Page 39 of Tangled Sails

She shook her head.

“Not even to save a life?”

She just stared at me, the truth swimming in her wet eyes.

“Why not?” I asked, incredulous.

She turned her face to the setting sun and the light caressed her face. “Aunt Ethel always said they could purchase a draught or potion if they truly needed it, but I knew they couldn’t. Healing potions were rare and expensive, and only available in other villages. No one bothered making or selling them in our village because they didn’t need to. They had me.” Bitterness coated each word.

I reached out, fingering the golden strands of her hair before pushing it behind her shoulder. “Power is a burden.”

She nodded, clearly trying to push away the regret. “I wonder how the village is faring without me,” she mused as she looked over at me.

A grim smile pulled at my mouth. “Hopefully word of your departure got out before another group of intrepid youth decided to hurt themselves for sport.” I was still horrified at the idea.

“I hope so.” She sniffed and then let a watery smile lift her lips. “And maybe with my absence, the masters will stop hurting their servants so much.”

She sounded hopeful, and yet her words washed me in revulsion. I could feel the blood drain from my face as I stared at her for several swollen moments. “That’s barbaric,” I finally choked out.

Lyri’s face fell. “What is? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, not you, Lyri. I just…” How could she think she was the thing that was wrong? I got to my feet, pinching the bridge of my nose as I tried to calm my ire. “Let me make certain I’m understanding correctly.” I held the side of my fist to my mouth for a moment. “You were given the gift to heal anyone of anything. And because of that miraculous gift, the people of your village not only hurt themselves for sport, but those in power used your gift as an excuse to torture their servants over and over again. Is that correct?” I asked, trying desperately to keep my anger at bay.

She was wide-eyed and looked unsure of how to respond. But finally, she asked in a small voice, “Is that not the way it is here?”

“No!” I nearly exploded. “No, Lyri, that is not the way it is here. That’s not the way it should be in any civilized society.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Why are you apologizing to me?” I shouted, annoyed that I hadn’t controlled my reaction, and upset that she would think for one moment that I expected her to apologize.

“Because you’re angry.”

“Not at you,” I assured her. “At them! At those people who made you believe that holding a young girl captive for years and torturing servants repeatedly was just the normal course of life. I’m angry at them, Lyri, and you should be too.” I searched her eyes, looking for the anger and indignation that she had every right to feel, but all I saw was vulnerability. I fell to my knees in front of her and cradled her cheeks in my hands. “I’m baffled by the idea that the people of your village have been blessed beyond their wildest dreams, and yet they take their lives for granted and treat their health and the health of others with contempt.”

She frowned and her chin quivered, but she closed her eyes and nodded.

My thumb traced the curve of her cheek and I wished I had the right to press a kiss to her trembling mouth. But I didn’t, so I released her and sat back on my heels. “Perhaps your land knew you deserved better, and that’s why the magic brought you here.”

She opened her eyes and gave me a soft smile with tears balancing on her lashes. “It’s certainly better here.”

“Good.” I sat down beside her again, focusing on the sunset as it colored the sky in purples and pinks, while my mind chewed on the grim life she’d led. Her aunt was a conundrum that I couldn’t unwind. The contradiction of a woman who forced her niece to be at the beck and call of everyone—all day, every day—to prevent death and yet wouldn’t allow her the simple freedom to step outside her tower, even when it would mean saving a life, was confounding. If we had that here in Islewyn…would we recognize it for the gift it was? I knew we would in the beginning, but would we then fall into the same ungrateful patterns that Eldmere had?

If only I could answer that question with confidence.

“How long have you known your father was ill?” Lyri asked from her spot on the sand, effectively pulling me from my thoughts.

I turned to her, admiring the way her loose hair blew back from her face, the golden strands catching the red sunlight. “He kept it from me, from all of us, for a long time. He told me on my twenty-fourth birthday.”

She grimaced. “Happy birthday?”

Her attempt at humor pulled a smile from me. “It’s my own fault. I wanted him to go sailing with me. It was my birthday, and I thought he would make the effort, but my mother came to me, making excuses for why he couldn’t come. I went and found him, ready to berate him for not caring enough about me.” I picked up a handful of sand and let it run through my fingers. “And instead, I was confronted by the truth. I walked in on him when a doctor was treating him, so he finally told me. He’d hoped it would get better on its own, that there would be no reason to worry his children.” I brushed my hands off on my trousers, then rested my arms on my knees.

“What did you do?”

“I ran like the coward I am.”

“You’re not.”