Elicorn’s hoof prints showed clearly, leading straight into the white-caped bay.
5
M eg strolled along the strand in fractured moonlight. It was just as well dark clouds had robbed all but the eerie phosphorescence coming from the water. She was hiding, even from the moon.
So much for seven tears shed in the sea summoning a selkie lover. There was no question that she’d been abandoned now. She had never felt more cast off than she did strolling alone along the strand in the soft semidarkness with a rainstorm looming.
The seals hadn’t come tonight, either, and the waterfowl had long since sought shelter inland for the night. Once, she thought she saw something sail through the sky—something dark, like the giant eagles that lived in the mountains on the mainland. But it was only a fleeting glimpse before it soared off and disappeared in deep darkness. It brought to mind the strange winged creature she’d seen circling the little skiff that morning. But she’d convinced herself that creature was surely her imagination playing tricks on her. It had to have been. If it wasn’t, that would mean whatever entity it was had seen her exposing herself to the salt-laced wind and hot sun, touching herself in broad, sultry daylight. Hot blood rushed to her temples as she imagined it.
Whatever creature it was she’d glimpsed soaring and gliding above, it was gone now, and her gaze returned to the strand and the tall combers rolling up the coastline, spilling froth on the hard-packed sand and spinning yards of gossamer spindrift carried on the wind. Though she was nowhere near the water’s edge, her fine kirtle of mulberry homespun gauze was damp, clinging to her naked skin beneath, and her long, tousled hair was fanned out about her, combed by the gusts into spiral curls that teased her buttocks and framed her face with wild tendrils.
She was just about to turn back to the cottage before the rain came to further dampen her spirits, when she heard a familiar sound. Stopping in her tracks, she pricked up her ears and listened. It came again. She knew it now, the high-pitched whinny of the waterhorse riding the wind. Her eyes flashed toward the waves thudding on the sand, and her breath caught at the sight of the great white creature prancing through the surf, its high-flying forefeet pummeling the waves as it galloped toward the shore.
Meg’s heart sank when she realized the animal was riderless, but she ran to it nonetheless. Could Simeon have sent it to fetch her? The waterhorse pranced to a high-stepping halt before her, puffing fine spray out of flared nostrils. It reminded her of the way the selkie seals spouted water from theirs. Tears misted her eyes, and she threw her arms about the stallion’s neck.
“Have you come to take me to him?” she crooned to the horse. “Have my seven tears worked their magic, or are you naught but deep-sea glamour come to seduce me to a watery grave?”
The waterhorse snorted. It waggled its head noncommittally, Meg thought. She plucked some of the seaweed from its long wet mane. “I wish I had more knowledge of these mystical things,” she said.
The horse’s silvery eyes gleamed as it stretched its right leg out and knelt upon the other. Its message was clear. The animal wanted her to mount. Right or wrong, it took her only a moment to decide to climb up on the animal’s back and less time for the horse to surge to its full height and bolt toward the water.
Hoping until the last that she hadn’t made the wrong decision, Meg didn’t panic until the waterhorse beneath her disappeared under the swells and brine threatened her mouth. It flooded her nostrils, and she knew. Simeon hadn’t sent the waterhorse. It was acting in its own fiendish stead. It meant to drown her!
Saltwater rushed up her nostrils as the animal plunged deeper into the churning bay. Opening her mouth to scream did nothing but flood her throat with water. Frantically, Meg tugged on the horse’s mane in a
5
M eg strolled along the strand in fractured moonlight. It was just as well dark clouds had robbed all but the eerie phosphorescence coming from the water. She was hiding, even from the moon.
So much for seven tears shed in the sea summoning a selkie lover. There was no question that she’d been abandoned now. She had never felt more cast off than she did strolling alone along the strand in the soft semidarkness with a rainstorm looming.
The seals hadn’t come tonight, either, and the waterfowl had long since sought shelter inland for the night. Once, she thought she saw something sail through the sky—something dark, like the giant eagles that lived in the mountains on the mainland. But it was only a fleeting glimpse before it soared off and disappeared in deep darkness. It brought to mind the strange winged creature she’d seen circling the little skiff that morning. But she’d convinced herself that creature was surely her imagination playing tricks on her. It had to have been. If it wasn’t, that would mean whatever entity it was had seen her exposing herself to the salt-laced wind and hot sun, touching herself in broad, sultry daylight. Hot blood rushed to her temples as she imagined it.
Whatever creature it was she’d glimpsed soaring and gliding above, it was gone now, and her gaze returned to the strand and the tall combers rolling up the coastline, spilling froth on the hard-packed sand and spinning yards of gossamer spindrift carried on the wind. Though she was nowhere near the water’s edge, her fine kirtle of mulberry homespun gauze was damp, clinging to her naked skin beneath, and her long, tousled hair was fanned out about her, combed by the gusts into spiral curls that teased her buttocks and framed her face with wild tendrils.
She was just about to turn back to the cottage before the rain came to further dampen her spirits, when she heard a familiar sound. Stopping in her tracks, she pricked up her ears and listened. It came again. She knew it now, the high-pitched whinny of the waterhorse riding the wind. Her eyes flashed toward the waves thudding on the sand, and her breath caught at the sight of the great white creature prancing through the surf, its high-flying forefeet pummeling the waves as it galloped toward the shore.
Meg’s heart sank when she realized the animal was riderless, but she ran to it nonetheless. Could Simeon have sent it to fetch her? The waterhorse pranced to a high-stepping halt before her, puffing fine spray out of flared nostrils. It reminded her of the way the selkie seals spouted water from theirs. Tears misted her eyes, and she threw her arms about the stallion’s neck.
“Have you come to take me to him?” she crooned to the horse. “Have my seven tears worked their magic, or are you naught but deep-sea glamour come to seduce me to a watery grave?”
The waterhorse snorted. It waggled its head noncommittally, Meg thought. She plucked some of the seaweed from its long wet mane. “I wish I had more knowledge of these mystical things,” she said.
The horse’s silvery eyes gleamed as it stretched its right leg out and knelt upon the other. Its message was clear. The animal wanted her to mount. Right or wrong, it took her only a moment to decide to climb up on the animal’s back and less time for the horse to surge to its full height and bolt toward the water.
Hoping until the last that she hadn’t made the wrong decision, Meg didn’t panic until the waterhorse beneath her disappeared under the swells and brine threatened her mouth. It flooded her nostrils, and she knew. Simeon hadn’t sent the waterhorse. It was acting in its own fiendish stead. It meant to drown her!
Saltwater rushed up her nostrils as the animal plunged deeper into the churning bay. Opening her mouth to scream did nothing but flood her throat with water. Frantically, Meg tugged on the horse’s mane in a
Similar Books
