Intemperate Seas

6

Ilara allowed herself to watch Cedric row for a while for the second time. The sun was beginning to grow hot again after the brief squall when they had argued, and in the vast expanse of ocean with no shade, the rhythm of his rowing was oddly relaxing. She began to grow tired and the water shimmered in mesmerizing ways. Sleep had not been known to her for many days and she longed perhaps for the soft touch of the water, the rushing current that propelled her through the expanse. The freedom she felt under the waves was addicting, and it had been a while since she got her fix. She had to keep her eye on Cedric for now, and she groaned inwardly. She knew she would be able to fend him off if he attacked, but the proximity she was forced into made her skin crawl regardless.

Cedric huffed and puffed, his arms clearly tiring from the effort, the paddles smacking the surface of the water every once in a while instead of dipping smoothly. Now that he was rowing and trapped in his mind, left to process the startling events of the last few hours, the last few days, he couldn't stop thinking about that dream he had. When he was on the ship he was so preoccupied with his other purposes he hadn't been able to process it. He heard the melody in his head again and again, and again. He began to hear it in the waves and in the sound of the oars, and could have sworn once or twice Ilara had hummed it softly. When at least an hour or two had passed, he couldn't take it anymore; he abruptly stopped, and the splash of the oars interrupting the rhythm jolted her from her comfortable lull.

"I at least need a break." Cedric panted, frustrated. He didn't want to look her in the eye, not knowing what it all meant. Attempting to look disinterested, Ilara looked out over the side of the canoe, silent. He shook his head and reached toward a small pouch on his belt. Ilara fought the urge to flinch. Cedric pulled out a flask and took a swig then offered the bottle to her. The sharp sweet smell of rum reached out to her. Incredulously she looked from the flask to him then back again. He shrugged and took another few drinks, tipping the flask back until it was empty, then tossing it onto a stack of canvas on the ground of the boat. "Are you going to hold me up at knifepoint the entire time? I can't go anywhere and you're clearly more than capable of handling me without that knife." Cedric said. She practically put her nose in the air ignoring him. He began to grow annoyed with her for a moment, staring into her uncaring green eyes. Color unexpectedly blossomed like roses in her cheeks. Seeing an opportunity and an advantage, he jumped on her moment of weakness to get the confirmation he needed from her so he would know he wasn't going crazy. "Have we met before?" He asked, closely watching her expression. She turned her head again to look into the distance.

"Uh, no, I don't think so." She lied. Ilara knew exactly where he had seen her before. She remembered the experience quite well herself that night she snuck into the cave in the queen's underwater castle and looked into the mirror when she shouldn't have. Cedric had heard stories about sirens his entire life. The powers they possessed were never fully clear to him, or it seemed, to anyone. Some claimed they could even read minds, and here was the source of his nervousness. Without quite meaning to, he let his mind truly slip into the memory for the first time since it happened.

A hand caressed his face. He should have known something was amiss by just that hand. His room was locked, the ship was full of disgusting pirates, and the hand was soft and gentle. Cedric was sleepily certain nothing was amiss, even as the hand lightly rested over his mouth. Only then did he realize something was wrong. Instincts kicking in, Cedric grabbed the arm, opening his eyes. But what he saw confused him. A floating, shimmering circle was before him, a woman's arm in his hand. Her image was only there for a moment. As the woman pulled away, she and the portal vanished, leaving Cedric again alone. On his feet, Cedric searched the room with his eyes, knife aloft, ready for danger. But it was only a dream. Only his imagination. He had a great amount of trouble falling asleep again.