“The Calling is an old tradition, one that Essos has been participating in with displeasure for a long time. There are rules, just like the ones that you ladies have, that he is also supposed to be following. I’m sure Sybil has started to educate you about the sycophants that surround our family, correct?” Galen is watching me closely. He glances over his shoulder before continuing.
“Once the Calling began, Essos was supposed to notify the citizens of Solarem by inviting us to the ball. He was explicitly told this by the head of the Council, but he still hasn’t sent out the invitations. You see, the last few Callings ended before the girls could get to the ball, so certain people want to ensure that this Calling doesn’t fail. I only found out about it because I was here a few weeks ago on business and happened to catch sight of some of you. I came here today to confirm my suspicions. When I confronted him about why rule-abiding Essos hasn’t invited everyone yet, he explained that he doesn’t want to waste everyone’s time preparing for a ball in case it doesn’t happen. I have so much more I want to say, but I know you need time to feel me out for yourself.” He glances at the shore again. “I should head back before he gets suspicious of us talking, but think about what I said. Please.” The tone of his voice is imploring, as if there is so much more he wants to say but can’t. He wets his lips and glances at mine before turning away from me.
I watch him wade back. He ignored my question about Sybil, and the whole conversation left me more confused than ever. With Essos, I’ve gone one step forward, then two steps back in a dance of balance that can never be kept. Every time we talk, I try to open up a little more, but with him, it’s like peeling an onion—beneath every layer is more onion, which leads to frustration and tears. I haven’t cried over him, but I could. Galen seems completely open with me, and willing to answer my questions, at least at a later time.
I consider heading back to shore but instead embrace the solitude. I’m not bold enough yet to submerge myself, but as the waves gently rock my body, I let myself float, thinking of the dream where I approached Essos in the water in a silk robe. I think about how my dreams have added to my confusion about Essos, how there is a familiarity there, but I don’t know where it comes from.
Something wraps around my ankle and drags me under.
I have no time to get air in my lungs before I am submerged. I don’t even have time to scream before whatever grabbed me has pulled me farther away from the surface. Seeing as I have no interest in drowning again, I bend over and reach for my ankle. The skin of the creature is velvety and smooth, like a dolphin or other aquatic animal. It must be a tentacle of some kind holding tight to me. I dig my feeble nails into the tender skin as hard as I can, angry that they’re too short to do much damage. The thing’s skin is too slimy. The pressure on my chest already hurts, and I want to pull in a breath, but I can’t. I promise myself that, if I survive this, I’m going to stop biting my nails. I try to slide my fingers between the tentacle and my leg, and I make some headway. Thankfully, the creature loosens its grip enough for me to kick for the surface.
With my head barely over water, I try to force out a scream, but my lungs are fighting to do two things at once. I inhale deeply but, instead of screaming, I’m pulled under again. This time, I at least have more air in my lungs. I try to kick with my left foot, but a second tentacle wraps around my free leg, giving the creature a better grip to drag me down. The farther it pulls me, the more intense the pressure I feel in my lungs.
I open my eyes and stare at the surface, watching it get farther and farther away. Surprise at how deep we’re going is suffocated by the fear that no one saw me get dragged under. I glance down into the abyss and see nothing below me, not even the creature. The memory of what it was like to be on that bus with no hope of escape crushes my chest worse than the pressure of descending. Doubt creeps in. Maybe this is the way it’s supposed to be—maybe I’m supposed to surrender to the depths of the ocean.
There is a flash behind my eyelids—
—I’m no longer in the ocean but kneeling in a field, the air around me crisp like a too-cool morning in spring. No one can tell me my worth, not the God of Luck with his sideways glances nor the Goddess of Rain and her ability to draw a cloud at will.Iwill decide my worth and what I can do.
The dead grass that surrounds me is still, despite the cool breeze that tickles the hairs on the nape of my neck. Digging deep, I find the magic at the core of my being before I plunge my hands into the soil and release what I know I have. Around me, life blooms.
My eyes open, stinging in the salt water. I will not give up this fight. Whatever that was, I try to dig deep to find a kernel of that belief in myself again. I close my eyes and focus on my fight.
Suddenly, there’s a mouth on mine, and air is forced into my lungs. I get another flash, then, of Galen tucking a flower behind my ear, telling me that I will be safe with him forever and that no harm will ever come to me. I open my eyes to see Galen holding my face.
When he sees my eyes open, relief flashes in his own. He swims down to the beast and grabs the tentacles around my ankles. I don’t see what he does, because my eyes start to burn, but the creature suddenly releases me.
Galen wraps an arm around my waist, and we both kick furiously upward. Once we break the surface, I start to cough, trying to get the water out of my lungs. I fight to take several deep breaths, tears springing to my eyes, and whether I’m crying or they’re just trying to cleanse the salt water, I’m not sure. Galen is holding me around the waist and dragging me toward the shore. When we reach the sand bar, he stands and lifts me into his arms. I am grateful that I am wet so my tears are disguised, and the coughing covers the sobs that wrack my body. I am so grateful and happy that I get to see another day.
“That’s right, take a deep breath, keep breathing, my flower, keep breathing. It won’t do to have you die on me now. I’ve just found you again. Rest now, I’ve got you.” I don’t know what he means, but I let my body go limp now that I’m not fighting for my life. I hear the sounds of splashing and more people rushing into the water, and then I’m scooped into someone else’s arms. It’s uncomfortable for a moment, but then the warmth of the body and the familiar scent of sandalwood and cinnamon settle me. I let my body fully relax, with no fight left in me, and I pass out.
CHAPTER13
When my eyes flutter open, all I see is blinding white, and I think that maybe I did die. Waves crash in the distance, and I realize that I’m not dead, I just almost wish I was. I take a few seconds to re-acclimate myself. I’m still on the beach, now under the cabana. Essos is in a chair next to me, watching me. He brushes a strand of hair out of my eyes, letting out an audible sigh of relief.
“I really wish you would stop trying to drown on me,” he says, trying to keep it light, but his voice breaks. I cough before responding.
“It’s a character flaw, what can I say?” I croak, my throat raw. It hurts, and despite having inhaled more water than I want, I’m eager for water to soothe my throat. I struggle to sit up, tired of feeling helpless. Essos reaches behind me to readjust the lounge chair so it’s upright.It’s helpful, but I feel like an invalid.
“Other than your bravado still being intact, are you all right?”
I’m sure he knows the answer just by looking at me. I mentally take stock of myself, stopping when I come to my ankles. I sit up a little more and see that not only are they bruising, but they’re also red and blistered. Looking at them makes me wince.
“You know, I missed having bruises. I figured I’d get some more.” I smile at him sheepishly.
“Your wit knows no bounds. Even after facing certain death a second time, you can’t stop making jokes.” Essos speaks wryly, but there are creases on his forehead, and he looks haggard.
“It’s called comic relief; otherwise life would be too sad. Where is everyone?” I ask, looking around. The beach is deserted, as if everyone just vanished, the lounge chairs and towels left behind along with the food.I wonder how long I was out.
“I sent everyone to the pool. The rules say we’re not to be alone behind closed doors, but I see no doors here. I figured I would keep an eye on you myself. You scared the life out of me, you know. Seriously, what happened? One minute you were talking to Galen, the next Tiffany was screaming bloody murder.”
I take a deep breath in, savoring the feel of air in my lungs.“I don’t know. Galen and I were talking, and he decided to head in. I was floating in the water, and something grabbed my ankle and pulled me under. I thought I was a goner—it had both my ankles. Galen came out of nowhere, gave me air, and made it let go.” Essos listens intently, frowning. I omit what we were talking about and what Galen said to me while pulling me to shore. He unloaded more meaningful information in that one interaction than I’ve received the whole time I’ve been here.
Essos looks as though the weight of the universe is bearing down on him in that moment.“Would you like to go in and rest? I can cancel the rest of the evening, the dance and everything. Whatever you need. Just tell me.” He takes my hand in his, and his thumb gently grazes my skin as he rubs my hand like a worry stone.
“What I want is to know why you’re wearing a suit at the beach. Are you so pasty under there that we’d all be blinded?” I say, trying to break the buildup of emotion between the two of us. He lets out a big laugh, even if it is somewhat forced. I scared him today.
“I’m a formal person. I was raised in the lap of luxury but with responsibilities. Responsibilities Galen didn’t have, lucky for him. So, I’m known as the one with a stick up my ass, because I would rather keep my heart close to my chest and not wear it on my sleeve the way he does. I suppose I can try to be a little less formal going forward.” He discards his jacket and unbuttons his collar. Even this little bit of skin sets my heart racing, and I wish he’d keep unbuttoning his shirt. Then his pants. I want to feel the thick length of him pressing against me and see if it’s anything like it is in my dreams. I want to know if he feels the same pull toward me, and if he lights up like the New Year’s ball at Times Square when I touch him. When he comes, is he loud? Is he a generous lover, or does he take what he wants and leave his partner desperate for more? Somehow, I doubt the latter is true; he strikes me as the type of man to give himself entirely to his partner. I want to give myself entirely to him.