The Captain's Entertainer (Zolan Book 4)

1

🌊 ELYSTIA 🌊

I stare at the ocean. The one I've never crossed but dream of every night.

I've lived on this island all my life. So has my family and the generations before. We've been on this island for so long that the stories of the rest of Zolan have begun to degrade. No one knows the name of the capital anymore. All we know is this island which we're forbidden to leave.

I'm told my great-great-grandmother was a queen who traveled far and wide and conquered the world. Sometimes I wonder if that's just a high tale.

"Hey, I think I see some movement," my sister whispers.

We've been crouched in the same position for an hour. Another person's thighs would be burning, but I've been hunting for so many years that this position is second nature.

I keep staring at the ocean because I know Vexara is wrong. Her poor vision makes hunting difficult. She always confuses a particular branch as a bird.

"It's a branch," I remind her.

She chuckles. "I always fall for that one."

My sister doesn't let her poor vision stop her from being a great hunter. She has exceptional hearing and can toss a spear with frightening accuracy.

"Are you excited about the fresh blood ceremony?" she asks.

The fresh blood ceremony is when a few elders recruit Zolans to bring to the island and marry the natives. The Crown has protected this exchange for centuries. Although I've reached the age of marriage, I've never requested a husband. If I married, I would be stuck on the island forever.

I sigh. "Not really, Exara. You know that another girl's dream is my nightmare. I want to get off this island, not set roots in it."

A Pokii crawls out of its burrow and shakes its dark green fur. I don't blink as I lift an arrow and pull back my bowstring. I hear the soft creak of the cord. A sound as familiar as my heartbeat.

I aim and release the arrow. It cuts through the wind and strikes true. The Pokii falls over, and I finally stand from my crouched position.

I retrieve my arrow and wipe the bloody tip on my pants.

"Nice," Exara smiles, setting the blunt end of her spear on the ground.

It took me years to develop my skill with the bow, but I love this weapon and the freedom it gives. I've always wanted to fly away like an arrow.

"Let's go home," I say, tying the Pokii to my hunting belt.

"Yeah. Mom is probably chopping the herbs already."

We check our traps, which remain empty. Smoke rises from the village, and a fellow hunter waves as we leave the forest. Most hunters are male, but our father taught us to look after ourselves when he became ill. He died years ago, and every day I miss him more.

"Hi Mom," I say as I push past the door to our home. The wood is chipped and old. It's time to replace it.

"Girls!" Our mother smiles brightly at us. She's wearing her nicest blue dress, and her long black hair is in a bun. The dress is off-the-shoulder, revealing her red skin mixing with her tanned shades.

Since we have Zolan and human blood, the people on the island have mixed features. My skin is mainly red. My face, legs, and arms have red skin, but there are tanned shades on my belly and thighs.

"Your grandmother is joining the elders in the search for fresh blood. I told her to bring you two husbands."

I sigh and set my bow down. "I don't want that."

We have had the same argument every summer since I became an adult. I'm twenty-five now and I'm sure we will have the same argument for twenty-five more years. I don't want my husband to be brought to me. I want to find him in the wild.

"Please don't start again–"

"No, Mom. I'm tired of being pressured into marriage. I just want to hunt. Why isn't that enough for a woman to be happy?"

Exara looks torn. She has been avoiding marriage because of her eyesight. She hoped to improve it with treatment but recently gave up. She accepts her body and is ready for a husband.

Nothing is holding me back from marriage except the world across the ocean. I want to travel. Something is calling out for me. I can feel it in my bones.

"Fine! Then go." She says with tears in her eyes. "Go out to that cruel, dangerous world."

The argument always ends when she cries. The guilt stabs me like a thousand arrows. I don't want to abandon my family, but I won't be allowed back if I leave the island. Only the elders can leave and return.

"Go," Exara whispers.

My eyes widen. "What?" I blurt in English, the human tongue. Vexara always stays out of this argument, refusing to pick sides. This is the first time she stands beside me.

"Go and find your happiness," she says, wrapping her arms around our crying mother.

I'm too stunned to speak. I remove my hunting belt and leave the house.

Guilt squeezes my throat. Why can't I feel satisfied living on this tiny island with my family and friends? Why must I feel so attracted to the unknown?

I go to our backyard and lean against a tree. I think of the stories my grandmother used to tell us when we were younger. I had always been able to connect with The Small Mermaid. A young maiden who left her underwater world to walk on land and explore the world. She loved wearing shoes and was gifted a glass slipper by a prince. She wore those glass slippers to all her adventures. The story has many strange twists involving pumpkins, dwarves, and fairy godmothers, but I loved it anyway. I wanted to be as brave as the Small Mermaid.

But I don't know if I have it in me to leave everyone I love.

I stay outside until the night falls. And when I walk back home, I don't meet anyone's eyes. I eat my dinner, mumble a goodnight, and lay in bed as I dream of glass slippers.

– • –

It has been a week since I confronted my mother. The elders have returned with fresh blood: two wives and three husbands for the island natives.

Exara and I remain single.

I've been hunting for longer hours; getting lost in the wilderness, and pretending I don't have it memorized. But it's futile. I've hunted in this forest for so long that I know every tree and burrow.

Hearing approaching footsteps, I stand and turn around. My mother and grandmother are coming. That's strange. They never wander so far from the village.

I stand and meet them, scanning the distance for predators.

"Hey, is everything okay?" I ask, taking my grandmother's free arm to help her over a few rocks.

"We've been talking over the past week, honey."

Honey is a human word. There is no Zolan translation. I can only find these quirky, endearing names at home. The rest of the world will not understand me like my people do.

My more glances at my bow, her eyes sorrowful. "We think we have stopped you for too long. I'm sorry."

I raise a hand. "Stop. It's okay, mom."

I will avoid this conversation for another year to keep her from crying.

"No!" She says, hugging grandmother tighter. "You need to live for yourself, not for me or my expectations. So go, my beautiful daughter. See the world."

This is supposed to be the happiness day of my life. Instead, I'm crying. Torn by sadness and guilt.

I don't want to leave my family, but I know I'll never be satisfied with life if I stay on the island.

"I'm sorry," I sob.

I'm sorry for not being the daughter you want me to be.

My grandmother shakes her head. "You have the blood of a queen. Don't ever forget that. Don't you ever apologize for that."