Coiled

  Coiled

  By H. L. Burke

  © 2017 H. L. Burke

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, subject line “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at [email protected].

  Uncommon Universes Press LLC

  621 N. Mulberry St.

  Berwick, PA 18603

  www.uncommonuniverses.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Content editing by Janeen Ippolito – www.janeenippolito.com

  Line editing and proofreading by Sarah McConahy

  Cover Design by Julia Busko – www.juliabusko.com

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9974099-8-7

  Dedication

  To my Matt, who showed me the gentleness of true love.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Her mother’s words echoed in Laidra’s thoughts. No skin must show. What can’t be covered in cloth must be cast in shadow. She pulled her hood farther over her face and tucked her gloves into her sleeves.

  Laughter rose from the other side of the curtain. One of the servant boys, eager to impress Laidra’s sister Ellea, had captured a songbird. Princess Ellea had spent the last hour poking the creature to make it cry out, throwing rocks at it when the poking ceased to suffice. Eyes sparkling, she tossed the bird into the air, laughing when its broken wings sent it plummeting to the marble floor. Laidra watched through a moth hole, cringing. She turned away when she could bear it no longer.

  The bird’s frantic cries grew fainter and farther apart. She hazarded a peek.

  Ellea’s perfect complexion shone as if she were carved of the same marble that adorned the hall. Some of her luxurious black curls escaped her bun to tumble around her high cheekbones. The servant boy, Reven, gazed at her, hands clasped as if in worship.

  “I tire of this.” Ellea dropped the bird and started towards the door. Reven blocked her path, but she cuffed him on the shoulder and brushed by, the train of her scarlet mantle sweeping the floor behind her.

  Reven touched where she’d struck him as if the blow were a saint’s blessing.

  “Tell my maid to ready my chamber. I will bathe and change before dinner,” Ellea called out.

  Reven scurried to obey.

  Laidra sank against the wall, listening to their fading steps. Reven wasn’t a cruel youth. She’d seen him grooming horses and feeding stray cats with a gentle touch. The witchcraft of Ellea’s beauty, however, twisted all souls.

  Pushing aside the curtain, Laidra stepped into the gallery, a great open space featuring small marble images of her ancestors on pedestals, ornate tapestries, and niches with gilded idols representing the Olevan gods. Like in all of her sister’s favorite rooms, mirrors filled the empty spaces between the artwork. From her position, Laidra spied a dozen reflections of herself, all shrouded like corpses in ghostly white. She approached the bird, her sandaled feet silent on the polished stone.

  The lump of feathers did not stir. Her stomach churned. Had she come too late? Had her unwillingness to face her sister robbed the bird of its one chance at life? She scooped it up.

  A faint, frenzied heartbeat thrummed in the creature's chest. She slipped off a glove and stroked its matted feathers. Her fingertips warmed, heat rising from the magic in her blood. The bird stiffened, then its wings fluttered. The power beneath Laidra's skin caused her flesh to tingle as healing poured into the bird. The creature's head turned this way and that, its body so fragile she feared to clasp it firmly. With its constant twitching and clawed feet scratching at her palms, it was all she could do to hold on to it until she reached the window. When she threw open her hands, the bird shot into the sky.

  Laidra’s heart eased. An itch on her wrist drew her eyes to a patch of tan skin just as it turned sickly white. A dark, wiry hair sprung from a new wart on her thumb. She sighed and hurriedly replaced her glove.

  “You can’t help yourself, can you?” a dry voice asked.

  Ducking her head, Laidra turned. A wrinkled old woman stood in the doorway—Nera, the chief maid.

  “It was hurt.”

  “It was a bird. Many fall from the sky, and no one notices.”

  “Someone does,” Laidra whispered. She cleared her throat. “It’s not as if I can get any uglier. No one looks at me anyway.”

  “Aye, but if the queen …” Nera stopped and shook her head. “Just don’t let her find out.” She sighed. “Your father’s guests will be here soon. Do you need to eat?”

  “I’ll take my meal in the tower. I’ll go now. They won’t see me.”

  “You know, if you stopped using your gift, the curse might loosen its hold.” Nera strode over and put her hand on Laidra’s shoulder. Her grip tightened through the thick cloth of Laidra’s white robe. “It may be too late for you to stand beside your sister, but at least you could go out or eat with your family or let your face see the sun.”

  “My parents will never …” Her throat constricted. “I’m fine. My gift is my joy, my only joy.” Laidra tilted her head. “Speaking of which, how is your granddaughter?”

  Nera flushed. She cast a glance around the room as if worried Laidra's mother would be lurking. Then she smiled. “Well. She walks again, thanks to you.”

  Warmth crept into Laidra’s chest. That healing had been costly—a dozen new growths on her face and neck—but when the pain left the child’s twisted legs, she had smiled at Laidra.

  In spite of the price, Laidra's gift was everything. Bidding farewell to Nera, she headed for the sanctuary of her private quarters.

  She knew the back ways of the palace: the spiraling stairs and ill-lit halls. Now she climbed one such stair, disappearing into shadows and solitude.

  Going days without speaking to another soul was not unusual for her. Though she was the older of the twins by a full five minutes, Laidra took no lessons, entertained no dignitaries, and never attended state functions. While all knew the tale of her curse, her parents preferred her to be a rumor rather than a curiosity—thank goodness for small mercies.

  She reached her tower room. A single curtained window cast weak light on a writing desk and a stack of scrolls. The faint smell of dust and old parchment filled the space. Though Laidra did her best to keep it neat, cobwebs clung to the beams overhead. With a sigh, she sat on her sleeping couch, pushed
aside the linen cushions, and began peeling off her outer garments: first the gloves, revealing withered hands more suited to a woman of sixty than a girl of sixteen, then the cloak from her bony shoulders, and finally the hood.

  Laidra had successfully avoided her own image for nearly five years—not an easy feat with her sister’s vanity and love of reflective surfaces. However, when Laidra ran her hands over her face, she could feel the warts, crags, and misplaced hairs, like defiant weeds poking through a garden path. She kept her limp dark hair cut short. It lessened the grief when large clumps fell from her head during bathing or brushing.

  She slid her hand under her pillow and found her pipes. Setting them to her lips, Laidra exhaled a steady breath. A mournful tune rose from the instrument as her fingers lightly covered and uncovered the holes. Closing her eyes, she imagined the melody soaring with the wind to places far beyond the palace, where satyrs danced along the riverbanks and played their own pipes cut from reeds.

  Sometimes she would hide in the shadows and listen to the servants tell tales of satyrs and nymphs, now rarely seen in the lands of Oleva. Magical beings had been driven from their homes by her father's armies in retaliation for her cursing. Laidra, however, doubted this version of the story; her father didn’t care about her enough to avenge her. She could easier believe he wanted to clear the land for human farmers and the water for his fishermen.

  The door opened with a creak.

  Laidra dropped the pipes onto her mattress and leaped to her feet.

  Her mother, tall and imperious, averted her eyes. She was dressed for a royal dinner, her glistening black hair held up by an elegant golden net. Gold trimmed her purple tunic.

  “Have you no shame, child?” she snapped. “Cover your face!”

  Laidra fumbled for her hood, turning her back to her mother. Her cheeks flushed.

  Queen Perys cleared her throat. “An important visitor is arriving tonight. I trust you know what that means.”

  “Yes, Mother.” Laidra nodded. “They will not see me.”

  “Be sure that they don’t.”

  Questions simmered in Laidra’s mind. It was not unusual for her to hide from state visitors. What was unusual was her mother taking it upon herself to forbid Laidra from appearing. Normally, she trusted Laidra to know her place.

  “Why? Who is coming?” Settling her hood over her forehead, she faced her mother, eyes on the floor.

  “King Gan of Carta and his son and heir, Prince Volen.”

  Laidra shuffled her feet. King Gan had been her father’s closest ally years before her birth. King Lucan had loaned Oleva’s navy to aid Gan in the civil war against his brother. Though Gan visited with some regularity, she had never heard of his son. Of course, her knowledge of court politics was gleaned from spying at keyholes and skulking in back halls, listening to the gossip of servants.

  Her mother reached forward and pulled Laidra’s hood closer about her face. “A veil would be better suited. Have you no veil?”

  The princess bit her bottom lip. She had, but veils obscured her sight and made her breath feel hot against her face. “I will stay out of the way. The prince will not see me.”

  “See that he doesn’t. It has long been our intent for Carta and Oleva to unite under a single banner. If Volen sees you, it could ruin everything. He must only know of your sister, else he fear to mingle his bloodline with ours.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Laidra whispered. She twisted the cloth of her sleeve between her hands.

  Her mother reached for the doorknob.

  “Mother!” Laidra burst out before she could lose courage.

  The queen raised a well-groomed eyebrow.

  “If Ellea is to marry the Cartan prince, there is no place for me here. You and Father do not want me.”

  The queen’s lips pursed. “You are our child. Have we not protected you?”

  “Yes, but—” Laidra swallowed. Life spent in shadows, only able to use her gift when no one watched for fear of her parents’ wrath. Never spoken of, never acknowledged. “I would leave. There are people in the kingdom I could help. As ugly as I am, my gift—”

  “Your gift? You mean your curse?” Perys's eyes sparked. “You know the consequences of using it. You know why I have forbidden it.”

  “But it helps people!” Laidra clasped her hands.

  Perys’s eyes narrowed. She stepped forward and swiped Laidra’s hood from her face. Laidra cried out and cowered. Her mother grasped Laidra's chin, preventing her escape.

  “By the fates!” Perys pushed Laidra onto the sleeping couch. “You have disobeyed me,” she said through clenched teeth. “You were ugly before, but now! How could you be so foolish? How many times have you invoked the curse’s power?”

  “It’s a gift.” Laidra’s voice cracked. “Mother, I can use it to—”

  “You will do nothing! What am I to do with a child the Gorgons would be loath to call their own?” Perys’s cheeks reddened and her nostrils flared. “Do you really think people will accept you?”

  “I can heal them.” Laidra picked herself up. Tears smarted in the corners of her eyes, and her skin itched with its own ugliness. She fought the desire to tear at it with her fingernails.

  “Ha! You won’t get close enough. When the common folk see you approaching, they will throw you to the dogs.” Perys tossed the hood into her daughter’s hands. “No, you will not spread the tale of your disgrace outside these walls. Be grateful for your obscurity, child. Curse the gods for not giving you the blessing of your sister.”

  The door slammed behind Perys, and Laidra collapsed onto her couch. The one saving grace of her curse, the gift of healing, she couldn’t use, not as she should. Yes, sometimes she could ease the pain of a servant without drawing her mother’s wrath, or heal an injured animal as she had done today. But there were so many she could help if given the freedom she desired.

  She pulled her hood over her face. In spite of her mother’s words, she couldn’t see her sister’s half of the curse as a blessing any more than she could see her ability to heal as anything but a gift.

  Laidra had heard the story a dozen times, how at their first court presentation as infants, a strange gift had been delivered: a bronze mirror, polished and shining like the sun. When it reflected their visages, a mirror curse had been cast. For every wound she healed or ache she soothed, Laidra grew more hideous; for every heart she broke or agony she caused, Ellea became all the more fair.

  Upon realizing the mysterious relic’s power, the king and queen had called the priestess of Ethna, patron goddess of Oleva, to destroy it. However, the harm had been done. Their mother had raised Ellea to value none but herself, an assurance against a kind heart and therefore a sure promise of exquisite beauty. Laidra tried to remember this when she was faced with her sister’s cruelty; their parents had molded her into what she was. Laidra, they did all they could to hide her from the world. At first, they thought they could prevent her ugliness from growing by forbidding her to heal, but at every contact, her gift would manifest, seeking out aches and pains others didn’t realize they had. The simple act of dressing or bathing the young child increased her hideousness.

  By the time she was walking, the king and queen had deemed it a lost battle. The best they could do was hide her from the public eye.

  Laidra sniffed back tears and rose from her couch. Brushing the curtain away from the window, she stared straight at the setting sun—beautiful but harsh, like her sister.

  If people can love Ellea for her beauty even as she hurts them, I have to believe someone could accept me, in spite of my appearance, if I could heal them.

  She sighed. When my sister is wed and my parents weary of me haunting their halls, then I will ask again. I will ask and they will let me find a place where my gift will be valued.

  Chapter Two

  Cool water lapped at Calen’s bare legs, and rough sand grated against his cheek. He moaned, forcing his eyes open. He lay naked on a beach. The sun shone over the cl
ear blue sea, and white foam caressed the lower half of his body. The pale sand formed stripes on his dark skin. He brushed himself off and rose to look for something to cover his nakedness.

  Though if anyone stumbles upon me now, modesty will be the least of my worries.

  He shook the lingering sand out of his close-cropped black curls.

  Shivering in the cold breeze, Calen tried to remember the night before. Fragments presented themselves: his powerful, undulating body crashing through wild waves, the scratching of scales on timbers, screams faint against the roar of surf.

  Oh gods, please don’t let me have hurt anyone.

  He strode up the beach to where the sand gave way to high yellow grass, then low green trees. Behind these, the gray stone towers of the fortress rose like a friendly hand, beckoning him in.

  Somehow, I made it home.

  Calen pushed through a line of young date palms and froze. Less than a stone’s throw up the path, a woman sat on a boulder. She wore a flowing gray tunic, and her dark curls were piled high on her head and wrapped with golden bands. Calen almost fled, but common sense made him take another look.

  She’s so close. If she could see me, she would’ve. If she had, I wouldn’t be in this form.

  The young man squinted. A strip of gray cloth covered the upper half of her face, including her eyes, but he knew her warm brown skin and firm set mouth. He approached slowly. Near her feet lay a bundle of cloth. Clothes.

  “Mother, this is too risky. You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice sounding foreign to his ears.

  “When the keeper of the Light Tower told me he’d sighted the serpent, I knew you’d need me. I have taken precautions. Dress yourself, Calen.”

  He bent down and picked up the linen tunic and leather sandals she’d brought him.

  “Did I hurt anyone?” he whispered.

  “No. The beacon was lit, and any ships between your refuge and the Light Tower headed for port. Do you know what triggered the episode?”