The Sea King's Daughter (10 page)

"Little one! Fetch my tunic, will you?" Lysander called.

His tunic lay crumpled on the sand. I shook it out and folded it, then carefully laid it out over a cluster of rocks. Lysander had taken to asking me to fetch and carry for him, to bring him food or take messages to his mother. For the most part I welcomed his requests; the small tasks brought us closer, I thought. Still, I sometimes felt a prick of irritation. I was born a princess, not a servant. But I brushed my reservations aside and did as he asked.

Now I sank down on the rock beside Lysander's folded tunic. My legs ached. I was learning to live with pain, to push it away and ignore it, but after a long walk it grew almost unbearable.

"Come in the water, little one," Lysander called. He scooped up a handful of water and splashed it in my direction. I shrank back, though I sat well away from the sea. The sea sorceress had warned that salt water would act on me like poison. I wasn't eager to test her theory.

"Lysander, please. I'd rather not," I called back.

Like an eager puppy, he bounded from the water. Droplets sprayed from his hair as he shook his head. I stood up and took several quick, nervous steps toward the village. "I don't want to go in."

"Leave her alone, Lysander," Phidias called from the water.

But Lysander wouldn't take no for an answer. "Just come wading, then. Just to your ankles." He strode toward me. "What's wrong with you, little one? Do you want to spoil my fun?"

I took another step back. "I -- please don't --"

Lysander overtook me and dug his fingers into my upper arm. Where his wet hands touched my skin, leaving beads of seawater, I felt a burning pain and then sting of rising blisters. I cried out with such anguish that Lysander released me. He blinked in surprise. "I didn't mean --"

Phidias appeared at my side. "Are you all right, Nyx?" He shot an angry glance at his friend. "What did you do to her?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all." Lysander frowned down at me.

I clutched my arm and bit back tears. "I'm fine. Really, it's nothing -- I just -- Please, Lysander, will you take me home?"

Lysander glanced back at the other boys wrestling in the waves.  "If you're all right -- can't you walk on your own?"

"I'll take you," Phidias said.

"Thank you," I said, but my eyes were on Lysander. I needed him, and he'd let me down. He must have sensed my dismay, because he gave me a tender smile.

"I'll be up within the hour," he promised. "I'll come and check on you, little one. In the meantime, I'll trust you to Phidias. Take good care of her, my friend." He leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the forehead.

Just like that, I forgave him.

I longed to tell Lysander how much I loved him, but I knew I had to find just the right moment. It wouldn't be easy. Lysander and I were rarely alone. When he wasn't with his friends, he studied his lessons and kept his father's accounts.

During the meal that evening, I hardly spoke. I washed my bread down with good wine, but my attention wasn't on the food. My eyes never left Lysander as he argued with his father about the upcoming trading voyage. Lysander was to accompany the merchant and his crew to the neighboring island of Kiros, where they would trade for pottery and spices.

"The winds are fair. We're sure to have safe passage," Lysander said. "I think we ought to leave in the morning."

Philemon grunted and shook his head. "The day after that. Today I thought I saw a dark haze in the sky to the west."

Lysander set his cup down with a thump. "It was only the sunset, Father. There's no storm brewing."

"We leave day after tomorrow. That's my final word."

Lysander didn't argue, but his expression was sour.

I slipped another pomegranate seed into my mouth and burst it on my tongue. The fruit stained my fingertips with its red juices. I'd have to wait until Lysander was in better humor before I made any confessions.

Corinna leaned toward me. "Are you all right? You're so quiet tonight."

"Fine," I said. "I'm just fine. A bit too much sun, perhaps." I touched my forehead. My skin felt warm, though I suspected my fever was due to excitement rather than sunburn.

"Perhaps you should go up to bed."

"Oh, no, I --"
Lysander finally noticed the discussion and graced me with a worried frown. "You aren't ill, are you, little one?"

"Not very," I said, trying to sound brave. I hoped he might offer to help me to my chamber.

Corinna stood up instead. "Come along now," she said, in a voice that left no room for argument. I took her arm reluctantly. As she helped me out of the room, I glanced back, but Lysander had already forgotten me. He and his father were arguing again.

Corinna tucked me in, then left me in my darkened room. She had to oversee preparations for the night's celebration. Half the men of Theros would gather in the dining room within the hour to celebrate the feast of Dionysos. I knew the men would
stay up late and drink their fill. Surely a night of songs and jokes would lift Lysander's spirits. The wine would warm his belly and loosen his tongue.

Suddenly, I had a brilliant plan. I pulled my covers up to my chin and shivered with delight.

It had to work. It just had to.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Hours later, roars of laughter and the burble of pipes drifted down the hall to my bedroom. My bare feet tapped the floor in time to the music. I longed to join the celebration, but custom forbade it. Slave girls entertained the men with their dancing, flute playing, and acrobatics, but respectable women made themselves scarce during a drinking party. I'd have to wait for just the right moment.

Meanwhile, I splashed my face with cool water from the basin and pulled the pins from my hair. It cascaded down my back like a heavy blanket, lying flat when it should have floated about my face. Still, it wasn't too bad. Against my pale skin my hair looked dark as the rough side of a mussel shell. When I touched a drop of lavender oil to the base of my neck, I could feel the beat of my heart through my fingertips.

I paused for a moment to examine the place on my arm where Lysander's sea-wetted fingers had touched me that afternoon. Three heart-shaped burns, each the size of my thumbnail, bloomed crimson against my skin. I shivered to think of what might have happened had Lysander thrown me into the water. Now I knew for certain that I could never return to the sea.

I slid my best tunic over my head and adjusted the folds to cover my blistered arm. Around my waist, I wrapped and tied a strip of watered silk, also green but two shades lighter than the tunic. The garment fastened at the shoulders with silver brooches shaped like grasshoppers, which were adorable little land creatures I'd encountered in the garden. They tasted good, too -- crunchy and pleasingly sour -- though the slave who caught me sampling one gasped and stared at me with her mouth open.

Peering into the large oval mirror on the wall, I gave a sigh of satisfaction. I looked older somehow, more mature. I gave a quick twirl. My skirts flew up around my legs -- my long, slim human legs. How could Lysander resist me now? How could he help but find me beautiful?

The voices from the dining room grew hushed and drowsy, then died away. The party broke up. I knew Lysander would pass by my room on the way to his own. I slipped out into the narrow hallway. Moonlight filtered through a high window. My breath caught and burned in my throat like the first time I'd broken the surface of the sea.

Bursts of laughter echoed down the hallway, then silence, then the sound of footsteps. I flattened myself against the wall, hiding in the shadows where the moonlight could not reach, and said a little prayer to Aphrodite.

Lysander came down the hall alone. He staggered a little and braced himself against the wall, but he was smiling. He hummed softly to himself.

I whispered his name.

He stopped short and stared down at me. "Little one -- what are you doing up at this hour? You should be sound asleep by now."

"Why?" I asked. "Why should I be in bed with the sun? Because I'm just a child? Is that how you think of me?"

Lysander's smile faded.  He reached out and touched my bare shoulder, where my tunic had fallen away. "No, that's not what I meant. Did I say the wrong thing? I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know. Lysander, I -- it's just that I --" I faltered and swallowed hard.

"Please, little one, I'm tired. Whatever it is -- can't it wait until morning?" He tried to brush past me.

I clutched at his sleeve. "I've got to tell you now." The words tumbled from my mouth like a gush of underwater bubbles. "Lysander, I love you. I want to be with you forever. I've loved you ever since I first saw you. I've given up everything for you, everything, and I -- please, if you don't --"

Tears welled up in my eyes. They spilled down my face. Angrily, I dashed them away with the back of my hand.

Lysander bent and kissed my forehead. His weariness made half-moon shadows under his eyes. "Don't you cry, little one. I do love you, but not the way you mean. There's someone else -- the girl whose face I saw once, in my dream -- I can't stop thinking about her. But you'll always have my friendship. You know that."

I clenched my teeth in frustration. How could he not recognize me? It was my face he saw that night at sea. I was the girl he loved, the girl he was searching for. "I'm the one --" I began, before my throat tightened and cut off my breath. I'd started say that I was the mermaid who rescued him and carried him to land, but I could not manage it.

Lysander must have seen the agony in my expression, because he winced and laid his palm against my cheek. "You know I would never cause you any pain, but I -- please don't cry again, little one. If you just give it some time, you'll outgrow --"

"Am I not pretty enough? Is that the problem?"

Lysander shook his head. "You're lovely. When you're older -- when you've grown up a little more, some man will --"

A sob caught in my throat. "Lysander, no. Don't say anything more." I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my lips against his to stop the hurtful words. How could he deny the strength of my feelings? I would never outgrow my love for Lysander, never.

At first he didn't respond, and then his mouth softened under mine and he kissed me back. Moving closer, I molded my body to his. Lysander groaned and caught my face in his hands. He pushed me against the wall and deepened the kiss.

I lost myself in the heart-stopping joy of that kiss. I felt a surge of triumph. I would make Lysander want me. I would force him to love me.

The sound of footsteps interrupted us. Lysander jumped back. He bumped his head against the wooden shutter on the opposite wall. I looked up and gasped.

There stood Lysander's father. His eyes blazed with anger as he stared down at me.

"Go to your chamber," he ordered, in a voice that rumbled like thunder. I fled, slamming the door behind me. My heart thudded in my chest as I tumbled into my bed. Even through the thick mud-brick walls, I heard Philemon chastise Lysander.

"Have you no self-control, boy? I won't have you sneaking around under my roof with that child. Find yourself a slave girl if you must."

I heard Lysander's subdued reply, but I couldn't make out what he said. I crossed the room and pressed my ear against the wall. Philemon's voice took on a pleading note. "Think, son. She's trying to ensnare you, can't you see? She appears on the beach, worms her way into our family, and now she's after you. I wouldn't be surprised if it's all a ruse, if she hasn't lost her memory at all."

"I can't believe that." Lysander's voice rose in anger. "She's a sweet, innocent child. Why would she do that?"

"Well, isn't it obvious? You're the only son of a wealthy family. When I'm gone, my business will be yours. And I'll be damned to Hades if I let some conniving little girl with no name and no family get her claws into you!"

"You're wrong. She's nothing like that."

"It is true, and I won't have it. You'll keep away from her, do you hear?"

Lysander's voice dripped defiance when he spoke again. "What if I won't?"

"You'll do as I say, by Zeus!"

I could not make out Lysander's reply as they moved off down the hall. I waited, but there was nothing more to hear. Shuddering from the chill air, I changed into a night dress and slipped under my blankets. I'd grown used to them. They no longer chafed my skin.

Philemon was wrong about me, but only in part. I did not want Philemon's money. Father possessed riches far beyond what the human merchant could imagine. But I did want Philemon's son. I wanted Lysander so badly I didn't care about anything else. I would have lived with Lysander in one of the village's poorest huts, with chickens pecking at the dust around my feet. I would have dressed in rags and eaten nothing but porridge for every meal. I just wanted to feel his mouth on mine again. I wanted to feel him respond to me the way he had just moments ago in the hallway.

As I tossed and turned on my sleeping couch, I swung from misery to joy and back again. I was afraid that Philemon might succeed in keeping me from Lysander. He might send me away, and where would I go? On the other hand, Lysander seemed determined to rebel against his father. Philemon's disapproval might drive Lysander straight into my waiting arms.