The Mermaid's Blessing

Twenty Six

In the past handful of hours, I'd been drowned, beaten up, nearly stabbed, and watched one of my least favourite humans sink my ship. So now that I was alone in a spare cabin of one of my country's royal naval vessels, it seemed there was only one suitable course of action- I decided to get very very drunk. Ezra had her faults, but at least she had the good sense to keep strong rum stashed about the ship which I helped myself to almost immediately.

My whole body stung, ached and protested every movement, so the bed became a welcomed luxury that made for good lounging while I attempted to make my surroundings blurry. Of course, I hadn't had nearly enough to drink by the time a knock at the door caught my attention.

"What do you want, Ezra?" I barked out in annoyance.

Thankfully, instead of the shrewd devil herself, a head of red curls popped in. Erik was looking a little worse for wear, some nasty bruises along with a split lip marring his otherwise charming features, but was standing tall. That was better than most of the other crew members. He shuffled inside silently, eyeing the bottle in my hand as he rolled his eyes, one of which was already swelling though it had yet to turn black.

"How did I know you'd be wallowing in self-pity?"

"Shut up and take a swig for yourself, Erik."

"Yes sir," he joked, downing a quarter of the bottle in one go, "Do you want to fill me in on the plan going forward? Or should I come back later."

"Nothing's changed. We're going home, and we're taking the mermaid's blessing back to Lorraine with us."

"Under Ezra's watchful glare?"

"You and I both know that she may hate me, but she won't hurt Coralie..."

Erik smirked when my eyes went wide, like he'd been waiting for me to remember.

"Where's Coralie?" the worry in my voice only intensified his smugness, "What happened to her? She was on the ship during the fighting, I saw-"

"Calm down, will you?"

He sighed, loping over to the door as though it was an intense inconvenience, disappearing through it momentarily and pulling Coralie back inside with him. She was covered in soot, wearing Erik's coat and a grubby hat that obscured her hair as well as half her face, and trying hard to hide the way she winced when Erik helped her settle on the edge of the bed. A certain kind of protective anger seethed inside my gut, eking into my words when I addressed Erik again.

"What happened?"

"I'm fine..." Coralie tried to protest, though I kept my eyes on my first mate's, who was less-than intimidated. He was too tired and annoyed to give much of an excuse.

"Relax, Peter, it's probably just a broken rib. She'll be fine."

"That's not what I asked."

"I know," he turned for the door, "but I'm going to go find some place to sleep before Ezra realises I'm here and gives me a talking to, which means I'm not up for babysitting right now. She's your problem now."

"I can't wait until your mother finds out what you've been doing these past few years Erik."

He sent a middle-fingered salute in my direction, closing the door behind him. Coralie and I sat in a heavy silence that only ended when I handed her the rum. Even without speaking I could hear her voice in my head going are you kidding me loud and clear. She took a swig, nose turned up and eyes watering in reaction to the taste.

"It's for the pain," I justified myself, "trust me, it helps."

"Every time I breathe, it feels like someone is stabbing me."

"Yeah, I know. Did Erik already check you out?"

"No, and I was not about to take off my shirt surrounded by a bunch of men."

"Well tough luck, I'm going to make sure you aren't bleeding internally."

Coralie immediately crossed her arms over her chest protectively, brows furrowed in defiance. I ignored it, moving the pillows to make room and bringing over a candle for more light. Her resolve wavered in the face of my stubborn waiting, so she removed Erik's coat and laid down on the side that hadn't been injured. I knelt down by her side, pulling up the fabric of her shirt until I found the affected area, thankfully able to stop lower down on the ribcage. The area was already heavily bruised, darkening by the minute. The second my hands pressed down on the area above her liver, she gasped.

"OOOOW!"

"Well, that's not great."

"SCREW YOU PETER!"

I laughed, still not feeling the effects of the alcohol.

"Erik was right, it looks like a few cracked rib, but there's nothing you can do about that besides taking it easy for a few weeks. What happened, by the way?"

"One of your friend's lackeys kicked me when I tried to keep them from killing Erik," she glared, picking herself back up and looking me in the eyes, "which reminds me..."

Once again, her fist flew towards my face, though I was expecting it this time. The movement made her wince, and she curled in on herself again.

"Ooowowowowow... This is all your fault, Peter! Or Prince Peter, or whoever the hell you actually are. None of this had to happen, and you've been lying to me for months and OOOW that HURT."

"Yeah, well," I shrugged, nudging the bottle her way again, "you can keep being angry or you can do join me in drinking it away for a little while. What's your choice?"

Coralie's green eyes moved between mine and the bottle, only stopping so she could take it from my hands and take another good long swig.

"Option number two it is."

"I hate you so much," she growled, downing even more, "so soooo much."

"Hey, maybe you should take it easy, that stuff isn't exactly watered down."

In answer, she drank the last of it and threw the bottle at my head, which I dodged. My hand reached below the bed for another bottle, starting off what I was sure would be a terrible decision on my part.