CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Iliana~
Her first kiss and there was too much going on for her to enjoy it. Jareth was excitedly spinning her. Her already chaotic thoughts went swooping off in all directions, like birds frightened by thrown stones. Her worries about finding Myst, her fear that she still had not done anything that would make a mortal love her, that she would end her days as a slimy fish in an icy brook. Everything scattered under the onslaught of Jareth’s hungry mouth.
He pressed kisses all over her face before darting back to her mouth. He tasted her lips and the corners of her mouth. His big hands set her down and held her until the world stopped spinning. Unfortunately her thoughts continued to revolve.
“We’re alive,” he cried.
“Yes.” She swallowed hard. His face was alight with passion. Did he want to rut here, in the snow, at the mouth of Hel?
He pulled her hard against his body and his mouth descended again. This time he slipped the tip of his tongue inside her mouth and sent it up in front of her teeth. She tingled from head to toe. His eyes were closed and he looked happy. She liked what he was doing, but what was she supposed to do?
She opened her mouth wider, hoping to please him. He pulled away and looked puzzled. He stroked her hair. “Iliana, have you ever been kissed before?”
“Of course not.” Fish didn’t kiss. Even otters didn’t kiss.
“Ah.” He tugged at her curls. “Are you a virgin in other ways too?”
“Certainly. I know that is important to you dragons.” She peered anxiously up at him. Was he in love with her yet?
His head was now a full hand-span higher than hers. Clearly she must be shrinking or he must be growing. Had the demon placed a spell on them after all? Or, despite her apparent kindness, had Hel punished their invasion of her realm?
“Hmm.” Jareth kissed her mouth again, lightly, teasingly. He sighed. Straightened up. “I don’t know if it is day or night. I’m a little disoriented.”
“We came from the south,” she said and pointed.
Jareth looked doubtful. “This far north, everything is south. And I don’t recognize any landmarks. It’s as if we came out in a different place than we went in.” He fumbled one of his pockets open and produced a small flat metal object.
“What’s that?” She peeped over his shoulder.
“A compass.” He looked at it while he turned in circles, before laughing. He stuck it back in his pocket. “It points south in all directions. The sun is no help this far north. We’ll have to navigate by luck. Can you feed us? I don’t know how long this trip has taken, but I’m starving.”
Iliana looked around. Lumpy snow spread to the horizon. If there were animals living here, she did not know how to catch them. And if there were edible plants, as she supposed there must be, they were buried deep under the snow. She thought the open sea where she could hunt was many hours away.
“I can’t get food here,” she apologized.
“No?”
“No. I’m sorry.” She hoped that old saying that the way to a man’s heart lay through his stomach wasn’t actually true.
And then she remembered watching Jareth eat that enormous breakfast. Plateful after plateful. His heart probably connected directly to his stomach. And she had nothing to feed him. Her heart sank to her toes.
“Can’t you conjure some, as you conjured my clothing?”
She tried to explain. “That was different. Nixies can’t obtain food by magic.” Now that he mentioned it, her own stomach was growling. And she was thirstier than she had ever been.
He rummaged in another of his many pockets and handed her a shiny blue and green package the length of her hand and three fingers wide. It was heavy for its size. “Thank you,” she said doubtfully. “What is it?”
He tore the shiny covering on his and peeled it back. “Energy bar. Go on. It isn’t the world’s most wonderful meal, but it’s better than nothing.”
It was delicious. Sweet, salty, crunchy. Infinitely better than weeds. Much better than raw fish. She told him so.
“You eat weeds and fish?” he asked shocked.
Her heart sank, but she nodded. What did he imagine fish ate and drank? “Yes. And drink the water the fish swim in.” She made a face.
“Snow will be better,” he said.
He produced a little round box from another pocket and stretched it up into a cup. He packed it with the cleanest, most undisturbed snow he could find. He fiddled with the bottom and the snow began to melt. When it was entirely liquid he passed it to her.
“Be careful. The bottom is hot,” he said. “But the water will still be cool.”
It was. She drank half greedily before handing it back to him.
He gave the beaker back to her. “Drink it all. You haven’t had water in days.”
“What about you?”
“The burner will melt six cupfuls. We’ll take turns. Drink up.”
She was still thirsty. She drained the rest gratefully. She watched carefully while he repeated the process for himself. “Is that cup magic?” she whispered as the snow melted without any fire.
“What?” He chuckled. “There’s a tiny chemical heater inside.”
“Chem-i-cal,” she tried the word. “Like alchemical?” she wondered aloud. That was mortal magic, wasn’t it?
“Nope. Not alchemy. More like when you add water to quicklime and it boils. Basic chemistry.”
She nodded. She had seen sailors mix quicklime to make whitewash to paint houses, rocks, and trees white. The process had always seemed rather magical to her. “Chem-i-cal,” she repeated under her breath. “Chem-mist-ry.”
Jareth drank his first cup of water in one swallow. “Tastes of lichens,” he said.
“Then lichens are tastier than pond scum.”
His blue eyes widened. “Good to know.” He began to pack more snow into the cup. “So are you going to tell me about your sister? And why you don’t have a soul?”
She patted her pocket. “I have one now.” It was the best feeling in the world. Soon she would have a soul again.
His lips twitched. He handed her the cup of melt water. “Have another drink.”
She was able to sip this one with more dignity. “Myst and I were sisters. Born in the same hour, sharing the same cradle. Rán took us to serve her. I don’t know why she removed our souls when she turned us into nixies. But none of the others had souls either.”
“Others?” He took her empty cup and filled it again.
“Rán has many servants,” she explained. “When one would visit Myst and me, bearing the goddess’ instructions, we would talk. Occasionally one claimed that Rán had promised them their souls back if they performed some perilous task. But of course if they succeeded and were rewarded, they would no longer be nixies and would never return.”
“You and Myst used to live together?” His blue eyes squinted in puzzlement.
“Rán assigned us to guard the treasures of those killed in battle at sea.” She sighed remembering. “Myst and I combed each other’s hair and read the books left in our care.” And ate and slept together, sharing everything.
“Books?” He interrupted her reverie.
“Mortals have many treasures that they take to sea,” she reminded him. “Armor, swords, daggers, shields and other weaponry. But also locks of their sweethearts’ hair, rings and armbands, and books. We had no use for weapons or jewels, but Myst and I learned many things from those precious books.”
“Such as?” He drank and repacked the cup with snow.
“The ways of the gods, the stories of heroes who slew monsters, how the stars move and why. That the earth is a ball.” Would he be impressed with her learning? Some men preferred women to be ignorant. He still did not look as though he was falling in love with her.
Although he had kissed her, he now looked grim. His exuberance gone. “Here, drink this. After I have mine, we’ll set off for home.”
She took the cup with murmured thanks. “I have no home.”
“Isn’t Severn Island your home?”
“It is where I exist.” She patted her pocket. The box’s square corners reassured her. She would have a home. Soon. Very soon. As soon as he loved her.
“Huh. So what happened to Myst?”
“We were weary of living in the ocean guarding treasures seldom wanted. We longed for adventures and pleasures such as we read about in the books of men.” She drained the cup and gave it back.
“And then one day the goddess did not send messengers but came herself.” Iliana shuddered recalling the bright and terrible splendor of Rán. Her voice faltered and failed altogether.
Jareth nodded. “Go on, Iliana.”