Chapter Twenty-Four #2
“I don’t understand why you aren’t furious with me.” My voice feels like it comes from someone else.
“When you take a wounded thing to your breast, there’s always the risk that they’ll bite.
I had thought… hoped… I could convince you to help me.
Together, I think we could have turned the tides of history.
” He looks away now, musing. It’s like he’s speaking to himself.
“It felt like such an excellent opportunity. A queen of the sea. Who better to help me to succeed at the great task? She’d want it, too, I thought.
A Lighthouse to guard her people. She kept saying she wanted them safe.
What could make them safer? And it was part of the list of great acts to marry you.
Wed the drowned queen. It was such a tidy solution.
Would you really have preferred to marry whoever else might have turned up on the docks?
” He looks at me now with soulful eyes. “It might have been Aurelius. Or Treseano and whatever he keeps in that horrible sack. It might have been you chained like this when he was done with you. I thought I could do better for you than that. Was I so wrong?”
“No,” I say miserably. “If you’d just told me.”
He looks away and I can’t read what is behind his careful mask.
“Mistakes were made by both of us. I didn’t bet on you being a recent widow. I didn’t bet on you mourning a dead husband. It seemed… wise… to wait. To allow you time to grieve. Not to force things. Maybe it was selfish.”
“Selfish?” I move a little closer and flinch when he turns sharply to catch my eye again.
“I waited to be wed to you more fully. Out of respect. Out of what I thought was kindness.” He bites his lower lip in a way that reminds me that he kissed me before I betrayed him.
“Out of the hindrance of a wound in an inconvenient spot,” I counter, because as touching as his words are, I’m not about to be lured by half-truths.
He shakes his head. I see his arm twitch like he wants to make that chopping gesture he does when he’s in disagreement.
“Do me the honor of more credit than that. Marriage to a god is eternal. I had time to win your favor. I just didn’t bet on you killing me first.”
He’s sweating worse now, and when I glance at the water, the blood is staining it more deeply red. Does he really do this every single day? I feel lightheaded for a moment and must fight to keep my wits about me.
“I thought the dead would feel nothing, even had they not crossed yet to the Nightwaters, and yet you are tortured here,” I say, twisting my hands one in another.
“Don’t fuss over my pain, Coralys. It’s nothing. Here, come here.”
He sounds worried and I realize I’m crying again. I dash my tears away. Unhelpful things.
“Tell me what troubles you,” he says gravely. His face is full of understanding. His muscles flex against his bonds, standing out sharply, as if he would like to embrace me even now. “Is it the work of leading the people?”
I shake my head, appalled; he is what troubles me.
“In part,” I say, and then I tell him about how I have done so far. Of my failures. Of how our enemies encroach. Of how the people creatively interpret my every move and don’t see me as a god at all—or at least pay no mind to my warnings or pleas.
“You found the book and my list?” he asks me gently. “Of tasks?”
I nod wearily.
He nods, too, but his seems more like he’s trying to convince himself of something.
“Just five of those tasks are enough to do a great wonder, Lady of the Sea. They could perform a miracle, change the course of time. They might raise the dead.” I feel my breath hitch at that.
“How much more might ten achieve? I think they could draw that Lighthouse back up and shield our people forever. And you can still do that. Somehow—I never expected it for a moment—but somehow the task you accomplished was added to mine. You do not have to start afresh. It will be harder without me, but not impossible.”
Now, his eyes glow. He wants this more than he wants to be free of torture. More than anything.
“I saw the list,” I say. “And if I’m not much mistaken you’ve done—or we’ve done—three of the tasks. You married the drowned queen and collected the dead to serve you, and I filled a thimble with riches.”
I’m a little smitten by his smile. I dare anyone not to be.
“Four tasks,” he murmurs. “For you won a god’s oath—mine, when I swore to you that I would be your husband.”
“That seems unfair to complete two tasks at once.”
“Ah, but I did not need to bind my soul to you, nor did you need to wed, so both count.”
“And you would like me to complete all ten and raise your Lighthouse as a sanctuary for our people.”
His face is full of longing. “More than anything.”
“But if you know who has you tied here, I can make him free you,” I say, leaning toward him. I want to end his pain. “And then we can work on raising this Lighthouse together.”
He’s already shaking his head. “To do that you’d need to kill another god.
” I start to interrupt, but he speaks over me.
“Which would be harder if you don’t have their trust as you had mine.
Nearly impossible, as the gods are dividing into sides to fight and they will be suspicious of everyone—but especially someone who has just murdered her husband. ”
I flush at that. “It’s not the only way. You said five tasks would restore a life.”
He nods, but he doesn’t look happy. “And they would. But I beg you not to spend them on me, for how else will we raise the Lighthouse? We would have to complete all five a second time in a different way—did you read that in the story of Princess Kilinippa?—and while perhaps we could find a new way to collect our dead to serve than by trapping their souls in pearls, we’ll have quite a hard time finding a second drowned queen to wed.
Unless, like Plector, you’re willing to drown an innocent mortal woman. ”
I swallow. I still think it would be easier to redo five tasks with his help than to do six without him.
To distract myself and delay answering, I stand and examine his restraints.
They burn my fingers and cannot be moved by any power I possess.
I close my eyes and try to feel for what bargain I might offer to set them free.
Can I be ill and draw in the pain myself?
Can I pay by taking his place for a time or by stabbing through my own wrists with spikes?
But there is no offer I can make to free him.
Each one I think of dissolves away in the certain knowledge it is not enough.
“No mortal tool will cut those and nor will your power take them away,” Okeanos says earnestly.
“I am not the first god to face such a fate, nor will I be the last. If I was whole, perhaps… but I am not whole.” He pauses.
“Forget me. Forget this place. Finish the tasks and raise the Lighthouse. Give our people a place of safety that cannot be snatched from them.”
I say nothing, stubbornly staring at his prison.
“Coralys,” he says, and still I ignore him. “Cora.”
The tender way he says my name finally draws my gaze.
“Oke,” I say belligerently, and the tiniest flicker of a smile shows in the corner of his mouth. Maybe it’s all he can manage in so much torment.
“You cannot change the past. You cannot take back what you’ve done. You cannot absolve yourself with your actions now. Not even by freeing me.”
I shiver.
“But tell me this. Do you still believe me guilty of the crimes you thought were mine?”
“No.” My voice is small.
“Do you think I mean to harm your people?”
“No.” None has planned more to save them. I steal a look at his green eyes and feel as though I have been stabbed right through.
“Do you think I mean to harm you?” he says gently, and his eyes are so deep, so careful in how he holds my gaze that I choke a little.
“No.”
“That is enough for me,” he says quietly, and when I look at his face again his eyes are very serious. “I need nothing more from you. Though I would like it if you finished the work, I don’t require it. Do you understand? Do you… do you know what I’m trying to say?”
“I think I do,” I say, but I’m shaking again, and rivers of sweat run from his temple and drip down his jaw and I know it is all he can do to keep from screaming.
“Good.”
He has forgiven me, I think. Absolved me. Never has he felt so godlike as he does now, as he forgives a sinner with a simple word.
He clears his throat. “Do not pursue more revenge. Please. It will bring neither of us satisfaction. Promise me this.”
I am silent. It is not in my nature to make such a promise. But when his eyes catch mine again, I must swallow, because he ought to be able to ask me anything and receive a yes after what I’ve done. He has the right to ask this of me.
“Yes,” I say faintly. I look away, no longer able to meet the intensity of his gaze. “I will look to your Lighthouse.”
“You are doing a better job than you think,” he says, and it’s the gentleness that breaks me—that he’s offering me kindness when it ought to be offered to him.
I squeeze my eyes shut and I think of what I can do for him. I can’t get revenge. I can’t free him from the anchor. I can’t stop the creatures from coming to eat him… but maybe I can offer him guardians to drive them away?
I look into his stormy eyes one last time and I say, “I’ll fix this.”
And then I make my bargain and the world seems very far away; my legs grow very long, and my skin so hard I can feel nothing at all, my clothing and the pearl cuirass slip down my body and I must scramble to escape their cloying grasp.
I think I hear him call my name, but words mean nothing to me anymore.
I slip into the water like a stone but not before I see two massive crabs tearing into Oke’s torturers and ripping them to pieces.