Crown of Coral and Pearl

“Why?”

It was only one word, but it held all the feelings that had passed through my mind while I rescued Ceren. You could have been free, it said.

“It’s Varenian custom,” I explained. “If the god Thalos wants the life, he must fight for it, too. And you asked for help, so I gave it.”

“Thalos,” Talin murmured. “I heard my mother speak of him when she told me the story of how the Varenians came to be.”

“It must seem very silly to you.”

He shook his head. “The only thing that ever seemed silly to me is that the Varenians should suffer because a pair of foolish young lovers died in a shipwreck.”

I smiled to myself. I’d never heard anyone put it quite so bluntly before. “I used to think so, too. But now I can see that it has very little to do with a legend and far more to do with power and control. And money.”

“You mean the pearls. Ceren believes they make him stronger.”

“Maybe they do.”

Talin’s voice sounded far away when he answered. “If they did, my father wouldn’t be dying at the age of forty.”

Ceren had said his father wasn’t helped by the pearls, but he himself hoarded them like treasure, obsessed with the idea that they could prevent whatever illness was killing the king. Surely he wouldn’t be killing off servants to harvest the pearls if they didn’t work. “Were you close with your father as a child?” I asked.

“Yes, very. It must be difficult for you to imagine him as anything other than the bedridden man you’ve seen, but he was young once. Never healthy, I suppose, but healthier. He would often go into the villages with my mother and me.”

“Where was Ceren when you went into the villages?”

Talin kept his eyes on the road. “Ceren stayed behind with his nursemaids. He didn’t like to leave the mountain.”

“I pity him sometimes,” I admitted. “It must have been a very lonely childhood.”

He nodded. “I loved my mother with all my heart, but I never agreed with her treatment of Ceren. I think she resented him, knowing that the crown would pass to him someday and not me.”

“But he was just a child.”

“I know, but I can imagine how she must have felt, leaving everything in Varenia behind only to be my father’s second wife. I think she believed that if I became king someday, she could put a stop to what’s happened—what’s still happening—to your people.”

When his eyes met mine, I felt a surge of hope. Did that mean Talin disagreed with his brother’s plans? “If only Ceren felt the same way,” I ventured.

We were almost at the castle, and the carriage was rattling up behind us. “Ceren is afraid. He sees my father dying young and worries he will share the same fate. And despite his many shortcomings, my brother loves his kingdom. He doesn’t want to see it fall into our enemies’ hands.”

“Which enemies?” I asked.

Talin glanced at me over his shoulder. “It’s hard to say. We have many at the moment. Not just Lord Clifton, but the Galethians to the north and the uprising to the south, as well.”

“And you think he should continue to exploit the Varenians for the sake of Ilara?”

His jaw tightened. “No. I shared my mother’s views on that even before I visited your home.” The carriage passed us, and Talin brought his horse into line with the captain’s. For a moment, I dared to hope that this accident could change things. I’d seen something in Ceren’s eyes, some shred of humanity that he kept hidden behind his pale mask. He was still the child who’d lost his mother and never felt as loved as he should have been.

Ceren had said he owed me his life. Perhaps in return, he would give the Varenians theirs.

Talin dismounted at the base of the mountain and turned to help me, reaching up to my waist and lifting me as if I weighed no more than a child. I could feel the heat of his hands through the thin silk, with not even a shift or petticoat between us. And, gods help me, I wanted his hands to move higher, lower, everywhere. I wanted to kiss him the way Zadie had kissed Sami, long and slow and secret.

As my feet touched the ground, I looked up at him, unsure of what I’d find. We hardly knew each other, but Talin felt like a stepping stone between this life and the one I’d left behind. And for a moment, I hoped I might not have to face that distance alone.

But then his eyes skidded away from mine to my right cheekbone, and my stomach clenched like a fist.

My scar. I hadn’t been in the water very long, but I’d rested my right cheek against Talin’s back while we were riding. I resisted the urge to touch my face, but Talin’s eyes hardened all the same as he stepped back from me and bowed.

“Have a care, my lady,” he said. And then he was gone.



      22



When I finally made it back to my room and stepped in front of my full-length mirror, I shouldn’t have been surprised to see the small patch of exposed pink skin on my cheek, not after the way Talin had looked at me. But even though I had long ago accepted my scar as a part of who I was, I had gotten used to seeing myself without it.

My eyes filled with tears as I took in the torn, mud-splattered hem of my gown and the snarls in my hair. I smelled like lake water, which, out of context, was not exactly pleasant. But the worst part wasn’t that Talin had discovered the truth—it was that he had looked at me the way Mother looked at me after the incident. Like I was a stranger.

Ebb gasped in horror when she came in behind me. “Milady, what has happened to you?”

I turned around, feeling weary down to my bones. “I’ll explain everything. Just please have my bath prepared.”

She nodded, her blue eyes round with surprise, and darted off down the hallway to fetch a maid. When the bath was ready and we were alone again, I told her about Ceren.

She sat unblinking, her mouth slowly falling open, as I recounted his near drowning.

“For Thalos’s sake, Ebb, would you stop looking at me like that?” I said when I finally finished and her expression hadn’t changed.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just never heard anything like it. You saved him from the water spirits. You brought him back from the dead!”

I rolled my eyes and motioned for her to help with the buttons on my dress. As her fingers deftly unfastened them, I thought of Talin, my stomach twisting with a mix of desire and hurt. “Of course I didn’t. If he’d been dead, I wouldn’t have been able to save him.” I could already see how this story would go with the servants. Rumors that I’d resurrected a dead man would be flying by dinner. “You can’t tell anyone, Ebb. Prince Ceren will share the story when he’s ready.”

“Yes, milady.”

“I mean it. If I hear a word of gossip about this because of you, I’ll start making you empty the chamber pots every day.”

She stifled a giggle. “I understand. Let’s get you out of these wet clothes and into your bath.”

I stayed in the tub for a long time, scrubbing away the smell of lake water with lavender-scented soap and combing out my waist-length hair. Ebb had suggested cutting it to make it more manageable, but I wouldn’t allow more than a trim. I knew that Zadie would never cut her hair, and I didn’t want to look different from my sister. My reflection in the mirror would be the only way I had to watch her grow old.

When the water started to get cold, Ebb helped me out of the tub. She handed me my towel and held up the little bone jar.

“Shall we cover up your scar, milady?” she asked. “The stain must have come off in the water.”

Shame washed over me as I realized that she’d likely known about my scar and the stain all along. Why had I thought I could fool everyone? And to what end? Zadie had said people in Varenia hardly noticed my scar, and Ebb didn’t seem at all disgusted or concerned. But I remembered the way Talin had looked at me just hours ago and felt my eyes well with tears.

“Would you mind leaving me for a moment, Ebb?”

“Of course,” she said gently. “Just ring if you need me.”

When she left the room, I let the towel fall and went to stand before the mirror. Without the fancy gowns and hairstyles, I looked so much like my sister I didn’t know if our own parents would be able to tell us apart. Except for the scar.