Henna'd Hearts: Trencadis Tales

By MB Austin

The last person Coreopsis expected to see upon disembarking in Alcudia was Rilla. Why is the most alluring, infuriating, and unforgettable person waiting on the docks for Core? Whatever Rilla wants, Core won't run away again.

 

Finding Rilla waiting on the docks at Alcudia Harbor brings back so many memories to Coreopsis, from the joy and innocent play as children to the awkwardness of unrequited crushes and a mortifying kiss in adolescence. Now a naval cadet with shore leave, Core finds Rilla still makes thon's heart leap with delight and trepidation. Can eight days together mend the old misunderstandings and overcome the current obstacles their two very different worlds put between them? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: MB Austin
• Release date: Feb 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393720317

Book preview

15 June, 1850

The last person I expected to see when I disembarked from the Concordia, on legs gone springy from the roll and pitch of the grand ship’s decks? Cousin Rilla, who always caused my heart to leap. But to be honest, its tempo rose in trepidation as well as delight.

This homecoming itself filled me with that same mix of emotion. But perhaps that is the mark of maturity, to expect a dose of bitter with the sweet. As a child, when I travelled with Lupe and Salix on the expeditions that earned them the moniker of the Good Doctors Mendoza and Fairholm, our return to Mallorca filled me with nothing but childish joy.

My first six months as a naval cadet changed my rosy perspective not one iota. We sailed within the safe confines of the Mediterranean, rendering aid to sailors blown off course and charting coastlines for surer navigation throughout Confederacion waters. I stood my watches and took on any task assigned with enthusiasm.

The Navy had no call for my talents as a truthreader until that fateful April day when we chased a Malagasy ship into Pollensa Harbor, only to find on board a British crew. Even more surprisingly (to us, but not to the Malagasy elders who met us at the dock), we discovered they held captives, including two small children and the Malagasy youth who bore them.

Never in all my travels before that day had I encountered children borne from violence by one parent against the other. Or had I? What shocked me so did not even surprise our Malagasy allies or my Captain, all of whom had experience with British beliefs and behaviors.

I had attempted at the close of that momentous day to purge the horror from my soul by recounting the events in a letter home to Salix, who understood more about Britain and my birth there than anyone else I knew. Yet the terrible truths I learned that April day lurked always just below the surface of my conscious mind, like a kraken waiting to drag a ship to the sunless depths. And I feared they would haunt me until I put the mystery of my own origins to rest.

So I was resolved that the very moment I disembarked I would head directly to my parents’ habitation near the white sand beaches of Alcúdia Bay. No stops for a swim at the natatorium, or to greet friends at the casino, or even to take a fresh, hot meal at a dining hall along the way. No. Direct to Salix and Lupe, leaving my friends from the Concordia’s crew to their own pleasanter pursuits. No playing guide for their carefree explorations. Yes, I can admit it now—in that moment I envied them.

As if summoned by my brooding, my shipboard friends Maffeo, a jocular Venetian, and Akil, an impetuous Egyptian, flanked me at the rail. They chattered excitedly about their ambitions for our eight days on land: choosing their own outfits after far too long in uniform, sampling Mallorquin cuisine, visiting all the many places they had heard about from me and other cadets.

How much of the Island can we see in just eight days? asked Maffeo as we watched the docking team secure the Concordia’s heavy lines to enormous cleats upon the boardwalk’s edge.

Everything! I replied. Ambitious Visitors often race from one spot to another, collecting memories in their travel journals as if they were in competition for a prize. I nudged my friend. But I feel that immersing yourself in just a few places, thoroughly, yields a greater reward. You must explore Alcúdia, of course. Not just because you’re on its doorstep. I pointed inland to the old walled town.

Of course we shall. Because it’s your home. Willowy Akil sighed dramatically. "Won't you