Tide

by Lacy Sheridan

  I wanted to grin and bit the inside of my cheek to fight it off. That was my selkie, storm clouds contained beneath faultless decorum.

  Raeth returned the look with another of his fierce smiles. Unshakeable. “As am I.”

  “Lords, please.” Marassa leaned forward, smoothing a wrinkle from her skirt. Despite her interruption, she looked as if she’d like nothing more than to watch their conversation escalate. “We have guests.”

  Raeth glanced not to the crowd—plenty of whom were watching the High Court’s every move—but to me, and lifted my hand to his lips, as if he were a gentleman greeting a lady, not a siren and his falsely claimed slave. With none of his fellow rulers watching, all focused on that tiny, skin-crawling gesture, Aven visibly bristled. “You’re right, of course, my Queen,” Raeth agreed. “I would hate to frighten Hania on her first proper outing with us. What do you think of the celebration, darling?”

  I didn’t know how well the others could read Aven, but I could see the storm brewing in his eyes. His summer blue was darkening into the color of hurricane waves, and I knew this was solely to antagonize him.

  Play the part, I reminded myself for the thousandth time. He knew better than to lash out, even if Raeth was a master at getting under his skin. I’d be free to yell at Raeth all I wanted for this later. “It’s lovely,” I answered, making sure I kept my gaze down. Kieras would have scolded me for it but I was taking no chances with Namak and Marassa.

  Marassa tugged on the leash of pearls again and Tobin hobbled a step closer. I steadied my joints, and Raeth’s grip on my hand tightened. Not comfortingly, a leash of my own. “And what do you think of it?” she asked. The question dripped honey and sent chills through me. I could see the way she twisted the pearls around her fingers, and I dug the nails of my free hand into my palm to keep from smacking them from her.

  Tobin glanced to me for an instant—guilt, shame, fear, pleading, pain. “It’s as wonderful as always,” he murmured. I almost sobbed again at hearing his voice.

  She smiled again and pushed his chin up so he was looking directly at me. I couldn’t move. “And of Lord Tiraethsi’s new plaything? Such a coincidence, to find another human in our Court so soon.”

  It felt like hours that we stood staring at each other. I might have been shaking. Tobin drew a deep breath and answered through his teeth, “She’s of a higher standard than any of his others I’ve seen.”

  My breath caught as the pearls tightened slightly around his neck with one tiny flick of Marassa’s wrist, and he stiffened. But she didn’t berate him. Raeth laughed. “I wouldn’t have claimed her otherwise. She’s impressed me.”

  Tobin’s look held a hundred panicked questions I wished I could answer, but I couldn’t. They could wait. The conversation drifted into crafted small talk, useless to me and safe for the ears of slaves, and I tuned it out. I watched Tobin keep his place beside Marassa’s seat as I kept mine beside Raeth’s, watched the way Marassa left his leash draped across the arm of her chair, one hand atop it at all times. We didn’t speak but his expression was his answer.

  I’m sorry, I mouthed, and he shook his head.

  Before I could find anything more to do, Raeth stood, bored of the conversation, and finished the last of his drink. “Let’s save talk of duties for tomorrow. I have better things in mind for tonight. Lords, Queen,” he added in parting, inclining his head to them before starting toward the rest of the feast. I cast Tobin and Aven final glances and then followed him like the good little dog I was supposed to be.

  I ignored the looks and whispers that followed us as we weaved through the crowd. Women batted their eyes and straightened their spines as Raeth passed, then glared at me when I followed. Men’s gazes lingered on the low back and split skirt of my dress. I was Raeth’s toy and they hated me for it. I hated me for it, but I kept my eyes on Raeth. They didn’t matter. He did. In a thousand ways I couldn’t name. Raeth was nothing but contradictions and games—gentle and dangerous, soft and cunning, calm and turbulent. I couldn’t tell if his Court persona was simply that, or if the teasing light that danced in his eyes sometimes was real, or if the true Raeth was something hidden beneath both.

  I didn’t know what to make of him. An ally or an enemy?

  “Don’t stare, Hania. Your selkie will think I’ve seduced you.”

  I looked away. “I’m just trying to figure you out.”

  “And what have you come up with?”

  I didn’t know if it was a test or a genuine question, but I answered. “You could have let something terrible happen to me when she wouldn’t let Aven claim me. You didn’t have to say anything. And you didn’t have to show up when I was in the dark and talk to me. You didn’t have to keep me from doing something to get Tobin and I in trouble, either. I know you want to use me for something but I don’t know if it’s good or bad, and I don’t know if I can trust you. But I know you’re clever, and you’ve got almost the entire Court wrapped around your finger, and I think that can be useful to me.”

  He cast me a fleeting, almost proud look. “Clever little thing. I’ve worked hard to ensure I have this Court wrapped around my finger. I’m glad you appreciate it.”

  “I can’t imagine why they’d bother with you, but if it makes saving my brother easier I won’t complain.” Lie. I knew exactly why.

  “I’m a siren,” he said. “We possess certain…charms.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not that you’re a siren. You’re one of those cold and quiet beautiful types. The type that knows it but is too smart to flaunt it. You wait for the right moment.”

  He gave me a feline smile in reply. “There’s nothing quiet about me, darling. I’m the beauty of a lightning storm. Just like our Queen.” He caught my hand again, pressing another sinister, gentlemanly kiss to my knuckles, and stepped away. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Hania.”

  I watched him vanish into the crowd, in search of gods knew who or what. Whatever he’d wanted me to accomplish tonight had been done, even though all I’d done was play victim to the most underhanded game of cat-and-mouse. So, I turned to the door Kieras and I had entered through and walked straight back to the Nest. Their celebration, whatever trivial thing it was for, didn’t need me.

  The Nest was empty; the other girls were at the party. I wondered if I’d be punished for leaving early, but I didn’t dwell on it. If Raeth wanted me to stay longer he should have said so. I relished in the silence, making a beeline for my bed and wondering what to do with the unexpected time. The High Court was occupied; it would be an opportune time to make my plans. But what plans could I make when I knew nothing?

  A flash in the candlelight caught my attention and my heartrate increased. But then I recognized the way the light glittered against the edge of something almost invisible in the shadows as it shifted, and before I could move, Moray skittered into the open and toward me. Relief thawed my veins. “Moray!”

  “Shush.” The sprite flew around me in a whirlwind of nervous energy, checking me over. “It took me days to find a way in here. Don’t make it worthless. Are you hurt?” I shut my mouth and shook my head. It didn’t appear satisfied and circled me again before bobbing at eye-level. Its slanted eyes were wider than I’d seen them and glistened more than usual. “I was worried.”

  “Do sprites hug?” I asked in a whisper. In answer, Moray flew to me, resting at the crook of my neck and shoulder. The embrace felt like sea air and made my heart ache worse than before. I pressed one hand to the silky liquid-solidness of its skin. “I missed you.”

  Moray pulled back and crossed its arms. “You dumb, dumb human, how did you go and get yourself claimed by Tiraethsi?”

  “It just happened. I couldn’t stop it. I saw Aven earlier but I couldn’t talk to him. Is he alright? Has Marassa…” I couldn’t finish. I didn’t want to hear if something had happened to him. He’d appeared intact, but I didn’t know what might be going on behind closed doors. He was better at putting up a front than anybody I’d ever
met.

  “Done anything to him?” Moray finished for me, and I gave a meek nod. “Nothing more than usual. He hasn’t been punished for bringing you here, but he is on a very close watch. The tiniest step out of line and she could change her mind.”

  My legs were suddenly unsteady and I sat on the edge of my little bed. Moray drifted closer. “I want to see him. Really see him, without having to act.”

  “He wants to see you. He’d tear this Court apart to get to you if he could, but she has your brother and Tiraethsi has you, and he won’t risk either of your lives. He…he needs some time to come up with a plan. We all do.”

  “I know,” I murmured. Moray landed on my shoulder, silent. “I trust him. He knows I trust him, right?”

  “Of course. Plans here must be slow and subtle. Believe me, little one, he’s furious over the thought of Tiraethsi touching you. I’ve never seen him break so many sparring spears.”

  I rubbed at my arm, where Raeth’s hand had lingered. Secure, but not harsh. “He’s barely touched me at all, much less done anything Aven should be furious about other than claim me in the first place. Dress me like this, maybe.” Moray snorted a half-genuine laugh. “Tell Aven that. He’s been…” Nice was too generous a word, and I finished with, “hospitable. Mostly.”

  “I’ll tell him there was no trace of siren enchantment on you when you said that, but he won’t believe me.”

  “He’s never enchanted me. Threatened it, but not done it.” I sighed and closed my eyes, stretching out on my back across the bed. I was exhausted, like everything in me had been drained. “Tell him I’m staying on my guard here, and I’m alright. So far. But I don’t know how long I can play this part, Moray. Raeth needs me for something, but I don’t know what game he’s playing. I don’t know if I can play both.”

  “What does he need you for?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe just to irritate Aven, but I feel like there’s something more. He won’t trust me with it, though.”

  The sprite settled down beside me. “You’re as strong as any tidesperson, little one. You’ll make it yet.”

  “Thank you for finding me.”

  “I’m sure Aven’s told you how jealous and possessive sprites can be.”

  I managed a quiet laugh. “You’re a wonderful pain.”

  A quick, misty peck on my cheek. “As are you.”

  For a week, I watched every curve of the sun and moon across the sky through the arches of the Eyes. I listened to the sounds of the tide and tried to guess the hours off it. I stared through the glass of the Nest’s windows and counted the stars. If nothing else, the Eyes was in a beautiful location; the mountains glowed under the moon and sun, lush and radiant in the day and soft and eerie at night. The sky was endless. I was certain I could step through one of those arches and off the edge of the entire world.

  Indoors, however, was less appealing. Every morning, I nibbled at the simple breakfast we were given while Kieras chattered about anything she thought might brighten the mood, or answered my questions about what this or that was, who knew who. She was more attuned to gossip of courting and scandals than who could have influence over Raeth or Marassa, but I’d take any bit of information I could get. Every afternoon, I found a quiet corner of the Nest to sit and try to go unnoticed. Raeth had at least put thought into our entertainment: there was a case in a corner filled to the brim with books, and a few sets of stone dice that were most frequently used to determine who got to use the baths first. I passed the time reading tales of the half-forgotten gods and of monsters with swords and stolen magic, the tidespeople’s reverse of our own stories. Though I read every one cover to cover twice I couldn’t find anything more useful than legends in them. Kieras flitted between me and the other girls, and I didn’t stop her from leaving me to my quiet, somber pursuits in favor of gossip and laughter with the girls she’d known for years. She’d stopped inviting me after I’d turned down the offer three days in a row, all three to Azali’s burning glare on her back. When we were summoned for feasts and parties I stuck close to Kieras and watched. When the servants left and entered. When the High Court sat and talked and when they danced and mingled. As Kieras shed her hairpins before bed, I wondered if I could snag one before they were taken away, but I knew they’d be no use against the locks keeping us in. Late at night, I sometimes slipped out of bed, silent and barefoot, and made it to the doors of the Nest, but never touched them. I knew without having to look that there were guards posted there.

  Raeth had designed his slaves’ quarters impeccably. A gilded cage that would be suicide to escape: cut down by swords and spears through the doors, or a straight drop to shatter on the rocks if you managed to get out the window.

  Girls went in and out, summoned by Raeth for whatever work it was he needed them for. Sometimes I didn’t see them again until the next day. Azali was by far the favored for late-night requests, and though I didn’t want to dwell on the reasons, I couldn’t complain.

  Evenings in the Nest were my favorite, if I had to pick a favorite time. The other girls exchanged stories and songs, beautiful, lilting sirensongs that let me forget where I was, and I spent them lying in my tiny bed and listening. Thinking on Raeth and every word he’d ever spoken to me. Aven and his plea to trust him, the plea that crossed my mind hourly as I slogged through every day as a slave with nothing to show for it. Moray’s promise of slow and subtle plans working. I didn’t know how slow it meant, and I didn’t know when my patience was going to run out. I had no idea what was going on beyond these maddening, pretty walls.

  My seventh night in the Nest, I threw myself off my bed as the others huddled in their traditional evening circle and paced from wall to curtain and back, my feet refusing to keep still. When that failed to calm my nerves, I steeled myself against the soft song from the other side—one sweeter and brighter than what I’d come to learn were the aptly-named hunting songs like Raeth had almost used on me when we’d met—and pushed past the curtain into the main area of the Nest. The others sat together, smiling and laughing, having a grand time as usual, and quieted as I crossed behind them to the bookshelf. I needed something to occupy my mind.

  “Haven’t you read those twice through already?” Kieras asked with a grin. “Come sit with us. You never do.”

  I’d only gotten halfway through the collection, but I didn’t correct her. “I’m alright, Kieras, thank you.”

  “Better than our games, Hania?” My attention shifted to Azali, who smirked as she propped her chin in one hand. “We may not be Lords, but you’re no higher than us. Go on, sit down. Sing us a song.” The edge of magic laced through her words spun in my veins, and I yanked away from it before it could take hold. But my voice caught in my throat, and hers willed my head. “It didn’t take long for the curiosity to bore him, did it? I’d join us while you can. Who knows where you’ll end up next.”

  My feet itched to move to her and obey, but I kept them fixed in place. I wasn’t shunning them. I didn’t think I was above them because I was different, or because Raeth had selected me. I knew the instant I sat among them I’d be lost to their voices, and I needed to be in control here. I could let myself drift from a distance, but if those songs filled my ears I didn’t know what would happen to me.

  “Go back to bed, Hania.” Kieras—an enchanted command as much as Azali’s but without the threatening edge. “You can sit with us another time.”

  I let out a breath as the pressure in me eased, the tension slipping away. I turned to my curtained-off excuse for a bedroom, a book chosen at random hugged to my chest, and caught sight of Azali and Kieras facing each other. Where Kieras was like moonlight, gentle and steady, Azali was a blazing flame ready to strike. The other girls were looking between them, waiting for one to break the silence.

  My heart hammered in my chest but I stepped up behind Kieras, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s go,” I murmured.

  She blinked and tore her gaze from Azali, granting me a dazzling smile. �
��Yes, let’s.” Standing, she slung one arm around my shoulders and inclined her head to the other girls. “I believe the curiosity is right. It’s late, and we wouldn’t want to disappoint our Lord with anything less than fresh, smiling faces. Ladies. Azali.” And she turned on her heel and started away with me in tow.

  I didn’t smile often in the Nest, but for the first time I hid one. “I think I understand why Raeth likes you,” I said under my breath.

  She grinned and held the curtain aside for me. “Why, thank you. I think I understand what he sees in you. Not many humans would walk away from that conversation intact.”

  “I do have a habit of somehow managing that.” But the little bud of good mood I’d scraped up wilted at the feeling of eyes on me. I glanced to Azali before the curtain fell closed behind us and knew the look in her eyes was a promise.

  I nipped at my fish at breakfast, staring out the window. Beyond, the mountains rose and fell, towering and jagged and stunning in the early morning. From this side of the Nest, a waterfall was just visible as it tumbled down a cliff, and I wondered what it would be like to stand at the edge of it.

  Nobody spoke. Down the table Azali lounged in her chair like it was a throne of the High Court, sipping her water. Her fiery eyes slid from one of her Nest-mates to the next, studying them. I kept my attention turned away when they landed on me and didn’t let myself blink or flinch at the slight curl of her upper lip. She had every right to hate me; I was a human in her Court, taking time and attention from her precious Lord. But I had no more control over it than she did, and she knew that causing trouble here wouldn’t do her any good. I had a feeling Raeth wouldn’t tolerate fighting among his girls.

  I hoped.

  If Aven knew I had a siren set to kill me if she found a chance to get away with it, he wasn’t making any indication. And every day without a word or sign of him crushed something in me a little more.