Mutante: Chapter 15
Copyright 2023 Elizabeth Frerichs
Robert studied her anxiously. “Was it the blood?”
She shook her head and then nodded. “Sort of. Just—I’m glad everything went as well as it did.”
“Me too. How about we bandage up that cut and then we’ll worry about the fairy’s breath?”
“Ok.” She started to lever herself up.
Robert put a hand on her shoulder, holding her down. “Just stay there. I’ll get the supplies.”
With surprising gentleness (or maybe it wasn’t so surprising given his kind manner with collecting the blood), he wrapped magical kelp on her tiny cut, ensuring it would heal by the time the day was out.
After a couple minutes, Rosie began feeling more herself. They agreed to each collect one vial of fairy’s breath. It was hard to tell if it collected anything, but she left the large vial open while she finished eating, figuring it would give the vial plenty of time to fill. Afterwards, they packed up their things and returned the blanket to the trunk.
“Are you certain you’re ready to leave?” Robert asked, studying her. “We could always wait a little while longer before we go.”
Rosie grimaced. “No, we’d better not. Grandma can’t wait and I’d hate to worry our families more than necessary.” Mother would be furious that she took so long—if the gala preparations didn’t keep her thoroughly distracted and if she didn’t need Rosie to help with said preparations. “Anyway, I don’t know when your father needs more kelp. Will he be all right if you stay here? I really could make a path for you to get home, if you’d like.”
Robert shook his head. “My mother has enough kelp on hand to last for a month. I’ll be fine—besides, I wouldn’t miss this adventure for the world.”
“You really are all about the adventures, aren’t you?” she asked, one eyebrow raised as she slipped back into the water and into her tail.
Robert followed her, his expression distant. “Ever since my grandfather was—well, after his death, all his sons became . . . cautious.”
Rosie nodded, and then, since he seemed to be waiting for a response, she added, “Seems reasonable. If my father had died in a terrible tragedy, I’d be careful to avoid meeting the same, er, fate.”
He laughed bitterly. “Well, you’re the only one who thinks it’s reasonable. My family has been branded as cowards for over twenty years now. But I refuse to let my mother or anyone else keep me wrapped in bladder wrack. Playing it safe didn’t keep my father safe; I might as well have all the adventures I want. You never know when you might die. Besides, if I can prove my worth to the townspeople, maybe—well, maybe things will be better.”
No wonder he threw himself into every dangerous situation so wholeheartedly. “I—um, I can’t really imagine exactly what that’s like, but yeah, being the talk of the town is—I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”
“You?”
She twirled a strand of hair around her finger and then angrily brushed the hair out of her face. Just one more habit her mother hated that she couldn’t seem to break. “Of course! My grandmother is the kelp forest witch, remember?”
“Oh.”
“Everyone remembers what she was like before she got cursed; after the curse, she and Aunt Rina managed to traumatize everyone in the city. They—well, they played all kinds of tricks on people, and it was—it was horrible.” Her throat grew tight, remembering the constant ringing of the doorbell in those days. People coming to commiserate, to gossip, to complain, to yell at her mother for not keeping a rein on her sister and mother (as though anyone could rein them in). “We’re notorious enough from that. Really, only Mother tricking my grandmother and Aunt Rina into believing that they were each other’s worst enemies and that they wanted to become hermits kept us from being run out of the city. If my father had been up for re-election that year, he wouldn’t have stayed on the council, despite how little he had to do with the whole thing. And . . . .” She gestured to her tail, which was twitching. “It’s not as though I can hide with this. People can pick me out of a crowd even though I’ve never met them.”
“I like your tail. It’s not the sort of thing you see every day.”
“Try ‘never’—it’s the sort of thing you never see.”
Robert frowned. “Aren’t there some ruins with mosaics of mermaids with tails as crimson as yours?”
Rosie blinked at him. “Really?”
“It was my first thought when I saw you—that I’d never seen anything like it outside of a mosaic, but I just figured I was a country bumpkin. Maybe merpeople all over Aquaria have red tails and I’ve just never met one.”
She shook her head. “I’ve never even heard of a mosaic or anything like that.”
“Well, you should come visit me, and I’ll show it to you.”
She smiled at him. “I’d like that.”
“And—thanks for telling me about your family. I can imagine that was really difficult. Atlantia is so much bigger than Vana.” He gave a small shrug. “I guess I never thought that I might be lucky. Most people know who I am, but it’s not as though every stranger would be able to recognize me unless someone pointed me out.”
She gave him a small smile. “There are benefits to being more normal.”
Robert gave her a small smile. “I still think your tail is pretty phenomenal.” He cleared his throat and looked around the cave, his attention eventually fixing on the old chest in the back corner. “Your grandmother was really different before, wasn’t she?”
Rosie nodded.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how did your grandmother get cursed?”
Rosie turned her back on him, unwilling to watch the admiration shining from his face turn to disdain. “I—I was an idiot.”
“Hey, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
She took a shuddery breath. No, the merman who had been so understanding about her fear of blood wouldn’t force her to discuss something she didn’t want to. But . . . for some reason, she wanted to tell him. He deserved to know why they were out here risking their lives for a cursed witch.
Rosie pulled a chunk of seagrass and began plaiting it, turning so that she was no longer facing away, but still unable to look at him. “I know. But I want to tell you. I just—it’s hard to talk about.”
“Of course,” he said, drawing a little closer.
“I was six. My mother was busy, even back then, with politics and society, so she didn’t have much time for me. But Grandma Essie did. And—” She drew in another shuddery breath. “She loved the ruins at Cian and used to bring me there.”
“I thought going to Cian was forbidden.”
“It is—the king put out an edict after Grandma and Aunt Rina were cursed.”
“Ah.”
She twisted the braided seagrass round and round her fingers, wishing that it was as easy to untangle the mess they were in as it would be to unbraid the plant. Unfortunately, life was never so orderly and what was done was less easily undone. “My grandmother loved studying the artifacts there, and people used to bring them to her—mostly when they wanted to ask for something else in return—but anyway, she collected them. I—” The memory of that day was seared in her mind and visions of it rose as easily as uprooted sea grapes. “I was trying to find something to give her for her birthday. Grandma always asked people not to handle the artifacts, so I borrowed my mother’s gloves and snuck out. I found a—a cave-in. There was a little passageway through though; no adult could ever have fit in there. But I was small enough, so I slipped through. On the other side, I found a broken box with the most beautiful tiara I’d ever seen in it. There were other things there too—paintings, old books, some locked chests, things of that nature—but I wasn’t big enough to carry anything else with me.”
Her fingers tightened around the seagrass, squeezing it hard enough to mess up the braid. “I brought the tiara back to my Grandma. I was so excited to give it to her, but then—” She glared down at her tail. “I kept losing my balance the whole way back to Grandma’s house. And when Grandma let me in, I tripped over my own tail and the tiara fell out of my basket. Grandma didn’t know it was an artifact, but it was valuable and fragile, so she caught it in her bare hands, and—” Her voice broke. “The transformation was instant. She used to have the loveliest long hair; it was white and silky, but after touching the tiara, it grew matted and uneven. Her nails elongated into claws. Her features sharpened as well. It was—”
She gave a choked sob. “It was all my fault. If my stupid tail—If I wasn’t so clumsy—” She hugged herself.
Robert pulled her into his arms, and she couldn’t hold back the sobs. “Rosie, it’s not your fault,” he said soothingly. “It was just an accident.”
Rosie shook her head against his chest. “It was my fault. Mother says it was.”
“Then she’s wrong,” he said fiercely.
She fisted her hands against his chest. “No, I was the one who found the stupid tiara—”
He gave her a little shake before pulling her close again. “Did you mean to give your grandmother a cursed object? Did you know it was cursed?”
“I knew it might have residual magic. That’s one of the reasons Grandma insisted that everyone wear gloves.”
“So, finding magical objects was common?”
Rosie shook her head, her hair billowing about them. “No. Grandma Essie only found a magical object once—it’s a hair clip that makes the wearer’s singing voice irresistible. She doesn’t—didn’t really care about that and she didn’t want to risk it falling into the wrong hands, so after she was done studying it she removed the spell and gave it to the king.”
“Why didn’t someone just take the spell off the tiara, then?”
Rosie’s chest tightened as she remembered the various attempts over the years. “Because it takes a powerful witch to do something like that, and so far, everyone has failed. The king asked about taking the spell off Grandma too, but the Witches’ Council told him that anyone who couldn’t take the spell of the artifact wouldn’t be strong enough to take the spell off Grandma, so . . . .”
He squeezed her tighter. “Well, it’s still not your fault. You didn’t have any reason to believe that the tiara would be dangerous for your grandmother, and even if you did, you took the proper precautions.”
“I should have put it in something more contained—instead, I stupidly stuck it in a basket as though that could keep it contained.”
Robert shook his head. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to drop it—”
“But I knew I was clumsy!”
He rubbed a hand down her back. “Rosie, you are—one of the most conscientious people I’ve met. You don’t hesitate to do what you believe to be right. You were a child. Besides, if you had known the consequences would be so severe, would you have still put it in a basket?”
She shook her head.
“There you go. An accident—one that you could not have foreseen nor have been expected to prevent. It’s not your fault. All you can do is take responsibility for how things are today.” His hand stilled. “I—I can’t control that my father is in a coma, but I can do my best to provide for my family and to change our family reputation.”
The sorrow in his voice was muted, but Rosie still couldn’t help putting her arms around him, trying to pass along some of the comfort he had provided her.
“And you can’t?” he prompted.
She sighed. “I can’t control that my grandmother and aunt are nasty old sea witches, but I can make the best of the situation.”
“Right.” He loosened his hold so that he could look her in the face. “Are you sure you don’t want to just leave her to be digested by that sea monster?”
For the briefest moment, Rosie considered it, really considered it. If they had some way to curtail Rina . . . . But they didn’t. And she refused to take part in murder, even one she hadn’t set in motion. She had the ability to act, which meant she had the responsibility to act.
The sparkle in his eye proclaimed he was teasing, so Rosie merely shook her head and smiled at him.
“Well, then, it seems to me that we have a fireworm to find. And maybe Thomas might know something more about your grandma’s curse. I bet no one’s thought to ask him.”
Hope sprang into being in her breast for the first time in years, like a cooking fire suddenly rekindled from embers. What if she could have her wonderfully kind grandmother back? And her aunt? It was too good to be true, she reminded herself. But a little ember of warmth persisted. At least they could ask Thomas after this was all over.
She nodded, and then, before she knew what she was doing, she leaned up and kissed Robert on the cheek. “Thank you. For everything.”
His ears turned red, but he merely smiled. “You’re welcome.”
Robert was really a nice guy under all that bravado and desperation to prove himself, Rosie decided. He might come across as high-handed and reckless, but once you understood his motives . . . his love for his family and everything that had happened to them—well, understanding made him far more likable. She glanced at him from under her lashes. He hadn’t had to rescue her or to come along on this crazy quest. He could have bolted the moment he found out who her grandmother was. But he hadn’t. He had been steadfast in his determination to help her; he had been kind throughout. And reckless and sometimes downright stupid—the incident with the first siren-plant sprang to mind—but still, he was the sort of person she wanted to be friends with. And he hadn’t blamed her for Grandma Essie and Aunt Rina . . . . that was far more than she had ever expected. Far more than even her parents had done. It was nice.
“Shall we?” Robert said, gesturing towards the tunnel that led to the outside.
Rosie gave him a small smile. “We shall.”
A/N: Poor Rosie! I wouldn’t wish her grandmother’s curse on anyone. Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think 🙂 And PM me if you’d like to beta!
See you on Saturday!
