Twenty-Seven

 

Margareta woke slowly, revelling in the unaccustomed warmth of her bed. She must have fallen asleep on the sand in her tail again. She'd best turn back to human and get some clothing on before some fisherman stumbled across her.

She blinked away the sleep from her eyes, stretching. Her legs touched warm flesh and cloth. Margareta tried to jerk away from the other body, but a heavy arm lay across her, holding her close.

By all the saints, who had she killed?

She squirmed out from under the man and flipped him over. She almost cried with relief when she saw his chest rise as he drew breath. She hadn't killed him. Hesitantly, she reached for the cloak that shrouded him and pulled the fabric away from his face.

Margareta staggered back, falling to the sand.

Erik. She'd surrendered to her siren nature and seduced Erik.

Now, more than ever, she wished she could speak to him. Damn her stupid brothers for getting cursed, and twice damn her father for persuading her to break their curse. It was almost as bad as being cursed herself, and what had she done to deserve it?

She stared down at Erik. If what her father told her was true, she might have permanently damaged Erik. She wouldn't know until he woke whether he'd been driven mad by whatever she'd done to him.

Seven hells...what had she done to him? She'd never allowed a man close enough to her for something like this to happen before. A small part of her whispered that now she'd tried intimacy with a man, she would want plenty more, but Margareta hushed it. If her pleasure came at the cost of Erik's sanity, it was too high a price to pay. Ever.

Margareta shook Erik, but he didn't wake. Her heart sank. If he'd lost his senses, he might never wake. Killing him would be a mercy, and it would be her responsibility to end the suffering she had inflicted on him.

She was a true siren. She'd destroyed a man, and nothing could fix this.

"Whore!" screamed a voice, as something sharp hit her shoulder.

Margareta whirled, and something hit her back.

"Could have saved us, but a whore like you couldn't stay a maiden for long enough!" shrieked another voice.

"Whore!" hissed a third as dark projectiles hit her on both sides.

This time, Margareta saw one of them. It wasn't a projectile at all, but a dark bird that darted down to peck at Erik. Margareta flapped a hand at the bird to shoo it away from her unconscious lover, but she was too late – its beak was already red with blood.

For the second time in two days, Margareta lost control of her human nature. But this time, the siren reigned supreme.

The ocean surged up the beach at her command, circling her and Erik with an army of waves while the sand beneath him remained untouched.

Suddenly the air was filled with dark feathers as half a dozen ravens flew in to attack Margareta from all sides. She directed the water to fight them, but it wasn't enough – some of them reached her, clawing and pecking at her face before she managed to stun one with her fist. She only had a moment's reprieve, though, before the stunned bird was replaced with two more, angrier and more intent on drinking her blood than their disoriented brother.

All the while, their caws sounded more like cries of "Whore!" than the calls of ordinary birds.

One of them fastened onto a chunk of her hair, beating its wings furiously as it tried to rip the hair from her head. If she could have made a sound, Margareta would have screamed, it hurt so much when the lock of hair parted from her scalp. She felt something warm against her back and spun around, terrified that it was a cascade of her own blood. Instead, she found Erik, risen to his feet with murder in his eyes.

"I won't let them hurt you," he vowed, brandishing a knife. A bird darted toward Margareta, then changed direction, aiming for Erik's eyes. His arm whipped out, swifter than a bird in flight. Light flashed on his blade as he separated the bird from its head, and both fell at Margareta's feet. "I count ten more. Keep doing whatever you're doing, and leave killing them to me."

Margareta nodded, not sure what to think. The only clear thought in her head was that Erik had most certainly not lost his wits, and whatever she and Erik had done last night, he hadn't paid the price for it.

She punched another bird as it dived for her, sending it into the crest of a wave, which quickly sucked it under. Concentrating on the water, she built up a particularly big wave and used it to engulf three more birds. Panting, she lifted her arm to clout another, only to see Erik cut it down before it could reach her.

"That's all of them, my lady," Erik said, sounding just as breathless as she.

Margareta turned to face him. Erik was as naked as she was, except for the cloak he'd wrapped around them both while they lay on the beach.

Memories trickled back of their night together, two bodies so entwined even she hadn't known which limbs belonged to who. Nor had she cared. He might be her first, but no other man could compare. And not only had she not killed him, but she'd chosen to protect him even in the throes of unbridled passion. Somehow, Erik had succumbed to her siren call and lived. That made him a very special man indeed. Perhaps Penelope was right about him.

Staring into Erik's eyes, she felt lost.

Margareta dismissed the ocean, so that she stood alone with Erik on the damp sand.

He chuckled. "My lady, you should probably cover yourself. Looking like that, you could charm the birds from the sky as well as the fish from the sea." As he wrapped his cloak around her, he winked.

It took Margareta a moment to realise what he'd seen. Not just her naked body, but her power over the ocean. Her blood ran cold, colder even than when she swam the depths as a mermaid. Had he seen...?

"I heard rumours of a mermaid, and I came to spy the truth of it for myself before bringing you to the cove so that you might see the creature. Only to find...you know far more of such things than I ever will." Erik pulled her close, laying his cheek beside hers so that his lips brushed her ear. "Marry me, my lady of the seas. I will love you and keep your secrets as long as I live, and all I ask in return is your love, if you are willing."

Margareta wanted to shout her answer at the top of her lungs, but her silence stole her voice, even as her lips formed a YES.

"Whore!" screeched a voice. "Faithless woman! How dare you take this man into your bed while we suffer. The man who killed your own brothers. Neither of you deserve to live!"

To Margareta's stunned horror, a raven with an injured wing hopped across the sand to attack her feet, screaming obscenities and accusations.

A firm hand grasped the bird by the neck and held it up in the air. "You're a fool, Corbin. I gave you and your brothers a chance to live, to atone for your crimes. I even told you how to break the curse. You couldn't get girls to fall in love with you, but your sister, whose loyalty to her family made her vow to save you, still might have freed you. If you'd waited a few more hours, she would have broken the spell with seven years of silence, virgin or no. But now...you have forfeited your right to even a sister's love." The woman who'd spoken wrung the neck of the bird and tossed it on the sand beside the other piles of damp feathers that Margareta now realised were the corpses of the rest of the ravens.

Her brothers.

The woman bit down hard on her lip, raising her hands high. The birds moved, floating until their bodies formed a line on the sand. Only then did they begin to lose their feathers, growing until they became not birds but young men. Young men she remembered, though they were older now. Raban had been a boy of her own age when she last saw him, the youngest of her brothers, and now he was a man grown. A man decapitated, too, for his head lay a foot from his body.

Margareta let out a sob, and another. The sound of her voice seemed to echo in the cove, for it had been so long since she had heard it. "I didn't want them to die!" she cried, falling to her knees.

The same strong hand that had wrung Corbin's neck landed on her shoulder. "Then you are a better person than any of your brothers. They would have killed you, and your boy here." The woman nodded at Erik. "He'll make a better Master of the island than any of your kin."

"But Father," Margareta began, horrified anew at the thought of what her father would say when he saw his precious sons laid low like this. They had died, while she yet lived. "Father is Master here. He will never forgive me for this, and Erik..."

"I summoned him to the cove when I arrived. He is already on his way," the woman said.

Sure enough, Father limped onto the sand, leaning heavily on his stick. He looked so frail now, as though the seven years which had passed were seventy instead. "What do you want, witch?" he demanded. "First you take my sons from me, sending them far away, and now you think to take my daughter, too?"

"I am Mistress Kun, no mere witch, and you would do well to address me so, Nicholas," the woman said. "Your sons sealed their own fate seven years ago, and today, they demonstrated that they have no right to live among decent people. They died at the hands of a woman. I call it justice."

"My sons?" Father faltered.

Mistress Kun pointed at the bodies, hidden from Father's sight by a sandbank.

It seemed to take him forever to reach the top, and when he did, his expression changed from bewilderment to something Margareta didn't think looked entirely human. His lips peeled away from his teeth and his eyes grew wild.

"What have you done to my sons?" he howled. His gaze fixed on Margareta. "It was you! A whore like your mother, opening your legs to every pretty man you can find. I might not have managed to kill your slut of a mother, but I will deal with you!" He advanced on Margareta, who cried out in fear, unable to move. He managed to take three steps before he keeled over face first on the sand.

Margareta wanted to dash forward to help him to his feet, but she remained rooted to the spot. Had her father really threatened to kill her? Or tried to kill her mother?

Mistress Kun knelt down to examine Father. "Dead," she grunted as she rose from her crouch. "Good riddance, too. You two will make a better job of ruling this place."

Two? Margareta stared at Erik, who looked as bewildered as she felt.

"My father sent me here to find a way to bring Beacon Isle into his kingdom. I was to discover which king the Master owed fealty to, and persuade him to become a part of my father's kingdom instead. Master Nicholas would not agree, but perhaps his heir..." Erik cleared his throat. "Lady Margareta, when your father's heir becomes Master of this island, perhaps you would be willing to put in a good word for me, and arrange a meeting?"

Heir? With her brothers dead and their curse broken, her father's heir would be...her.

"Marry me," she said.

Erik laughed. "I intend to, if you'll let me."

Margareta shook her head. "No, marry me. Beacon Isle belongs to me, and to my husband. Marry me and you may have the island." She gazed at Erik. "I ask only one thing."

"Name it," Erik urged.

Margareta wet her lips. "That you love me every night of your life as you did last night."

"I will," Erik vowed.

Mistress Kun cackled. "Sounds like happily ever after to me." She waved at the bodies lined up along the beach. "I will see that everyone knows the boys died far from home and when your father found out, he died of grief. You will inherit, no matter what his wishes were. You are the last of his line now." She gave a little bow to Margareta.

Enchantresses did nothing without a price. "I thank you, Mistress Kun," she said steadily. "How may I repay you for all that you have done for me?"

"For us," Erik corrected.

Kun grinned. "He's right, and I'll ask a favour of you both. Take Melitta and her mother with you when you leave the island. And when you are dowager queen, return to the isle and rule until your grandson comes of age to inherit the position of Master."

"It will be done," Erik vowed, and Margareta nodded, forgetting that she now had the use of her voice.

"A blessing on you both," Kun said gravely, waving her hand in their direction. "May you have your happily ever after as long as you both shall live." And with that, she disappeared.

Erik turned to Margareta. "Is this truly what you want? Will you be happy?"

For the first time in seven years, Margareta laughed aloud. "You already owe me your life, squire. I know you'll make me happy. I only hope I can return the favour."

"You already do," Erik said fervently. "And you always will."