Kingdom of Salt and Sirens

by J. A. Armitage

  "I wish that I could keep you here with me," she whispered, a pang of longing shooting through her.

  Bubbles escaped Amista's lips and Mara remembered why that wasn’t a possibility she could entertain. Amista had no gills for breathing in the water as Mara did. Only a set of lungs to take in the land's air to keep her alive.

  There was no time to waste. Amista had likely been under for too long already. Hesitantly, somehow wishing the circumstances were different, Mara pressed her lips to Amista's.

  It was not the way she'd imagined tasting her little human.

  She exhaled—then inhaled. In. Out. Rhythmically, watching Amista's chest rise and fall with her breaths. She shifted her grip, continuing to breathe through her gills and into Amista, breathing for her as she swam away. She couldn't surface here in the canals, not with so many humans hysterical and with an apparently dead ruler in her grip.

  Cornered in a canal with a hundred harpoons aimed at her from a close-distance... one of them may strike true. Mara's skin was nigh on impervious, but she didn't feel like testing her luck. She'd seen the humans' weapons take down great humpback whales. She didn't care to find out if their might was equal to hers.

  So she pressed Amista's body to hers and torpedoed through the waters, heading for the beach where she and Amista had spoken outside her palace. It wasn't far. And she hoped it would be less guarded than it had in days past when she and Amista surfaced.

  They broke the water's surface tension, and Mara broke her lips from Amista's with a gasp and a hiss.

  Still, the little human did not breathe.

  Mara let out a series of hisses and screeches that let the sky above know her displeasure. Had there been any prey in the vicinity, it would have shrank back and darted for cover at the sounds of her raw fury.

  She headed for shore, urgency growing in her chest like a living thing; an invasive weed that left no space for anything else to grow. She had to get Amista somewhere safe. She cast a worried look to the girl's face as she swam. The young queen was pale and drawn, without movement. No signs of life behind those closed eyes.

  They reached the beach and Mara slung Amista's body onto the sandy shore, where the water was a great deal more shallow. Just enough for Amista to be out of the water and hopefully safe from the other Mordgris, and for Mara to still be in it.

  She morphed her hands to human hands, taking care that her talons would not puncture Amista's delicate skin and pushed on Amista's chest until the water released her, expelled from Amista's mouth in a violent gush.

  Sweet relief flooded through Mara as Amista's hands pushed against her chest to shove Mara out of the way as she turned to the side to vomit the water that had nearly taken her life.

  "I am in your debt. Thank you, madam," she said turning—then recoiling.

  It was the sight of a monster that repulsed her. The realization thrummed through Mara and she leaned away as if Amista had reached out to deal her a physical blow.

  "I'm sorry," she said in her human voice. She didn't want to offend Amista's delicate human sensibilities. She swallowed some sort of strange rock sitting in her throat. "I'll leave you alone."

  "No. Wait." Amista's small hand latched on to her wrist as she turned away. "I'm sorry."

  Mara stilled.

  "It was instinct. I didn't realize it was you until I saw your hair. All my life, Mordgris have slaughtered my people. But I know that you're different. You wouldn't hurt me."

  There wasn't even the hint of uncertainty in Amista's voice and the rock in Mara's throat sank to her chest. It was true—she wouldn't hurt Amista.

  And part of her hated that fact, rebelled against meeting this human, this girl who had taken Mara's nature and twisted it at its core until Mara had become something new. Something not quite monstrous. And certainly not human.

  So what was she?

  “Mara, please.” Amista's voice broke in desperation. “I really am sorry. Will you just look at me?”

  Mara's head turned despite herself.

  Amista's blue eyes swam with tears. They reflected the sunlight like a small pool on an island. "Please." She repeated the word like a prayer as the tears spilled over onto cheeks that were beginning to dry, encrusted with dried salt from the water.

  Mara reached forward and flicked a tear away. Amista caught her hand and pressed it against her cheek.

  "What do you see when you look at me?" Mara asked miserably.

  Amista reached out to mirror the hand she held against her own cheek, stroking her fingers down Mara's face.

  "Mara," she said. "I see only Mara."

  And she leaned forward... and pressed her lips to hers.

  Mara's head spun in a riot of confusion, and thrilling sensation, a bolt shooting from the muscle in her chest to her belly as she wrapped her arms around Amista's torso and drew her closer—but not close enough. Amista scooted across the sand to get even nearer.

  She clasped Mara's face between her hands and moved her lips against hers, the friction between them doing nothing to decrease the heat pooling in Mara's belly.

  Experimentally, Mara flicked out her tongue, wanting—needing—to taste Amista properly. And when Amista's hesitant human tongue extended to return the gesture, she broke away with a hiss of pain, touching a hand to her mouth. Her fingers came away with blood on them. She held a palm out to Mara, bewildered.

  Mara ran her own, hardened tongue against her needle teeth contemplatively. "I can fix that." She flattened them until they were shaped into the flat white mallets of human teeth and smiled at Amista.

  Amista laughed, shaking her head. "Incredible."

  And then she was back, no longer as hesitant as her bloody tongue swept inside Mara's mouth. Mara's arms tightened around her. Did the girl in her arms have a clue how incredible she was? How daring, how trusting she was being? Her blood was in Mara's mouth. It sang to her, begged her to consume the soul that came with it. But she knew now she could never do that.

  A meal of Amista's soul would be an all-consuming pleasure. A heady, fantastic thing. But it would be fleeting.

  And when the feeling faded, Mara would be left alone.

  She didn’t want to be alone.

  Amista pulled back, leaning her forehead against Mara's. Despite the light of today's bright sun, her pupils were blown wide, as dark as the black of Mara's eyes.

  "I should get back," she said quietly.

  Elation faded, replaced with resignation.

  "My grandmother and the city will be in a panic," she explained, standing and smoothing down her sodden skirt. "She probably thinks I'm dead… and I don't have an heir. Plus, I promised..." She shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

  "Then you must go," Mara said woodenly. "I understand."

  She shook her head. “I don't want this to be the last time I see you. Will you return? Tonight,” she added hastily. “When the moon crests past the highest point in the sky. Can you find your way to the royal docks?”

  Mara hesitated.

  "Please," Amista said softly.

  And she relented. Because how could she do anything less?

  "Yes," said the girl who was not quite a monster anymore. "I will come back."

  12

  Amista

  "Amista? Amista!"

  Amista snapped back to attention as her grandmother clapped her hands together in front of her face. "Did you hear a word I just said?" she asked, exasperated.

  "Um... you said… my name?" Amista offered sheepishly.

  Her grandmother's lip twitched, like it couldn’t make up its mind between amusement or annoyance. The expression fell somewhere in between, landing in a position of gentle concern. "Are you sure you're all right?" she asked quietly. "We could have this discussion tomorrow if you're still..."

  Amista straightened, feeling guilty. She wasn’t ill... just preoccupied. And not preoccupied with what she should be: the attack in the canals. It was memories of Mara preoccupied her. "I'm fine."

  Her g
randmother scrutinized her expression, search for any flicker of movement or a tell that this was a lie. Amista strove to portray the image of a serene queen, radiating peace and calmness. She smiled winningly.

  And so, her grandmother saw no hint of a lie. And why should she? Perhaps Amista should be more concerned about the fact that there had been an attempt on her life, but she hadn't been lying when she said that she was fine. In fact, she was more than fine. She was great. She could hardly keep the grin from her face when she thought about Mara.

  Before, she'd been so concerned about her growing infatuation with the Mordgris that it seemed like Mara's visage haunted her every bit as much as her father's had. The obsession made no sense. Mara, despite her lovely and ever-changing locks, was a Mordgris. Her kind was made to kill Amista's kind.

  But now, things were different. Mara had had plenty of opportunity to kill Amista and she hadn't. More than that, she'd actually saved her life when it quite literally fell into her lap.

  And Amista... felt safe with her. In a way she didn't feel safe with anyone else.

  “Very well, then,” her grandmother said after a long while. “Let's continue. I have a report about your attacker.”

  That managed to grab her attention. “They found him?” Amista asked.

  Her grandmother's eyebrows furrowed together. "Yes... as much good as it's done. He seems to be a simple puppet hired on by someone who supports the Allarian cause."

  If her grandmother's face had paled when she'd seen Amista with a Mordgris, Amista would never forget sheet white sheen of her skin, the tears that coated her face and the stricken expression in her eyes when she thought she'd lost Amista forever.

  When Amista trudged back up to the castle, soaking wet and dazed, a hand to her lips where Mara's mouth had just been, she'd found her grandmother's face frozen in that expression. She’d moved automatically, even in her grief, tending to business. She commanded Amista's captain of the guard to seek out the source of the attack and instructed him to ensure that the castle was not vulnerable to further attacks against the crown.

  Just before she'd fallen, she'd heard a cry. "Death to the rebel bitch!"

  And if they were calling her a rebel, there was no question who they supported, not really.

  The attack had been a test for a new queen—at least, Amista hoped that was all it was. The conflict between Tigrid and Allaria was an old one, spanning decades of betrayal and bloodshed. Tigrid had once been a part of the Allarian empire, but they'd seized their independence nigh on forty to fifty-odd years ago, dividing their peninsula off by the mountain range that separated them from Allaria and declaring an independent government. Their first King, Amista's ancestor, had been an Allarian lord in charge of naval development.

  But there hadn't been a serious move that she knew of against Tigrid from Allaria in years. Not since her father had taken the throne.

  And her attacker had very nearly succeeded in killing her. The explosive had knocked her from her ship, but if it had landed just a little closer… If Mara hadn't spirited her away with Mordgris speed as quickly as she had, Amista doubted very much that her people would have reached her in time to pump the inhaled water from her lungs.

  Which begged the question: had they failed the test? Would more attacks be coming?

  It depended on if they found the puppeteer who had hired Amista's attacker. If it was someone they could stop.

  Amista’s mind switched gears, focusing on ruling properly. "Do we know who the Allarian supporter is?" Amista asked.

  Her grandmother 'tch'-ed. "He isn't talking. Not yet anyway. I've given him to Master Cormandeer."

  Amista’s gut twisted. Her father's favorite inquisitor. Known for getting answers from those he questioned, no matter what it took.

  Amista brushed off the uneasy curdling of her stomach. If she was to be a good and strong queen, she needed to get back on track. Show the Allarians that she would not be toyed with. And that meant getting answers and moving swiftly against any treachery in her kingdom.

  "Good," she commended her grandmother. "Any other news for now?"

  "Not on this matter... but yes. There is one last suitor for you to meet. He was the one we rearranged out meeting with last time. I've delayed him in the wake of all that has happened, but I think we had best see to him soon."

  She shuffled some papers and cleared her throat. "Lord Caleb Montipin recently inherited his father's barony. A small title and property, but the family's status shouldn't be overlooked. His mother was the daughter of a vineyard and winery owner and they have important political ties through their trade efforts that could come in useful. They even manage to sell to the stiffs over in Exlibri." Her grandmother thumbed to the side and made a face.

  Amista giggled. Their neighbors in Exlibri were notorious for prizing only knowledge. It was amusing that wine was an exception to this rule.

  But meeting another suitor? Now? She fought the urge to peek out the window, wondering how long it was until sunset. The closer it was to nightfall, the closer she was to seeing Mara again.

  "Must that be now?" she asked, feigning a yawn and stretching her arms over her head. "I'm feeling quite fatigued."

  Her grandmother's eyes narrowed. "I thought you felt fine."

  Oops.

  "I did! I do!" Amista hastened to reassure her. "It's only a great wave of tiredness suddenly washed over me after all the talk of treason and remembering the attack. I'm happy to meet Lord... Montipin, was it?" At her grandmother's nod, Amista continued. "More than happy to meet him. Elated, even."

  "Don't push it."

  She wasn't wrong. Amista strayed far from believability with that line. She cleared her throat. "As I said, happy to meet him, just..." she smiled hopefully. "Would it really do so much harm if we were to wait until tomorrow for me to meet him?"

  Her grandmother sighed and straightened her papers. "I suppose that will be fine. Lord Caleb hasn't been unreasonable after the last few days' events. Apparently, he was in the crowd and saw you fall... witnessing it seems to have only made him more sympathetic to you. I will arrange the meeting for tomorrow so that you may get the measure of him, but Amista..." A rare, hopeful smile emerged on her grandmother's face. "I like this one, I think."

  Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would belong again to her grandmother to Tigrid herself. But for tonight...

  Amista bounced on the balls of her feet and clarified, just to be one hundred percent certain that she'd understood. "So I may take my leave then?"

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” Her grandmother stressed her title playfully. “You may go.”

  Amista squealed and darted around the table to dash a kiss upon her grandmother's cheek.

  The older woman swatted her away, laughing. "Off with you then. Go."

  Amista practically danced away as the sun set through the window behind her. Yes, tomorrow she would be the Tigrid Queen again.

  But tonight, she belonged only to Mara.

  13

  Mara

  Mara's hands flicked back and forth across the surface of the water as she waited for Amista to emerge from the dark castle.

  She glanced around her surroundings. Mara never ventured this close to human dwellings. The closest she'd ever come had been in the past weeks when she'd swam up to a beach or through a canal to see Amista. And now...

  The humans had built the royal docks that housed their large gondolas and other ships suitable for traveling the calm waters of the canal with a mind to keeping other vessels out. Other humans. The doors that could open to allow a ship to sail through were forbidding steel, extending at least fifty feet both above and below the waterline. Solid, gray sea walls surrounded the palace exit that led here and the stone stairs that led to that exit were barred from the docks by a lock with multiple keyholes.

  It would keep any intruder out.

  Any human intruder, that is.

  But for Mara, it had been simple.

  In the hours since Amista had left her,
she'd occupied herself with finding a meal on along the sea floor. She wanted to be sure the edge of her hunger stayed off around the humans. The fish wasn’t anything overly satisfying, but it would do.

  She occasionally made her way above the surface to check on the moon's position. As the hour grew later and it still had not soared to the position she and Amista had agreed upon, she found herself growling with frustration and muttering under her breath when she submerged herself again. And again. And again.

  Then, at last, the moon was exactly where she wanted it to be. She smiled and dived below the water, swimming until she reached the dock gates. She allowed herself the pleasure of a swimming in a dizzying corkscrew down, laughing as she followed the gates and slipped beneath them.

  The shadows that the night sky painted against the gray stones were a blue-black hue, but as the moon's light fell on the sturdy dock, the smile fell from Mara's lips. Amista wasn't there yet. Where was she? Mara had waited, with varying degrees of patience all damn day. Hadn't she felt the same sense of yearning, the same pull toward Mara as she did towards her?

  A small orange light appeared at the top of the spiral stone stairs, snagging Mara's attention.

  From this distance, it looked like a small burning star as it wove around the tower, descended the staircase. It was only as it drew closer that Mara could make out the dark figure that carried the star. And in fact (this as it got even nearer), that it wasn't a star at all, but a lantern.

  And the human who carried it was larger than Mara's little human, broader of shoulder, with its hood drawn up so that no one would be able to see its face.

  Tension corded through her. Her back went up, shoulder blades drawing themselves together.

  Who dared to intrude upon her meeting with Amista?

  She lowered herself into the water until it just skimmed the lower lid of her eye. Her talons, which she'd taken care to shorten, knowing she'd be seeing Amista, lengthened once more as the figure drew near to the edge of the dock.