CHAPTER TWO
I haven't loved school since second grade. Around then is when I started to realize that I would be doing this same thing for the next million years of my life, and that, combined with a sub-standard teacher who did more than justice to the prefix "sub-" made me realize that there was more to life than school. I always kind of regretted this awakening, because I'd been obsessed prior to it, but that was the way the dice was thrown and I had to live with it. As a result of this, I spent most of my days being bored, getting good grades I didn't do much for, and wishing I had a real friend. I had friends of the average dime-a-dozen variety, of course, to see movies with and discuss boys, but it had been years since I had really connected with someone. I had always found myself a little different in the way I related to other people. When I loved someone, I loved them deeply and would do anything for them, but it was extraordinarily rare that anyone would earn such favor. Little satisfaction was ever gained from casual friendships, and I wished it were different.
These feelings hit home more forcefully a few days after my audition. I couldn't have said why. Maybe it was because my eighteenth birthday was coming up in a few months and I had begun seriously looking around for colleges, and realized that there was no one besides my mom that I would be sad to leave behind. Maybe it was because as I looked around the cafeteria, there were lots of cuddling couples, and I hadn't had a boyfriend in three years and was feeling sorry for myself. Whatever the reason, by the time I headed home my mood had turned completely melancholy.
Without much thinking about it, I turned off the main road and parked my car by the path leading down to the beach. I needed somewhere to sit and indulge the doom and gloom atmosphere that was swirling around in my head like so much fog, and one of my boulders seemed like a good option. The boulders and I had developed quite a relationship over the past year. I sat, they sat. I grew colder, they were usually cold. I was soft, they were solid, and together we managed to merge into the water and sand and sky that surrounded us.
I don't know how long I sat there. I had sunk into a sort of meditative trance, watching the late afternoon light turn the tips of waves to diamonds, not thinking about anything, when I heard singing. It took a moment to register, for it seemed utterly natural in that environment, as though it were as part of the surroundings as my rock and I. The voice was high, almost eerie, and rich, like the ocean itself, and I listened, bemused. It was a woman's voice, certainly, but I could not tell where it came from. The road above was deserted, the beach an empty expanse, and nothing could be seen over the water but clouds, the sun, and air.
I slid from the boulder and landed on the soft, cool sand. The water lapped along the wet, dark ground invitingly. I wanted to dive into it, and although I knew full well that doing so would be utterly stupid, as it was bound to be freezing and I was a very poor swimmer, the temptation proved almost too strong. Instead I kicked off my shoes and waded into the shallow edge, the water barely rising above the bottom of my feet. It was cold, absolutely, but I didn't flinch. A step deeper --- still the cold didn't cause any kind of recoil. I moved deeper and deeper, a small part of my mind considering the possibility that I'd gone insane at last, but most of my attention was on the voice. The song was enchanting, hypnotic, and before I knew it, the ground was gone from my feet and I was treading icy water, my brain losing control of itself and floating away to some misty shore.
Things went black at last, although I wasn't particularly conscious of it as it happened. I have a vague recollection of hands gently grasping my body, guiding me through swells of the sea, of sun, a blue sky, and stars, but remember nothing clearly of that time. When I awoke, I lay for a time on soft, sun-drenched sand, watching greenish reeds waving in the breeze. It was comfortable, and deeply quiet. I could hear the reeds, the waves, and the occasional far-off cry of a bird, but nothing else disturbed the stillness.
Where was I? The thought slowly reached the top of my brain, like an answer in a Magic Eight ball, and when at last it fully penetrated my mind, I sat bolt upright. What had I done? I'd jumped into the waves, like some idiot, gone and half-drowned myself, surely, and now... Now I'd washed up on some beach that had a considerably warmer climate than Maine? The likelihood of that seemed ridiculously slim. Perhaps I'd been drugged, and some pervert was sitting around just waiting for me to wake up so he could... Did I have my clothes on? A quick check reassured me on this count --- I did indeed have my own clothing, and it was very wet and sandy and uncomfortable. Another glance around helped not at all to determining a location. I was on an totally unfamiliar stretch of land, by a totally unfamiliar stretch of richly blue sea, next to a totally unfamiliar rock-studded hill that led up to a totally unfamiliar forest. The entire scenario was unnerving at best.
"Marina," said a soft voice. I screamed and jumped, then whirled around, thinking as I did so of what I could use as a weapon. What I saw surprised me. It was a woman sitting on a rock, a beautiful woman with wild blonde hair and strong features. She looked Scandinavian, with her sun-kissed complexion and vivid blue eyes, but was clothed in a gown that made me think of a Greek goddess, with folds and folds of teal silk and silver cording criss-crossed on the front. I stared at her for a moment, and then she smiled and stood. I took an involuntary step back.
"Who are you?"
Her smile widened. She had dazzling teeth --- not particularly white, but strong, and even. "My name is Nereida," she said. Her voice was smooth and musical. "Do not fear me --- I mean you no harm."
"Where the heck am I?" I asked. My voice came out rough and modern, in some sort of subliminal protest to her cultured tones. I couldn't decide whether I trusted her or not. On the one hand, the whole thing was suspicious, and the prom dress was just... weird. On the other, there was something about this woman that inspired respect, at least, and she didn't seem like she would hurt me --- although she probably could if she wanted to. And prom dress or not, the gown suited her much more than you would expect such a thing to suit anyone sitting randomly on a beach.
"Merlana," she said. "The Palais beach, to be more precise."
"Merlana," I repeated slowly.
"Merlana. It's a country."
"Right." I paused, looked around, then turned to meet her gaze. "Never heard of it."
"I know," she said. She nodded. "It's unfortunate, but it was for your own protection. I'm sure you're in need of both rest and an explanation," she added, clearly noticing my expression. "We will be glad to provide both if you'll just follow me." She beckoned and started to turn. I stopped her.
"Wait. No. Who are you?"
She looked sympathetic. I didn't want her pity --- I wanted to go home. The woman, Nereida, merely beckoned again.
"Marina," she said, "I understand this may be a bit of a shock. Now, listen. I can try and explain the whole thing to you here, now, and try to deal with your confusion and probably irritation and all other emotions that must inevitably follow such a conversation, while you're sitting there in those wet clothes which will probably begin to itch soon, or you can come up to the palace, have a nice bath and meal, and have your foster mother explain everything to you."
"My what?"
"Foster mother. Lisette Kingston, or Lisa, as I believe you know her. She's not here yet, but we expect her to arrive at any moment."
I stared at the woman. "You kidnapped my mom?"
A low laugh emerged from her throat like a dark butterfly, though the metaphor was so ridiculous I banished it on the spot. "No. No, she's from here."
"She's from Detroit."
The laugh came again. "How dismal. No, I assure you. Now, come along. I don't know you that well but I can almost guarantee that you'd be more comfortable at the palace than right here."
A palace. She was either completely crazy, or I was having an extremely strange dream. It couldn't be the latter, because my dreams were never this coherent, ever, and I barely remembered them when I awoke. Moreover, the vast majority of the ones I remembered were in third person, and right then, I was definitely me. It was a bizarre situation, but my curiosity was up. A palace was enough to do that, and much as I hated to admit it, she was right --- my clothes itched.
"Fine," I said. "I'll come with you. But I think you should know that I think you're completely bonkers."
"You're free to think that," she said, sounding amused. "You'll understand everything soon enough. Come along."