side in the clearing.

    He sighed softly and squeezed my hand. “How are you feeling?” There was concern in his voice, but this time I heard something deeper. A solemn sound rang in his throat, my mind flashed back to just before Elik and Tunder had appeared.

    “I’ve been better,” I said and smiled, the bruise on my cheek moved painfully.

    “Your face,” was all he said, while the hand that wasn’t holding my own reached out and brushed my skin. I shuddered slightly from his touch. “Is there anything I can do?”

    I was about to say no, but thought better of it. “Hold me?” I asked, and he began to move his massive body onto the bed beside me. The mattress jostled slightly, although I could tell he was being as careful as he could. My face scrunched as the stinging throbs penetrated my sore body.

    “Sorry,” he said, but I ignored his regard for my discomfort as I moved my body so I could curl up under his large arm, my head just under his chin.

     It was my turn to sigh and once more I closed my eyes. “Thank you.”

    “For what?” he asked, his voice vibrating in his strong chest. “For not protecting you from Bolrock? Or for letting him torture you?”

     My eyes flashed open as I realized he was blaming himself for the pain I was in. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I would do the same thing if our places were switched, but I decided to ignore that fact.

     I slid my head against his shoulder so I could see his face. He was looking at me, his eyes just visible in the shrouded room. “You know, I don’t blame you for any of this.” When he opened his mouth in rebuttal, I continued. “It was my fault; I left you at the waterfall not thinking I would be in danger. Especially here,” the last words I mumbled to myself in a rather off hand matter, but he heard me anyways. My recent talk with the king and the powers Zale now had flickered through my mind, I also realized he could see me quite well in the darkness.

     “What do you mean by that?” He sounded confused, “Why would you feel safer here than in other places?”

     I stiffened slightly as I realized what I had just revealed. The reason I felt safe here was because it had been my haven, my sanctuary from Morven, when I had first found it. But most of all everything breathed of Patrick and I had always felt so safe and protected in his arms; a similar feeling I was experiencing at that very moment.

     “Uhh,” I stalled and I knew he wouldn’t believe the lies that were about to come out of my mouth. “Because this was a place where I could get away from anything in Lathmor. You know, I lived here for a little while.” It was only a lie by omission, but a lie all the same.

     “You don’t have to lie to me about him,” the trained warrior said, his voice guarded.

     I felt my eyes widen as I realized what he had guessed. “How did you know?”

     He gave a soft chuckle but again there was a deep sadness to it. “It’s obvious you have strong ties to this place, you forget I saw you crying at the waterfall.”

     I recalled my moment of relapse as I thought back on the treasured times that I had spent there. Now the place held memories with someone else. The man beside me had his own moment, one that brought blood to my face.

     “Oh,” was all I could say to his response. I didn’t know how I should explain my behavior to him.

     “Lissie,” he sighed, “Patrick is dead, right?”

    I froze unsure of what to say next. “I—I—” my brain could think of nothing to say. How could I possibly explain this to him? The longer I paused in my answer, the more doubt I could imagine filling Zale. I was losing him too.

     “It’s a simple question, is he dead or alive?” his voice had gone cold.

     I tried to think of how I could word the truth that Patrick wasn’t dead to me and never would be as long as his body was still functioning.

     “He’s alive in here.” I pointed to my chest and waited for him to leave me. Glancing up at his face, I could see he was looking away from me. His eyes stared toward the window, his brow scrunching. I raised my hand to his face. “But that doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”

     “Then why,” he paused to swallow and I waited for him to finally ask the question he had wanted to ask last night after he’d saved me. “Why did you call out for him and not for me?”

     “What?” I asked, shocked.

     “Your voice is what woke me up at the waterfall. I heard you screaming, but it wasn’t my name, it was his.”

     Stunned, I tried to think back to when I could have possibly yelled his name, and then it came to me. There had been that moment when Bolrock was pounding my body, my mind had been transported to a horrific scene. I remember the vision of the blood rushing down Patrick’s back while he was brutally whipped. It was all so vivid, so real, and I tucked my face into Zale’s chest for comfort.

     “Because Bolrock told me something I would rather forget. Something I had feared, and I found out my worst fears were true, and I can’t believe it’s true, yet I knew at the time it was, and it’s all my fault it happened, all of it is—” I had started to speak too fast and finally the words caught in my throat as a sob cut them off.

     Choking back on the lump and trying to swallow, I took a huge breath and closed my eyes once more. Unconsciously, I slid closer to Zale and relaxed when he pulled me tighter against him, still careful not to disturb my shoulder. All of it was too confusing. I found comfort in his arms, but the whole reason he was this way, was because of what I had done. Because I had left him, behind in Hyvar, to think I was dead.

     His gentle fingers reached up and began to brush over my hair. “I wish I could take away all of your fears.” His lips touched my forehead and I sighed, trying to press my body even closer, which was near impossible. “If only I could erase what has you so afraid up here.” He touched my head once more, this time with his hand.

     “Having you here is helping,” I offered and he chuckled softly. My heart lightened at the sound.

     “At least I can do something,” he said.

     “You know there is one more thing you could do,” I said and he waited for me to continue. “I could use a kiss or two.”

     Once more he laughed, “I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

     “Why?” I demanded jabbing him in the middle of his broad chest with my finger.

     “It would cause you a lot of pain, especially with how physical you get.”

     Blood rushed to my face and I slapped him playfully on his stomach. “I don’t think I want one anymore.”

     “Oh really?” I could just picture his dark eyebrow rising, and I knew what was coming. Being incredibly gentle, he rolled me onto my back, while he laid on his side right next to me. His face loomed above me and I could see the soft expression he wore. As he leaned toward me, I lifted my head slightly, until our lips met. For a moment we simply kissed one another, reveling in the fact we were both still alive. My blood was beginning to pound more quickly and my heart seemed to leap from my chest.

     With my one good, but sore arm, I reached behind his head to pull him closer to me. A low moan issued from his throat and he kissed me deeper. I felt as though I was spinning, drowning in a world of bliss. Suddenly, he pulled back away from my lips, but his mouth began to touch my chin. When he reached my neck I gasped and tried to keep breathing, slowly his lips caressed my neck, his breath tickling it.

     “You know,” he said just before his lips met mine again. “I am going to like having you around in Hyvar.”

     At first his words meant nothing to me, but slowly they filtered into my brain and I stopped moving. My fingers that had been locked in his hair, released and my arm fell to the mattress.

     “What do you mean?”

     He pulled away and looked at me as though I was senile. “We’re going to live in Hyvar now.”

     “No,” I blurted out before I could calm myself. Astonished, his eyes widened and then narrowed.

     “And why not?” That dreaded sound of the warrior was coming back into his voice. His charitable demeanor would be gone soon. It wouldn’t be long before the monster I had glimpsed in Derek and Sean’s house was once more before me.

     “I can’t go to Hyvar and I won’t let you take me anywhere near Morven.” The words were angrier than I had intended but they seemed to express feelings of their own.

     “Lissie,” he was angry now, his voice harsh and cutting. “We have been over this. Lord Morven wasn’t the problem, Bolrock was.”

     I started shaking my head before he even finished, only angering him more. For a moment we sat in a tense silence. I waited for him to speak, knowing if I said anything my voice would crack with emotion. “I don’t know why you hate him so much. I’m sure when we ask, he’ll tell us why he changed you without your permission.”

     “Oh there’s a reason,” I said laughing hard and wincing at the movement. “You’re just too blind to see it.” I turned my head away from him, my jaw tight and stubborn.

     “He’d tell you. He’s told me all his plans ever since the accident.” His deep timbre rolled over my ears.

     “And what accident might that be?” My voice had grown icy, as I turned back to look at him my eyes flashing. “Was it something that caused you to lose your memory?”

     “How did you know about that?” Zale’s throat sounded constricted. His face hardened but not before I could see the hurt beneath it. “You’re still working with the Lathmorians. They told you all of this.”

     A short hard laugh exploded from me, my head throbbed in rebuttal but I ignored it. “No, it’s not them. I know things about you that you don’t even know yourself.”

     “Really?” He challenged, “And what might that be?”

     I glared at him, as tears threatened to fill my eyes. “Never mind.” Was all I said and in my heart I knew he would never understand.

     “See,” he shrugged, as though it was a simple matter. “You have no idea what you are talking about.”

     “No! You don’t!” I yelled and sat up ignoring the whooshing in my ears, the lightness in my head and the pain shooting through my ribs. “If it weren’t for Morven, Patrick would still be alive. He used me to kill him. So don’t you sit there and tell me I don’t understand anything. Because I know a hell of a lot more than you do!”

     At some point during my rant, I had broken into tears but I did everything I could to hold them back. I ducked my head and wiped at them quickly, although they had already fallen onto the crumpled blankets. The awful weight of what Bolrock had laid upon me, threatened to break through. His words resounded in my mind and the guilt I constantly kept at bay exposed my soul to what had really happened. I was the reason Patrick had even been tortured in the first place. I was the reason why he had stayed strong through all the beatings, hanging on to me through it all. And in the end, I was the reason why he had let go of himself and given in to what Morven wanted of him. His last words rang in my ears, and I choked out a sob as I remembered him yelling Morven’s name and then saying my own.
Lissie, I’m sorry.

     Between the crack of the whip and the memory of his pleading voice in my mind, I found myself wrapped up in the warm embrace of the warrior. His voice whispered softly in my ears, telling me it would be all right. Somewhere in my brain, I grew amazed he was still here with me after all that had happened. His gentle touch brought control, and the strength I needed to endure, back to my body. I shook, but I no longer cried. The tear trails were already dry upon my cheeks and I simply relaxed in his arms. I calmed my breath and waited for him to speak; knowing what he would say would only break my heart more.

     “I love you,” he said and kissed me on top of my head. It was the first time he had said the words and the weight inside me lifted. My heart seemed to soar, even though the shattered edges were waiting for the moment when he would rip them into smaller pieces. But just for one small moment, I reveled in his embrace.

     “But I still have to go,” his continued, his voice catching on the last word. I shook my head, not wanting him to leave, but he continued. “I can’t make you go with me. I see that now.”