5: A Most Unfortunate Boating Incident

Chapter 5 of "A Grail for Eidothea:

Eidothea tours the Tregallas home with Jasper before they dine. His father, Lord Tregallas is creepily interested in her ring. Eidothea sings an old dreigiau môr song after dinner. She and Jasper Tregallas have a tête à tête in the library. He invites her to go out with him on a boat.

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25th March, 1814

I fell in. Mr. Jasper Tregallas and the boatman soon rescued me but it put an end to the boating expedition. Fortunately, instead of increasing my fear of the water, I have new found confidence in being in or near it.

The details then. Mr. Jasper Tregallas arrived midmorning to escort me to the tiny fishing village. We both wore thick woolen gloves against the cold. A knitted scarf kept my neck warm, but his scarf concealed much of his pale face, save for his eyes and the bridge of his nose. The sun came out and warmed us as he drove us in his curricle into the village.

Tregallas helped me into the small skiff, gave directions to the boatman, who was a familiar face, and settled beside me. “Would you like to see your cliffs from the ocean?”

I agreed, not having an alternate destination in mind.

We sailed into the wind. Not yet in sight of my home, the boatman made a sharp tack, calling out to us to move from the low bench.

I rose, unsteady, and felt the warmth of Tregallas’ body against mine momentarily before I lost my footing. He reached out to me as I toppled overboard.

The waters closed over my head.

I cannot precisely describe what happened next. My clothing fell away, my gown rising and my cloak and shoes sinking, Other pieces of clothing hung suspended in the water just above me.

Twisting, I screamed, seawater filling my mouth and my throat. A purplish serpentine, scaled body filled my view. What happened to my legs? Had some sea monster attacked me? Then sense came to me: I was no longer human, but draig môr. Seadragon.

A large form hove out of the blackness below, headed straight for me, its black whiskers pressed against its garish face. For all the stories Mother had told me of her kind, I had never seen one before. I screamed again and writhed in an attempt to get away but my body’s workings were still beyond me.

:Eidothea, it’s me, Llyr: The thought entered my mind. :Stay still and calm. I will retrieve your things.: He jack-knifed in a stream of bubbles and went in pursuit of my clothing.

The salt water no longer choked me. I looked up at the silver ceiling that was the ocean’s ribbed surface, saw the dark hull of the skiff shatter it as it cut through. closing again behind it in a mass of white foam.

Llyr returned with a  bubble of seaweed. His birthmark showed dark burgundy against his red and gold scales. :I saved what I could,: he told me. :Good. You have figured out you can breathe.:

:WHAT IS GOING ON?: I thought back at him.

He shushed me. :They can hear you all the way to Caer Morgana! Focus your words on me.:

:I’m a — seadragon?:

:Draig môr.: Llyr corrected me.

I looked down at myself. How could this be? Only mother was a seadragon. How? Mother’s pearl ring hung off the long chain. At least I had not lost that. :If Jasper sees…: the thought surfaced.

:You’re thinking too loudly again. Who is Jasper?: Llyr’s thin lips curled. He snorted bubbles.

:On that boat up there. Llyr, he cannot find out.:

:Follow me.:

We swam a short distance and around the far side of an outcropping of rocks. :Climb up those and I will pass you your clothes. Once you surface, you will be back in your human form.:

I clawed my way up the rocky incline, breaking the sea’s surface. Claws changed to fingers. My hair hung in tangled waves down my back. I had lost every pin in the transformation. Is this why Mother wore her hair down so often?

I crouched, trying to hide my nakedness. Llyr surfaced, heaving seaweed-bound sodden clothing onto a rock next to me.

“You cannot look!”

Llyr obliged with a quarter turn.

I soon discovered the impossibility of a wet body donning wet clothes. I did my best: chemise followed by the wool petticoat and my stays, the last being somewhat easier due to its reinforced shape.

“Meet me tomorrow in the cave.” Llyr looked unconcerned in the choppy waves, glancing sidelong at me. “I thought I would never see you again—the way you ran out of the cave.”

I needed to tell him why. But not now. “I will explain later.” I tried not to think how my undergarments clung to me, and I straightened. Over the rocks, I saw Tregallas and the boatman desperately scanning the sea and calling my name.

“Tregallas!” I yelled. (It was not a ladylike call.) I waved when he spotted me and ducked down, fighting to pull on my woollen round gown.

“Eidothea? Will you meet me tomorrow?” Llyr drifted so he could see past the rocks and view the approaching skiff. “Now that you are draig môr, you must meet your kin in Caer Morgana.”

“Now that you have asked me. Yes, I think I must.” I flashed him a smile, tugging on the gown’s sleeves. I despaired of dressing in time. The cold fabric made my skin even icier. “Go now, they are drawing near.”

I watched Llyr submerge beneath the water, bubbles surfacing as he transformed. I climbed over the rocks to meet the skiff.  This was no easy task, with wet linen clinging to my legs.

Tregallas took one look at me, barked something at the boatman, and scooped up an armful of blankets. He turned for another look. His gaze widened at the sight of me. I crossed my arms, to conceal and also trying to stay warm.

“Hold steady!” he commanded, his gaze never leaving mine. Tregallas held out his hand. “Quick, Miss Pendyr.”

I took his gloved hand and jumped onto the skiff. The boat rocked and for a moment, I thought we would capsize. Tregallas’ shocked and frightened expression showed he thought the same, but the boatman expertly shifted his weight and we leveled out.

In moments, Tregallas had me bundled up and settled in the skiff’s hull. Rough blankets wrapped about my feet and lower legs and draped over my head.

“What happened to your cloak? And your boots?” Tregallas vigorously rubbed my arms through the blanket.

“I was sinking. My cloak was dragging me down faster.” I fibbed. I marveled at how calm and collected I sounded despite my chattering teeth. “I do not know what happened to my shoes.” I dare not dissemble too much with him as he saw through my illusions. Could he see through my lies as well? It might have been better to give the illusion of being wet but fully dressed, but the moment for spells had passed and I did not dare test how far that gift of his went.

“You are safe now.” He sat next to me, his side pressed against mine, his arm around my shoulders. “Forgive the familiarity, Miss Pendyr, but we must keep you warm.”

I nodded, relishing his body heat. I am not one to feel the cold that much, but in that moment I longed for a blazing fire.

He kept his voice low, so that only I heard. “I am so sorry, Miss Pendyr. I did not expect the boat to tilt so. I fear that all I have done is confirm your water phobia and this is the end of your boating adventures.”

I shook my head, pulling just far enough away so that his face was visible, but not so far as to lose contact with his body. “On the contrary,” I said, smiling, and his blue eyes widened in surprise. “I survived. I do not fear the sea any more.”

His gloved hand tucked a sodden curl behind my ear. “You are a remarkable woman, Miss Pendyr. Does this mean our friendship is not untimely finished?”

I gazed downward, shaking my head. I did not and do not know what I could promise him, nor what he expected now that he had seen me so disheveled and en deshabille, even if that was not anyone’s fault.

“You seem very keen on gaining my friendship.”

I felt him shrug. “I have very few friends. It would be nice to have one here to welcome me whenever I return.”

You do not mean to stay? I swallowed the question. Instead, I responded: “A … gentleman friend would be better, surely.”

He sighed. “Miss Pendyr, you intrigue me. Friendship seems an appropriate way to learn more about you given that you seem to have decided I am not one to be trusted.”

“I am here with you now,” I reminded him. “Thus there is some measure of trust.”

“More with the boatman than I, I warrant.” He sighed again. “But no words will convince you, will they, Miss Pendyr?”

“Perhaps there are a few words.” I shifted to put space between us, the blanket falling off my head. “The first time we met, you found a leaf in my hair. How was that possible?”

“It was the second time,” Tregallas corrected. “And I am a very keen observer.”

“But—“ I bit my lip. I could not say more without confessing my own magical ability.

“Not here.” Tregallas glanced meaningfully at the boatman who might overhear our conversation.

I wondered if he could read minds, or had correctly interpreted my hesitation. “You are the soul of discretion,” I murmured.

“I am,” he agreed amiably. “Rest now.”

I let him guide my head to his shoulder, but had no inclination to doze. “I am afraid my aunt will see this as either an unmitigated disaster or the very best of opportunities.”

“Should you be confessing this to someone so disreputable?” Tregallas chuckled.

I sighed. “Mr. Tregallas, would a scoundrel care what happened to me? Perhaps this is the real test.”

“You speak so frankly.” His voice held a note of wonder.

“What choice do I have? It seems I cannot dissemble with you.” Had he even accepted my lie about removing my cloak whilst underwater?

He sucked in his breath. “How far do you think—“ He whispered, “It is only your magic I can see through.”

Did he tell the truth? Some part of me wanted to put as much distance between us as possible. It was not safe to be near someone who saw through magic. Did this mean he knew I was dreigiau môr? Despite my questions, the cold won out. I nestled in closer.

He cleared his throat. “Would I be so bad a choice?”

I huffed a laugh. “That is a question I would ask you, Mr. Tregallas. I fear I have not made much of a good impression.” After a moment’s thought, I added, “I suspect you underestimate my aunt. She merely wishes to have my future secured. Most girls my age are already married.”

He chuckled. “Are you trying to determine my income, Miss Pendyr?”

I released the blanket’s edge and covered my mouth, shocked. “Mr. Tregallas, I am not that forward.”

He tucked the blanket back around me. “You made quite a strong impression at the rocks.” The slight huskiness in his voice made me blush.

I wanted to pull the blanket over my head, but that would require letting go of the other blanket. Tregallas had seen more than enough of me.

“I do not know what our future holds,” he continued. “But I hope we would be friends. May I call you ‘Miss Eidothea’?”

The use of a title put a little propriety to the intimacy of using our Christian names. I wondered if this request put him in the rake or gentleman role. Never mind that hearing my name on Llyr’s lips seemed so natural. I had not questioned it until this moment. “And Mr. Jasper?” It did not sound so horrible aloud.

“It will suffice for now.” His low voice promised that the formality would be temporary. Definitely a rake. Not that he looked like one with his red hair and freckles.

Pysgota Mawr, the village with its small pier, hove into view. I shrunk into the blanket. How was I going to get home with my reputation intact?

He followed my gaze. “Do not worry, Miss Eidothea. I will get you safely home.”

He kept his arm around my shoulders, a hand making sure the blanket concealed all. He released me only to help me out of the skiff. He even drove his curricle one-handed, admittedly at a steady pace.

His hand on my shoulder tightened when Aunt Norah answered the door but relinquished his grasp at her astonished cry. She whisked me inside. Over her caterwauling and commands for hot water, he asked: “Tomorrow?”

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