Maris Calderon's Arc

Chapter 5 of 14

Maris felt the cold before he saw it. Malachar had slipped from the shadows and fled the swamp. The bond in his chest, thin as a hair, pulsed with fear that was not his own. Elara. He shot from the throne, gripped the three-pronged dagger, and swam. But the shore lay three nights away, and Malachar had a head start. Maris pulled at the thread to warn her. The bond flickered and died back. He could send no words. He could only swim. In her shack, Elara woke to a smell like dead fish. Water pooled under the door. The pearl at her throat had gone cold. She had cared for the wounded stranger here, believed his promise, and let him leave. Now something else had come for her. A shape filled the doorway, tall and dripping. Its fingers ended in curved claws. Long fangs showed when it smiled. Its black eyes found her. "You are what he loves," Malachar said. His voice slid like oil. "Then you are what he loses." Elara backed against the wall. Beside her sat a worn wicker basket, lined with moss and scraps of cloth. Inside it, wrapped in a small patched blanket, her baby stirred and cried out. Malachar froze. His claws lowered. The cold in the room broke like a wave hitting rock. "A child," he hissed. He stared at the basket. "His child. Bound by blood, not gift." His whole body pulled back from it, as if the crying burned him. "I cannot touch what siren blood protects. This is old law." Elara did not understand the words, but she saw his fear. She lifted the basket and held it before her like a shield. Malachar's claws scraped the wall. He wanted her dead. He could not reach past the child. The infant's cry rose higher. Malachar clamped his hands over the sides of his head. "You are safe from me," he spat. "But tell the false king this. He won a throne and left his son unguarded on shore. Next time I will bring men who are not blood-bound. Next time the child will not save you." He turned and dragged himself back into the dark water. Elara sank to the floor, the basket in her lap. Her baby quieted against her chest. She did not know what she was, or what her child was. She only knew a monster had run from a crying infant. Maris reached the shore at dawn, skin cracking in the light. He crawled into the shack and found Elara awake, the pearl cold at her throat, the basket rocking beside her. She looked at him with new eyes. "What is he," she said. It was not a question. "What are you. What is our son." Maris looked at the child he had never seen. The bond had saved her without him. And now, at last, she would learn the truth he had hidden.