But as stunning as these elements were, the most striking architectural detail of the grotto was its glass floor. The entire building sat suspended a mere foot above the sea, and the undulating ocean could be seen beneath the dancers’ undulating bodies. Cordelia was determined to stay until sunrise, imagining that as the number of guests petered out, the morning light through the open dome would illuminate the ocean’s floor and render it even more splendid than it was right now.
When they arrived on the island of Kasos, they’d been met by one of Queen Sophia’s guards, who escorted them to the Atlantic suite at the palace. The warmth and richness of their rooms thrilled Thomas; though almost anything would be more luxurious than the suites at the Jarl’s cold court. Cordelia merely noted that the ornate style provided plenty of places to hide listening devices, and doubted that she had found them all. It was well known that the Mediterraneans considered knowledge of their guests’ secrets a fair trade for hosting them in Aphrodite’s home country.
The entire layout of the Mediterranean guest quarters had been designed to permit representatives of the different oceans to mingle informally. The Pacific, Atlantic, Indian, and Arctic suites opened into a shared set of common rooms where meals were served, and a constant stream of musical entertainment was offered. Kasos wasn’t merely a neutral locale, it was the place where the oceans went to negotiate when they didn’t want word of their discussions to leak back home. As the shock of her meeting with Atlantea faded, Cordelia had gradually come to believe that her “exile” wouldn’t really be an exile after all. But she had no idea what kind of deal Atlantea might want her to strike here.
Rahul and Shravya were dancing near Thomas, and Cordelia thought she might join the Indian envoys on the floor. She had spent the last few weeks quietly gathering information about them and the Pacific delegates, and now felt prepared enough to orchestrate a private meeting with them.
Cordelia was glad Thomas had agreed to come with her; while she suspected Louisa had slipped at least two of her warrior-spies onto the island, at least they weren’t staying with her in the Atlantic suite. Just before flowing into the Mediterranean, she had asked the Atlantic to tell her if any other Atlantics had recently preceded her through the Strait of Gibraltar. The sea had acquiesced, sharing the sounds of the two sirens’ hearts with her. Perhaps they were tourists, but Cordelia had to assume they were not.
She supposed she was glad for whatever extra protection they offered, and thought perhaps she could take advantage of their presence by ensuring the image of herself she presented was curated for Louisa’s consumption. The one thing they couldn’t know was that Cordelia was not giving up on the Aos Sí. Zale was right: she needed to obtain more first-hand information from Yorkshire, but Zale had inadvertently complicated her plans to do just that.
Cordelia swayed lightly with the music, her face set with an artificial smile that hid her inner maelstrom of thoughts. Ever since her last Court session, her life had become a series of unexpected shocks. As soon as she thought she had found her footing, the rug got yanked out from under her. Cordelia snorted: at least she’d obeyed Atlantea with greater alacrity than perhaps even Atlantea would have expected. She tried to find the humor in the situation.
While sirens served as fertility batteries, it wasn’t all that easy for active sirens to conceive. Their fecundity had always been a gift for others. So Cordelia’s unexpected pregnancy was in equal parts a true gift and a true frustration. She had left for Kasos expecting to use her time in Europe to meet again with Titania in England. That was off the table — at least until the baby was born.
While Louisa and the old guard would perhaps be mollified by Cordelia’s adherence to traditional values (and Cordelia intended to make sure Louisa’s spies got wind of her pregnancy very soon), Atlantea might not be as pleased. Why send her to the Mediterranean if not to further their court’s unofficial relationships with the Pacifics or Indians? If Atlantea’s desire had been for her to sire a cross-oceanic child, that was now off the table.
That said, Thomas was here, and as Cordelia watched him dance, she could tell that he was as popular with this group as he had been reputed to be when he served at the Jarl’s satellite court. Thomas had a kind of insouciant charm that predated his transition. He could inhabit a moment like no one else, pulling you into the joy of existence, tomorrow be damned. It could be intoxicating. Just as Cordelia turned to head back to the dance floor with him, she almost bumped into Marisol.
“Cordelia! I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” her progenitor cried, embracing Cordelia tightly.
Despite her frequent form changes, Cordelia always knew it was Marisol. She wasn’t entirely sure why or how she knew; her mother had told her that the ability to discern sirens despite their physical bodies came from a siren’s connection to the sea. Mira had waxed on endlessly about a complicated-sounding theory, but Cordelia hadn’t paid too much attention. The upshot was that no siren — at least no Atlantic siren — could easily deceive her with a transformation.
“Marisol, I should have known you’d be here! You usually come for Queen Sophia’s New Year’s party, don’t you?”
Marisol released her, then patted Cordelia’s stomach; she must have felt her slight bump. “You’re increasing!” Marisol exclaimed with delight, and Cordelia nodded. “That is wonderful news! I’ll have to tell everyone.”
At least Marisol’s appearance had solved her issue of how to get word back to Louisa. “I can’t believe I was this fortunate,” Cordelia replied, leading Marisol off the balcony through the arched entry that led to a quieter hall. “But don’t let my mother know. Atlantea has her doing something in the States, and I don’t want her to think she has to rush over here.”
“It will be our secret, just like the old days,” Marisol promised, sounding like the giddy teen she appeared to be, as opposed to the centuries-old great-grandmother she actually was. Marisol’s form was a nice change from her usual northern European look. Long, straight black hair cascaded around her tawny face, while thick eyebrows arched over gray eyes.
“Where have you been?” Cordelia gestured at Marisol’s body. “This is a new look for you.”
“Turkey. I’ve been all around the Mediterranean this past week, regaining my energy for the celebration.”
“Why were you so drained?” Cordelia asked.
“Atlantea asked me to stop by England on my way out here. My fertility powers are unmatched, you know,” Marisol tossed her hair back.
Cordelia did know; Marisol never stopped reminding her, and everyone else, of that fact at every occasion. How Marisol loved being on the High Court! Cordelia felt a pang of jealousy, which she quickly suppressed. “England? To visit the Aos Sí?”
“Yes. Atlantea often sends me there because of my unusual strength.”
“Really? You never mentioned that,” Cordelia replied, without letting even a trace of sarcasm into her tone. For once, she was grateful for Marisol’s endless braggadocio. She needed information, and here it was for her. Cordelia linked arms with Marisol and they strolled down the hall to the back stairs.
“Well, I don’t like to brag,” Marisol said. “But it seems like they can’t get on without me anymore. It used to be that Atlantea would ask me to visit Yorkshire once a year or so — especially after Thomas transitioned and my powers grew so much. But now, I’m over there so often, I’m thinking of buying a little house on the edge of the Moors to keep my things in. It’s so annoying to replace everything all the time.”
“That’s certainly inconvenient,” Cordelia murmured sympathetically. “Why do you think she wants you there so often?”
“Well, Atlantea can’t go herself, you know. She never leaves the island. Except, did you hear? She’s off to the Taiga next month! Alone, for that matter. I suppose the Arktisa won’t mind her brief passage through the Arctic to get there.”
This was a choice bit of gossip, and Cordelia tried to ignore Marisol’s fluttering tone, and all t
he implications of Atlantea’s departure to keep Marisol on the subject that was most important: the state of the Aos Sí. “You must be so honored that Atlantea relies on you so much,” Cordelia flattered.
“Well, it’s a huge bother, I must say. So much work. I have to drain almost twenty men before I even head over there. And that’s depleted the day I arrive. So then I have to head out and start over again. It’s really too much, you know.”
Marisol’s bragging aside, she was truly powerful to be able to hold the fertility and sex drive of twenty people. The most Cordelia had been able to hold was three, but then her powers were on the weaker end of the spectrum. Even Thomas could hold more than she could. How shocking though, that Marisol could expend so much power in just one day! How fragile were the Aos Sí?
“But Nanna Marisol, don’t you always say, ‘the sooner drawn, the sooner gone?’ Seems like more prep work than actual time spent in England.”
“True, true. But one draw is never enough anymore.” Marisol actually looked troubled by that fact. Her thick eyebrows drew close as wrinkles formed on her brow. “Nowadays I need to spend at least a week, harvesting and bestowing, harvesting and bestowing. It’s exhausting. And they never ever have any children!”
The troubled look on Marisol’s face surprised Cordelia. Marisol was usually so focused on her own desires, she rarely saw others except as extensions of herself. Perhaps she saw the fae’s lack of progeny as an indictment of her own power. But it would be unlike Marisol to blame herself for something so obviously not her fault; no child had been born to the Aos Sí since the Cabal’s exodus. Cordelia hoped, as unlikely as it was, that her progenitor’s seeming concern was driven by newfound empathy for the Aos Sí’s plight.
“But here you are, pregnant at last! I’m so glad. Your other children should be of child-bearing age any time now, and soon perhaps you’ll have a transition to manage. It’s so much better now that your mother wrote that book; so much easier for your generation. I can’t wait to see how your power expands!”
Marisol was determinedly changing the subject. But Cordelia had heard enough anyway. The Aos Sí situation seemed to be even worse than she had expected. And here she was, pregnant, and therefore unable to visit the fae without risking her child. “How long will you be staying in Kasos?” she asked, as they strolled back towards the balcony.
“Well, I thought perhaps a week or two. But since you’re pregnant, I’ll have to stay with you! There are so many people who will want to meet you. I’m going to introduce you all over.”
“That would be wonderful, Nanna Marisol! But do you have to go back to England? Or Atlantis?”
“Oh, well. I suppose. Perhaps I can just splash back and do another quick circuit with the Aos Sí, pop over to Atlantis to give them the update, and then come back here. I really am just so delighted. Will it be a cross-oceanic babe?”
“No, de Atlantic like my others,” Cordelia sighed. “I’m too strongly bound to the Atlantic anyway.”
“Well, I’m so glad!” Mira glanced out at the dance floor below. “Though it’s a shame that you won’t have a chance to snag Rahul for an interlude. He is quite the lover, and even if his Raj isn’t interested in alliances, Rahul certainly wouldn’t mind siring a cross-oceanic child.”
Cordelia looked over the floor as well. She didn’t see Rahul, but knowing he was willing to risk conflict with his king was good information to tuck away for the future. “I saw Shravya dancing near Thomas. Do you want to go out on the floor?” Cordelia asked.
“Oh no, dear. I wish, but this body is still too new for me; I’m two left feet right now. But you go ahead. I’ll send some of the boys from the Arctic by; they are totally adorable.”
“I’m exhausted,” Cordelia sighed, rubbing her bare feet. She had pulled off the suede-soled dance shoes all the partiers wore, and was half-sitting, half-reclining on the glass floor. After midnight, the partiers started pairing off, slowly drifting away until there were only perhaps fifty left.
As customary, the Queen herself departed after the stroke of midnight. The various musicians had finally stopped playing dance music around four in the morning, and now there was only a string quartet left playing softly on the dais, as the few remaining revelers waited for the morning light. Thomas tossed her a couple of pillows he had kindly fetched off the settees and settled down next to her with a grunt. They stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the sun to bring the Grotto to its full magnificence. “I can’t believe it’s another new year, already,” Thomas whispered.
“That’s a rather trite sentiment,” Cordelia snarked.
“You don’t keep me around for my scintillating repartee,” Thomas countered.
“Wow, that’s a lot of vocab words to cram into one sentence.”
Someone abruptly turned off the aimlessly roving spotlights and pin lights in the ceiling murals. With the room lit only by the wall sconces, the Grotto suddenly felt much more intimate than it had before. The remaining revelers quieted, most seeking places on the floor beneath the open dome, like she and Thomas had. The early light grew stronger, and the soft haze made the gilt dome seem to glow from within.
“I really appreciate you coming with me,” Cordelia said, turning to look at her brother’s profile.
He snorted. “What else are big brothers for? But honestly, I wish we were in Brazil. You know, it’s eighty-five and sunny in Bahia right now.”
“Is it still okay that you’re away?” Cordelia fretted.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s fine. Kadu said he and the other jaguars were enjoying the new kites we brought in for kitesurfing. They can only go in the water when I’m not around, so it’s cool. We’ll just wait to try out the wingsuits until I get back.”
“What are wingsuits?” Cordelia asked.
“We just got them. They’re suits you wear parachuting to help you glide farther and with greater control. Marcia thinks we can get skydiving clubs interested with this new offering.”
“So you need to get back, right? I know I cut into your schedule by asking you to come out here.”
“If it weren’t you, I’d have been in Boston with Mom, and this is a lot better.”
“You don’t always have to drop everything when we call,” Cordelia said.
“You always do for me,” he replied. Though in fairness, he hadn’t really ever asked Cordelia to do anything for him.
“I have a big favor to ask,” Cordelia said after a pause.
“Uh-oh,” Thomas replied.
“Marisol brought back some news, and while I’d like to check it out myself, I’m kind of stuck here until the baby’s born.”
“Sounds ominous.” Thomas replied flippantly; Marisol’s gossip was generally benign.
Cordelia lowered her voice even further. “She’s been going back and forth to England a lot, and even she seems worried. Her fertility powers are incredibly strong, but she made it sound like it was more than even she could handle.”
“You know how she likes to brag,” Thomas said.
“I know. That’s why I would have gone out to see for myself. But in my condition, I can’t go.”
“You want me to go,” Thomas said unhappily.
“The North York Moors are practically on the ocean. You wouldn’t have to set foot in human territory,” Cordelia wheedled.
“I’m nowhere near the siren Marisol is when it comes to the fae.”
“Who is?” Cordelia replied. “And anyway, I’m not asking you to do what she does. I’m just asking you to visit them for a little while until I can get out there. Just see how they act.”
“Until you can get out there? What, you mean stay until after your baby is born?” Thomas was genuinely surprised. This was a big ask.
“Shh. Keep your voice down. Listen, this may be the only time we’re able to talk privately,” Cordelia said. “Louisa’s spies aren’t lurking close enough for me to hear their hearts, and I highly doubt Queen Sophia has devices here after the ear-splitting b
lowout she just hosted.”
“What’s going on that you need such secrecy?” Thomas wondered.
“I don’t think Atlantea wants us to give up on the Aos Sí. I just think she doesn’t want to be involved with it at all. I think she sent me out here because I’m still pledged to her, and she doesn’t want her courtiers’ focus split by this issue.”
“That sounds like wishful thinking to me,” Thomas countered.
“No, it’s not—”
“It sounds like exactly what you want to believe.”
“Whether it is or isn’t, I’m not giving up on them,” Cordelia snapped.
“Shh. Keep it down, or you won’t be keeping anything secret for long.”
“I won’t give up on them. It’s wrong. You know it’s wrong. We’ve talked about it.”
“Yes, but it’s not worth your life — or mine for that matter — to fix this. I don’t know why you act like this is your responsibility, Cordy. We didn’t get the Atlantic into this mess. You’ve already done what you could at Court, and got sent here for it. Maybe you need to let this one go. You can’t save everyone.”
“Look, there isn’t anyone else. How can I not feel some responsibility when I can maybe fix it? You think I want this?”
“Yeah, I kind of think you do. You’ve always wanted to be a martyr, and here’s your big chance.” Thomas started to stand up, but Cordelia sat up, grabbing his hand before he could leave.
“Don’t storm out. Please. I need you. More than ever, I need you. Come on,” Cordelia pleaded, looking up at him much as she had when they were children. The early morning light was starting to penetrate the gloom of the water beneath the glass. Even the Mediterranean seemed to swirl around her.
“I’m such a sucker. You’re a real pain, you know.” But Thomas sat back down anyway.
They were silent for a moment. Cordelia lay back down to stare at the sky and Thomas eventually settled back next to her. They watched as the clouds visible through the dome lost their pinkish tinge to flow like white streaks across the canvas of the sky.
Sirens Unbound Page 17
