Prince of Song & Sea
: Chapter 7

She and her voice were the only things between him and death at sea.

And they slipped through his fingers like sand.

ERIC WOKE to confusion. Pain sloshed about behind his eyes, cresting as he opened his mouth. Sand stuck to his lips, and a huge, wet tongue lapped it away. Drool dribbled down his cheek, sticking sand and fur to his face. Eric groaned and bumped Max with his forehead. The dog whined.

“Hey, boy,” he muttered, voice a rasp. “I’m happy to see you, too.”

Eric prodded Max till the great beast moved and sat up. His ears rang and his throat was on fire, but nothing was broken or gone.

“Hey—” Eric tried to ask the girl who had saved him where they were, but his voice broke.

He groaned again and pushed himself up from the sand. The sunlight was so bright it burned, and he opened one eye. A swathe of pale sand stretched out before him, the calm sea lapping at his feet. There was no music or girl.

But there had been a girl, hadn’t there?

Max sniffed at the ground around Eric and barked at the sea. A single handprint—smaller than Eric’s with long, tapered fingers—was pressed into the sand near where his head had been. The beach he’d washed up on was bare and empty save for him and Max. Eric lifted a palm to his cheek, the touch of his savior fading. That couldn’t have been a dream. Eric couldn’t remember making it to shore.

“Max?” Eric whistled, and the dog came bounding back to him. “I’m glad you’re okay, but how did you get here?”

The shore ended only a little ways from the water and was littered with rocks from the cliffs looming above. A familiar shock of gray hair bobbed up behind the rocks.

“Eric!” Grimsby’s voice clanked between Eric’s ears. “Oh, Eric. You really delight in these sadistic strains on my blood pressure, don’t you?”

Grimsby came scrambling around the rocks, and some of Eric’s tension eased. The old man was worse for wear but clearly fine. He helped Eric up and squeezed him in a tight hug. Eric shrugged off Grimsby’s arm. He stumbled forward, searching the sea.

“A girl rescued me,” he said. He knelt and pressed his hand over the print as gently as he could. She was real, and he remembered her. He had felt her. “She was singing. She had the most beautiful voice.”

Eric stood and turned, and spots freckled his vision. His knees buckled.

Grimsby caught him. “Ah, Eric, I think you’ve swallowed a bit too much seawater.”

Miraculously, no one had died in the shipwreck. It was the first thing Eric asked upon waking up in his own bed after passing out on the way to the castle. The doctor checking his bruised ribs pulled away long enough for Grimsby to reassure Eric that everyone was fine. It was a little after dawn, and apparently they had been searching the beaches for Eric all night. Grimsby’s clothes were ragged and wet, and the scent of smoke still clung to him. Eventually, the doctor declared Eric fit enough and took her leave, insisting Eric rest for several days at least. Grimsby collapsed onto the chair next to Eric’s bed.

“You gave us quite the fright, Eric,” he said, and patted Eric’s knee. “No more, aye? I don’t think my heart can take it.”

“I can’t believe you thought I was dead,” said Eric. His throat hurt, each word digging into him, and he was sore all over but thankfully no more than bruised or scratched.

“You exploded.” Grimsby snorted. “Now, when Carlotta comes in fussing, let her.”

Eric threw an arm over his eyes. “How worried was she?”

“Inconsolable. Don’t know why you would think otherwise.”

Carlotta had been his mother’s maid and had taken over the role of a valet so that Eric wouldn’t have to either tell another soul about his curse or nervously interact with someone new. Carlotta had been a different sort of overbearing than Eleanora, treating him like a child regardless of his age. Sometimes it had been nice, and he had liked it after his mother’s death. It wasn’t coddling. Carlotta cared far more than most.

“Oh, Eric!” The door flung open and smacked against the wall. “Look at you!”

Eric winced. “I’m fine, Carlotta.”

“You look ghastly,” said Carlotta, bustling into the room with a tray of food in her arms. She set it down on Eric’s lap and adjusted his perfectly fine pillow. “Poor dear, getting tossed about like that.”

“I’m fine,” repeated Eric, taking a spoonful of soup.

“You hit your head hard enough to hallucinate,” said Grimsby. He frowned as Carlotta caught his gaze. “He said he saw a girl on the beach.”

“I did see a girl,” Eric said, and set down his spoon. “She’s the one who pulled me ashore. She sang.”

“Now, Eric.” Carlotta rubbed his shoulder and lifted a cup of water to his lips. “You’ve been through a lot in the last day. It’s normal to imagine some things.”

“I did see her,” Eric mumbled. “I woke up on the beach. Someone had pulled me to shore. There was a flash of red, and she was singing. Then Max came howling across the beach.”

“Of course,” said Grimsby, arching one brow at Carlotta.

“She saved me, Grim,” said Eric. “She had a perfect voice. She was brave. She was so…” Panic shot through Eric, and he grabbed Grimsby’s hand. “It must be her! The one with the pure voice!”

“Eric.” Grimsby gripped his hands tightly. “This is exactly what your mother feared—you are hearing a pure voice where there is none.”

“I wasn’t hallucinating!” Eric pulled away, and pain lanced through his head. “It’s not like that. I heard her. I felt her. There was a print in the sand where she’d been.”

“Then where is she?” Grimsby asked. “She saved the prince of Vellona. Surely she would expect a reward or admiration?”

Eric leaned back against the bed. “I don’t know.”

Grimsby looked as if he wanted to say more, but Carlotta slid between them and pointed at Eric’s soup and bread. Grimsby leaned back and quieted.

“Now,” she said, cutting the crust from the bread. “What you need is a few days of good rest without worrying about anything, and I’m sure everything will make more sense then.”

Eric flopped back. His soup sloshed a bit, making Carlotta frown, and Grimsby got Eric’s attention with a soft snap. He gestured at the food and then Carlotta. Eric chuckled.

“This is delicious, Carlotta,” he said after swallowing another sip. Too salty, but that might’ve been him. “Thank you.”

She smoothed his damp hair back from his face. “Of course, dear. Vanni and Gabriella are quite eager to visit you. Do you feel up to seeing them?”

“Please.” Eric ate slowly, unpeeling the tortellini in the broth with his teeth in a way that would have made Vanni gasp. “I want to talk to them about what happened—then I’ll rest. I promise.”

“You? Rest?” Grimsby asked. “I’ll thank the sea for knocking some sense into you.”

He rose and his whole body creaked. Carlotta shook her head.

“Off to bed for you as well, I think,” Carlotta said, and herded Grimsby to the door. “Eat. I’ll send Gabriella and Vanni up.”

Eric nodded and nibbled on the bread. After a few minutes, his headache eased. A bright slice of light burned through a crack in his curtains, and the warmth of it helped him relax. The door opened.

“Eric?” Vanni asked and stuck his head in.

“I’ve never been so happy to see you,” said Eric, beckoning him in.

Vanni and Gabriella looked mostly well. A deep purple bruise stood out starkly against Gabriella’s brown skin, and scabbed-over cuts freckled Vanni’s left side. There was a thick line of stitches curling over Vanni’s right ear, and his hair had been shaved down short on the sides and back to match. Max darted inside with them, jumping onto Eric’s bed. Eric ruffled his fur.

“How are you doing, buddy?”

Max huffed and whined, circling a spot near Eric’s feet a few times before settling, and Gabriella sat in the chair Grimsby had abandoned.

“Carlotta gave him a bath,” she said, and adjusted the green scarf hiding her hair, “so he’s furious.”

“Poor baby,” Eric said, and leaned down to kiss him. Max smelled better than he ever had before. “How are you?”

“Alive.” Vanni ran a hand through the long hair along the top of his head. “Worst part of that wreck was the haircut.”

Eric laughed. “Tell folks you fought the sea and lived.”

“Yes, I think that will work.” Vanni hesitated near Eric’s bed and twisted his hands together. “Look, I’ll keep my face turned away from you, but you nearly died and I want to hug you. All right?”

“Please,” Eric said, and opened his arms. “I’m so glad you’re both alive.”

Vanni threw his arms around Eric’s shoulders, and Gabriella snaked her way around his waist. Her cheek pressed warmly into his side. Vanni tucked Eric’s head under his chin.

“You’re hugging me like I’m a child,” Eric mumbled against his collar.

Vanni dug his chin into Eric’s head. “Because you, like a child, went back into a burning ship.”

“Like a toddler,” added Gabriella, clapping him on the back and pulling away. “One who hasn’t learned that touching fire burns you.”

“I had to get Max,” Eric said.

“And then get rescued by some mystery girl?” asked Vanni, letting him go. “Carlotta said you dreamed some girl saved you, and we weren’t to antagonize you about it.”

“Fitting,” he told them, “that the girl of my dreams is only in my dreams.”

“Actually,” Gabriella said, “Carlotta told us, ‘Poor boy imagined his true love had come to save him and won’t hear a word otherwise,’ though I guess her tone was sweet.”

“Her tone is always sweet.” Eric sighed. “I was so certain. I am certain. I was out. If she wasn’t real, how did I get to shore?”

Gabriella shrugged. “Stranger things have happened. Plenty of people have done something they normally would never have been able to do when in danger. You might have imagined her to distract from your pain.”

“I wasn’t in that much pain,” he muttered, but it was beginning to feel less and less reasonable. “She sang to me. It was the purest voice I’d ever heard.”

Gabriella laughed. “Of course it was.”

“What was the song?” Vanni asked.

“I couldn’t make out the words,” said Eric. Eric could hear a piece of music and remember it for years, notations nearly perfect. Most people’s eyes went glassy went he talked about it. “Like a chorus of bells out at sea. Sharp and clear.”

She had been so cold, but not uncomfortably so. Her voice, too, held the same comforting clarity that felt like waking up to a frosted world. Clear and sharp.

Real.

If anyone had a spotless soul, it was someone selfless enough to risk their life to save a drowning boy. His mystery girl had to be his true love.

Vanni hummed and nodded. Gabriella, though, smiled.

“Here. Look.” Eric stuck his arm out at Gabriella. He’d doodled the tune with a pen—there wasn’t any paper within reach and Carlotta would’ve killed him if he’d used a blanket. His savior had a voice as pure as her soul. She had risked herself to save him, and she sang a song with a voice like winter bells. He whistled the tune; the melody was already fading from his mind, and he shuddered at the idea of losing it. “That’s it. I think.”

“How about this,” said Gabriella, rising with a wince and holding a hand out to Eric. “Vanni and I have work to do—he as usual, and I got roped in to help Nora research the Blood Tide. Grimsby wants me to keep an eye on her. You go for a walk on the beach, stretch everything out, and clear your head. Sauer will probably get here in a few days. There’s not much we can do until then, anyway, and walking will help get rid of that soreness.”

“Grim will kill me,” Eric said. “Carlotta might, too.”

“Then don’t get caught.” Vanni helped Eric to his feet. “You’re restless, you’ve rested, and you need to move to feel better. Come on—I’m covering for my sister while she sleeps after searching for you last night. You can walk us out.”

The trio parted at the back stairs of the castle. They carried on to the courtyard, and he descended toward the private dock. Max looped ahead of him with snuffling curiosity, stub of a tail wagging nonstop. Eric let him.

If Max hadn’t been too badly affected by the shipwreck, Eric could buck up. No dog was going to outdo him. He navigated the stairs slower than Max, though, and kept one hand on the walls as he paced along the narrow walkway connecting the private dock to the beach.

“Max, leave the crabs alone,” Eric called, boots sinking into the sand. “They’ve done nothing to you. Keep this up, and they’ll rise up against you with the gulls as allies.”

Max, already too far ahead for Eric to see, woofed and yelped.

“Max!” Eric sprinted toward the bend in the beach and groaned. “Quiet, boy. What’s gotten into…”

A girl perched on the rocks, slightly out of Max’s slobbering reach. She was a storm of red, like a sunrise spilling across a ship. The sailcloth wrapped around her twisted about like white water, and two dark blue eyes stared out from her tangles of hair. She bundled her hair up out of her face, leaving half to cascade down her back. Max woofed and jumped. He lapped at her face.

Eric hesitated, breath in his throat, and tried to place her. He was sure they had met before.

“Are you okay, miss?” he asked, pulling Max away from her. “I’m sorry if this knucklehead scared you. He’s harmless. Really.”

She just smiled and nodded, and Eric glanced up at her, close enough to feel her breath on his cheek. Her button nose wiggled.

There was something so familiar about her, but he couldn’t place it. From a shop in the bay, perhaps? A ship passing through?

He ruffled Max’s fur to avoid staring at her, and she let out a breathy little laugh. She reached out one tentative hand to pat his snout. Max licked her hand.

“You seem very familiar to me,” Eric said slowly, not wanting to admit he couldn’t remember who she was. “Have we met?”

The girl nodded and moved to grab his hand, then hesitated. She held out her hand, asking for permission.

“Uh, sure,” he said, and she took both of his hands in hers.

The chill of her skin made him shiver. She studied his hands, and he studied her, looking over her slight form. Her hair was tangled and smelled of brine—the open ocean salt, not the week-old stench of the port. The sailcloth tangled around her like a dress was clearly from a recently wrecked ship. Her hair was a beautiful splash of red against it.

Eric’s heart fluttered, and he feared he would faint. She was here. His savior was here!

“I knew it!” he said. “You’re the one! The one I’ve been looking for! What’s your name?”

Unadulterated joy burst in him, filling his veins with an airy sensation of freedom he had never felt. His true love! He had not made her up after all.

But his hope died as suddenly as it had come upon him as she opened her mouth. All that escaped her was a strangled puff of air, and she clutched her throat. Eric took her by the shoulders.

“What’s wrong? What is it?” he asked, clinging to the happiness that founding her had brought him. But then he realized what her gestures meant. “You can’t speak?”

She shook her head, and it hit him as hard as the storm had.

“Oh,” he said. Everything in him collapsed, the great void of his loneliness leaving him the worst sort of cold. “Then you couldn’t be who I thought.”

Maybe he had hallucinated his savior. He had learned about his true love having a pure voice only a few days ago, so it was on his mind. Not finding his true love immediately was fine, but Grimsby being right? That wasn’t fair.

The girl tapped her throat and reached for him, fingers falling shy of his. Her hands flowed with the cadence of speech. It wasn’t any sign language Eric recognized, though.

“What is it?” he asked. “You’re hurt? No, no. You need help.”

She nodded, leaned toward him, and toppled over, tumbling off the rock.

“Whoa, whoa.” Eric caught her about the waist and nearly dropped her when her face neared his. She only wrapped her arms around his neck. “Careful. Careful. Easy.”

Her legs trembled, and Eric tightened his hold on her to make sure neither of them fell. Her skin was cold even through the sailcloth.

“Gee, you must have really been through something,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you. Come on. You’ll be okay.”

She wasn’t his soul mate, but she still needed help.

“Let’s get you up to the bay and find you some clothes, water, and a real chair,” Eric said. “Then we can figure out what to do.”

She nodded—so she could understand him; that was good. Max twined between their legs, and the girl made the same gesture she had made earlier. Eric frowned.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what you are trying to say.” He nudged Max out of the way and patted her arm apologetically. “I bet we can figure this out together, though.”

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