Pirates, Princes, and Stars

chapter two

Anahita saw her prince every morning by the cliffs.

By the rocks, the sun bled yellow into the clear water. He would kick off his boots and dip his feet into the sea, a little more cautious of it now than he had been before the storm. The morning breeze was soft and salty, and it carried with it the voices of gulls and far-away waves. White flies blew in the warm air like breadcrumbs.

Anahita would swim to the spot where the sun speckled the sea. Chamber stayed in the shade.

"Tell me about ballrooms," she would say. Or, "Tell me about horses." Or, "Tell me about shoes."

Chamber would talk for hours while the sun burned the back of his neck, and the ocean winds tangled his pale hair. His skin turned bronze on his arms and below the knee, which was as high as he rolled his trouser legs. The more they spoke, the more Anahita noticed about him. His hands were huge. These were the hands of a sailor, calloused from the ropes. She noticed how when his hair caught the light, it shone like the sun on the waves, and how his eyes creased with laughter when she said something that amused him. She spent all day collecting things to tell him.

In return, he brought food.

"This is a lemon cake," he prattled, handling it how farmers hold newly hatched chicks. He had taken a little piece and wrapped it in a handkerchief to take down to the cliffs for Anahita.

She swam a little closer to the rocks. The sun was hot on her wet skin. "It smells," she noted, carefully unwrapping it.

"Try some."

The took a bite, and it fell apart in her mouth. Her eyes widened; she had never tried something so rich before. "This is amazing!" she cried, and a few crumbs fell out of her mouth. She wiped them off her chin with her forearm. "I love butter!"

"You know what you would love," said Chamber, shielding his eyes from the sun. "Shell cakes. They're these little almond-cakes shaped like shells – I don't know why I didn't think of that before."

The next day he hurried to the rocks carrying shell cakes, and the next day a venison pie, and the next day a fruity summer wine. They poured two glasses and they sat beneath the sun, drinking and laughing.

Anahita had noticed something about Chamber's laughter. Once she had conjured it, she wanted to do it again and again and again. Each new one was a victory.

"What do they eat under the sea?" Chamber asked her.

Anahita shrugged. "Tell me more about smoked fish! Those sound tasty."

"Is that not cannibalism?"

"Does that not apply to mammals too? Is it cannibalism when men eat pigs?"

"Sometimes," he joked.

The next day he brought her smoked mackerel, baked into a buttery pastry. This was her favourite food so far. He brought her berries, and biscuits, and small green cakes made with pistachio nuts. She devoured each one, and with them his stories.

"Yes," he laughed as they lay on their backs on the hot rocks. "It was mortifying. I had to fight him off with nothing but a wet boot!"

"But where were the rest of your clothes?"

"His horrible little son had stolen them while I was in the river!"

"Oh my god," she groaned, her shoulders shaking with laughter. She covered her face with her hands as she cackled, trying not to imagine the story too vividly. "Men are idiots!"