Tide

by Lacy Sheridan

  “I’m quite happy for you and the Queen, Lord, and for the future of our Court,” a man’s voice said, rehearsed and polite. I couldn’t help but listen, and risked a glance to Raeth. He stared straight ahead, expression neutral.

  The pair came into sight at the same moment the second voice spoke, and the sun caught on dark hair and flashes of sealskin, blue and purple gems at Aven’s throat. I was sure my insides were on the ground, being trampled by my asketi, and couldn’t look away. “The Court’s future will be bright, I’m sure,” he replied, but his eyes had already found me. His voice faltered the slightest.

  He was so close. Yards away. It would take nothing to direct my asketi toward him, or to leap off and run to him. Seconds. But I was frozen.

  Raeth maneuvered beside me, not shielding me from him but laying a silent claim that drowned out the unfamiliar man’s half-started question. “I didn’t expect to meet you here, Lord Aven,” he said with the cool tone of the High Court, ignoring Aven’s companion.

  Aven tore his gaze from me to Raeth. “Nor I you, Lord Tiraethsi. What’s brought you so far from the Eyes?”

  “The pesky mountain sellye terrorizing the Court ladies, of course. I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear we’ve killed the cub.”

  He glanced to me again, and I almost collapsed under his gaze. I knew that look, the one that meant he was analyzing a situation for every possible danger. Tears pushed at the backs of my eyes. “A strange choice of help to bring with you, may I say.”

  Raeth gave a dismissive shrug. “She’s capable of far more than one might expect.”

  “I’m sure she is.”

  “We should be on our way. Enjoy your ride, and watch for the mother. She may be along soon.”

  “Thank you. Enjoy your day, Tiraethsi.” Soon, he mouthed to me as his companion started away, done with the conversation. My heart stuttered.

  He made it a step before Raeth added, “And may I extend my congratulations to you and the Queen.”

  “Congratulations?” I echoed before I could stop myself. Aven’s companion glared at me for speaking out of turn, but the look in Aven’s eyes was anything but reprimanding. Stormy and pained.

  There was a beat of silence and then Raeth spoke, never tripping in his Lordly demeanor. “Lord Aven and our Queen are to be married, as of this morning,” he said. I couldn’t look at him, but I knew he was watching me. My every reaction. But Aven was, too, and he was the only one I cared about. The words rang through me, echoing and bouncing through my head, and I couldn’t make sense of them. “Our Lord will soon be our King.”

  A higher position than Lord, some tiny, rational part of my brain insisted. More power, more influence. Get into Marassa’s good graces.

  Married. King. Those two words took over any reasonable thought.

  My hands were shaking, gripped around the reins so tight my knuckles turned white, and the tears were going to come any second. My breath trembled. I lowered my gaze, half for the show and half so they couldn’t see the thoughts I knew were showing in them, and spoke around the lump choking me. “Congratulations, Lord.”

  “Now, come, Hania,” Raeth said, and I followed him from my selkie as quick as I could without looking like I was running.

  I wanted to run. I wanted to run into the mountains and never see the Eyes or Raeth or Aven again.

  Neither of us spoke as we left the two asketi with a stable boy and I followed Raeth back to the halls that were my prison. We weren’t in private, but I spoke, not caring that my voice shook, not caring for any semblance of playing my part. “You wanted me to come because you knew they’d be there.” Not a question, I knew. I knew with every piece of me.

  The wild, laughing Raeth I’d seen out in the mountains was gone. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye though my vision was blurring. His voice was like stone. “Wipe your tears, square your shoulders, and move on. You know the rules, and I don’t care what you think of them, you’ll follow them. Now go get yourself cleaned up, darling. Our Queen and future King are celebrating tonight, and I wouldn’t dream of my girls missing it.”

  I didn’t have anything to say to that. Nothing but fury sung in me. At Raeth, at Aven, at myself. I clenched my jaw, jerked away from his grasp, and turned on my heel toward the door of the Nest, swallowing my tears.

  I couldn’t take all of Raeth’s advice, but I could at least listen to the first part of it. Wipe my tears and square my shoulders. A little piece of my heart felt like it was trembling as I stood there beside Kieras, staring at the dais, but I didn’t let myself blink. The tears were shoved down deep, sealed away where they couldn’t escape, and I focused on nothing but the cold glass in my hand and the way Marassa and Aven talked. Laughed. Her hand on his arm.

  Marassa always wore extravagant jewelry: I couldn’t tell if one of her rings was some tidesperson engagement ring, but there were many shiny ones on her fingers to catch the candlelight. Pretty, expensive things that a Lord could easily have given her.

  Or a King, rather.

  I gulped down the rest of my drink, ignoring the faint burn at the back of my throat, and scanned the room for Raeth to get me another. Kieras eyed me. “What are you looking for?”

  “Raeth.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s a party. He’s probably dancing, or drinking, or…something else. And you should be having fun, too.”

  “I don’t want fun. I want another drink.” I waved my empty goblet for emphasis.

  “You’ve had two already, Hania.”

  “I wasn’t aware there was a limit.” I didn’t mean for the edge to come into my voice, and I knew it wasn’t directed at Kieras, but I didn’t care. I wanted the ache in my chest to go away. I wanted the sting of fury when I looked at Aven to leave. And if I had enough to drink, it would, I hoped, even if for a little bit.

  She sighed and pulled me a step away from the people socializing at the edges of the room. “What’s going on?”

  I stared past her. Aven was leading Marassa to dance. “Nothing. I had a bad day.”

  “Tell me the truth.”

  “That is the truth.”

  “Don’t make me enchant you.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  She was a siren. She could do whatever she wanted to me and I wouldn’t be able to stop her. It was stupid and reckless to challenge her, even if she was my friend. Maybe reckless would help tonight.

  She did nothing but move to block my line of sight. “What do you mean, you had a bad day?”

  “I had a bad day,” I repeated. “Very bad.”

  “You’re going to tell me the whole truth one of these days.”

  I forced a smile that felt like it was carved into my cheeks with a knife. “Maybe.”

  “What do you think drinking will do for you? Make it so whatever happened didn’t?”

  If only. “I want to forget it happened for a while.”

  A pause before she relented with another sigh. “You’ll regret it in the morning,” she muttered as she started for the nearest serving girl, a slight merrow rushing back and forth with drinks. A minute later she had one in each hand and studied one before handing it to me. “It’s safe. Nobody trying to assassinate the human pet yet.”

  “You’ve already had one,” I pointed out.

  She gave me the disconcertingly charming siren smile they were all so good at. “Raeth’s girls stick together. You don’t drink until you’re comfortably numb alone. To choices we’ll regret in the morning,” she added, lifting her goblet. Something close to a real smile almost came out when I touched mine to hers.

  And we drank. I didn’t let myself check on Aven and Marassa. Didn’t let myself study and agonize over their every movement, everywhere they touched. Didn’t let myself go over it again and again trying to find a satisfying explanation that dimmed my hurt and anger. I drank until they faded, and, when my head felt light and my feet lighter, Kieras and I somehow went from the little corner spot we’d staked out to the edge o
f the crowd of dancers.

  She guided my arms and feet, trying to teach me a traditional dance while giggling between instructions. When I tripped over her feet I laughed a touch too loud, and we were both in fits, falling over each other. The room was tilting, the lights turned into swaying stars, the dresses and coats of the nobility a living rainbow. Voices and music blurred into one and I couldn’t tell if we were causing a scene, two slaves acting out of our place. If we were, I didn’t care; it was a party.

  A party for something I couldn’t quite care about anymore. It was just a party, and I was going to dance and laugh. Because I was light as air, free, for the first time in I didn’t know how long.

  Kieras spun me and I came within inches of crashing into somebody beside us. My feet caught on each other and I grabbed an arm, blurting out an apology broken by laughter. Not how a slave was supposed to act. Oh well. That was Raeth’s problem.

  Raeth, who was glaring down at me while I tried to unhook the bit of my skirt that had caught underfoot. Even in my state I could tell he looked none too pleased, but I couldn’t stop a grin. “Raeth!”

  Too loud, and the wrong name. “Lord,” Kieras said as she appeared beside me. “Are you enjoying the celebration?”

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  His sharp question cleared some of the fog from my head, and I blinked and looked around. A few too many noble eyes on us. A few too many whispers. But the pain was gone and all that had been left behind was a carelessness I needed. I met his eyes and forced my balance to stay steady. “It’s a party,” I echoed Kieras’s earlier sentiments. “I’m having fun. What did you call it, moving on?”

  “Are you having troubles with your girls, Tiraethsi?” Marassa’s voice cracked through me and the laughter bubbling in my chest vanished like smoke. I yanked my attention to her, where the crowd cleared to let her through. Aven was a step behind, a hand on her waist, and from the look in his eyes I could tell he’d heard.

  I could have sunk to the floor and bawled. Screamed. My hand was on Raeth’s arm and tightened. He didn’t react.

  “Of course not,” he all but hissed, looking between Kieras and I. “Back to the Nest, both of you.”

  Kieras pulled me toward the doors, inclining her head to the High Court. “Yes, Lord. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Lord,” I choked out. I kept my head down as we left and didn’t speak. The doors closed behind us and Kieras paused to blow out a long breath.

  “It was fun while it lasted, at least.”

  I forced one foot in front of the other. Back to the Nest. Back to my pretty little prison. “You’re right,” I said. “I regret it, and it’s not even morning yet.”

  Moray was waiting when I returned to my little curtained-off bed after supper the next day, still with a pounding headache. The sprite was drifting around the little area like it needed to study every inch of it, but it stopped as soon as I pushed the curtains aside and dropped across the bed. “Hania?” it whispered.

  I thought about ignoring it, but that wouldn’t get me anywhere. I sighed and stared at it as it moved to hover above me. I didn’t speak. My voice was caught in my throat, and I wasn’t sure what words there were. Part of me wanted to scream. Part of me wanted to cry. Part of me wanted to grab Moray and beg for an explanation, because it must know what Aven was thinking. All the options swirled in me like stormy waters, but none came out.

  Moray crept closer, landing on my stomach. “Are you alright?” It asked in a cautious voice, lowered so nobody in the Nest would hear.

  “I’m enslaved by a heartless siren Lord, trapped in this cage, and I don’t know why any of it is going on, and now the person I…” I couldn’t say it. Saying it made it real.

  As if seeing him sitting beside her, closer than ever, wasn’t real enough.

  As if hearing the cheers and congratulations of the Court, over and over, wasn’t real enough.

  As if standing there for hours fighting down my tears and forcing bright smiles every time Raeth looked at me wasn’t real enough.

  Moray sighed. “It isn’t what you think.”

  “I know it’s not, but…” Again, I lost my voice before I could finish, and took a trembling breath to regain it. “I haven’t seen him in over a week, Moray, not really. Not much at all since we got here. Which I knew would happen, but I never thought he’d—”

  “He wants to see you, Hania,” the sprite interrupted me before my rambling could spiral into anger and heartbreak. “That’s why I’m here.”

  I shook my head, looking at the high ceiling. “I can’t get out of the Nest. Not unless Raeth calls for me, and he’s made it very clear he won’t have anything to do with helping me. Not with Tobin, not with Aven.”

  Moray sailed into the air to look me in the eye. “Tiraethsi knows why you’re here?” it demanded.

  I couldn’t stop a bitter laugh. “Of course he does. He figures everything out. He doesn’t care, but he won’t help. Which means I can’t leave the Nest.”

  It shook its head. “Oh, Hania, why did you tell him? He’ll do something to get you hurt, or your brother. Maybe even Aven, now that he’s—”

  “Please don’t say it,” I managed around the lump in my throat. Moray’s sharp voice softened and it landed on my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t explain it for him, but I promise you it’s not what it looks from the outside. And Tiraethsi…be careful, little one. I don’t like him. I never have.”

  “I don’t like him, either.”

  No, that was a lie. I didn’t hate Raeth, quite. His fierce grins and sharp comments, the melodic darling, crawled under my skin and made me want to hit him, but sometimes there was something in his eyes, something that felt almost real. And even though my blood boiled at the way he’d spoken to me, part of me wanted to dig out that little sliver of what had to be a genuine person. If only to use it.

  Moray tugged on a strand of my hair. “We can take care of him later. He likes to get under Aven’s skin. Or I hope that’s all. Tonight you need to leave. Aven will be in the courtyard—he said you know it, but can you find your way there on your own?”

  I wasn’t sure, but I could try. I nodded. “I’ll find it. But I told you, I can’t leave the Nest.”

  There was a mischievous smile in the sprite’s voice that I’d sorely missed. “I’ll be sure you can tonight. Once you’re sure the others are asleep, find me at the windows. Only once you’re sure.”

  “There’s nothing but air outside the windows,” I said. “I can’t fly.”

  “Shush, little one, and trust me.” It pecked me on the cheek before soaring upwards. “I need to speak with Aven, make sure we can time this correctly, but I’ll be here. Promise me—promise him—you’ll see him.”

  Those stormy waters lashed through me again, and I closed my eyes as I nodded. “Of course I will. Tell him—tell him I’ll be there, whatever happens. I trust him. He asked me to trust him.”

  I couldn’t lose my trust in him. It was all I had.

  Moray gave me a dazzling smile before it vanished into the shadows, slipping through whatever crack let it in and out of the Nest. I watched until I was sure it was gone and then rolled over to face the curtain separating my bed from the next. There was the mindless chatter of the others preparing for bed, and I listened to it and let myself drift halfway to sleep and back. I jumped awake as the curtain was pushed aside.

  “Hania?”

  I turned to look at Kieras, hovering near the makeshift doorway. She gave me a faint smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were asleep already.”

  I sat up and smoothed my dress, shaking off the doubts and worries. “It’s late.”

  “I know, but I wanted to check on you.” She frowned and sat beside me on the bed. “You didn’t eat supper, and you did not enjoy tonight’s singing. Why?”

  “No reason. I wasn’t hungry.”

  The look she gave me said she wasn’t close to believing me, but she did
n’t say so. “What did Raeth call you for yesterday morning?”

  I forced a casual shrug. “He was hunting a sellye cub. I helped him corner it.”

  “Why you?” she asked, brow furrowed.

  “I can ride a horse well, and an asketi isn’t so different.” That sounded reasonable. I didn’t want to think about his other motives. Figuring me out. Leading me right to Aven and that conversation.

  Kieras shook her head. “You’re going to tell me what’s going on one of these days. What tie you have to him and to Lord Aven and to the sprite that keeps sneaking in here.”

  I stiffened, heart picking up. “What?”

  “You’re a clever human, Hania, but still human.” She nudged my shoulder with her own, grinning, though my stomach had sunk to the floor. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone. Even Raeth. And I haven’t heard what you whisper about.”

  All I could do was watch her, searching for the lie. “Why not?”

  “If our sprite likes you, who am I to say anything against it? You don’t upset a sprite. And I don’t want to upset Raeth by bringing it up.”

  “He’d be upset?”

  “They don’t get along. I’m not to say so, being what I am, of course, but I’ve seen them. They’re as polite as any nobility, but there’s no love lost there.”

  Some of the tension in me eased, and I looked down at my hands in my lap. “Thank you, Kieras,” I murmured. “For a siren you’re not so bad.”

  She let out a mock, half-laughing scoff. “For a siren? No respect, you humans. None at all.” I laughed as well. It was a fleeting bit of heaven to laugh after the day I’d had yesterday. “Now come on, let’s find you something to eat before you waste away. And no more sulking over whatever it is that happened.”

  I nodded and stood, following her. “I’ll do my best.”