Oriana woke sore and achy, with an empty stomach. Her eyes seemed more willing to focus, showing her that the glow had left the skylight above. Now a pair of fainter lights shone. Gaslights—it must be night. She was still in the Ferreira household, a miracle of sorts.
She could tell the water in the tub had been changed, as there was less salt from her own body in it. Pure sea salt instead. The dull burning in her gills had faded. She was determined not to dwell on the rest. Grasping the lip of the tub in her right hand, she pulled herself into a sitting position. It took all her strength to accomplish that. As the water sloshed around her, she took a deep breath of air into her lungs. Her head spun.
Her motion had dislodged several thick ivory towels laid over the top of the tub, sending them slithering either into the tub or off onto the floor. She plucked at one that had fallen over her legs, frustrated by the wet weight of it, and finally succeeded in freeing herself from its grasp.
The sun had left her right side tender, but the blistering and crusting of salt were gone, as were the deposits the damned albatross had left. Where not red, her skin had transformed from the chalky white of dehydration to its normal opalescence. Her thighs and belly had regained their silvery coloration. She let out a shuddering sob, relieved it wasn’t worse.
She was alive. She had survived, when someone had meant her to die.
She heard a soft sigh then and gazed over the side of the tub. On the fine silk rug next to the tub, Duilio slept. He wore only a linen shirt and trousers. His dark hair was tousled. He was unshaven as well, his square jaw darkening with stubble. For a moment, she stared down at him with her head propped on her folded arms. Then a drop of water from her hair splashed onto his wide forehead.
His seal-brown eyes blinked open. “Oriana?” He sat up quickly, his face level with hers. “Can you see?”
“Yes,” she managed. Ah, gods, I sound so feeble.
His shoulders slumped in relief. “Thank God. We feared it might be permanent.” His eyes searched her face and then he moved closer, setting his warm cheek against her chilled, damp one. His arms went around her, holding her to him even though the wall of the tub remained between them.
Her throat ached, and she shuddered as if she’d come in from the cold. She’d forgotten what that felt like, to have someone hold her. To have someone wanting to care for her, rather than the other way around. For a long while, she pressed her face into the crook of his neck, smelling the light musky scent of his skin. She wanted to stay there forever. “I knew you would come for me,” she whispered.
He backed away and set one hand on each of her cheeks. “I wish I had come sooner. I’ve never been so afraid in my life.”
“Soon enough. I’m still alive.” That would be her mantra for the rest of her days—the gods had given her a second chance. They hadn’t thought her deserving of death. It was proof of innocence that none of her people could dispute. “How did you know where I was?”
“The ambassador told me,” Duilio said.
“Uncle?” she asked, mind spinning. How had her uncle intervened? As the ambassador, he was trapped up at the palace. “You went to see him?”
Duilio stroked a lock of hair back from her face and tucked it behind one ear. “We can have a long talk about that later. Do you think you could eat something?”
Her mouth immediately began to water and her stomach clenched. “Oh, yes. How long have I been asleep?”
“Almost a full day round,” he said, pulling away from her and rising. “I’ll go to the kitchens and see what I can find at this hour.”
She nodded, and dropped her head onto her arms again. He was gone an instant later. She stared at the manacle affixed to her right wrist, a couple of links of chain dangling from it.
Then Duilio was gently shaking her shoulder to get her attention. “You drifted off.”
She shook her head, and the room spun.
Duilio settled cross-legged on the floor and set a plate in his lap. He had a selection of cold baked cod and smoked salmon, along with a crusty hunk of bread. “It’s been a while since you’ve eaten, so take it slow.”
She managed to untangle her arms and took a piece of cod when he held it out to her. It tasted heavenly to her starved mouth, and she dutifully chewed while he watched her with concerned eyes. “Why are there towels in the tub?” she asked once she’d swallowed.
He handed her another piece of fish and flashed an embarrassed smile. “Felis has been helping watch over you. If she knew I’d seen you unclothed she’d cane me.”
“But you have before,” she pointed out. Despite having lived among humans for two years, their prudishness regarding nudity still surprised her.
“Felis doesn’t know that,” he said. “No questions. Eat.”
She obeyed. He talked about his mother’s trip out to Braga Bay and her taking seal form for the first time in years. Every time Oriana took a breath to ask a question, he handed her another piece of food. The salmon had a delicious smoky flavor, the bread was perfectly baked, and after he switched to his mother’s plans for a dinner party—in which she was evidently expected to participate—Oriana realized the plate was empty. She moved her right wrist and was dismayed when the heavy cuff dragged it off the bathtub’s edge. Her arm dangled there. “How do I get this off?”
“We’ll take care of it later,” he promised, lifting her arm back to the rim. “Now, do you want to stay in the tub, or should I move you to the bed?”
After a full day in water, her gills could use a rest. “The bed.”
He set the plate to one side, got up, and left the bathroom. He returned a moment later with the old nightgown she’d left behind. “Felis laid this out for you,” he said. “If I help you out of the tub, can you dry off and put it on?”
“I can try.” He got one arm under hers and lifted her out of the tub, getting water all over the rug and the floor. When her feet hit the ground, though, Oriana discovered exactly how weak she was. Her head spun dizzily again, and she had to hang on to his shirt to stay upright. “No, I don’t think I can.”
“Well, Felis doesn’t have to know.” Duilio picked her up and carried her out to the darkened bedroom. He laid her on the sheets, still wet, and drew the blanket and coverlet over her. He tucked them neatly beneath her arms.
The sheets lost their chill after a moment, and she felt warm for the first time since she’d left this house. She was safe.
“Thank you,” she managed. It was insufficient for everything he’d done, by any measure.
He smiled down at her. “I’m going to go sop up the mess you made in there. You’ll be asleep before I’m done.”
She was.
* * *
Duilio carried the armchair over and set it next to the bed. He’d left the lights turned up in the bathroom, and in that glow he could see Oriana’s face. As he’d predicted, she’d fallen asleep, so he just settled into the chair.
He wanted more than anything to join her on that bed. Only to hold her, he told himself. But she needed rest now. Everything else they could work out later.
He couldn’t imagine what would drive someone to take Oriana out to that island and chain her there to die. He had a better chance of understanding why someone would kill a lost young selkie girl by skinning her.
He slid down farther in the chair, thinking dark thoughts.