Home? I thought I had a home with Erys, but maybe she was right again. Maybe they were the only home I had left. I didn't belong in the palace and a wretched, cursed soul like mine wouldn't belong in a monastery. There was nothing left for me here.
Erys didn't love me, but was it fair to take his heart?
“Ari, Vi is dead,” Serena said. “You know that, right?”
Yes, I knew that. But who did they blame? Me or Jonas? Some other man?
Who should be blamed?
Serena pulled out my knife that must have fallen from the ship in the chaos. “Mother and Titera might think you had something to do with that. The Solian ships have never been so organized before. I told them you never would have betrayed us, but you must prove it. Right now. Your knife was blessed by Hera and will glow for royal blood. His blood. Bring us the heart.”
She gave me my knife.
I stayed staring at the blade even after my sisters left. My eyes stung, but I wasn’t crying anymore. I wasn’t doing anything, not moving one step from the shore. Sand breezed over my feet and I imagined myself becoming buried there, one small grain at a time. Then I heard the flap of wings.
The imp. There she was. But her presence only annoyed me now. She had been no help at all! Not ever!
She smiled, landing on a bush with the necklace wrapped around her tail. “But you were doing so well. Having me there would only serve as a distraction.”
I hadn't been doing well. My sorrow had been wrung out of me, but something hot and burning took its place. Anger. After everything, how could I keep being thrust back into the same spot where I started?
I couldn't kill Erys. Even if he scorned me. I loved him.
“Did I ever say you had to?” Lilthe shrugged her wings. “Having a male heart, that was always an obsession of your mother's. We would be satisfied with any human heart at all, and it's not like they would be able to tell the difference once it was cut.”
Just like Valadern had accepted Naman's pledge, the pledge of a man.
But my family must already be suspicious of me trying something like that, now requiring that I use a knife that glowed for royalty. I couldn’t use a peasant’s heart.
“No, not a peasant. But, if you can't kill Erys, is there anyone else with royal blood you could kill? Anyone at all?”
My fingers tightened around the dagger's handle. I couldn't kill Erys.
But there was someone I would gladly kill in his place.
25
The princess stood near a wide window, the sun shining brightly around her hair like a halo. She hummed softly to herself and I hated every note. She really only had herself to blame. She had invited me here. Her naïve good graces allowed me to prance past the guards without challenge, even with an imp’s shell around my neck and Serena’s knife in my hand. She kept her back turned, even with my heart beating loud enough to rouse the dead from the depths of Hades and Valadern.
I tried to steel my grip and my focus. One stab, that was all it would take to break this fragile, useless girl. To carve her heart from her chest and watch her life blood stain the rug and tile flooring. I couldn’t do it with Erys, but I could do it with her. I had to.
But all I did was stare until the princess finally turned.
She gasped, but in surprise, not a hint of horror or fear. “Oh, Ari. I was looking for you.” She bowed her head, pointing to my book lying in her lap. “I’m sorry. I wanted to write something for Erys, as a wedding gift. I'm not very creative, so when I saw your book . . . It seemed a book of stories and poetry, and I thought it would help. I didn't even know it was yours until—There's a letter for you here. Did you know?” She picked up the vellum codex and held it open to the first printed page.
My grip loosened on the knife's hilt. I had wanted to kill her. She touched my book and she stole my prince. But just for a moment, I really wanted my book.
I had spent so long thinking that reading words was impossible, I had forgotten how my new silent way of speaking and hearing could be applied.
I had a letter written in my book and I wanted to read it.
* * *
My Dearest Ari,
If you are reading this, that means I have failed.
I am so sorry. I can only imagine what your life has been like. Know that I did my best to protect you, but your mother's moods are sudden and erratic. I don't think I can make her happy much longer. You are old enough now. I want to leave this dark island and take you with me. It is dangerous, but I have to try. I am leaving this book behind and will try to leave in the evening. If you are still on the island and I am gone, I hope that someday you can forgive me for my failure.
I loved you from the day you were born. You were always the brightest spot in my captivity. I hope that despite everything you will keep your sweet spirit and find a way to escape. The world is not as cold as your mother makes it appear. I want you to experience it all and will do my best to make that happen.
Your Loving Father,
Micah
* * *
Despite my new skill, it seemed I needed to reread each word a dozen times to understand their meaning. I touched the last words with my hand.
Micah.
My father.
I never knew his name, but the letter was written by my father the poet. The whole book was his. He had been a real man who claimed to love me, and my mother had killed him.
My mother killed my father.
I mean, I always knew she had, but I never knew that it was because he loved me.
I blinked and found the princess still staring. I regained my sharp grip on Serena's knife, letting it come down at my side where anyone could see it.
Then the stupid princess finally looked afraid and let my book drop to the floor.
“You read this?” I signed with one hand. How could she have learned of my father's love before me? Couldn't I have one thing of my own?
My book had fallen open to the page of the woman standing torn between the two princes. For once, I saw myself in her majestic gaze.
I was ready to take on my own power and make my choice at last.
Helene ducked her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, but I'm glad I did. Ari, I'm so sorry."
Of course she was sorry now that she had won. She had won everything.
“I’m not stupid, I mean.” She shook her head and still looked down at her hands. Tears ran down her cheeks and it made no sense until I realized she wasn't crying for herself. She was crying for me. “Erys and I just met. If you had some prior connection . . . If you never had a real family before . . . If you need him, and if he loves you—well, I always knew it might happen. I wanted the fantasy, but it's not as bad as it could be, if we could still be friends.”
All I could do was stare. She thought I had been with Erys, and that I still would be after they married. It must have been the gossip of the palace for a long time now, but instead of raging, she was actually saying she would be all right with sharing him with me.
Why on Earth would she ever do that? Faced with this kind of betrayal, my mother had killed her prince and cursed the rest. That's what anyone would do.
Well, maybe not everyone. Countless people told me over and over again that Erys was an honorable prince and would marry a stranger he didn't love if it would serve his country and prevent further war. He and Helene were exactly the same.
I saw her nervous fidgeting, her constant humming, her unwillingness to tease or smile too much in a new light. She wanted to be perfect. She wanted to be honorable. She was willing to sacrifice any desire she had to serve those around her. Faced with a disappointment like my mother had, she still had her righteous honor and her soul shone as bright as the ones Leah praised.
She was a better princess than I would ever be.
She hadn't seen Erys for who he was either. She had no idea what kind of man she had, the victory she had won. She didn't know, and part of me screamed she didn't deserve it.
But there was no
way I could take it from her, even if I still wanted to. I wouldn't gain my fantasy by destroying hers. Erys wouldn't love me more for doing this. He would mourn her and I would carry the guilt until all I would have was death and an empty sea, just as my mother had.
My mother wasn’t the majestic woman from my storybook. Her fate wasn’t anything to praise or emulate. She ran from one god to another, shirking her duty to fully embrace her dark powers. She never cared what happened to her people or her withered soul.
But Erys cared. Helene must too.
They both would do anything to bring peace to their providences . . . and Valadern would do anything for there to be war. Valadern would have blood. Endless blood. That was what this had been about from the beginning. Valadern had no loyalty to my mother or her cause. He swore with Naman and would swear with anyone who promised him more blood. He would always play what tools and pawns he had in an effort to obtain more and more.
I might not have been concerned with the fate of Cypari or Solis, but Valadern was. He knew, everyone knew, that a peaceful alliance between the countries, and that Erys, as the sole heir, having his own lawful heirs would be the best chance for the wars to end.
If Erys died or his marriage failed, it would end in more bloodshed as the generals, other men like Naman, would be set against each other to take what part of the empire they could.
I stood frozen, but the imp rose from my necklace.
“So, you figured it out? Took you long enough.” Lilthe dove at Helene to do what I could not.
The thunder rolled outside. Screams filled the room—from Helene when the imp appeared and from a handmaid who must have seen my hand with the knife.
But I didn't want the knife. I wanted to help Helene. I wanted to be loved by Erys, but if I couldn't have that, I just didn't want to be found at the end of my trial the same sort as my mother.
I just wanted the blood to end.
I dropped the knife and let it clank against the tile. Then I reached for the necklace and threw it down the same way. It cracked. I felt a tickle in the back of my throat, and Lilthe jerked at once, confirming the connection I had always suspected.
What would happen if I destroyed it? I lifted my foot. I might lose my voice forever, but it didn’t mater anymore. Twisted, broken, I might never be a saint or a hero from a storybook, but I could make up for all the mistakes I made coming here in the first place.
I stomped once, and the imp shrieked. “You think you can win? Why do you think I was created? No one ever trusted you, not your mother, not Valadern. I have been his eyes, and if I die, he will know the cause. He will have blood, even if it is yours alone.”
I had no care for my blood anymore. Just my soul. I stomped down again and my voice rang out in a heart-wrenching scream that seemed to shake the surrounding pillars.
The itch in my throat grew. Smoke rolled in, crowding my lungs.
I coughed and stomped and coughed again, but I couldn’t expel the force rushing through me like a lightning strike. The shell shattered with a force that threw me backward.
“Helene?” The handmaid ran around me to cling to the princess and they both looked at me with white, unharmed faces. A guard came in, but he didn't seem to know which direction to point his spear as I was on the floor and the knife lay between us.
“You're okay.” I breathed.
And Lilthe was nothing but a shell-less, voice-less slug.
Helene shook her head. “Ari, you're speaking.”
And she had been reading. She had learned. Maybe, one day, she and Erys would grow into a better match than I had ever seen.
“Ari, what is going on?”
“It's okay.” A calm entered me that seemed to even still the storm outside.
I had found my purpose and my true voice at last. I saw the picture in my book, giving me the power to step beyond the two princes, the two godlike forces tugging at my heart, and make my own choice. Lilthe had been right. The war with my family wasn't over, but I would finish it on my own. My life might have been a foregone rite of blood and pain, but that would all end with me.
The rest of the world could have their fairy tale.
I ducked my head, retrieving my book and tucking the blade into my belt. “I'm going to take care of it. You won't have to worry about me again.”
I stood and walked past the guard, but something made me pause at the door.
“You should know,” I said without turning. My hand trembled, and I held the wall to steady myself. “Erys and I . . . we’re like brother and sister. I was never with him any other way and I never will be. Just promise me . . .” My words faltered, but this was all I wanted now.
My own voice. Peace in my own direction and peace for those I was leaving behind.
I let go of the wall and faced Helene. “You’re a wonderful princess. You might be all this city needs and more, but Erys is still a boy. So, after I’m gone, just promise me you’ll laugh with him.”
26
I walked out of the palace and out of the city, holding my book to my chest like a shield.
Serena and the twins waited near the shore. “Did you bring it?” Serena asked.
I nodded, but instead of a human heart, I held out the vellum codex, open to the first page as Helene had done. “Is this true?” But then I realized she wouldn't be able to read it. The written words had kept my father's letter secret and safe, but they needed to be spoken now.
I recited the most important bits. “My father wanted to take me from the island? He loved me?” I said and saw the words, but part of my heart didn’t quite dare believe it.
Serena was still for a moment, then spoke without looking at me. “Catra. Corva. Go home. I need to speak to Ari alone.”
The tone in her voice demanded no argument. Miranda might be our mother, but Serena had been the one on the island who held us at night. She could tell the twins to sink back into the water, and she could hold my attention with a whisper.
“Mother kept your father on the island for a long time,” she said. “You were almost a year old when Micah decided to leave.”
I quickly did the math in my head. If I had been in my first year, the twins would have been three or four. Serena eight, Vi thirteen, and Titera fifteen. All of them would have been human.
“He wanted to take all of us—you, me, and the twins,” Serena continued. “I think he already knew Titera and Vi wouldn't; they were older and always agreed with Mother about everything. Mother was around more when they were young, but she hated being tied to the land. She wanted to stay in the water more, and Micah was a softer sort of man than the sailors she was used to. He offered to help and watch us when she was gone, so she kept him alive.”
Her eyes flashed upward. “But I think Titera and Vi hated him for that, for encouraging Mother to stay away. So, when he decided to escape, he came to me. He said Mother was wicked, that he only agreed to stay with her so we could all leave together. He asked me if I would help him hold you and the twins on the raft he built.”
“You wanted to go with him?” It seemed only natural that she would.
“I . . . liked Micah,” it seemed she was admitting a terrible fault, “but I had never left the island before. I was scared. Titera noticed. She wanted to know what Micah said and came after me. I ran to Mother and . . . it just came out. I never had to keep a secret like that before and I was so focused on Mother saving me from Titera . . . I wasn't thinking.”
“You were eight.” No one thought much of their actions at that age.
She nodded. “And then Mother . . . she . . .”
Serena didn't say it, but she didn't need to. I knew the fate of my father and all of Mother's lovers from the time I could walk. How did the story I thought I knew so well keep getting more terrible each time I heard it?
“They said Micah was evil for trying to take us, and Titera said he should be forgotten completely—his weak baby sacrificed like a male child. But I liked Micah. I held you and cried for wee
ks after he died. It was all my fault . . . if I had been braver. . . And when I met Aides, I wouldn’t have helped or spoken to him at all, but he seemed just like your father. Sweet. We were children, but I thought I loved him. Then he was with Titera.”
“She spelled him?” It seemed so obvious to me. Why else would any man want to be with Titera over Serena? Anger grew in my belly like a flame.
“I don't know! Mother said he never loved me, that all men acted that way. And watching him with her . . . saying those things . . .”
“She made you watch?” The angry flame flared into a bonfire.
Serena covered herself with her hands as if warding off a blow. “I just wanted it to stop. They gave me the knife. They said it would be easy, and we would be a family again. I cried and cried. I just wanted it to stop.” Her eyes flashed upward, begging me for a forgiveness that I had no right to give or deny. “Mother swore it would never happen again, and that it was her own fault for keeping Micah on the island for so long. That he corrupted us. So, when the twins were old enough . . .”
“She did not want them to follow after you.”
“They never knew a man before they killed one.”
Just as I had expected. The choice many of my sisters made wasn't a choice at all.
“Titera and Vi still raged over Micah at times, but Mother swore the threat was over and should be forgotten. We all made the change, and you were too young for Micah to have any influence. She said one day, you would prove you belonged with us on your own.”
“I'm sorry.” I wasn't sorry that I hadn't killed Erys; I wasn't sorry that I kept my human body and soul, but I was sorry for the separation between myself and Serena. I wanted to embrace her as a sister and cry over Micah and Aides together, not to have her look at me as the worst kind of traitor.
Kingdom of Salt and Sirens Page 91
