Tide

by Lacy Sheridan

  It was all to shake me. That’s all this way. To break me.

  That didn’t stop her voice from slicing through me and spreading in my veins. Taking over. My empty stomach churned, and I blinked until my vision cleared, but it didn’t last long.

  “The second punishment?” I asked again, my voice thicker.

  She sat back in her throne, clasping her hands. “Ten minutes underwater. To know the pain and fear of the dead.”

  When I looked between Moray and Tobin—meeting one slanted blue gaze and a frantic gray one—she continued. “Shall your savior go under, or your brother? The other will take the lashings.”

  My heart went faster and faster. My hands trembled.

  Tobin couldn’t survive ten minutes underwater. He’d drown. There was no doubt about that, and everybody knew it.

  I didn’t know much about sprites, really. They were water—but Moray breathed. Could it survive?

  I glanced to the sprite, searching its face for answers. Praying it would find a way to tell me. It didn’t move, looking at me with the same combination of shock and terror I felt.

  Tobin wasn’t responsible for any deaths. His crime was being born with Lenairen’s blood in his veins.

  “How many warriors died in the Trial?” I asked.

  “Five of our finest. One was engaged, did you know? His betrothed took her life last night. She was carrying his child. That’s seven.” Every word was spoken without a hint of anger, but with an icy harshness beyond what I’d heard from Marassa before.

  That wasn’t Moray’s fault. That was mine. I’d killed him. If I hadn’t two more people would be alive.

  “I can’t,” I choked out. “Neither of them should be punished. Give me the lashings.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not an option, Hania. You choose, or you forfeit the Trial.”

  I looked again between them. Tobin gave a tiny shake of his head, but I didn’t know what it meant.

  The High Court stared me down, waiting. Marassa and Namak watched with a terrible, uncaring curiosity—it didn’t matter to them they were playing with lives. Raeth gave me a long, steady look I couldn’t read. Aven’s eyes were distant, shut down. Locking him out of what was happening. Around me, every other eye turned to a weight on my back, my shoulders, pushing into me.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, as if that could block some of it out. Tobin couldn’t survive ten minutes underwater. Moray might be able to. I knew when they spoke of Tobin’s crimes they meant Lenairen’s, and they blamed far more than seven deaths on him. But lashings…they weren’t the harshest punishment they could have chosen.

  “How many lives for having Lenairen’s blood?” I asked through clenched teeth.

  There was silence, and that was answer enough. A lot.

  I opened my eyes and looked to Tobin. He let out a heavy breath, head falling, but his eyes flicked to me. He nodded. He knew my logic; he could survive the lashings, even if it would be excruciating. He couldn’t survive the water.

  Every word burned my tongue. “The lashings for Tobin. The water for Moray.”

  The reaction from the crowd was instant. Whispers turned to murmurs and gasps. Aven caught a flinch, his attention on Moray. Something deep in the pit of my stomach dropped. Ten minutes underwater would be terrible for anything that wasn’t a fish, but Moray was a sprite. It could drown people with a look and turn solid walls into liquid with a touch. How harmful could water be to it?

  Without a word the guards turned, leaving with Moray and Tobin through a side door, and the High Court stood and followed. That was a dismissal for the audience; they scattered, whispering behind their hands and casting me looks worse than any I’d gotten yet. The guards shoved me ahead to follow the High Court.

  Every step I took felt heavier as we passed through the halls and into one of the courtyards. It wasn’t the pretty, manicured one I knew: it was wider, rougher, and empty but for us. A tall whipping post stood near the center, and it took all my willpower not to scream as the guards pulled Tobin to it.

  A pond, a manmade oval of deep and clear water, decorated one edge of the courtyard, and Marassa gestured to it. “The sprite first,” she commanded.

  “I’m sorry, Moray,” I whispered under my breath. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  Moray gave me a long look and managed an unsteady half-smile before Marassa nodded once and the box was pitched into the water. I jumped at the splash.

  I wanted to hope that whatever magic seal kept Moray in would keep the water out. But there was no use in vain hope, and the water rushed in, shoving Moray against the glass in the instant before the cage sank. Underwater, the glass and Moray’s transparent form blended together, nothing but rippling shapes I couldn’t distinguish.

  In the first few moments, I could almost see hints of the frantic scrambling that had to be Moray, and then I lost track of it too.

  I looked to Aven, ignoring the others. I didn’t care anymore. “Can it breathe underwater?” I asked him.

  He blinked and looked to the water, jaw set. Marassa’s grim smile flickered to something warmer. Namak chucked. I looked to Raeth instead. “Can it?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “What happens to sprites underwater?”

  Silence.

  “Somebody tell me!”

  Aven raised his head to look at me, and though he spoke in the voice of a Lord his eyes were deep and pained. “Sprites command water because they are born from it. It gives them life, and it takes it back.”

  No. My unsteady knees gave out and I slid to the ground, but it was a distant sensation. “I didn’t know,” I said. “I didn’t know, I thought—Moray!”

  My body moved on its own. No thought passed through my head, just a tidal wave of horror. I lunged toward the pond, but rough, metal-clad hands dragged me back, and I struck the stone walk and a distant, dull pain filtered through my head.

  Ten minutes felt like days. Days curled on the ground, choking on sobs and gasps, days of feeling like I was drowning, too. All I saw was the look in Moray’s eyes before it was submerged. The tiny smile: as if to tell me it was alright.

  No. No, it wasn’t alright. It would never be alright.

  “Get it out.” Marassa’s command stopped my thoughts, and I forced my head up to see a guard pull the box from the pond. Water streamed off it, obscuring the view inside, and with a flick of her fingers the enchantment ended and a tiny, unmoving form came tumbling out. Another sob broke from me and I pressed a hand over my mouth.

  Moray didn’t move. Its shine was dulled, like when it had nearly been killed before. Aven stepped forward and crouched beside it, one hand hovering but not touching.

  No, no, no, no. Please. Moray, please, no, I’m sorry.

  Moray was sharp and sarcastic and difficult. It was vicious when it wanted to be. But it was also kind. It had a laugh like a summer wind that came easier than most, and it was more loyal than anybody I’d ever met. It was my friend, however things had started between us.

  And I’d killed it.

  Me. Not the guard who had thrown it into that pond. Not Marassa. Not some distant, terrible enemy. Me.

  Aven spoke, “It’s breathing. Another minute or two and it wouldn’t be, but Moray’s a strong sprite.” Another strangled sound came out of me, somewhere between a hysterical laugh and a sob.

  “We’ll see if it survives the night, then,” Marassa said, like she couldn’t have cared less either way. She turned to Tobin, the others following suit.

  All except Aven, who lifted Moray gently in both hands as he stood. He caught my eye and his expression softened, all fear and pain beneath the Lord’s mask. But only before the instant the guards yanked me around.

  They tied Tobin’s wrists to the post. He kept his head down and didn’t fight, didn’t make a sound. Like he knew he needed to get it over with.

  I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t watch.

  My vision blurred at the first strike. The sound of it echoed in my ears. I jumpe
d at the second and swallowed another sob.

  Tobin kept quiet for six. By the fifteenth he was choking back screams. They were all I heard, again and again, filling the world as it tilted around me. My head was too light, my stomach churning.

  “She’s going to faint, or be sick, my Queen,” somebody said.

  I saw Marassa study Tobin’s bloody back and then me before nodding in my blurred vision. “Take her back. The final Trial will begin at dawn.” I’d seen enough to satisfy her.

  The sound of leather striking flesh, of my brother struggling and failing not to show his pain, continued as they dragged me away. We made it only a few steps past the doors before Raeth interrupted us.

  “I’ll take her. Go on to your other duties.”

  “The Queen said she’s to stay in the dark until the Trials are over, Lord,” one protested weakly.

  “And I’m saying I’ll take her. She’s mine and I have a right to speak with her. Unless you’d like to challenge that?”

  They didn’t protest again. They dropped their grips and slunk away, and Raeth put a light hand on my back and guided me down the hall. My mind was spinning, my heart racing. Bile rose in my throat. “I really am going to be sick,” I said.

  “Breathe.” He pulled me into an empty room. I dropped into the nearest chair and took two deep, careful breaths before he whirled on me in a flurry of hushed. “What were you thinking?” he demanded. “Walking up and speaking to Marassa like that? Speaking to Aven like that? I couldn’t care less about their engagement, but you’ll get yourself, and likely me, executed acting like that.”

  I blinked, trying to follow what he was talking about. “I don’t care anymore,” I murmured.

  “If you don’t care then forfeit the Trials and let yourself and your brother be killed.”

  That fractured something in me, and I focused on him, standing. Something real chased back the shock. “Did you just tell me to let Tobin be killed?”

  “A human who doesn’t care is no use to me, and you’re free to do whatever you like.”

  I took a shaky step back, shaking my head. “It’s all about my use to you, isn’t it? How can I help you save your people. I don’t even know how you expect me to do that.”

  He moved so quick I couldn’t react, clasping my face between his hands. Those sea-green eyes bore into me like they could see all the way to my soul. “Win the Trials, Hania. Beat Marassa. Give my people their faith back. That’s how you help me.”

  “What about my people? My family? Me? What about what I want?”

  “Aven? Listen to me, Hania, or I swear on all the gods I’ll enchant this to make you hear it. You. Cannot. Have. Aven. Save yourself and your brother if you want, but pining for your selkie will get everybody hurt.”

  I wrenched out of his grip, unable to keep my voice from rising. “You need to get over this ridiculous grudge you have if you want to have any hope of me helping you. I want to, Raeth, I do. I hate to say it but I do like having you around. But not like this.”

  “You can’t have everybody,” he said, and there was no Raeth in there. Not the Raeth I knew was real, who I might call my friend. None of the broken and grieving King. There was only the merciless siren Lord, the one who could spread fear into every heart in a room. “You can’t have our world and yours. You can’t have the tidespeople and your brother. And you can’t have me and Aven.”

  Anger boiled my blood. “I swear, Raeth, sometimes I start to think there’s something good in you. But then I remember how you got here, and how you’re no different than Marassa.” The pain that flashed through his eyes—it lasted a second, so fast I almost thought it was imagined—was real. So, so real. I regretted the words the moment they left my mouth.

  His voice was venom. “Go, then, and enjoy your selkie. Whatever it costs you.”

  A retort sat on my tongue but I wasn’t sure anymore that I wanted to say it. I flung him a parting look before I pulled the door open. “I’ll see you at dawn, Lord.”

  I’d made it through the third Trial. I should have felt triumph, but I was empty. I barely heard Raeth’s barked order to the nearest guards to take me back to the dark, and I barely saw anything we passed on the way there. All I felt was Raeth’s eyes on me until we turned a corner, but I didn’t look back.

  I was almost grateful for the dark. It was quiet. Once the lantern light faded away there were no eyes to stare at me. Nobody down here knew what I’d done. I could curl back into my ball and scream and scream my throat raw.

  This time nobody told me to stop.

  I ran out of voice to scream with; all I could do was prop my chin on my knees and stare out into the nothing, wondering when sleep would take over and whether it would bring anything but nightmares. Then a faint shadow of light came. I watched as a pair of guards dragged Tobin beside me and dumped him on the filthy floor, not even bothering to chain him. I didn’t get so much as a sneer before they went back up.

  My heart jumped and I scrambled to him by the last fleeting wisps of light. “Tobin. Tobin!” He was unconscious; I knew that before I tried to speak to him. He was limp and pale, his back a bloody and mangled mess that made bile rise in my throat. I reached out blindly and found the greasy brush of his hair, and I scooted as close as the chains would let me, pulling his head into my lap.

  “I’m sorry, Tobin,” I whispered, running my fingers through his hair. The only response I got was the uneven, shallow rasp of his breathing, like his lungs were straining with the effort. “I’m so sorry. All of this is my fault. All of it. If Moray dies it’s my fault. If you…”

  I couldn’t say it. I kept up the rhythm of my fingers in his hair, damp with sweat or blood, I couldn’t tell. His skin was too hot, burning from the inside. Infection from his countless injuries? How long had he had it?

  “Don’t leave me, Tobin,” I murmured. “Don’t let them take you again. You’re better than them.”

  He was. He was so much better than them. He didn’t deserve a death like this. Not raging with fever and pain in the hell that was this damn Court. He may not have heard it, but I’d sworn to him I’d bring him home. I’d sworn to Papa. I wasn’t going to break that.

  I knew he couldn’t hear me, but I said it again. In case it could reach him somewhere, reach some part of the world that might know how to help me. Reach the old gods, past the endless sea and sky. “Please wake up, Tobin. We’ll make it home, I swear. I’ll make sure we do. Wake up and live.”

  “How badly do you want it?” a voice above me asked, and I stiffened, holding my breath as light blossomed. I blinked as it lit up the silhouette of a woman and braced myself for the worst as my eyes adjusted.

  Ilan stood there with a grim smile, dark eyes trained on me. I wanted to scream, to run as far as I could. But I couldn’t move, and I forced myself to meet her gaze and not look away.

  “What do you want?” So much fire I could have put into that, but it came out a tired sigh. The daughter of the merrow Lord couldn’t want anything good from someone like me, but I didn’t have the energy to care.

  “An answer. How badly do you want your brother to live?”

  “What kind of question is that?”

  “An honest one.” When I didn’t answer, her smile twitched. “It would be much easier if he died, you know. The Queen has given up her pet. She’d be much more inclined to let one human go than two.”

  My fingers curled into fists around Tobin. “More than I care if I live.”

  “Interesting. I’ve always wondered how true the tales of the foolish charity of humans were.”

  “Now you know and can leave.”

  “On the contrary, little girl, I want to help.”

  I bit back a scoff. “I don’t need your help.”

  “Unless you know of a way to heal those wounds of his with dirt, your brother will die without it.”

  I stared at her, searching her expression. She kept it unreadable. “What do you want?”

  Her smile returned and sent c
hills through me. Kieras had said there was no empty head behind her pretty face. To watch out for her. I was inclined to believe it. “I want to make a deal.”

  “I don’t make deals with tidespeople.”

  “Ah, yes, I imagine given where you’ve ended up you’re not so inclined to anymore.”

  “Mind your own damn business, Ilan.”

  “Oh, don’t be like that. Weren’t you taught your manners?” she asked. I returned her look as coldly as I could manage, and she tutted. Crouching to my level, she reached one hand out to me, palm facing up. I stared at it. “Come now, Hania, we both know he won’t last long if he continues down this path. Are you willing to sacrifice him for the sake of your silly stubbornness?”

  My fingers itched to take hers, to cling to them for dear life, if it would save Tobin. But I knew better. “What do you want in return?” A life wasn’t so easily given.

  Did it matter what she wanted? If I lost Tobin, I lost everything.

  “A favor for a favor, that’s all. I’ll find a way for you to repay your debt, don’t worry.”

  “Why would you offer if you don’t have anything in mind?”

  “Because, little human,” she replied, leaning closer and lowering her voice to a whisper. My skin crawled. “I see potential in you. I see opportunity. This isn’t the end of your journey in our fair world, I can see that. It’s the beginning.”

  The silence rang loud and deep. I stared at Tobin, at the flickering shadows cast across his pale face. I didn’t know what he’d been put through already. I could only imagine what horrors Marassa had dreamed up. And now this. He was in bad shape—terrible shape. I believed her when she said he wouldn’t make it much longer.

  I didn’t want to, but I did. It made me start shaking, and I pulled my attention back to her. “If I agree, he’ll be healed.”