The Girl from the Sea

Chapter 5: A home away from home

They were on the road for two days. Only two days, but they were the longest two in Shale's short memory. It didn't help that on the night in-between she only slept in fits, dreaming of ocean depths and monster maws, of hurt eyes and her own inadequacies, all set in places that melted away as soon as the real world touched them.

They arrived at the city just after nightfall, and the company dispersed, each to their own home. Abigail hugged Shale and said she was going to go stay at her son's house, and would she be all right? And was she sure?

And Shale nodded and lied, and something in Abigail's eyes said that she didn't believe her, but she wasn't going to push. She squeezed Shale's shoulder and said she would see her in the morning, and then she headed off into the night, silhouetted in the glow of the lanternlamps until she disappeared.

It was just Shale and Ettore then, and he mentioned, in a tone that implied a question, that it was late, but not too late, and the king and queen might still be up?

They might, yes, but they also might have gone to bed, Shale responded, and Ettore nodded, his answer found.

So they went to his house, and now she was here: curled up in a guest room bed that, while it did not reek of opulence, was softer than anything she had felt in her life, and smelled pleasantly of citrus and cloves.

His children were asleep, Ettore had explained as they left their shoes by the door, but if she was up before they left, he would introduce them. There would be breakfast in the morning, and Abigail was coming for brunch, but she should sleep as late as she wanted, and when she was ready, he would take her to the palace.

Shale nodded after every part, and he showed her to the room, and she curled up in the clothes that she was wearing, and now she was here, looping through the day, eyes stuck open and fastened on the pool of moonlight spilling through the curtains onto the floor.

She lay for hours, tossing and turning as her active mind cycled through memory after memory. She wanted nothing more than to sleep, but everything was wrong. The moonlight was too dim, as if veiled behind a screen, and the room was darker than any midnight she had ever seen.

It was like a trance, but every time she slipped deeper, her mind jolted her alert with danger, danger, and she knew there was none, but still she was awake.

It was hours before she willed herself from the bed, the dull rumble of her stomach having grown sharp enough that it could no longer be ignored, gnawing at her insides with chalky teeth. She retrieved the unlit lamp Ettore had left on the far bookshelf for her, though she did not light it for fear of being seen

The chilled air of the house nipped at her skin, and she took one of the blankets from the bed with her, swaddling herself in its fleecy bulk.

Shale didn't have a plan, exactly. She was a guest in a stranger's home and would rather wither to dust in a borrowed bed than disturb her hosts' slumber. But this was a house, and a house with children, no less. There had to be food somewhere.

The stairs creaked as she made her way down them, and though Shale flinched at every pop and groan, she made it to the foot of the stairs without incident.

The hall was dark, lit only by the barest shafts of moonlight creeping through gaps in the thick curtains. There was something in the air; some ominous foreboding, and a shiver seized Shale's body, rippling through her every limb and loosening her grip on the unlit lamp. She fumbled to catch it, but it was too late; the metal base had already hit the ground with a clattering noise so loud that Shale's hands immediately flew to her ears.

She hardly dared breathe until the ringing had faded-- not only from the air of the room, but from her own head as well. There was no sound from upstairs, no pounding footsteps, no pealing bells to send the whole town running--