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I swallow hard, and thankfully the gills don’t open of their own volition.Calm down,I tell myself, putting several steps between us to catch my breath.He kept me alive, that’s what's important. Right? That has to mean he doesn’t intend on eating me.
My laugh is soft and wild as I come to terms with the repercussions. I am alive, but I will never be accepted by other humans, not like this. They would be reviled by my changes and kill me on the spot, or send me over the edge of a ship. I would have to hide this truth forever if I went back to the island. Laiken has marked me irreparably.
Silent tears chase down my cheeks, and Laiken tilts his head at me.
“What did you do to me?”
“I saved your life,” he says simply, with no true remorse. No guilt. Just cold concern that doesn’t quite read in his neutral countenance. “You could not survive down here otherwise.”
I did not want to be dragged down here, I want to scream at him, but what good would it do? He doesn’t understand what he’s done beyond taking whatever he pleases. “I had a home, you know. And friends and…” My throat closes up.
What do I have, really?
Men who would take advantage of me if they had me in their grasp? Friends who wouldn’t lift a finger if Malachi decided he was fed up with me playing hard to get? Really, what do I have up there?Nothing,is the answer.Nothing but pain.
I look Laiken over again, swiping away an errant tear. He may not resemble the shape of a man or elf, but he exudes true concern for me. It’s unnatural, this fragile connection we have. But what if I did accept it? He saved my life, after all.
What if I gave him a chance?
12
LAIKEN
It’s been 48 hours since my eyes crossed hers. 48 hours since I knew I had to capture her for myself.
She wanders around my lair, fascinated by every detail and consistently gasping at every revelation.
She asks me about the murals on the walls and this cavern’s former occupants, about life down here and whether I really live alone, and about all manners of trivia that I’ve never bothered to ask.
I’ve never thought much about this cavern – it’s a space in which I can dwell and hide my treasures. That’s all that interests me about it. What fascinates me more, as I shadow her through the halls and crevices of my lair, is her reaction to my world and the things she values.
Down here, I have sequestered gold and riches beyond the comprehension of mere mortals. But what she chooses to focus on, instead, is the historical past of this place and my own past.
Why are origins so compelling to her? Why does it matter if there are more like me, or where I came from?
For 36 minutes, I have been trailing her, watching her point out inane details.
Who cares who previously occupied this cavern? They are probably dead now, and if they aren’t, they’re not living here now.
“I have a question for you,” I say, following her again toward the ocean entrance. She looks up at it with reverence, as though compelled to question why the water doesn’t simply flow in, desiring to know the spell that keeps moisture out despite being unable to cast it.
“Ah, finally talking now, are we?”
She seems intrigued to hear me speak. I say nothing as we walk back into the larger chamber.
Her expectant gaze puzzles me. “What did you want to ask?”
I peer into her eyes, losing myself in their sheen. “Why are you here?” I ask.
She looks puzzled. It felt like the most straightforward question I could have asked her. I could have questioned what it’s like to move without tentacles, or how she eats with such small, dull fangs.
“What do you mean? You brought me here. I thought you could have told me that yourself.”
“No.”
“No?”
She is still more confused. She presses her arm against the cavern wall and traces against its contours, as though seeing something I don’t.
