Of Tides and Snow by Darva Green

Author:Darva Green [Green, Darva]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-05-18T16:00:00+00:00

16

GWEN

When we first arrived at the cove, I thought the village shops were garish—all pink, teal, and violet with doors painted in bold hues meant to clash. But now I’m happy for the colorful sight, the break from the dead white stretch of the beach surrounding Cosette’s cottage. There's life all around us. A woman sweeps the doorstep of a teahouse, and children line up around an open-air stall where a man is frying dough and sprinkling powdered sugar on top.

I’d happily wait for a taste, but no one else stops. I lick my lips and sigh. It’s not like I have any coins on me anyway.

“The springs are just past these buildings,” Jacques says, mistaking my disappointment for fatigue. We’ve walked far past the place where we docked the rowboat this morning, following the long strips of bootprints Morgen leaves in her wake. She keeps her determined pace, leading us up the sandy hills and rocky moors looming high above the ocean. The Ruined Soul is anchored in the distance, waiting for us to come back to her.

The change in elevation has me losing my breath. Jacques loops his arm through mine when I start to fall behind.

“No need to rush. Captain usually likes to spend some time here after visiting the cottage,” he says, making no mention of Cosette or what happened with the siren. His face has been drawn and grim since we left.

“I don’t know what happened, but I’m sorry about your Elinor,” I tell him. His throat bobs, and I feel a pang of regret for bringing her up. “I shouldn’t have mentioned her. You probably don’t want to be reminded.”

“It’s all right. You can’t remind me of her when I’m always thinking of her. When you love someone deeply enough, no one can pull their roots from your heart. I actually enjoy talking about Elinor and sharing her stories. She lives on that way.” He wiggles his jaw, considering what he’s about to say. “But I don’t like what the siren did to her memory. She would have asked for my soul. I would have given it to her because all I could see was Nor’s face.”

Is that what the siren was doing? Gathering souls for her mistress? I wish I had never touched the jar and seen the specter inside. I feel as though my hands will never be clean again.

Jacques is on the verge of tears, and I think I might be too when I hear his voice crack.

“Then don’t think of it. Tell me about the real Elinor instead.” I squeeze his arm, urging him on.

“I knew her my whole life,” he starts, and I forget about the exertion of our walk as he tells me about how he fell in love with the girl who lived two houses down from him.

He speaks about how Elinor always managed to make flowers grow in the spaces between the cobblestones and brick buildings. How she’d kneel for hours to coax roses to bloom where they didn’t belong.

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