Half a Soul

There is an apocryphal story about fishes on the beach that has stayed with me my entire life. I do not remember where I first heard it, but I have always been able to recall it to mind with absolute clarity. It goes like this:

A great number of fish had washed up on the beach; there, they flip-flopped, gasping for breath. A little girl had taken it upon herself to walk up and down the beach, however, picking up fishes and throwing them back into the ocean. A bystander marvelled at this, and headed out to talk with her.

“Why are you throwing these fish back into the ocean?” he asked the little girl. “It won’t even matter, in the end. There are so many of them! You cannot possibly hope to save them all!”

The little girl frowned at the bystander and held up the fish that she currently had in her hands. “It matters to this fish,” she told him. And then, she turned herself back down the beach and stubbornly continued throwing fish back into the ocean.

One day far in the future, Elias and Dora visited their closest friends and family in the manner of a final farewell. The next morning, England discovered that the Lord Sorcier and his wife had both quite disappeared, never to be seen again.

But somewhere off in faerie, it is said that Lady Hollowvale finally fixed her mismatched eyes—and she and her husband rule there to this day, from their place in the Hollow House.

Dora’s own wedding was small, but Lady Carroway insisted on hosting a brunch at Carroway House for her as well. Albert’s mother had not forgotten her plans to open another orphanage, and much of the morning’s conversation ended up scandalously centred around those plans, rather than around the weather or the wedding. Dora thought it was the perfect sort of brunch.

Life after marriage was much different than Dora might ever have imagined. In fact, it was much better in nearly every possible way—but she suspected that had much to do with her choice of husband. As a married woman, she was far more free to spend her time as she pleased; and since she was of a mind with Elias on most things, he was only too happy to let her roll up her sleeves to help both Mrs Dun and the new orphanage. Most women of the nobility had only a few children, Dora liked to say—but she had very many, and she loved them all the same. And though it was rare for Dora to feel any sense of breathless joy, she carried with her always a soft, contented glow, rather like the star upon her finger.

The ton soon began to murmur that married life quite agreed with the Lord Sorcier; for while Elias would never be well-mannered, he was certainly distinctly happier. There were times, of course, when dark things threatened and great evils endangered his rest—but if he sometimes came home to sit awake in the dark, Dora always insisted at least on being with him.

Dora looked down and saw that there was a silver ring against her finger, set with a single glimmering star.

Elias slid his fingers just beneath her chin and lifted her eyes to look at him. “You have yet to say yes, you frustrating woman,” he breathed. “Do not leave me in anticipation.”

Dora felt his breath along her cheek as he said the words. The whisper burrowed down beneath her skin, making her shiver.

Dora’s heart did a little flip. “Yes,” she whispered back softly.

Elias leaned down towards her. His lips brushed hers. The touch was so light, so painfully gentle, that Dora might not have believed it had happened at all except for the cascade of dizzying tingles it sent down her spine.

His thumb stroked down her jaw. His lips pressed just a bit harder, as though to test her reaction. Dora wound her arms around his neck in response, leaning up towards him. His body was warm; the heat of him melted through her completely, washing away any other awareness of the world around them.

For the rest of my life, this will be the dream in which I live, Dora thought. It was a blissful thought indeed.

Elias brought his hand up to run his fingers through her hair, and Dora found herself very glad that she had not paused to pin it up. “I did bring flowers this time,” he murmured.

Dora opened her eyes and saw him looking down at her with a strange intensity. The gold of his eyes mesmerized her in a brand new way, and she tightened her fingers in his jacket.

“I am not certain what to say,” Elias admitted. “I am sure that I had words in mind, but they suddenly escape me.” His tone was nervous now, and Dora thought that very odd indeed, for a man who had just faced down the Marquess of Hollowvale in his own realm.

“You should say whatever you like,” Dora told him. “I am happy to see you. Surely, you know that the rest does not matter.”

Elias knitted his brow. “I do feel that it matters,” he said, and there was suddenly a note of contrariness to his voice. “One does not simply say let us go and get married, if you are amenable.”

“But you did say that.” Dora beamed gently at him. “And I was amenable. I still am.”

“Would you not argue with me for once?” Elias said with a flush. “Listen here, Miss Ettings! I am in love with you. You deserve to hear that. I love your wit and cleverness. I love that you are kind but almost never nice. I love your eyes and your hair and your freckles, and the fact that you smell like some monstrous floral perfume all of the time.” He paused, now looking somewhat offended at himself. “And I love to dance with you. That is the worst of it by far.”

Dora blinked slowly. Each word heated up her heart bit by bit until it was a bewildering bonfire. That fire burned its way down into her mind, consuming all of the ugly things that still lingered beneath its surface. When she was alone or tired or uncertain, Dora knew that these would be the words that came to her now instead of all those others, and she could not help but smile in a silly, dreamy way.

“And obviously,” Elias said with a huff, “I would like to marry you. I cannot say that I recommend myself very fondly, but I make the offer all the same.”

Dora reached up to pat at his cheek. “Then I shall recommend you instead,” she told him. “I already have, you know. I told Lord Blackthorn that I thought you were the most virtuous man in all of England.” She considered for a moment. “I should rather ask if you are sure you will be pleased with me like this forever. I will never feel things quite as other people do.”

“Dora,” said Elias. “I am sure that your other half is very lovely. But I fell in love with you exactly as you are. And perhaps that is for the best—if you were suddenly twice as charming, then I should be utterly overwhelmed.” He curled his hand around hers, and she felt a pleasant tingle against her skin.

Lord Hollowvale stared up at her with trembling, blood-flecked lips. “I have... only ever... been charitable to you,” he whispered.

Dora blinked back hideous tears. “I am sure that every evil man believes himself to be charitable,” she told him. “In that respect, at least, you are a true Englishman.”

“I must not,” said Elias whimsically. “You said that I must give her back promptly or else I should be forced to marry her. I choose the latter option, Lady Mourningwood.”

Dora blinked in confusion.

Shocked gasps went through the dark shadows surrounding them. Lady Mourningwood stared at Elias, uncomprehending. “But that is not done,” she said. “No one ever chooses the latter option.”

“Then why give two options at all?” Elias asked mildly. “Surely you did not lie to me when you offered them both.”

This stymied the baroness as nothing else had managed to do yet. She stood there for a moment in consternation—but eventually, Lord Hollowvale approached with his brow knitted.

“What is the meaning of this?” the marquess demanded. “Why will you not release my daughter, Lord Longshadow?”

“I was told that I must marry her,” Elias said cheerfully. “And I now accept that fate.”

“You do?” Dora mumbled at him dimly.

“Well, why shouldn’t I?” Elias asked her. “I sent a letter to Lord Lockheed asking for your hand in marriage a few days ago. I was quite reasonable about your dowry, and so he gave me his immediate consent. I meant to tell you earlier, but you disappeared before I could.” His hand tightened at her waist. “I would ask if you are amenable to the idea yourself, but Lady Mourningwood was very clear on her ultimatum. And I do not intend to hand you back to her.”

“Oh,” said Dora, and she was suddenly so dizzy that she found it hard to breathe. “But I am amenable.”

Elias reached up to brush his thumb over her cheek. “There is only so much time,” he said softly. “And I will not let you die. You once told me that your cousin was a warm lantern to you, Dora. I know what you mean by that now. Of all things, you have become my lantern too—and I cannot bring myself to let you go out.

“I do not believe in such a thing as love,” Elias scoffed. “Perhaps attraction, or companionship, or friendship. But so many men act as though love is some special sort of magic. I feel that I am qualified to say it isn’t so.”

“Well, but you have just described love, I think,” Albert replied in bemusement. “Attraction and companionship and friendship. Is there nothing special about those things, especially if they are all together at once?”

blinked. “But you never go to faerie,” she said. “I was going to ask if you could draw us back from here, or ask your advice on escaping. I didn’t mean to imply that you should—”

“Of course I am coming for you!” Elias told her hotly. His gold eyes burned at her. “I have tried everything, Dora. Everything. When I had no ideas left, I even prayed, for God’s sake. You have slept for a full day and a half since your cousin found you, and I have counted every awful second of it!”