𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝑪𝒂𝒊𝒓 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒍

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 7

"The beginning's boring, just a long ride," Edmund said, placing his hands behind his head and crossing one foot over the other as he stared at the stone ceiling. "And since banshees don't come out during the day there was a lot of waiting," he yawned. That may have not been his bed, but it sure beat sleeping on the ground.

Aglaophoena stared at him with curious eyes. She hadn't seen much of life above water and–as much as she wanted to return to the sea– she was just dying to find out what the above world was like. 

Maybe once I recover fully I can take a look around before returning home, she thought. 

Edmund continued. "Finding it proved difficult, so I had to use Peridan as bait," 

"What?" The alarm in her voice did not sit well with Edmund. 

"Don't sound so concerned," he grumbled. "As I told my sister, he's perfectly fine. And besides, he agreed to it. If anything, I'm the one who got the worse end of the stick," 

"You were beat with a stick?" she inquired. That would explain the bruises. 

"Wha– no. Maybe. Sort of. It's a figure of speech. Never mind," It was too late and he was too exhausted. 

She decided to let it go and turned to the question she had been pondering ever since he left. 

"How did you kill it without going mad?" 

He turned to her with the arrogance of someone who knows something the other doesn't, a small smirk on his face. The need to taunt her overwhelming the need to rest and close his eyes. "Wouldn't you like to know," 

"You said you'd tell me," she protested and sat up a bit straighter, unconsciously edging towards him. 

"Did I?" Amusement danced in his eyes. 

Her nostrils flared, but before she could say anything else he answered her question. 

"Wax,"

"What?" She blinked. 

"I read about it in a book and I fashioned earplugs from wax. I figured if it worked against sirens it ought to work against the banshee," 

She didn't like having to, but she disliked not knowing even more. "What's wax?" she asked. 

Edmund looked at her quizzically but then remembered she lived undersea and that there were probably no candles down there. He yawned. 

"The stuff candles are made of," he sat up. "Here," He reached for the candle and picked up between his fingers the drops that hadn't yet dried.

"Isn't that hot?" she asked him with alarm and Edmund found it pleased him. 

"Only for a second," he said and fashioned it into a small ball. "See?" he held it up for her to look.