Chapter Sixteen
T he shell of the faerie clam is wider than my family home.
Every clam filters the water that surrounds it. Faerie clams are little different, except that the waters surrounding them are filled with fae magic. They cannot help but be extraordinary.
The ridged shell of this one is covered in undulations, the rosy blush on its surface smattered by moondust. I know the tales of these creatures. Niamh even showed them to me once before, from a distance.
But a pearl from these clams? That, I’ve never seen.
I’d never hoped to see one, either.
When must I make the bargain? I ask as we swim closer to the clam. The creature appears larger by the second, lumiscent even in the fading light.
“You must lay your hand—er, hoof, upon it,” Niamh says, “and offer to trade for its pearl. If your intentions are good, it will open for you. I think.”
I nearly pull up. You think?
“I’ve never actually seen it done. I only know the tales, just as you.”
She doesn’t need to tell me the rest. Niamh’s never seen it done because she doesn’t know anyone desperate enough to try it. But it can’t be helped.
I’ve come too far to give up now.
The rosy clam fills up my vision as I swim near enough to touch it. I extend my foreleg, reaching toward it as if about to paw the ground.
I expect something—a flood of golden light, or a wrenching pain as something is taken from me. Instead, my heart feels calm as the faerie clam opens its shell. A pearl the size of my seelie form’s fist floats upward, delicate next to the size of its maker.
I have no hands with which to grasp it. Niamh hangs back, her own tucked beneath her arms as she looks on with unease. So I do the only thing I can, and take it between my teeth.
Nothing happens. I feel no weight of magic upon me, no sense of loss. Unable to speak with the pearl in my mouth, I eye Niamh.
“I guess your cause was worthy,” is all she says.
She glances nervously at the surface far above, the shadow of a whale skimming by. “It’s getting dark, Laoise. You’d better go.” Is it my imagination, or is she trembling? “I won’t see you off. Come visit me later, when you know how it all turns out.”
Something of her phrasing has me on alert. But there’s no time to waste. I came here on a mission, and I’m not going to fail after all this.
When I reach the surface, my aches instantly return. I spare a moment to shake out my mane, then resume my journey. Soon, my hooves are churning up sand. The pearl is pressed tightly against the roof of my mouth as the tide knocks me forward.
Too soon, I am back on land. But I am slower now, my legs and lungs burning ever more intensely as I leave the crash of waves behind me.
I barely make it to the borders of my little court before I stumble. As I land, my tired legs give out.
I’ve gone above and beyond. There’s no more that I can do.
The first puca queen is going to die. I spit out the pearl that carries the essence of the sea.
I return to my seelie form, flop onto my back and clutch my injured arm with that same hand. The stars wheel above me, reminding me that I need to breathe. The pearl sits beside me in the grass, humming softly with power.
I lie there, spent and in pain, for most of an hour, when I hear hoofbeats. With my good arm, I snatch the pearl from the grass, hiding it as best I can beneath my clothes.
A gentle light shines through my tunic. I clamp my hand over it, knowing this is not enough.
“Laoise!” a voice calls. And thank the goddess of the sea, I know its owner.
Too exhausted to sit up completely, I roll onto my side, careful of my arm. Prince Ruairi rides through the grasses, his horse’s nostrils flaring. It looks far better rested than I was at this stage.
Almost rested enough to make the trip back.
“Laoise, are you hurt?” Prince Ruairi slides off the horse, hurrying to my side. He crouches in the dirt beside me, laying his riding gloves upon my shoulders and patting me as though he searches for something.
“It’s just my arm, Your Highness,” I say, wincing when he gets too close to the break. “Don’t trouble yourself over me.”
His brows furrow, but he doesn’t remark upon this, asking only, “Did you find what you were looking for? The essence of the sea?”
I pull the mound from beneath my shirt, revealing the faintly pinkish faerie pearl. Even in the light of the stars and a mere crescent moon, it glows like moondust.
“Laoise, you’re a marvel!” Laughing, Prince Ruairi throws his arms around me, squeezing high on my shoulders.
I almost wish he’d bothered my injured arm. Then it would be easier to get out of this. Instead, I twist my body away, planting my hand on the ground.
I am still not looking at him when he says, “Laoise—I’m sorry, I overstepped. Only I thought—”
“You thought what?” I snap. “There’s no time for what you thought!"
His mouth hangs open. “Laoise. Have these weeks of searching together meant nothing to you? I thought—”
“You have someplace to be,” I interrupt again, already climbing to my wobbly legs. "I'm not going back with you."
“Forgive me. I thought you had warmed to me.”
“Warmed to you? Is that all you can think of—foolish emotions, while the high queen lies on her deathbed?”
He leans back, hurt written all over his face. Why should he be wounded by my rebuke? As a prince, is he simply that used to getting his own way? He needs to get back on his horse, now.
“Laoise,” he begins.
I hold out the pearl. “Take it and go.”
“I’m not leaving you out here alone. You’re injured.”
“Your horse is already tired, and I'd only be added weight. I’m near enough to my grandfather's house. I’ll make it there just fine. Go tend to your queen. I’m sure she’ll know what to do with the pearl. It’ll all work out. Just—stop bothering me and go .”
For some reason, the prince still doesn’t understand. “My steed needs a moment first, or we won't get very far. Laoise, why don’t you wish to see the queen well again? You were in tears in the hallway.”
I heave out a great sigh, feeling the strain still on my lungs. “This position is trouble, and it’s not as though I can do it with a broken arm.” I point my body in the direction of my grandfather’s village. “Now get going!"
“How can you be like that?”
“Like what?”
“So flippant. So cold. ”
“What did you expect? I never wanted this position. My parents were convinced it would be an honor.”
“Laoise,” he says seriously, dropping the pearl into a saddlebag . “I'm not speaking of your position. If you don't plan to return, then you must tell me now. Do you feel anything at all for me?”
My head snaps toward him, every line of my face etched with the sentiment that he’s lost his mind. A swallow seems to catch in his throat.
I can't answer that. I won't.
I don’t stay long enough to see him mount his horse again. But soon I am off, and by the sound of hoofbeats, so is he.
And I think to myself, These royals are nothing but trouble.
I'd be a fool to return to the high court.