Droplets (DROPLETS Trilogy Book 1) (17 page)

17. Past

Moments later I was once more being led around the palace, this time by Kryssa. We passed through rooms and corridors, but I hardly noticed my surroundings. The anger in Patrick’s eyes was forever burned in my mind and I knew he would never forgive me.

     I did not speak, but followed Kryssa obediently. The decisions made after Patrick’s departure were all a blur. I clung to one hope though. Tunder had immediately left to go after Patrick, the worry on his face was evident.

     It was then decided that I should stay in Lathmor for a few nights until they could figure out what was to be done. King Oberon granted me the privilege of staying in a guest bedroom, but I declined in favor of staying with Kryssa after she offered. Being alone in a foreign room was not something I wanted to face at the moment. Kryssa would provide the needed distraction to keep me from worrying about what I’d done to Patrick.

     I was surprised with how quickly my story was accepted. As soon as I had flashed my scar, the king had declared me a victim rather than a threat; yet I was still to be kept in secret on the island. All the more reason to stay with Kryssa, because, as she said, no one would suspect it. It was obvious as we skittered around the palace that she was taking me through rarely used halls and roundabout rooms.

     “Here we are,” she said quietly, coming upon a white painted wooden door.

    With a quick lift of the metal latch, the door opened and I followed her into the wide open space. The room was airy with pastel green rugs on the floor and matching gauzy curtains in the windows. Her bed was white with a veiled canopy cresting the top, and soft pink and yellow thread was stitched into the pillows and sheets to match the flowers growing just outside the large bedroom window.

     The room was beautiful and cheerful even with the dark skies outside. I could only imagine how bright it must be during the day. In a sense the room was in contrast to what I knew of Kryssa’s character—maybe there was more to her than I expected.

     “It’s a little girly, but I like it,” Kryssa spoke softly to break the silence.

     “It’s lovely,” I said forcing a smile. Kryssa’s relieved expression made me glad I had said so.

     “I’ll get you some bed clothes. Feel free to look around,” she called over her shoulder as she opened a door that led to a large walk-in closet.

     While she was inside I perused the room, my eyes focusing on a small stack of books beside the bed on a little table. Looking at the old titles and worn covers of the works of literature, I knew they had come from Patrick’s library.

     Distracting myself from thinking of him, I stepped into the closet timidly. Inside was a sight I had never seen before: dresses of all different cuts, styles, and designs hung from various rows, one on top of the other. I couldn’t help but notice that some of the dresses looked as though they were from different time periods, much older than the girl who was pulling clothes out of a worn dresser beside me.

     “Beautiful, aren’t they?” Kryssa asked once she saw me gaping at the wall of dresses, and, at a loss for words, I nodded. “You accumulate a lot of dresses when your sister is a seamstress.” Kryssa  laughed to herself and walked out of the closet, clothing in hand.

     “Which one?” I asked, exiting the smaller enclosure.

      “Hmm?” Kryssa muttered as she changed her clothes and tossed a pair of simple shorts and camisole to me.

     “Who makes the dresses, Shaylee or Nixie?”

     “Oh,” Kryssa said, distracted as she threw her clothes across the room. I began to strip my clothes off after checking to make sure the door and curtains were firmly closed. “That’s all Nixie, she’s been sewing ever since she was little.” Kryssa was tugging on the bed’s comforter while she spoke.

     “How old is she anyway?”

     “She’s sixteen and a half, but she acts younger most of the time.” Kryssa laughed affectionately. Her behavior was more open and real than I’d ever seen before.

     Once I had finished changing, I walked over to help get everything settled. Just as I was about to climb under the covers, Kryssa spoke up.

     “Do you mind if I ask you some questions?” The words sounded formal, but the concern in her eyes told me she was only curious.

     “Sure,” I shrugged, grabbing a pillow and crossing my legs to sit on her bed.

     Kryssa leaned over and flicked the lights off. For a moment we were in complete darkness, but then a small lamp clicked to life on the bedside table. The warm glow of the light cast our shadows on the walls.

     “So, what do you want to know?”

     Kryssa took a large breath before voicing her concerns. “How did it all happen? I mean, did he say anything? Were you afraid of him?”

    Her inability to form her questions clearly gave me the comfort I needed to find my voice. That night was not easy to speak about, but I knew it would help me to get the pain of it out in the open.

     “It’s like I said before, he changed me by placing some of his own flesh inside the cut.”

     She nodded, “I know that. I guess what I meant was how come he didn’t take you with him? Or do you even know?”

     “He told me it was because I was too young.” I plucked at the comforter, slightly self-conscious of the way she was looking at me as though I were a fascinating creature. She should look in the mirror more often.

     “Wait,” she said holding up a hand, “how old are you?”

     Her question reminded me all too much of the way Morven had prodded me for my age. “Seventeen.” I revealed.

     Kryssa’s mouth fell open. “Did he know how young you were?”

     I nodded, “Yes, he asked me just before he cut my hip.”

     “Unbelievable,” Kryssa muttered under her breath.

     “Sorry, but what is unbelievable?” I bit my lip nervously, not really sure why she was so astonished.

     Kryssa took a very large breath. “You don’t have control over your fins do you?”

     “What do you mean?”

     “If you are submerged in water you automatically transform into a mermaid.” Her words were a statement, not a question.

     “Yes,” I confirmed regardless. Again she sighed heavily, and I wondered what she was thinking about. “I have a lot of questions, too,” I said, hoping she would answer them.

     “I expected that,” her lips pulled at the corners of her mouth. “It’s why I told father you could stay with me. I had a feeling you knew very little about us, even though you somehow figured out we were merfolk.” She quirked an eyebrow.

     “It was your hair,” I pointed. “I saw it in the wind as we were walking up here earlier today.”

     “Ahh,” she nodded. “I was wondering how you knew.” There was a twinkle in her eyes as though she appreciated my perception.

     “Now,” she clapped her hands together, “what questions do you have?”

     A million thoughts flooded my mind, but there was one person whom the most questions revolved around. He was a complete mystery, something entirely unknown.

     “Tell me about Patrick,” I requested softly while staring at my hands. “Please.”

     Silence followed my words, and I looked up to see Kryssa staring toward the window, her face a mask of indecision.

     “I will tell you all I can. But I don’t know the whole story.” I nodded calmly, though inside excitement was steadily building within my chest.

     “It happened when I was very young so I don’t know exactly what took place. But first, you need to know something about merfolk.” Her eyes were very serious as I gazed into them. “We do not live like humans do.” She shook her head when I scrunched my face in confusion. “What I mean, is we live much longer than humans.”

     “You’re immortal,” I said without thinking. Kryssa shook her head.

     “No, we live our lives and we’ll die eventually, but our life span is much longer.” She paused for a moment and said quietly, “It will happen to you too, Lissie.”

     The thought hit me hard. Did it mean I would outlive my family? Would I surpass them by a lot? Genuine concern flitted across Kryssa’s face.

     “You’ll notice a great decline in the way your body changes once you turn eighteen. You won’t grow and change at such a quick rate.” A solemn look passed over her face like a shadow. “What Morven did to you was wrong. The act of changing a human into a mermaid or merman without their consent is one of the cruelest acts any merperson can place upon another. What he did to you is an old art that began a long time ago.”  I narrowed my eyes, intrigued, and waited for her to continue. She laughed. “I can see you want answers.”

     I didn’t even bother to bob my head in response, I just hugged the pillow closer to my chest.

     “First, you need to know that some of the answers to your questions can be answered through our history; others will be through Patrick’s story.”

     I waited in anticipation, pleased she was going to tell me the truth.

     Taking a deep breath, Kryssa began to speak in a far off voice.

     “Merfolk, as I said, live longer lives than humans. I was born,” she hesitated for a moment, “in the year 1052.” She waited, while I did all I could to control my expression. The life span she had spoken of earlier took on a whole new meaning.

     “In comparison to humans, merfolk live one year to every fifty years of a human life. With that in mind, I am nine-hundred and fifty-seven years old in human years.” I stared at Kryssa in the dim light, completely stunned. The silence made me aware of the vast expanse between us; we were more different than I had thought.

     “Is Patrick?” I began, barely able to form the question fully with my dry lips.

     Kryssa shook her head, “Before I can tell you about him, you will have to understand some Lathmorian history.” I nodded. “The merfolk, like my father said earlier, have always been a peaceful species with one king ruling over the entire population. We do not multiply quickly, so Lathmor had always been a large enough island for all merfolk to live on, and no one had ever left. This all changed when my mother inherited the throne.

     “Her name was Cordelia, and she was a princess like my sisters and me. Her father and mother failed to provide a male heir to the throne, and so the duty of finding a worthy husband who could rule as king fell to her. Many of the mermen grasped for her hand, but she chose my father Oberon.

     “Her decision was met with approval by all except her childhood friends, Nerissa, her cousin,  and a merman who was in love with my mother, Pyron. When my mother chose my father over Pyron, Pyron fell into despair and his anger toward all Lathmorians grew. Nerissa, who had been infatuated with Pyron ever since she was a child, tried to coax him out of his depression but nothing worked. At least, not until Nerissa began to spin tales of how they could overthrow my father and rid him of the throne of Lathmor.

     “Together, Pyron and Nerissa began to dabble in an art which was forbidden: the practice of transforming humans into merfolk.” Kryssa paused at that moment and my heart felt as though it was lodged in my throat. “They changed many humans, hiding them in caves on the island, but they could not make them powerful enough to fight against a merman. Their plot was discovered when merfolk heard the tortured screams of humans. Pyron was trying to teach them how to fight, relentlessly using his blades on those who had no weapons of their own.”

     The image forming in my mind sent shivers through my spine. I could just see this Morven-like creature slicing through the innocent without a thought for their pain. The nightmare that came to me most nights flashed in my mind.

     “Pyron and Nerissa were sentenced to death, but my mother banished them instead. She could not forget the friends of her youth and would not have them die by her hand.

     “Years later, when I was four years old, Nerissa returned to the palace secretly. I remember when it happened. She came into the nursery where my mother was putting us to bed. Nixie was already asleep in the cradle, and my mother jumped up to protect us. But Nerissa just laughed at her and told her she was not here for revenge. She spoke of how she had succeeded, finally figured out the way in which she would dominate the human and merfolk world.

     “Maybe it was because my mother had spared her life, or because she still loved my mother, I don’t know. But Nerissa asked to be allowed back into Lathmor. She said her new discoveries would permit the merfolk to take over the world. My mother refused and once more Nerissa disappeared.

     “After Nerissa’s visit, my mother was never the same. She blamed herself for Nerissa’s downfall and left Lathmor to find her and stop whatever evil she and Pyron had created. She found Nerissa and killed her. But,” Kryssa’s voice choked with strained emotion, “not without a price. She was fatally wounded upon her return and died a few days later. Our only clue to what happened was with the unconscious man she brought back with her.” Once more, Kryssa stared out the window, wells of water floating in the bottom of her eyes.

     Licking her lips she continued, “We waited for the young man to regain consciousness.” My stomach knotted tightly, I knew just whose past she was speaking of.