Nineteen

 

Had she actually winked at him? The frosty maiden who hated him? Oh, not that she didn't have good reason to do so – she surely did, being forced to spend her time in the library with him instead of doing...whatever it was ladies did all day. Knit? Sew? Spin? He had no sisters and he could scarcely remember his mother, so Erik had never seen what highborn ladies did when no men were around. Surrounded by servants, they didn't need to do anything, but he couldn't imagine this girl sitting still and doing nothing for very long. She was as restless as the ocean. Erik had half expected her to open her mouth and shout at him a few times during their conversation, but she evidently took her vow of silence very seriously. In his memories, she was certainly no mute, and she understood him just fine, so her brothers must be very important to her.

And why not? They were family. Surely the girl loved her brothers, as all good girls did, and it would be a great loss to her whole family if they never returned from their holy crusade. Many others had perished, or disappeared, never to be heard from again, but he didn't dare say such things to her. The intelligence that shone through her eyes meant she probably already knew, and if she did not, he would not be cruel enough to tell her. Besides, she'd already worked one miracle when she saved him – another might not be as impossible for her as it would for ordinary people.

She returned with two leather buckets of scrolls, that Erik helped her to set on the table. She unrolled the first one on the table, and Erik was mesmerised by the detailed drawing of a sea serpent, wrapping its massive coils around a sailing ship amid fierce waves. It was a monster, all right.

A fleeting image of blue scales on a creature easily as wide around as he himself, racing through the water beside him, passed through his mind, as if it was only yesterday he'd seen it. Had he seen a sea serpent? Is that what had brought him to the surface when he'd drowned? Or had the creature been a mermaid, like he'd dreamed? Whatever it had been, the creature had been doing the girl's bidding. That he knew for certain, for he'd heard her commanding the ocean itself. And a woman who could command the ocean in a world that relied on ships for trade was worth more than gold, jewels and the highest pedigree.

"Do you get many of these here?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Her expression was impassive. Then she sighed.

She pulled a blank sheet of parchment toward her, picking up his quill with the ease of one who was familiar with writing, dipped it expertly in the ink, before scratching out the words:

Too cold. Serpents prefer warmer waters.

"Like most snakes," Erik mused. "But the ocean here is full of fish, and seals and maybe other creatures, too."

She nodded slowly. He got the impression she was waiting for him to continue.

Emboldened, he asked, "My lady, are there mermaids in these waters?"

The quill appeared in her fingers once more, flying across the parchment:

Don't be a fool. Mermaids don't exist outside of stories.

Her dark eyes held his. Mesmerising, that's what she was.

Would her gaze be equally cold if he kissed her?

Erik shook the idea from his head. If she was truly as powerful as he remembered, to kiss her would be to take his very life in his hands. But, by God, how much he wanted to. Even if it was the last thing he did, he would die a happy man.

She broke his gaze, turned on her heel, and marched out of the library.

Erik sighed. He'd been going so well, and then, like the bumbling fool he was, he'd made a mistake that sent her away again. But at least he'd managed to persuade her to show him some new scrolls that didn't mention a word of how many measures of wheat were aboard a ship when it sank.

Erik returned to the scrolls, which were filled with drawings that his eyes didn't see. Instead, his mind was fixed on her ocean-coloured eyes, and how they might light up if he kissed her.