The Island of Excess Love (10 page)

Ez puts his arms around me and kisses my cheeks. I may never let go of him, Ash, or Venice again.

“So you're faster than your brother?” The king cocks an eyebrow at me. “Care to race and prove it? To that rock and back.”

I ignore him and turn to the others. “Have you seen Hex?”

“We checked his room when we woke up,” Ez says. “I thought he was with you and we didn't want to interrupt you.”

I'm aware of something dark passing beneath the surface brightness of the king's sunlit face.

“I don't get why he was upset last night,” Ez goes on. “The food is so good here! Everything's perfect! Right, Ash?”

Ash doesn't answer; he collapses onto a picnic cloth and uncorks a bottle of wine to drink. I wonder if he really is jealous of Ez's relationship with the king. He's never been jealous of anyone before. But we really haven't had any other handsome young men around until now.

“I'll send someone to look for Hexane,” the king says. “Now have some food and then let's race.”

“See?” says Ez, pulling me over to the picnic. “The food is amazing! We can never leave here.” Figs, apples, pears, small cheeses wrapped in fig leaves, a loaf of bread with honey.

We can never leave.

This worries me but it doesn't seem to bother my companions. Even Ash is now gnawing away blissfully at his lunch.

“How come you have all this food?” I ask the king. “Do you know what it's like out there?” I gesture to the horizon, in the direction of the sea that brought us.

“I grow fruits, vegetables, and grains, keep bees, goats, chickens. We fish in the rivers. It's all very simple cuisine but I hope you enjoy it.”

“But how? Where is this place?”

“The Flower Cradle. Just a little something I dreamed up. Now eat. I'll go tell one of the girls to look for your friend.”

Once again, I'm too hungry to question much. Venice, Ez, Ash, Argos, and I eat our fill and rest on the grass while the king is gone. We don't speak, lulled by the ambrosial smells in the warm air, the blue of the sky full of small white clouds, the sway of flowers against our skin. I pick some blossoms and weave them into Ash's dreadlocks. He seems too drunk to notice. When the king returns, promising he's sent the bird woman Dark to look for Hex, I agree to race him. “But I don't have the right clothes,” I say, gesturing to the apricot silk dress I slept in last night.

He flashes his teeth at me. “You look lovely. But if you'd like you can tear off the hem so it's easier to run in. There are lots more dresses.”

I ask him how come there are so many and why he's given them to me.

“We have silkworms here, and master weavers. And I told you why. I don't want to upset you but I've known about you for a long time and I know you are my queen.”

I realize there's no way to have a logical conversation with him, but then, most things aren't logical anymore.

“I'll style you,” Ash says. “Never fear. You won't even remember what Lycra was when I'm done with you.” This causes him and Ez to burst into a fit of giggles. I guess the wine eased whatever tension there was between them.

“Are you guys drunk?” I ask, thinking of Hex.
Your eyes look crazy.

“We're drunk on love,” Ez says.

“The Island of Love,” says Ash. “Get it? We're drunk, on the Island of Love.” He gets down on his knees and rips the hem off the dress so it stops just above my knee with enough extra fabric left to knot between my legs. We use the torn-off fabric to bind my breasts since I still don't have any undergarments. I notice the king watching me as Ash ties the material over my bust and I look down, hoping I'm not blushing too obviously.

I didn't used to be a very fast runner—I was too awkward. Venice was the athlete in the family. But since the Earth Shaker I've gotten stronger from working out with Hex and Venice, in spite of our meager diet.

Where is Hex? I don't like that he hasn't shown up yet; it makes me jittery. Maybe the run will do me good.

“Ready, set, go!” Venice calls out and the king and I take off across the meadow.

The long grasses tickle my shins and the sun shines in my eyes. Eyes! My heart booms blood to my eardrums as I try to keep pace with this man's long legs. He's ahead of me and I don't want him to beat me. I want to show him how strong I am, that he can't win me over so easily with all his praise and trickery. I move my arms quicker, keeping them close to my sides, my head up, shoulders back.

Maybe he lets me, I'm not sure, but I catch up with him as we each touch one of Venice's outstretched hands.

I collapse to the ground, gasping for breath. The king falls down next to me. His chest is heaving, too, and there's a sheen of sweat on his skin. Out of the corner of my eye I can see the smooth indentations of his biceps and pectorals. He rolls over on one elbow and smiles. The disconcerting antlers throw a shadow across my face.

*   *   *

The boy stared down at his sister lying in her pink satin–lined coffin with white lilies all around. Even with her shorn hair she looked like an angel. An angel who had poisoned her three black dogs and killed her snake to keep her company. Her white hands were folded like wings and he managed to slip the pack of cigarettes under them. And then to discreetly snip a lock of her hair and hide it in his pocket. He imagined climbing into the casket with her. It would be dark. They would be there in the dark forever together.

But no, he was going to be strong. He was going to change things for himself and for his beloved when he finally found her. He was going to learn to use magic and change the world.

*   *   *

“Are you all right?” the king asks.

“I'm fine,” I say, not wanting to let him know what I've just seen or how hard the race was, especially if he let me win.

“You have something…” He reaches over and brushes a blade of grass off my cheek, cupping my face in his hand, briefly, his eyes on mine.

I don't like how this gesture makes my heart rate accelerate. Aware of my brother and friends watching me I stand up and adjust the torn silk dress.

“And now, for our archery contest,” the king announces, jumping to my side. He opens a large leather sack and produces a bow and a quiver of arrows. “The winner will receive this. Venice?”

My brother takes the bow and examines it. “I've never done this before.”

“But you have good hand-eye coordination, I'm sure. From all the sports you've done. Just focus, breathe, and pull. Also don't forget the tension in the arm that's not pulling, the bow arm.”

“What are we shooting?”

The king points up into the sky. A flock of white doves. Perhaps the same twelve Hex and I saw when we first arrived on the island. They hover just above us as if waiting to be taken down.

“I can't kill them,” Venice says.

The king accepts the bow back and addresses Ez and Ash. “I don't suppose you two will shoot at birds either.”

They exchange a glance, shrug, and shake their heads no.

The king turns to me. “Pen? They aren't like the birds we once had. They won't die. They only transform.”

I squint at him in the crocus-yellow sunlight. “Really?”

“Yes, really. I'll show you.” He strings the bow with an arrow from the quiver, aims, and pulls the bowstring. The shaft pierces one bird.

I take in a sharp breath of air, remembering the dove in the dream about my mother.

But when the creature stonefalls to the ground she is no longer a bird but a white rose pierced through by an arrow and still miraculously intact. The other doves, unstartled, reconfigure in the sky just above our heads.

“It would be good for you to have your own weapon to fight off danger,” the king says, fitting another arrow into the bow. “That is, if your aim is true, which is debatable.” He smiles and runs a hand through his hair. It falls perfectly back into place. I think of yellow petals.

Challenged, I take the bow from him. I've never done this before but for some reason, right now, it doesn't seem that difficult. Still, I don't really want to shoot at a bird when I haven't seen one in so long.

They won't die. They only transform.

Do I believe him? I want to believe him. This is a way to test his veracity. By putting a small, precious life at stake …

I point the arrow at a dove. Equal tension in both arms. Remembering what Hex once told me about sword fighting:
When you strike, it is not a thought. It is pure action. You embody the result.

Keeping my eye on the white bird—
it will fall to earth a rose, Pen
—I pull back the bow and release.

We all stand transfixed as my arrow ascends into the sky and catches fire, blazing into the clouds like a comet until the flame burns out. The birds scatter, unharmed.

“What was that?” Venice asks.

“I have no idea,” I say. At least I didn't kill any doves.

“Another sign of your nobility,” the king intones. “The bow and quiver are yours, Queen Penelope. May you use them well as you reign at my side.”

Reign at his side? The flame of the afternoon's fantasy sizzles out like my burning arrow. I am no queen. Just a girl without the best aim and an arrow that turned to fire. Although I'm not sure what this means, I know it happened to Acestes, a Sicilian king who provided a brief reprieve for Aeneas and his men before they set off on their journey once more.
The Aeneid
again. Hex's maddening book. Our book. I have to find Hex.

As if on cue, the dark-haired bird woman approaches across the meadow. “The boy is with Swift at the waterfall,” she says. She's bare breasted and I notice Venice blush and look away. He hasn't seen any women besides me in a long time, let alone a half-naked one with wings.

The king thanks her and turns to me. “Queen Penelope?”

“Stop calling me that.”

“It's just a short ways away. It's a little paradise and we can swim. You can all come. Then we'll be back here for supper.”

Ez jumps up, grabs Ash's hand, and dances around with Argos nipping at their ankles.

Even Ash seems happy now, like we're vacationing rather than stranded on an island with a spell-wielding antlered person who seems to have infatuated Ez. We just need Hex to make it okay.

So we agree to go.

The waterfall is across the meadow, beyond an outcropping of the quartz rock and among a cluster of palm trees. We make our way along the trail toward the sound and smell of water. When we emerge from the trees the air is misty and a waterfall cascades over high rocks into a pool. The king dives in, followed by Ez and then Venice. Dark perches on a rock, watching them, her distracting breasts on display. I turn to Ash.

“What's going on? Do you have any idea?”

He shrugs. “I just want some more of that wine.”

I ignore this. “Where do you think Hex is? He wouldn't just leave, would he?”

I'm not so sure. The way he's been acting toward me lately—so cold last night and almost cruel when we were on the boat. Maybe he's still under that spell. But where would he have gone?

“Maybe he's looking for Merk?” Ash suggests. He pulls off his linen shirt and squats on a rock in the sun.

“He would have told me, though.”

Ash squints across the water at the king, splashing with Ez and Venice, tiny rainbow droplets flying in the air around them. “Who knows? That guy's up to something. At least he has good wine.”

“Come on, Pen, join us!” Ez shouts.

“Where's Hex?” I look over at the one called Dark. “You said your friend brought him here.”

“That's what Storm told me.” Her eyes are more golden in the sun.

“We'll find him, I promise,” the king says. “Come in the water now, Penelope. It's your element. You must become as deeply acquainted with it as possible for when you need it most.”

Could he be more cryptic? He seems to be full of these statements. Maybe he knows what happened after the Earth Shaker when that wave came at our house. How would he know this, though, unless he can see things the way I can, which I wouldn't put past him.

But no matter what he means or how he knows what he does, he's right; I may have shot a burning arrow but water is my element. And I need as much fresh water as possible, it seems, to make up for the months without it. We all do.

Venice climbs out of the pool, then jumps off a rock back in, and Ez follows him. Ash closes his eyes as if trying to shut us all out and lies back on the rock to sunbathe.

I remember swimming with Hex, just a day ago. Was it? It seems like forever. Where is he?

But despite the nagging question, I let myself slide into the pool as if putting on a warm silk dress. The actual silk dress I'm wearing provides no significant cover so I try to stay under the water to keep the king from seeing the contours and shadows of my body. He is watching me from a slight distance, smiling. Then he disappears under the water, only the tips of his antlers skimming the surface.

When I'm turned away watching Venice dive I feel hands lifting me up and I scream like the type of girl I never want to be. I can't afford to act silly and weak.

It's the king, holding me by the waist from behind. He grins at me and the predatory look is gone from his face; he's just a playful young man now—well, one with antlers, but still. His muscled arms gleam with water and sunlight. I feel my body giving in, like a plant in need of nourishment.

He owns you
, I think.
You are his.

No, I'm Hex's if anyone's. Where is Hex?

But Hex isn't here and I splash and swim with the king—aware that I'm slipping deeper under the spell of his skin and eyes and smile and not able to fight it, not sure I want to fight it—until the air gets cooler and we decide to hike back.