Tide

by Lacy Sheridan

  Aven dropped my arm. The shifting of shadows on his face told me he was smiling. “They haven’t named a new Lord.”

  Moray for once wasn’t bobbing or spinning through the air. “You have no heir,” it said. “And without a body they couldn’t be sure you were dead.”

  “This is yours?” I asked in a whisper.

  “My quarters. Under normal circumstances there would be guards posted here, but I suppose they haven’t had to worry about anybody but thieves. And it’d be damn hard for a thief to get this far and get back out again.”

  I licked my dry lips. “What about the Queen? And the people who saw you, they’ll tell everybody you’re back. The whole Court will know soon and you’ll have to do something with me.”

  “We’ll have to worry about that sooner than I’d like, Hania. Let’s enjoy the couple hours we have before then.”

  That was fair. “What do we do for those couple hours?”

  “Prepare.”

  He pressed a hand to the split between the doors. For an instant, I was sure a breeze flew through the hall, chilling my spine, but it was so quick I couldn’t be sure. And then he pushed them open.

  Moonlight turned the room silver and ghostly, but it was no less beautiful. It was larger than any room I’d ever seen, with arches like the ones in the halls overlooking the drop to the sea. These ones were covered in glass, golden vines draped across them, and bolted, but even through the dust on the panes the moon was bright. The floor was that same glistening white marble, covered on one side by a massive rug made from a thick, dark animal’s pelt. Full bookcases and an empty fireplace carved with the same waves as the door dominated the walls. A sleek sword with a handle of what looked like bone rested on the mantle. Across from it sat a bed, stripped bare but grander than any I’d ever seen.

  Despite the bedding being gone, there were touches of Aven’s last day here, and they were easy to find. A heavy book left out on a table beside a scattering of papers and ink. A spear leaned upright in a corner, as if he’d never had the chance to put it away after using it. A fine layer of dust had settled over of it, but I knew at a glance that this was a place he was comfortable in. That he’d missed.

  Moray draped itself across the table, inspecting the ink. “They wasted totally good ink, leaving it out for fifty years. I know Marassa ordered this place not to be touched before you returned or were found dead, but I bet she didn’t know you were so careless to leave things lying around like this.”

  Aven shooed the sprite away and picked up the book. “Ink is the least of our worries, Moray. Here.” He pulled a thin, satiny ribbon—a bookmark—from the pages and tossed it in the air. Moray snatched it up before it could flutter to the floor. “Add that to your stash, wherever it is now, and then go deal with the others. Tell them I’ll have no one disturb me tonight, and I’ll speak with Marassa in the morning. And keep Hania out of it.”

  “What if word’s spread that you’ve brought a human?” it asked, twirling the ribbon through the air behind it.

  “Tell them she’s my business and won’t be here long. Let them make what they will of that.”

  “As you command, Lord.” It flashed Aven a mocking grin and flitted away, out of sight through the cracked door. Aven pulled it shut behind it.

  I waited a moment, watching him thread his hands through his hair, before I spoke. “Marassa?”

  He sighed. “Queen Marassa of the Dragon Court. You stand in the Lord of Selkies’ chamber within the Eyes of the Dragon—the center of the Court, where nobility resides and where every inch of our land can be watched over.”

  “You mean they could have watched us the entire time we were coming here, since we crossed the border?”

  “It’s not likely they thought much of it. Moray comes and goes, and if they weren’t looking for me I’m sure they’d have thought I was any other warrior. If they saw us at all, and that’s not certain. It won’t change anything.”

  “So what’s our plan?”

  He turned, pacing across the room. “I’m thinking.”

  “You haven’t thought of a plan yet?”

  “Ideally, I was going to get you here unseen. But those guards we spoke to are snakes; they’ll spread rumors like fire if they think it will get them some favor. Once Marassa finds out I brought a human here, the entire game changes. If she was going to put you into service I needed to keep her from thinking I had any tie to you.”

  “Why?”

  He stopped in front of me, meeting my eyes. I counted the flecks of lighter blue in his—five in the right, six in the left. “Do you remember when you met Moray and asked about sprites?” I nodded. “And I told you they’re vain, vicious, and possessive?”

  “Is Marassa a sprite?” I asked.

  “No, but she might as well be. As a Lord of the Court I’m hers. It’s what the position means. Her weapon or symbol or whatever it is she needs. She doesn’t take kindly to us having attachments outside of that.”

  “So if she thinks we’re…” I trailed off, realizing I had no word for what I meant. What was it that we were? Friends, certainly. But something else I had no name for.

  He didn’t supply a word, either, like he was letting me pick one. Always letting me choose. But he ran his fingertips down my arm, elbow to wrist, and looked down at the tangle of our fingers. I brushed my thumb along an old scar on the heel of his hand. “She’d do anything for her Court. She’s a good queen and I took my father’s position with her for a reason. But she has even less love for humans than most of the Court, and she wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you to prove her point, either to them or to me. So if she doesn’t know, if she thinks you’re here as my pet or some stray human I dragged with me to work here, you’ll be safe from part of that.”

  Something deep, deep inside me felt too cold. It was only playing parts. Surviving until we found Tobin. I could do that. We could do that.

  I took a deep breath and nodded. “What part do you need me to play?”

  He pressed a kiss to my palm. “Tomorrow, my prisoner. And after that, whatever part finds your brother.”

  I’d never seen Moray anxious before. Even in the vodianoi village, even when Aven had been poisoned, the sprite had maintained an enviable level of calm and confidence. Always knowing what needed to be done. Now it moved back and forth around me, as if it had too much nervous energy. At times, I could only keep track of it by the bit of glistening mist in its wake.

  “You’re not helping my nerves, Moray,” I said.

  It stopped and spun to face me. “Aven is preparing to face the Queen after being caught by humans, losing his skin, and then bringing a human into the Eyes with him, and you’re worried about your nerves?”

  “I am the aforementioned human. I have a much higher chance of being executed before the end of the day than Aven does.”

  Not that I wasn’t terrified of what could be happening to Aven right now. He’d left me in one room, of a maze of reception and meeting rooms, with Moray to ‘guard’ me until I was to join him. It was the first time I’d been away from him since arriving in the Eyes, and my heart pounded faster with every minute that passed without a sign of him. If things went wrong here he’d be punished, and, after what he’d said about Marassa, I knew it’d be harsh. But at least she wouldn’t kill him.

  I drummed my fingers on the mirror-smooth wooden tabletop before me, ragged nails tapping out a jittery rhythm. I didn’t know when somebody would show up, or whether it’d be Aven or a guard or someone else, and I didn’t know what would happen when they did. I didn’t know anything, and I hated it.

  “What’s taking so long?” I asked after another unbearable minute of silence.

  Moray sighed. “It’s the talk of nobles. They can take two minutes or a year to get through a conversation.”

  “So you have no idea when they’ll be done?”

  “No.”

  More silence. I raked my brain for something to break it, anything to keep my mind off everything.
“Moray?” It made a distracted hum of acknowledgement, darting around the room in what must have been the sprite equivalent of pacing. “Aven gave you a ribbon before. Last night. Why?”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “I’m curious.”

  It paused to look me over. Maybe it understood why I was really asking, because after a moment it answered with a forced lightness. “I like to collect things. Pretty things. No different than those who collect jewels or art, though we don’t care as much for their value.”

  “Why do you collect them?”

  “During the summer, sprites who wander find their way to the shore and build themselves homes out of the most beautiful little trinkets they can find. It’s the one time we stay together. We call it the sunrise season—when all sprites are born, and we watch them climb from the waves for the first time. I suppose I like to pretend I haven’t missed it.”

  I traced the wood with one finger as I listened, and the note of longing that crept into Moray’s voice struck through me. It wasn’t obvious, but I knew Moray’s usual teasing and nonchalance and could tell when something was a bit heavier than normal. “If you want to go, why don’t you? You said you only live here some of the time. You could leave in the summer and come back when it’s over.”

  Moray dropped onto the table beside me and asked, “Why don’t you run off and tear apart this Court in search of your brother instead of sitting here waiting on nobility to decide your next step?”

  “Because sometimes it’s smarter to wait,” I answered and then understood its point. “Because Aven asked me to.” It nodded and rose into the air again. I raised my head to follow it. “Aven asked you not to go to the shore?”

  “No. He would never ask that. But when he took his lordship he asked me to sit on the High Court beside him and help him. Summer is always the busiest time for him.”

  “You’re a good friend, Moray.” I looked down again, thinking of what more to say, but then the sprite’s words hit me. “Wait, Aven’s on the High Court?”

  A single nod. “He’s the Lord of Selkies. Of course he’s on the High Court.”

  I should have put it together. He’d told me his title already, and he’d told me how closely Marassa kept ahold of him. I should have known his position was more than any Lord. There was so much I didn’t know about this place and the way it worked. How was I ever going to free Tobin at this rate?

  But I had bigger worries than Tobin to deal with now. I’d put together a plan for him later.

  “I’m going to face the High Court, aren’t I?” I asked with a groan.

  “Most likely at some point, yes.”

  As if they’d been waiting for this exact moment, the door swung open and a pair of guards marched into the room. Moray lifted its chin, arms crossed, and fixed them with a look of stony indifference as they hauled me from my chair. I didn’t fight; Aven had said not to, to go as easy as possible if guards came for me. We passed through the winding halls, each turn more disorienting. I tried not to think of the places they could be taking me, but every possibility flooded my mind. All the terrible ones.

  They didn’t march me into a grand throne room with crowds of noblemen and women watching, as I half expected. We pushed through a simple wood and iron door to a long room. It was simple but elegantly furnished, with a large table that looked as expensive as half my village, surrounded by tall-backed chairs. Candlelight caught on the polished wood and turned the room small and cozy. Only two people were present: Aven, sipping from a crystal glass but looking strained, and a woman perched at the head of the table who I knew must be Marassa.

  She was the woman from the storm, down to the lightning in her eyes. But unlike then, when her bare feet and simple white gown had spoken of something cruel and wild, here she was a queen. She was clad in white and blue and violet, silver and jewels at her throat and pearls woven through her hair. She looked at me with none of the disgust or hatred or merciless anticipation I had imagined her with; her face was void of anything at all. Like a stone mask.

  The guards took positions on either side of the door behind me, silent but waiting.

  “Sit,” the Queen ordered with a flick of her wrist to a chair.

  My feet were glued to the gleaming floor. Every inch of me trembled at the sight of her, muscles lodged in place and pulse racing like it meant to burn itself out. Phantom screams echoed in my ears. Phantom rain sliced across my vision.

  “That was not a request,” Aven said, pulling me from the memory. His voice was cool and distant, but his eyes held an apology. Only for a fleeting instant, but it broke me from the spell and forced my feet to cross to a chair.

  My hands shook as I sat and I tucked them in my lap to hide them. As if they couldn’t smell the terror on me, hear it in my heartbeat. I looked to Aven first—he looked at me with a carefully blank expression—and then to the Queen, then cut my eyes down. I didn’t know what to do with myself here, and the silence stretched on too long for comfort.

  And then, “You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” Marassa asked. I glanced up to see her lean forward, propping her chin on her hand. Her stormy eyes roved over me and I wanted to back away.

  My mouth was too dry to speak and I had no idea what the proper response would be even if it hadn’t been, but I forced out a mumbled, “Thank you.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “H-Hania.”

  A pleased and ice-cold smile curled her full lips. “What’s brought you here, Hania?”

  I risked another glance to Aven. He sipped from his glass, silent. He’d never told me what to say if I was asked this. What had he said to her? And what would happen if our stories didn’t line up?

  I wet my lips as I searched for the words. “I—A-Aven—” I caught the mistake and corrected myself. “The Lord brought me.”

  Her smile widened, and my insides churned. “Lord Aven of Selkies,” she said, a note of amusement circling through the words. “You, being what you are, will refer to him as such.”

  I bowed my head. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Why do you believe he thought to bring a human here?”

  As his pet or his slave? For fun? I had no idea what she might be looking for. “I couldn’t say,” I said. “I don’t pretend to know your people. You’d have to ask him for his reasons.”

  Marassa laughed. A startling, pretty laugh that made me blink and look at her again. “You have a touch of steel to you, I see. That makes this all the more fun.” When I stared at her, speechless, she appeared satisfied with my reaction and sat back in her chair. “Now, Miss Hania,” she said, gaze trained on me, “what shall we do with you?”

  Was she really asking me? Send me my brother and show us to the nearest passing wasn’t an acceptable answer, but maybe something else would be. Though Aven had said she held more hatred for humans than most of the Court, she came across as relaxed. Open. Frightening, to say the least, but not quite like she’d up and kill me at any moment. Maybe, if I chose the right words, I could get us out of this quicker than expected.

  I looked down at the table, thinking. The fine grains in the wood glowed in the candlelight and I followed them with my eyes, all the way across to where Aven’s pale fingers traced the curves of his glass. Maybe a subtle show of anxiety. I didn’t dare look at his face again.

  “I understand it isn’t likely you’ll let me go home,” I began. “And even if you did, I don’t believe I’d be able to get there on my own. So, I’d like to continue with Lord Aven, if you’re giving me the choice.”

  I jumped at the cool finger that reached under my chin and pushed my head up. Marassa’s eyes were narrowed, cautious, and my stomach flipped, my palms hot. Maybe I’d judged wrong. She said, “You’re a fascinating thing. Most humans beg for their lives or their freedom when I ask them that. Pathetic of them. I’ve always wished your kind were bolder. Why don’t you beg?”

  If she liked bold and fascinating, I could be bold and fascinating. I forced my
self to meet those storm cloud eyes and the danger in them. “I’m probably going to die here one way or another. I don’t see the point in begging.”

  Another marble smile. But her gaze slid to Aven, ignoring me for the moment. “Would you have her, Aven?”

  “If you see no better use for her.” The sound of his voice almost drained the strength from me. Almost sent me lurching into his arms to escape this whole thing. But I braced my joints and waited.

  The Queen paused for another thoughtful moment, looking between us and humming. As if she couldn’t decide—drawing out my terror, I knew. I could see in the gleam of her eyes that she’d made her decision. She studied my face again, hand firm on my chin. “I believe Miss Hania here will be of quite lovely use to our Court, in one way or another. Perhaps a night or two away from a Lord’s quarters will let us see where she might best serve.” She nodded to the guards, and, more swiftly than I could follow, they were taking my arms again, dragging me from my chair.

  I yanked away at first, an instinctive knowledge that I didn’t want to go wherever they were taking me driving every movement, but they didn’t flinch. Behind me, I heard something clatter to the ground and managed a glance back to see Aven standing, blue eyes wide and face a shade paler than normal. He looked frozen, silent, and everybody in the room ignored him as Marassa swept behind us and followed the guards.

  I wanted to protest. I wanted to scream and thrash and demand that they take me to him. I wanted to yell for Moray until my throat was burned raw. I wanted Aven to move, to do something. But every muscle in me was stone and my voice was caught in my throat, and the door closed between us too soon. Then we were back in the maze that was the Eyes, and within seconds I was lost. I couldn’t have hoped to find my way back to that room even if I had managed to get free—if I had, what then? Hope and pray Aven could reverse this and keep me with him instead? He wasn’t above the Queen.