I fought down a blush and asked instead, thinking on the warriors I’d seen in passing, “So the green?”
“Sirens.”
“Sirens?”
“The Court prides itself on bringing selkies, merrows, and sirens together. They’re as much a part of us as anybody, and useful to have on your side, I’ll admit, but they can be nasty. They’ll talk you into walking off a cliff if you let them, and you’ll smile the whole way down. Don’t let yourself be alone with one if you can help it.”
The fire dimmed with a twist of worry. “I won’t.” We ate in silence, and when I was comfortably full—two days in a row, something I could get used to—I leaned my head against the tree trunk, eyes closed against the sun. “What will happen when we reach the Eyes?” I asked. “I take it they won’t accept your having a human with you as easy as they did at the camp.”
Aven scoffed. “Oh, I wish I could tell you how much of an understatement that is. They won’t like it, but keep with Moray or I and you’ll be alright. And don’t speak to any other nobles, especially not the other Lords if you happen to meet them. They’ll take any excuse to kill a human, and speaking to or even looking at them is more than adequate.”
I forced a nod. “What if I get separated from you?”
He fixed me with a steady, serious look that made my heartbeat quicken, and not in the way I was starting to enjoy. “If you’re caught on your own you’ll be given a choice. Sweat or blood—work for the Court or die. If the Queen is in a good mood, the Lords have first pick of who works for them, so I’ll have an opportunity to get to you.”
“And if she’s in a bad mood?”
“I’ll do everything I can. Moray will at least be able to keep an eye on you and make sure you’re safe until I can get you out.”
“So my brother could be anywhere,” I said, looking down at my hands in my lap. “If he’s alive, he could be working for anybody in the Court.”
“Anybody in the Eyes, yes. A human would never be allowed anywhere the nobility couldn’t keep close tabs on them. But as long as he is in the Eyes we can get him out. It may take some…pulling of strings to do it. Better than fighting your way to him.”
“I thought you said all humans were forced to pay. How can you free him?”
“I won’t lie, it’ll be difficult. There may be parts to play and sacrifices to make, and I don’t know if I can, but there’s a chance. Just be careful, and do whatever you need to do to keep yourself out of danger.”
My palms felt slick as I fastened my pack again. So many things to remember. So many things that could go wrong. So many things we couldn’t predict. “I’m terrified of this, Aven,” I said in a whisper.
He got to his feet and held out one hand to help me up. I slung my pack over my shoulder and looked at him when he pushed a stray wisp of hair from my face with feather-light fingers. “I am, too.”
We let the somber quiet sit between us as we mounted and continued. We didn’t speak as we rode. The forest faded away into fields and farmland dotted with scattered buildings in the distance. No people in sight. I wasn’t going to complain; I wasn’t keen on the idea of running into any more tidespeople than necessary before I needed to deal with the nobility in the Eyes. I’d need to reserve my strength and patience for them.
Beyond the fields, we climbed into gentle slopes crisscrossed with well-trodden dirt paths. We’d ridden through them for less than an hour when I was able to see the sun catching on something ahead and craned my neck to try to get a better look. “What is that?”
Aven gave his first smile since we’d set off again. “You’ll see.”
“Are you afraid of water?” Moray asked with a giggle.
Another underwater passing? There was no distant sound of rushing water beyond what always whispered through the air, and it didn’t look like we were coming up to a beach. Though Moray’s question made my belly twist again, ever so slightly, I shook my head. “Not anymore.”
“Good.”
Minutes later, I caught sight of what had been glinting and couldn’t help a little gasp. It wasn’t quite a lake, though it was too large to be a pond: an uneven circle of water resting among the long grass and towering stones, silent and serene. The sun dazzled against the mossy-green surface, smooth as glass. Not a single ripple disturbed it, even from the wind that rustled the grass.
Aven pulled his horse to a stop a yard from the edge of the water and I did the same. “Why are we here?” I asked. It was beautiful, a place I could imagine spending the rest of the day, but it wasn’t any noble city. No swirl of light indicated a passing of any sort. It wasn’t a place of magical beauty, it was all natural.
Aven swung down to the ground and stepped up to the water. The toes of his boots almost touched it. “It’ll take us to the Eyes.”
I dismounted as well. “How?” Aven tossed a command over his shoulder that sent both of the horse-like creatures trotting away in the direction we’d come. Well-trained.
Moray swirled through the air again before landing on my shoulder. “Magic, of course.”
I looked between it and Aven. “Magic?”
“I am a selkie, Hania, and you are in the Realm of Tides,” Aven reminded me with a wry grin. I gave him a scowl in response that earned a laugh. Of course, I knew they could use magic, and I should have thought that getting to the Eyes would involve some, it being the heart of the Court’s nobility and all.
“What kind of magic?” I asked.
In answer, Aven crouched down, placing a palm of one hand to the surface of the pond—such a careful touch the water hardly stirred. I stepped closer. Waiting.
“Only certain people are able to open this passage,” he said. “Lords and other high nobles. Otherwise the Eyes must be reached the long way, through the cities.” Even as he spoke the water began to ripple, shifting outwards from his hand, though he hadn’t moved an inch.
I took another step closer. “It’s safe to go through, as long as you open it?” I asked in a whisper. I didn’t know why I lowered my voice, but it felt wrong to speak loudly.
“Anybody who accompanies a Lord is safe. Until they arrive on the other side,” Moray added. I gave it a look and it smirked. “I thought you weren’t afraid of water, little one.”
“I’m not.” But my heart raced as I watched the water sweep away from Aven like it couldn’t bear his touch, faster and faster as it reached the edges of the pond. I gaped as it pulled itself upwards into a sparkling wall on either side of us, a clear path cleaved down the center. After the first several feet of mud, the ground sloped down into stairs. Slick, bone-white stone steps went down, and down, and down, before they were obscured by the floor of mud and pebbles hovering above them.
That wasn’t possible, even for a tidesperson.
But clearly it was. Aven straightened and held out one hand to me. “Ready?” he asked. There was a dare in the single word, a distraction from the terror lancing through me and weighing down my steps. He knew he could hit the part of me that needed to rise to the challenge, and it would win over the fear.
I nodded and stepped forward. The water engulfed us, blocking out the hills and surrounding us with murky green light. I almost reached out to touch the walls, but stopped with my fingers inches away and pulled my hand back. It looked like it was glass: the surface was smooth and unmoving. But there was nothing between it and us.
We stepped down, Aven gripping my hand. I held my breath and ran my fingertips along the wall beside me. I couldn’t help but wonder if it would crash down on us if it was disturbed, and I didn’t know why I couldn’t stop myself from testing it. But it held. My fingers came away wet, cold, and I rubbed the droplets of water dry.
Beneath the pond were only shadows, and my grip on Aven’s hand tightened with every step we took. The stones were damp and slick, and I was sure I would slip. The rising darkness pulled my heart into my throat. Moray turned into a shapeless form floating beside us.
When our heads were belo
w the level of the ground the water collapsed. Nearly all of the light vanished, and I jumped at the sound it made, like an angry wave striking the shore. I braced myself to feel it rushing down the steps behind us but it never came. When I risked a glance up, it stirred and settled but didn’t so much as drip down. I shuddered.
“This tunnel is held together by a very powerful and complex magic,” Aven said. Even his whisper bounced off the walls of dirt and stone around us. He was as much of a shadow as Moray; I could only see the outline of him in the faint light filtering through the water above. We descended the final step onto flat ground. “It’s designed for entire armies to pass through; it won’t collapse on us.”
“You’re sure?”
I thought I caught a smile in his voice. “I swear on the gods, Hania.”
“You haven’t been around to ensure the magic is kept strong,” Moray pointed out. My heart dipped.
Aven growled. “Moray.”
“It’s true.”
“They don’t need me to make sure it holds. The other Lords are plenty strong.” He squeezed my hand. “It’s safe, and we’re almost there, anyway.”
“You like scaring me, don’t you, Moray?” I muttered. I got a disembodied giggle in response. “I hate you.”
“But where would you be without me?”
I chose not to answer, instead looking into the dark. “If we were so far from the Eyes, how can a tunnel this short get us there?”
“The tunnel is just the beginning.” Now Aven was smiling.
“More magic?” I guessed.
I got no answer but a faint glow beginning in the distance. It grew brighter, bouncing off the walls and illuminating a corner I would never have seen otherwise, and when we rounded it I blinked at the sudden harshness of the light. A light I knew: cyan and indigo and jewel-green at the center.
“That’s a passing,” I breathed, then tore my gaze from it to Aven and Moray. “But passings are in the barrier.” Unless the Eyes was somewhere well-hidden in my world I didn’t understand.
Moray snickered. “Where do you think we got the name?”
Aven rolled his eyes at the comment and offered an easy explanation. “It’s a passing, like in the barrier, but through our world, not out of it. From one spot to another. There aren’t many of them here, but there are a few places that…lend themselves to being tied by magic. This is a naturally occurring one, and a second was forced in another spot within the borders. The Eyes was built where it was for exactly this purpose.”
“So if we go through there we’ll land in the Eyes?”
“Essentially. And it won’t be as rough as the last one.”
I trembled at the memory of the last passing—of being close to drowning and having to be dragged through it by Aven. Blinded by panic. But this wasn’t that passing, and I knew better now. I was prepared. And stronger. It wasn’t this passing that would be the hard part, but what was on the other side, but I was prepared for that too, or as much as I could be.
I stepped forward toward the searing light, though I didn’t drop Aven’s hand. “Let’s go, then.”
There was no numbing cold or agonizing rent through me this time. Just an unsteady sort of feeling, like the world had tilted slightly to the side all of a sudden. I was blinded by the wisps of light wrapping around me, cutting off even the feeling of Aven’s hand around mine, and then there was nothing. The light was gone, and every inch of my body felt far away. Like I was floating in the sky.
Feeling returned an instant before my sight did, and my knees hit something hard. The faint pain jolted through me, my wounds stinging, but arms caught me before I fell any further.
I blinked the stars from my vision and staggered to my feet. “Graceful landing, there,” Aven laughed beside me.
“Shush.” I could scarcely focus on him, my attention was focused on where we had ended up, trying to take it all in.
The passing had taken us into a building, hovering at the edge of a long hallway. The stone floor was snow-white, smooth as glass and glittering as if it was inlaid with stars. The white marble was trimmed in gold that flickered in the candlelight and stretched up into columns that stood in rows, each carved into a mindboggling intricate design—trees, waves, flowers, vines, and figures. I almost stepped closer to the nearest one to study it, but Aven’s hold on my arm tightened a fraction and I stopped myself. I craned my neck to follow the sweep of the columns to the towering ceiling, hung with chandeliers to cast the hallway in a warm glow. Where the walls weren’t set with doors, they were broken by gold-lined arches leading out into nothing but the inky black sky. Not even glass stood between us and the emptiness. In the distance, I saw the shadowy forms of mountains and cliffs, cascading waterfalls catching in the moonlight. The sound of the tide was greater here, not a whisper anymore but a song, paired with the familiar cool, salty ocean air, and I closed my eyes and inhaled it.
No wonder Aven had all but lost his mind in that village, growing up here with nothing but gold and stars and sky and ocean around him. It made all thoughts of what dangers waited here rush from my mind; I wanted to stay, to live the fairytale this place promised.
A few tidespeople who had to be servants—heads down, clothes simple and well-worn—rushed past us without a glance in our direction, but otherwise the hall was silent and empty. Moray drifted forward, tense and alert.
“Is the Queen holding court or meetings?” it asked.
Aven shook his head. “Not this late. They would have ended before sunset.”
I quaked at the word—Queen. Given that neither Aven nor Moray had mentioned any Ladies holding much standing in the Court, I had a feeling she must be who had appeared during the storm. The woman who had been like night and marble. Though why a Queen of tidespeople would personally show up to attack a little human village was beyond me.
Lenairen, she’d whispered before they’d swept Tobin away with them. Shiral had always said Tobin was the spitting image of the ancient king, as much as we knew of him through old paintings. And this was a Court that reviled humans—and so must revile the human who had barred them from his world even more.
I swallowed the little thread of fear that came and focused on Aven and Moray rather than our stunning surroundings. “Where is everyone, then?”
“It’s difficult to say. I’ve missed the last fifty years of the Court’s glories, after all. I have no idea what they may have gotten up to. Or it may be a quiet night. Either way—”
He broke off and I jumped as a door across the hall opened. A pair of merrow men passed through, each with a staff tipped in a long, sharpened blade like a massive sword’s blade fixed to the end of a spear rather than the usual point. The sight of them made my blood run cold. I didn’t want to see them in action.
I knew I was going to before they’d made it two steps into the hall. Aven tensed and Moray dashed to me. The guards’ weapons were aimed at me in a heartbeat, two blades leveled at my throat. My mind spun into nothing.
My muscles reacted without thought. I snatched the knife Ellesaeah had given me, at Aven’s request, from my belt, though I knew it’d be useless against them. Aven caught my arm before I could even raise it, pushing it down. His eyes never moved from the guards, but he didn’t touch his spear.
“Lower the weapons,” he commanded. The Lord again, like in the camp.
I kept my grip on the knife tight but let it fall to my side. The two guards stared at him for what felt like hours before something flickered across one’s features. Aven let them put the pieces together.
One blade clattered to the floor, and then the other, and both knelt. “Lord,” one breathed, his voice full of nothing but shock. “Our deepest apologies.”
“It is an honor to see you alive and well, Lord. After all this time, we were sure you wouldn’t be returning.”
Aven jerked his chin up. “Rise. And do not aim your weapons at anybody I choose to bring here again, or you’ll have no hands to hold them with.”
&n
bsp; “Of course, Lord. Of course.”
Both got to their feet but appeared lost as to what to do now. Stumbling across the arrival of a long-lost Lord believed to be dead wasn’t something they were trained to handle. The shorter of the two eyed me, though, and flicked his claws around his weapon. “I know it’s not my place to question you, Lord, but—”
“No, it isn’t your place,” Aven cut him off, every word clipped. “Where is the Queen?”
The guard cut his eyes down. “We were sent to patrol these halls for the evening, Lord. We aren’t permitted to know the Queen’s whereabouts unless she wishes it.”
Aven glanced down the hallway, then nodded once. “Go on, then. Do your duty to your Court.” Neither guard hesitated to hurry away, failing to hide their twin scowls at the whole encounter, and Aven waited until they were well away, backs to us, before turning to me. “Put the knife away. Somewhere safer than your belt.”
I slid it into my boot. As soon as I straightened, he took my arm in one hand, tight enough I couldn’t step away but not enough to hurt. My heartbeat doubled, the fear lacing through me again, but the sound of his voice settled it. “Keep calm. Parts to play, remember. It won’t be long.”
Parts to play, parts to play. I repeated it on loop while we walked, though my arm cramped and my back ached and my breath started to shorten. On and on, through winding halls and doorways, up and down swirling staircases until I was lost. This place was a maze, designed to keep anybody but those familiar with it from getting far.
The deeper we got, the more people passed us, mainly servants with the odd guard, but none stopped or spoke to us. I bristled at the way a few stared, but Aven and Moray paid them no mind. I worked to keep my head down whenever one came near, praying I could avert at least some of the attention. The sight of Aven alone sent whispers following us. News of his return was going to have circled through the entire Eyes by morning, I suspected.
We went through another wooden door like the others, and Aven paused in the short, wide hallway on the other side. The door closed behind us, sealing us in shadow; there were no open arches here, and the candles set along the walls were unlit. The only light came from the crack beneath the door behind us, a sliver of gold passing along the ground. It lit up the barest edges of the double doors across from us, far larger than any I’d seen so far. They reached the ceiling, gilded and set with designs of the same craftmanship as the columns: crashing sea waves and rocky cliffs. Even in the dark, I had to stop and gawk.
Tide Page 25
