6. The Sea Is in Her Eyes

Casper held out an arm to stop Jem, and they stayed back as Daland charged forward up the pebbled path. From his vantage point, he could see the back and shoulders of a tall fae—an elf, he guessed, based on the lean build and general height—towering over a shorter figure. A pale, floral skirt and sensible boots were all that were visible, but it was apparently enough to be recognizable to his host.

The elf stepped back and turned around, holding his hands up placatingly. His face was irritatingly perfect, the way that all elves were, but there was an air of smug superiority about him that Casper only hoped would help warn the females away. "I was just saying hello, Daland. There"s no need to get upset."

As the elf moved, Casper caught a glimpse of fiery red hair and a freckled face. Daland"s daughter looked nothing like him, save for the blue-gray eyes that matched the Winter sea, with a round face, button nose, and pink lips that were currently pressed together in an agitated frown.

Jem nudged him with an elbow. "She's certainly not hard to look at."

Casper shushed him with an unamused look, focusing his attention instead on what the elf was continuing to say.

"I came by for a neighborly chat and to have a look around the place."

Daland muttered darkly, "That certainly didn"t look very neighborly to me."

"Erik was just leaving." Daland"s daughter glared at the elf"s back. Her voice lacked the clear tones and musical lilt that tended to accompany fae speech, and was instead strained and slightly rough, as if she were pushing the sound out through a sieve.

Erik"s expression soured, and he threw a glare over his shoulder. "Fine. But you can"t keep me out of here forever. It"s just a matter of time before this lighthouse is mine. You might want to consider the consequences of your lack of hospitality." His eyes finally registered Casper and Jem's presence, and they narrowed into slits. "Who are you?"

Casper crossed his arms and widened his stance, staring back at the tall elf with all the confidence he could muster. Though he could not compete in height, he was nearly twice as broad in the shoulders, and his body was strong and muscled from decades of hard labor aboard his ship. Jem was a little closer to Erik in height, and Casper could see him mimicking his stance from the corner of his eye.

"This is Captain Helmrud and his first mate, Jem," Daland introduced them, though his attention was focused mostly on his daughter, treating Erik like a mere bystander in their conversation. "They've come to visit for the Midwinter Festival."

Erik took his time sizing the two of them up. His eyebrow took on an unimpressed and patronizing tilt. "Where did you come from?"

Casper contemplated his answer for a moment, thankful for the knit caps that covered the tops of their ears. While he wasn't ashamed of being human, he appreciated the upper hand that the air of mystery gave them. He didn't want to lie, but…

"A boat," Jem answered helpfully. "And before that, the sea."

His snark was wasted on Erik, who sniffed. "Well, wherever it is, they obviously do not value intelligence there."

Casper shrugged. "Considering what I just saw, you would fit in nicely."

"As my dear Mormor used to say," Jem added, "‘A wolf in sheep's clothing might think himself smart, but he's just pulled the wool over his own eyes.'"

A quickly smothered snort drew his attention briefly to Daland's daughter, who was looking at him with wide eyes and her hand covering her mouth. Casper kept his face cold and impassive. Jem, he was sure, was smirking in satisfaction.

The elf sneered at him. "I have better uses for my time than standing here and listening to this inane dribble." He locked eyes with Daland. "But I'll be coming back, and when I do, I expect your full cooperation." With a final sniff of contempt, he stalked down the path, shoving Casper roughly to the side as he passed. At the brief moment of contact, Erik's head swiftly spun to look down at him, and Casper knew that he must have felt the unnatural chill that seeped through his jacket.

Erik's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth as if to say more, but Casper held his gaze with a challenging one of his own, and the elf abruptly clamped his lips together and continued on his way.

"Good riddance," Daland muttered as their unwelcome visitor disappeared from sight. He turned to his daughter. "What was that all about? What was he doing here?"

She sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the action drawing Casper's attention once more to her face and the dark, tired circles under her eyes. "It's a long story. I'm guessing you have one, too?"

"There's not really much to it." Daland clasped his hands behind his back and rocked back and forth on his heels. "We got caught in the storm and the ship was going down. We were fortunate Captain Helmrud and his men were nearby to help us."

Casper let out a small, relieved breath that the fisherman had decided to stick to their story. It wasn't that he wanted to lie to the fae of Nivem…but it also was much easier to blend in for their allotted week if it wasn't widely known that for the 363 weeks following, they would closely resemble ghosts. As it was, he was hopeful that if the truth did get out, everyone would just assume Daland's men had swallowed a bit too much seawater than was good for them.

Daland's daughter graced him with a gentle smile, and the world around him stopped for a moment. His mind was a buzzing, empty space as she moved towards him. She offered her hand, and he took it dumbly, forgetting that his hands would be icy and cold until the warmth of her own small fingers wrapped around his. To his surprise, she didn't even flinch—just squeezed his hand with a firm, heartfelt pressure.

"Then I can't thank you enough, Captain Helmrud. I don't know what I would have done if something had happened to him." She gave Daland a fond smile before looking back at him. "My name is Sienna, by the way. I don't think Papa finished his introductions." She dropped his hand and shook Jem's as well.

Sienna…like the sea that's in her eyes.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sienna," Jem was saying, giving Casper a wide smile. "See?" his eyes seemed to say, "You might be able to break this curse after all."

Casper cleared his throat, shoving all thoughts of sea blue eyes deep, deep into the recesses of his mind. The last thing he needed was to let Jem's ideas and his own unexpected reactions give them false hope. "It's just Casper. And I'm glad that we were close enough to help."

"Casper, then. And…Jem, was it?" She turned toward the house, beckoning for them to follow. "Why don't you come inside and have something warm to drink. You both seem like you could use it."

Jem nudged Casper with his elbow as they slowly followed. "Seven days!" he hissed, his words just barely loud enough for Casper to hear. "You have to at least try. If not for yourself, then for us."

"It's a week. No one can fall in love in a week."

"Certainly not, if you keep making faces like that. Smile. Be charming. She doesn't have to love you…just promise fidelity unto death."

Casper shot him a baleful look. "Thanks for that encouragement."

Jem clapped him on the shoulder. "That's why I'm here. Don't worry; I take my role as match-maker very seriously." Without waiting for an answer, he quickened his steps to catch up to the fisherman in front of them, who was just entering the house.

Casper let out a long breath.

That's what I'm afraid of.

A sudden warmth wrapped around him as soon as he stepped over the threshold, and Casper very nearly wept with joy. Sailing on the Winter seas was a cold and dreary business, and being half a ghost the majority of the time meant that his body did not retain heat very well. It had been so long since he had actually, truly felt warm.

Seven years, to be exact, though Jem was the one who was really interested in counting.

Casper looked around the cozy home in interest. It was small, though not cramped, and his eyes eagerly drank in the green leaves of the herbs that grew in the kitchen window and the vase of pale pink flowers on the table, unused to the color of anything other than the water and sky.

Jem and Daland were already sinking into two chairs beside a crackling fire, and his first mate sighed in contentment as he leaned back his head and closed his eyes. "Daland, you might be a fisherman and a lighthouse keeper, but to me you are a hero."

The fisherman's response was lost to Casper as Sienna appeared at his side, enveloping him in a cloud of something fresh and floral. "Go sit down. I'll get some tea started. Are you hungry?"

He looked down at her face. He was not a particularly tall man, even by human standards, but the top of her head barely came up to his shoulder. From this close, he could clearly see the shadows of exhaustion in her face. She smiled, but it was with effort.

Didn't Daland say that she's been looking after the lighthouse all night? Then she had to deal with that towering buffoon, and now she has to play hostess?

His internal protective force kicked into gear. He nodded towards the remaining empty chair by the fire. "You sit down. I can make a pot of tea if you tell me where things are. At the very least, I can get the water heating up."

She placed her hands on her hips and tilted her nose up at him. "I'm not going to sit and let you serve us in our own home. You already pulled my father from the sea. Sit."

He wanted to smile at the lively spark in her eyes. She reminded him of a tiny dog, unaware of its own size, barking up at a big hunting hound.

He wanted to smile, but he didn't.

I know what Jem wants, but I can't do that to her. I've known this woman for less than twenty minutes, and I already know that I don't want to be the one who breaks her heart or her spirit.

"Then I'll help."

She tilted her head to the side. "You're a captain. Do you even remember how to make tea? Don't you have someone who does that for you?"

"I'm fairly certain I can handle putting water over the fire and adding some leaves," he answered drily. "Unless tea means something different to you here?"

"No." She shook her head. "It just surprises me that you would be willing to do such a menial task when you could be relaxing by the fire. At the very least, shouldn't your subordinate over there be doing this for you?"

He could hear the edge of sarcasm in her voice, the bite that suggested that, though she didn't believe the words herself, she had heard them often enough to expect them to be said.

"I don't know what kind of experience you've had with captains to lead you to believe that we expect to be waited on, but I can make tea." Casper punctuated his statement by shedding his coat and hat, hanging them on a hook by the door, and stepping into the kitchen space.

"Alright then." Sienna handed him the kettle and directed him toward the water spigot.

The low sounds of Jem and Daland's conversation settled into the silence that fell over them as they worked. Casper strained his ears to hear exactly what they were talking about, and the brief snatches he could hear did nothing to ease his mind.

"...needs to find a wife…"

"...broken engagement…"

"...maybe they'll…"

He cleared his throat and turned his attention to Sienna, who was standing in front of the stove and stirring a pot of something savory and delicious. "What's the story with that Erik fellow, if you don't mind my asking?"

Her hands stilled for a brief moment, then resumed. She pressed her lips together and kept her eyes on her task. "And if I did mind your asking?"

She's got a lot of spunk for someone so small.He shook his head. Why do I care? I've never bothered to think twice about the amount of spunk a woman has before.

"Then I would beg your pardon and ask about the weather."

Sienna's nose wrinkled like she had just smelled a barrel of old fish. "I might mind that question more than the first. I hate talking about the weather. Around here, it's always the same: either cold and dry, or cold and wet."

"Not the weather, then."

She smiled wryly and eyed him from the side. "But to answer your first question, the elf you had the pleasure of meeting was Erik Escoundre. He's the oldest son of the only elf family in Nivem and owns and controls most of the fishing boats in the area."

Casper crossed his arms and leaned back against the table behind them. There was more to the story than Sienna was saying. The elf had seemed far too entitled and possessive of her for there not to be a deeper thread running through. He suddenly remembered what Daland had said about Sienna's previous relationship. Hadn't it been with an elf?

His mind skimmed over the little conversation he had heard on the path. "And he wants to add the lighthouse to his list of ventures as well?"

Her face hardened. "Something like that. He's had his eye on the lighthouse for some time, though the reason why is anyone's guess. He certainly doesn't have the patience or diligence to be a keeper himself. I think he was quite put out when Papa and I were given the lighthouse instead. But really," she added tightly, "it's his own fault. If he hadn't ripped away the job he promised Papa, we wouldn't have needed to take the position here."

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and Casper shifted uncomfortably, unsure what to do. After nearly fifty years of living with only his crew, female emotions felt like dangerous waters.

"I'm sorry?" He wasn't sure if it was the right response, but it seemed better than saying nothing.

Sienna's smile was forced. "It's alright. Erik has always been like that—once he sees something he wants, he'll stop at nothing to get it. Since he normally gets what he wants, it makes him quite upset when someone says no."

"He gets what he wants, but he doesn't do a thing to keep it," Daland interjected from across the room.

Casper and Sienna both jumped in surprise. Casper hadn't realized that their conversation had an audience, and he felt the tips of his ears start burning from where they were hidden under his hair.

"Thank you, Papa," Sienna answered with a grimace. She began filling bowls with the contents of the pot—some kind of soup, it turned out to be—and gestured for Casper to set them on the table. "Erik was my fiancé," she explained quietly, avoiding his eyes. "He called off our engagement about six months ago."

Then he's even more of a buffoon than I thought.

He kept the thought to himself and instead simply repeated, "I'm sorry."

Her laugh was hard and brittle. "Don't be. Now that we're not together and I've seen his true colors, I'm glad that we won't be tied together for life."