Chapter 33

I passed a dreadful night waiting for the ball to end.

Should I tell King Leopold the bandit was here? Would he believe me?

If he investigated more fully, he might uncover my ruse about being Merlian. I shouldn’t let that stop me, though.

I resolved instead to wait up until Annalise returned, to tell her what I’d seen, but still the orchestra played on and guests’ laughter spilled into the night. The book I’d snatched from the library was, alas, an inventory of tactical maneuvers and military casualties in the ground war conflicts between Pylander and Danelind, our neighbor to the north, some 175 years prior. Try as I might, I could not make diverting reading out of it.

I sank into sleep and dreamed of the coach disaster over and over again. Each time I was powerless to save Mr. Thorndike. The dreams changed, and Aidan, too, was shot by the bandit, and I had to choose between helping him and Mr. Thorndike.

I woke abruptly in the predawn hours. The fire on the grate had burned out cold, and from the breathing sounds coming from the bed I knew that Annalise was back, but asleep. I felt startlingly awake. My leviathan sensed me rousing.

Swim, Mistress?

A swim might clear my head of unwelcome thoughts. All right.

I tiptoed to the armoire and felt around inside for the hidden cloaks and swimming shifts. Hanging from a hook on the door were the lacy wedding garters. So that was where she’d put them. She’d made a little show of hiding them.

I changed clothes, put my leviathan into my pocket, and left the castle. When I reached the beach, I didn’t hesitate. As soon as I could get out of my cloak and shoes, I ran into the waves. Once again the initial frigid shock faded into pleasant warmth. I practiced the smooth strokes Annalise had demonstrated while my leviathan frisked around, butting my side playfully. My body felt strong, awake, alive. There was nothing to fear here. Nothing to fear anywhere in the world.

I swam far out, took a deep breath, and dove under, letting my eyes adjust to the underwater landscape. A large, savage-looking fish with fierce teeth and a pointed snout and fins approached me fast, and I looked around for some means of help. Then my leviathan appeared and shook himself menacingly. The fish turned and darted off, and I climbed onto my leviathan’s back. We rose to the surface and sailed for a time over the low waves.

Where are you taking me? I asked.

Down the coastline, he said. I can travel fast.

In the dark it was hard to gauge how quickly we traveled, except by the breeze on our faces. The lights of Chalcedon were far behind us now.

I want to give you a name, I said, but I don’t know how to name someone like you. Everything I think of feels so inadequate.

Don’t worry about that.

What are some other leviathan names? I asked.

He seemed puzzled for a moment. We don’t think of each other by the names the serpentinas give us, he said. We know each other by scent.

Then why is a name so important?

It is for you, he said. You can’t fully love a nameless thing.

I felt rebuked and ashamed.

Take a breath, Mistress, he said, and hold on tight.

With only that brief warning, he plunged down, straight down and deep into the water, and my ears were not happy about it until they cleared. My eyes tried to adjust, but he hurtled through the depths at an alarming pace. The rocky bottom rushed up at us.

What are you playing at? I said. Stop!

He halted, nosed around the bottom, snatched at something, then began his gradual, circling ascent. My head was still rushing with the changing pressure, and my eyeballs felt like they’d pop. I hugged him around his body and clung tightly until gradually we broke the surface again. He shook his whiskered head.

Then he took off again, skimming over the surface of the water at a breakneck pace. The shore was now on our right-hand side. We were going back the way we came.

Did you come all this way for some special fish you wanted to eat?

No fish, he said. I’ll show you when we get back.

And on we rode. The predawn glow in the east began to peek over the edges of the mountains, and the morning sky began its majestic birth. What would it be like to greet each new day this way, swimming in the ocean and watching the entire, slow, miraculous dawn?

I closed my eyes and felt the rhythmic pulse of my leviathan’s muscles propelling us.

When you love me more, Mistress, he said, you will trust me more.

But I do trust you!

My leviathan didn’t answer that.

Didn’t I? I was here on his back in the middle of the ocean, wasn’t I?

When you trust me, you’ll understand that I will never hurt you and I will always protect you. And when you know that, you won’t need to be afraid, and you will love me more.

You hurt my feelings, leviathan, I said. I have told you already that I love you.

Then name me, he said.

Don’t I keep you with me always? Didn’t I bring you here this morning to swim?

He said nothing. How could I defend against the charge of loving weakly?

I’m doing all I can.

He took an unannounced dip underwater. I only barely caught my breath before the plunge. I choked back the impulse to complain.

We were back near the beach adjoining the castle park. A pink sky hovered over Chalcedon’s towers. My leviathan slowed to a standstill in the water and curved around his great head to look at me with sad eyes.

One day, he said, either I will die for you, or you will die for me, or both of us will die peacefully together.

The pain in his words smote my heart. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.

I slid off his back and pumped the water with my own limbs. I didn’t feel worthy to ride on his strength anymore. I wanted to run away from him, from the remorse I felt because of him. But where could I go that he would not follow?

I am sorry, I said, for my ignorance. And my foolish, selfish ways.

He lowered his great head down into the water beside me. The touch of his great scaly horn was as gentle as a baby’s.

I am sorry, Mistress, for grieving you. Forgive me.

No, I said, it is you that must forgive me.

No need.

I promise you, I said, that before this day is through, I will choose a name for you. I set out stroking toward shore, determined to begin the day and the business at hand.

Don’t promise, Mistress, he said. Let it come on its own time.

I reached the beach and climbed ashore, wishing I could start a fire as easily as Annalise had yesterday. I sat in the sand and dripped.

Would you like to see what I got from the sea floor? he asked.

All right.

He slid toward me through the shallows and onto the beach, and dropped a small, heavy object into my lap.

My love charm.