Page 20 of Beneath the Haunting Sea
The truth was she should have leapt up in time to pull her back.
She should have jumped out the windowafter her, grabbed her before the sea swallowed her up.
She should have donesomething.
But by the time she tore up on deck screaming for help it was already too late. Sailors threw ropes into the water below the spot where her mother had fallen. They shouted her name through the wind and the rain. One of them even dove into the raging waves to look for her.
But it was too late.
She was gone.
And Talia wished the sea would have claimed her, too.
She didn’t know how to live with her mother’s absence, with that phantom pain that would never go away.
The only solace she could find was in not thinking about it, and that was no comfort at all. It left her feeling numb and awful. Empty.
The coach lurched over a stone, shaking Talia from her thoughts. It turned onto a rutted path thatwound steadily upward. She strained her eyes out across the hills, yearning to catch some glimpse of the sea. The wind blew harder, shaking the coach from side to side, and Talia pulled the awful blanket tighter around her shoulders. WherehadEda sent her?
The coach climbed higher, the road grew steeper. Talia thought she caught the sudden hint of salt in the air blowing under the door. Herheart slammed hard against her ribcage.
The carriage came over another ridge and then she did see it: the gleam of the sea off in the distance. A thrill went through her, and she hated herself—the sea had taken everything from her and yet here she was, as glad to see it again as a drowning man gasping a longed-for breath of air.
The coach turned and Talia lost the ocean behind a grassy bluff.She tried to swallow down her disappointment.
On and on they wound through the hills, her anxiety mounting with every moment.
And then—
A break in the road, the coach wheels clattering onto cobbled stones, a tall grim house rising above her, the sea gray and restless behind it.
She tamped down her nerves as the driver swept open the coach door and handed her out. She left the blanket on theseat in a burst of Enduenan pride, but she wasn’t sure it mattered—she was still dressed in the cast-off trousers and shapeless, worn shirt Captain Oblaine had given her half a year ago. The lady she used to be had been left far behind in another life. She looked like what she was: an outcast, an orphan. A nobody.
She squared her shoulders and peered at the house, a sprawling old mansion thathad clearly seen better days. The stones were weathered, the slate roofs crumbling, the windows smudged and dark. Several crooked towers stretched up into the sky, and from the highest one flew the Imperial banner: three stars on a blue field edged with gold. It flapped listlessly, its edges ragged and fraying. The scent of the sea wrapped all around her and she heard the waves pounding hard on theshore beyond the house. She longed to run down to the beach for a proper view, but she forced herself to stand there, waiting for some instruction from the driver.
She glanced back to see him wrestling a small leather chest from under his seat, and she heard the clink of coins as he tucked it under his arm.
“Well, m’lady,” he said in a mocking tone, climbing down from the coach. “Let’s be ridof you.”
He strode up the cobbled drive to the house and Talia followed, anxious and jittery. She didn’t precisely understand the conditions of her stay here, but, if Eda had anything to do with it, they couldn’t possibly be pleasant.
The clouds broke, rain falling icy and cold, and they ran the rest of the way, darting up several steps to a tall brown door that was mercifully sheltered by theoverhanging roof. The driver grasped the brass knocker and rapped three times.
Talia clamped her teeth down hard on the inside of her cheek to keep from shaking.
Footsteps sounded on the other side of the door, crisp shoes on hard stone, and a moment later the door creaked inward to reveal the plain face and starched cap of a middle-aged servingwoman. She peered at them with some annoyance,her eyes darting from the driver to Talia and then back again. “What is it? His Grace isn’t expecting visitors today.”
“Delivery from the Empress.” The driver jerked his head in Talia’s direction. “Miss Talia Dahl-Saida, erstwhile heiress of Irsa. Is the Baron at home?”
The servingwoman blinked a few times. “I’ll fetch His Grace’s steward.” She shut the door in their faces.
The driver swore,glaring at Talia like everything was her fault.
She shifted from one foot to the other, in a dual attempt to generate warmth and dispel her nervous energy. The rain pounded hard at their backs—the driver would be soaked through on his trip back to the village. The thought gave her more pleasure than perhaps it should have.
The door opened again. A tall man stood there, dressed in a smart blackcoat and crisp cravat. He was somewhat past middle age, with the shockingly pale skin Talia was growing used to seeing in Ryn, and dark hair shot through with silver, tied back at the nape of his neck.
“Good afternoon,” he said, addressing the driver, though his glance rested briefly on Talia. “You have word from the Empress? I’m Ahned, the Baron’s steward.”
