Tide

by Lacy Sheridan

  The doors opened and I glanced over my shoulder with everyone else to see who the summons was for this time. The messenger crossed without a word to the table and we all straightened, watching. Azali swung the leg she’d folded up beneath her down and smoothed a stray lock of her hair. Kieras gave me a quick, encouraging smile. I sipped my water, ready to take note of who was called for and return to my meal; Raeth appeared to have lost all interest in me as anything but a placeholder, and I was fine with that. It made it all the more difficult to accomplish anything, being trapped here day in and day out, but at least I didn’t have to play slave for the public. I’d find a way out eventually, or Aven would find the loophole that would get me back to him and away from Raeth.

  The woman stopped at my chair and held out the neatly folded message to me, and I suppressed a groan. Every eye in the Nest pushed down on me as I opened it.

  Lord Tiraethsi requests your assistance immediately.

  My assistance? I glanced to Kieras, wondering if she had any idea what that meant, but she shook her head. Azali’s attention burned a hole in my back as I stood and followed the messenger out to meet with my escorts. We walked in silence, one armed man on either side of me, and I kept my head as high as I could, shoulders back. I’d told Aven I wouldn’t break. Over and over, I’d refused to let it happen. Raeth wouldn’t change that, whatever his plans were.

  I wasn’t afraid of him, siren or not.

  I still didn’t know the Eyes well enough to know where we were going. It was a maze, and maybe if I’d had the freedom to wander I could have figured it out, but I didn’t have that luxury. Raeth, the guard, Marassa—they all made sure of it. But I recognized the turn to Raeth’s private quarters and couldn’t help a little sigh of relief when we passed it.

  Where were we going, then? Somewhere more public?

  Knots started in the pit of my stomach the longer we walked as the possibilities raced through my head. I worked to keep my expression neutral; I’d gotten out of plenty of scrapes. I could get out of another, if I needed to.

  Another hallway I hadn’t seen before: I would have recognized the sloping view outside the arches. The early hour turned the sky pale and dreamy outside, and the breeze they let in was heavenly. A far cry from the Nest. And then my escorts pushed open a set of doors—thick glass—and I stepped outside for the first time in almost two weeks.

  The courtyard took my breath away. Winding, sandy colored stone paths led through manicured grass and along beds of lush, blooming flowers. In the distance tall, blue-green bushes rose as tall as trees. A pair of merrow ladies walked down a path, arms linked and chatting. Their delicate, translucent fins sparkled in the light. I ignored the disgusted looks they gave me as I stepped onto the path; I couldn’t have cared less. The sun beat down on me and the wind stirred my hair and the loose fabric of my dress. It smelled like summer sunshine and fresh flowers and I inhaled it like I’d been suffocating

  For a moment, I didn’t care that Raeth had summoned me or why. Then one of my escorts took my arm, hauling me away from the door. I dared to scowl at him as he did but kept quiet.

  “I thought I was very clear that you weren’t to touch her,” Raeth’s silken voice caught my attention, and my arm was released.

  “I’m sorry, Lord.”

  I rubbed at my arm and found Raeth approaching on the back of a creature not unlike the ones Aven and I had ridden to the passing. His was taller and far more elegant, like a well-bred stallion as opposed to a poor man’s old mare. Its pelt and scales shone in the sunlight, and it tossed its head, its thick, mossy green made rippling. I stared.

  “Human skin is easier to bruise than yours,” he said. “Any marks on her will be repaid. Now go.” Both of my escorts scurried away like beaten dogs, and I tore my gaze from the stallion to Raeth. “No greeting for your Lord, Hania?”

  We were in public, no being myself here. “I’m sorry, Lord. Good morning.”

  He clucked his tongue, sending the creature into a leisurely walk, and jerked his head in a way that told me to follow. I did. “How are you enjoying the Nest?”

  There were about a thousand things I could tell him about how I was enjoying my stay, but I answered with, “It’s very comfortable. Thank you.”

  “And the others? Have you made friends?”

  “We’re all friendly.”

  “I saw you with Kieras before.”

  “Yes, Lord.”

  “She tells me you and Azali nearly came to blows the other night?” I swallowed hard, waiting for him to continue. “Who instigated it?”

  What answer was he looking for? “She tried to enchant me, Lord. I resisted. That’s all. I’m sorry for causing trouble.”

  He glanced to me with a faint smirk playing at his lips. “Shame. I hoped it was you.”

  “May I ask what you need my assistance with?”

  “Do you ride?” he asked, and when I looked over at him, confused, he nodded to his mount.

  “I’ve ridden horses, and once rode a…” I trailed off, realizing I didn’t know the name of the creatures. I hadn’t even heard of them in the old stories, one of the countless details they lacked.

  He replied with an amused smile and looked to one of the servants rushing along the paths, a young boy with blue gems at his throat. “Fetch an asketi from my stables.”

  “Yes, Lord.”

  Asketi. I repeated the name until it was committed to memory. Minutes later, the stable boy returned with a second asketi, smaller and darker in color than Raeth’s, and left us with her after a deep bow to Raeth. I raised one hand cautiously, watching her as she nosed at it. Raeth waited as I climbed onto her back, for once grateful for the loose skirt of my dress as I adjusted it around me, and spoke once I was following him down the path again.

  “You like animals?”

  I risked a cautious glance in his direction before I answered. “Yes, Lord. I was raised on a farm.”

  “You treat them well. Perhaps when my work with you is done you’d be helpful in the stables or kennels.”

  I bristled at the comment but kept my mouth shut, staring straight ahead between the pointed ears of my asketi. Raeth’s gaze bore into me, daring me to speak. When I didn’t, he continued, and I heard that cool smile in his voice. “You’re quiet this morning, Hania. Something on your mind?”

  He knew what was on my mind. I drew a breath and glanced over at him. “What do you need my assistance with, Lord?” I asked again.

  “Maybe I’ve asked you here to keep me company.” I stared at him and he grinned. “Maybe not.” I wasn’t in the mood to listen to riddles; I looked ahead, trying to determine where we were going. “I’m sure the fresh air is a blessing after being kept inside the Eyes all this time,” he commented after another short stretch of silence. “Confinement is maddening, even in luxury, isn’t it?”

  “And what do you know of confinement, Lord?”

  “There she is. I like you so much better when you show a little fire.”

  I fixed him with another silent, flat look, trying to read his expression, but it was as inscrutable as ever. “Be careful where you say that. You wouldn’t want any of the nobility thinking you enjoy my company.”

  Raeth laughed, maybe the sincerest reaction I’d ever gotten from him, and tugged at his asketi’s reins. It veered to the edge of the garden. I followed. “No, that would be terrible,” he agreed.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, looking up as we passed below the first scattered trees, the sculpted blooms and paths behind us. Raeth’s answer was to shoot me another wolfish smile. “Raeth. Where are we going?”

  “No ‘Lord’ now that they’re out of earshot?”

  “Calling you ‘Lord’ makes me want to claw your eyes out, don’t you remember?” I asked sweetly.

  He shook his head. “Aven is a lucky man. Stupid and deluded, but lucky.”

  My bitter smile faded. “Lucky?”

  “That he talked you of all humans into freeing him.”
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br />   I tore my gaze away. “He didn’t. I offered.”

  “Why would a human offer to free a murderous selkie?”

  My grip on the reins tightened at his choice of words, and my answer came quietly. “He’s my brother’s only hope.”

  “Ah, yes, your brother. And how much Aven has done for him.”

  “Why do you care, Raeth?” I demanded. “I’m a tool to you. My brother means nothing to you. Why do you care what Aven’s part is? Do you think if you twist his actions around I’ll be more loyal to you than to him? Because I hate to tell you, but there’s nothing you could say to make me doubt him.”

  There was a beat of silence before he asked, “What is your tie to Lenairen, Hania?”

  I paused, shoving down my irritation, and stared out across the mountains as I searched for the right words. It had never been much more than rumor and legend; I wasn’t even sure if I believed it myself. But there were people who were insistent, and I couldn’t deny the facts. “I don’t know, exactly. It’s a point of pride in my family, believing we’re descended from him, but the records are unclear. My mother was connected distantly to some noble family, but the name’s been lost. Some people insist it was a son or grandson of Lenairen himself. Tobin does look like the portraits.”

  “Yes, he does,” Raeth mused. “The spitting image of Lenairen, in fact. If I didn’t know better I would have thought Lenairen had risen from the dead.”

  “Did you know him?” I glanced at him, but Raeth kept his gaze trained above us. He hesitated before answering, something softer in his voice.

  “We all knew Lenairen, in one way or another. And you won’t find many here who will think highly of you for having his blood.”

  I knew that, but what I couldn’t understand was why. I understood that Lenairen had separated us. I understood that humans had caused plenty of pain to tidespeople. But Lenairen had ended the war for both sides’ sakes. He’d brought peace before we could destroy one another.

  “Why do you hate him so much? I know some of the things that were done, but he was the one to stop all of it. Without him, both sides might have fought until there was nobody left.”

  Raeth let out a bitter laugh. “The one to stop it?” He looked at me and I saw a deep-rooted, old grief in his eyes that I’d never seen before. Not in anybody. It made every word I had die on my tongue. “He ended the war, yes. It’s true that we might have fought to the last drop of blood and left the world with nobody in it. But you’ve never fought a war, Hania. It was hell. Day upon day of hell, and at the front of it, raining it down onto my people, was Lenairen. Your hero. He wasn’t some distant king who sat in his castle and commanded his armies, only showing his face where there was no choice but to construct the barrier. I watched him kill.”

  “You fought?”

  He tore his gaze away and let out a long breath. “I fought. I was young, very young, narrowly old enough to be sent away. But I fought. My brothers and I all did.”

  “Did your brothers come back?”

  “One did. The other…he was taken by Lenairen’s people. They had a grand time relieving sirens of their tongues.”

  I winced at the comment and the way it had been delivered. Quiet and empty. It was war. Terrible things were done in a war, and I knew this one had resulted in some of the worst in our history. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. But it sent chills through me. “I’m sorry.”

  “My point, much as you don’t want to hear it, is that this Court is very justified in holding such a grudge against Lenairen. And I can wholeheartedly understand the pain and fury they feel when they see your brother. You won’t have an easy time convincing anybody, Aven included, to truly want him free.”

  I ignored the dig at Aven. I couldn’t let him rattle my trust. “That doesn’t make him responsible for what Lenairen did. It doesn’t mean he should be tortured for it. Adding pain onto pain doesn’t fix anything.”

  I met his eyes and he flashed me that predator grin, as if we weren’t discussing war and death. “And that, darling, is exactly why I need you.”

  “What do you need me for?” It felt like the hundredth time I’d asked the question, and he nodded ahead of us. At first I saw nothing, only more trees and rocks and slopes, but then something rustled in the distance and I stiffened, though neither asketi paused. “What was that?”

  Raeth shifted, green eyes glittering with anticipation, and my insides knotted. “Keep up,” he said. “Your mare knows where to go.” He clucked his tongue and took off.

  I stared after him, startled into silence, he was gone so fast. But the wind tugged at my hair, and my asketi huffed out an anxious breath, and I pushed away all thought of why we were here. All thought of who Raeth was and what I was supposed to be doing.

  I could be sent back to the Nest at any second. I could be executed for no reason at all, and any moment Marassa wished. I was here, in the sweet mountain air, with the sun and the wind and a beautiful animal beneath me. I could almost close my eyes and fool myself into believing I was home. And why not follow Raeth while he gave me the chance? If worst came to worst, I had an asketi. I could run, and run, and run, and I didn’t know what would happen. But I wanted to.

  I clucked my tongue, urging the mare to pick up her pace. And then she was flying.

  Her hooves raced across the rough, uneven path, quick and sure. I leaned forward to keep my balance and grinned as the wind whipped through my hair, roaring in my ears. The mountains became a blur. The mare knew where to go without my command, and once I’d caught up to Raeth she veered away until he was a vague shape in my periphery.

  We kept pace with him for seconds before a whistle cracked through the air and she turned in response. The sparse trees broke into dust and dark stone leading to a drop, and I yanked on my asketi’s reins before I registered the animal in front of us.

  A sellye, I thought at first—it shared the same sleek, muscled build and cat-like face, fanged and yowling as Raeth slowed on its other side, trapping it between us and the cliff. But it was smaller, a deeper and darker blue-gray, with large, flat paws rather than the webbed ones of the one that had attacked Aven and I. A mountain-dwelling cousin, I guessed, but I didn’t have the time or breath to ask. Raeth was on the ground before his asketi had come to a stop, pouncing on it like I expected it to do to us, and, in a mind-boggling flurry of motion, landed crouched in the dust, pinning it to the ground.

  It thrashed and screeched, finless tail lashing and hind paws swiping at him as he pinned its front with one hand, its head with the other. Despite the fact that I was sure those claws could rip him to shreds, he was grinning. “Hania, there’s a knife on my belt.”

  There was. I forced my voice to cooperate. “Yes.”

  “Be a dear and kill it for me. I’d hate for you to get bitten.”

  I suspected his reasoning was closer to my not being able to hold the thing down, but I didn’t argue. I swung from the mare and crept closer, eyes on the creature every second, but Raeth murmured under his breath and its furious screaming quieted. I dared to listen, though I knew I shouldn’t; the melody flowed like the way the sea flowed into the sky, captivating and perilous. I didn’t understand the words—I wasn’t sure there were words at all. If Raeth speaking was like a song, his real song was like every beautiful thing in the world wrapped together.

  His eyes flashed to me for an instant, breaking the spell I’d let myself be pulled into, and I cursed my stupidity as I crouched beside him. Was I that easy to enchant?

  My hands shook for more reasons than one as I pulled the knife free and stared down at the animal. It was subdued, except for its rapid, gasping breaths, and stared at Raeth with wide, glazed eyes. There were a hundred things I wanted to ask. Why did it need to die? If he wanted to hunt, why not shoot it down with a bow? Why kneel in the dirt with it and make me do it? Why was I here at all?

  But he was still singing his song, focused on it, and I knew those claws and teeth needed to stay as they were.
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br />   My palms were slick as I reached over Raeth’s arm. It was small—so much smaller than the one that had attacked us. Like a half-grown cub. Raeth was watching me again, noting my hesitation.

  I slid the blade across its throat, then dropped the knife before more than the first drops of blood could spill across my hand.

  Raeth kept singing until its dazed, enchanted eyes went glassy and then quieted. I stood and paced back to my asketi.

  “You’ve hunted before,” he observed as he dusted his hands off and replaced his knife. I nodded.

  “I was taught with a bow,” I said. “Not a knife. But I told you, I was raised on a farm. I’ve slaughtered animals.”

  “You can use a bow?”

  “Not well.”

  He gave that little half-smile again as he mounted his asketi. I glanced at the dead animal lying in the dirt. “You’re going to leave it?”

  “The scent will draw out the mother, and the guard can take care of her,” he said. I followed him as he started in the direction we’d come. No wild chase this time. “We can’t allow those things to live so close to the Eyes. They’d prey on our children if they got the chance.”

  I didn’t speak, and we rode in silence. But I needed to voice the question circling my mind. “You’re a Lord, right? Why are you out here taking care of it?”

  Half of a shrug. “How can I ask my people to get their hands dirty if I won’t get my own dirty?”

  Fair enough. “Why did you want me to help you? I’m sure there are plenty of people who could have done it.”

  “Of course, there are, but if I’d had them assist me I wouldn’t know as much about you, would I?”

  “You don’t care about getting to know me.” What I could do, maybe, but not me.

  “Your lack of faith in me is astonishing. I like to understand all my girls.”

  I stared at the trees, rolling the question on my tongue. Raeth watched me, as if he knew I had more to say, but before I could decide whether now was the right time to say it soft voices rose in the distance, paired with the steady clack of hooves. Raeth nodded for me to follow him to the side, so we could pass further from whoever they were. But this was no forest, the growth wouldn’t conceal us, and I felt eyes on me before the other riders came into view.