Tide

by Lacy Sheridan

  His gaze flicked up and down me, one last check. He had to know I was sure, I was ready. I knew what he’d see; I was scarred, half-healed in places, but I stood tall, chin raised, shoulders back. As light as Aven had always walked and with all the pride Raeth demanded of his girls—huntresses. I’d chosen pants and a light shirt for this, paired with a warrior’s dark boots. No dress anymore. I wasn’t a doll for show. He nodded and continued.

  Thin slits of windows let in beams of sunlight to mingle with the light of the lantern, but the small, square room was dim. There were none of the rows and rows of chains that hung in the dark; two were fastened into the stone wall and ended at Aven’s wrists. He slumped against the wall, head down. The stormy, powerful aura around him had gone with his skin, and the familiarity of the sight ached. He could have been back in the abandoned village.

  So long ago.

  He raised his head at our approach and I half-expected the mask to be there. Ready to play on the broken, raw feelings he knew were racing through me. But it was gone entirely, his gaze cold. “Well, well, look who’s come to visit little old me.”

  “I’m leaving,” I said. “We found a passing. My brother and I are going home.”

  “How lovely for you. You got all you wanted from our world.”

  “Not all.”

  He grinned. “Come a little closer and maybe we can arrange for the rest.”

  Raeth stiffened and I knew there was a nasty enchantment on the edge of his tongue, but I lifted a hand to stop him. “Answer one thing before I leave,” I said.

  He watched Raeth instead of me. “You do have him trained, don’t you?” Raeth, to his credit, didn’t so much as blink.

  “One thing,” I repeated.

  “Why should I?”

  “Because I believe I’m the one person Raeth would trust with the location of your skin.”

  His eyes glittered with ice. “What do you want to know?”

  “Why?” It came out a hoarse whisper, paired with tears pushing at my eyes, and I swallowed them and forced my voice to rise. “Why put so much effort into it? Why play me when I was already doing what you wanted? Wasn’t that enough?”

  It wasn’t heartbreak that took over my voice. It was anger. A deep, quiet anger that seared through me and burned hotter than the look in his eyes. He beckoned me closer with one finger.

  “Hania,” Raeth warned, but I ignored him and stepped forward. He couldn’t do anything, not really.

  “Why?” Aven echoed as I knelt in front of him, waiting. I nodded. “First, you were only the girl who offered to free me. I couldn’t turn down an offer like that, could I?” My instincts screamed to run but I forced myself to stay there. “And then I found out who you really were. He killed so many of my people. My father. He sealed us away. I couldn’t get revenge on him, but you…you were close enough, and you were willing. I thought, what a lovely kind of revenge it would be to shatter her to pieces.” He leaned as close as the chains would allow, voice a whisper. My heartrate grew and I struggled not to flinch. “And it was worth every second.”

  Raeth put a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go.” I didn’t move, meeting Aven’s eyes—those blue, blue eyes, the lantern light catching on those lighter flecks.

  I could have hit him. I wanted to knock the triumph out of his eyes, but I didn’t. I kept my voice steady, didn’t let myself look away. “I’m going to go home. And while you sit here, skinned, magicless, rotting away for all the people you hurt, your beloved Court destroyed, I’ll be living out in the sun. I’ll be there because of you, because you chose to play your games. And you’ll be here because of me. The human who beat the Lord of Selkies.”

  I stood, and without another word, without another glance at him, walked away.

  I stared at the light, mouth dry. It flickered in the sunlight, colors shifting like a surreal sunset—blue, green, orange, red. My asketi shifted and huffed, and I put a hand to her neck to calm her as I climbed down.

  So long. So long I’d been in the Realm of Tides. So much I had done here, so much had changed me.

  Was I still the farmgirl I’d been when I’d left?

  Could I still live that life, knowing what was here?

  “It’s alright,” Tobin said, appearing beside me. I looked at him and saw the same questions reflected in his eyes. “We’ll be alright.”

  At the edge of the crowd of guards, Raeth watched us, green eyes burning with something I couldn’t name. I met his gaze and held it before he inclined his head slightly. A wordless request. I tore my attention away. “I have to do something first.”

  Tobin nodded. “I know. Go.”

  I stepped away and crossed to Raeth, each step heavy. There was so much between us. So much we’d shared—a different way than I’d shared anything with anyone. Like pieces of my soul bared to him. One of the greatest and most unexpected friends I could ever imagine. I didn’t know how to leave him behind. I didn’t know how to continue. I didn’t know what to say. I stood there watching him, waiting for him to speak first.

  “I have work to do at the Eyes,” he said. “But I think I’ll be home soon.”

  “And your people, they’re all…”

  “Plenty are already there, doing what they can to restore it and settle in. Those who weren’t in the Eyes have mostly gotten word and are leaving as well. They’re safe. Thanks to you.”

  I looked at my feet. “You could’ve done it without me.”

  “No, I couldn’t have. Not like this. You know that.”

  “Well, I couldn’t have saved my brother without you, so it’s even.”

  The ghost of a smile flickered across his face. “Alright, we’re even.”

  A dart of glittering movement kept me from answering as a tiny form flashed under the sun. “Hania!” I spun to it, a smile breaking out as Moray stopped before me. “You say goodbye to him before me?”

  “I was just waiting for you, I promise.”

  “Good. I was afraid you’d forgotten me. I don’t want you forgetting me, stuck in that dreadful human world of yours.”

  “It’s not that dreadful. It’s home. I need to go home, too. And promise me you’ll find a home, okay?”

  Moray planted a cool kiss on my cheek. “When the tide dances, think of me, little one.”

  “Always.” I would think of Moray when the sun and tide danced together. I would think of Raeth when the moon and stars appeared to sing, late at night when nothing else moved. I would think of Aven, painful as it was, when storms rolled across the ocean. I would never forget.

  “Moray, may we have a moment alone?” Raeth asked.

  Moray hovered between us possessively, but I waved it away with a smile. “Go on. I have other goodbyes to say too.” It huffed, crossing its arms and glaring at Raeth. “Moray.”

  “Oh, fine.” It drifted away, but I called after it again, unable to hide a laugh from my voice. It felt good to laugh.

  “Moray. Promise me you won’t forget me, either, even when I’m long dead and you’re still making everybody crazy.”

  “How could I ever forget the dumb human who changed the world?” it asked with a wink, and then, in a flash of sun-sparkled mist, disappeared toward the passing.

  I stared at the spot it had gone, blinking back tears and steeling myself before turning to Raeth. He was a step closer, but his eyes were past my shoulder. I followed them to Tobin and my heart clenched. “I don’t know what you did,” he murmured, “but be careful.”

  “What do you mean?” My throat was tight.

  “What I said. And I hope to the gods, Hania, as much as it kills me, that you don’t ever end up on this side of the barrier again.”

  He knew. He had to know. I hadn’t spoken a word of my deal with Ilan, and I doubted she would, either, but this was Raeth. I sucked in a breath and managed to keep my voice firm. Like I wasn’t terrified. “It’s over, Lord. Or is it King now?”

  “It’s Raeth to you,” he said, arms wrapping tight around me. I re
turned the hug just as tightly, burying my face against his shoulder in case I did start crying. I’d kept from crying in days; I wasn’t going to break my record now. “Whatever I end up, it’s just Raeth to you.”

  “Whatever you say, Tiraethsi.” His chest rumbled with a playful sound somewhere between a growl and a laugh, and I couldn’t help a watery laugh of my own. “I’ll miss you, Raeth.”

  “Take care of yourself out there.”

  “I will if you will. One last sirensong to hold me over?”

  He smiled and braced his forehead against mine, eyes closed and voice wrapping around me. It was soft, meant only for my ears, a string of song just for this. Triumphant and proud and painfully bittersweet. I closed my eyes and memorized it. Not the words—I could never hope to memorize the words—but the melody, the unearthly rawness of it, the lilt of his voice. Memorized it so I could hold onto it in all those nights I knew were coming that I’d wake screaming from nightmares.

  When he finished, I pulled away, breaking all contact but the hold on my hand. Better to rip off the bandage all at once, but he lifted my hand and pressed a light, parting kiss to my knuckles. “Goodbye, Hania.”

  “Goodbye, Raeth.”

  He dropped my hand and I returned to Tobin’s side, keeping my chin high and my gaze straight ahead. I didn’t look back. I took Tobin’s hand and he watched me, and I nodded. “Let’s go home, Tobin.”

  “Let’s go home.”

  We stepped through the passing together.

  The pull and tear and shock of the barrier was nothing anymore, not after all I’d been through. I let it carry me over, the dusky-violet grass and the colorful sky turning green and blue, and then we were surrounded by trees of brown bark—an alien sight after so long in the Realm of Tides. I blinked at the strangeness of it, neither of us speaking as we settled into our world.

  We were in a forest. The forest I knew—long summer grass and the deep blue sky peeking through gaps in the leaves. A squirrel scurried through the underbrush and vanished up a tree. Somewhere a bird called.

  Tobin’s eyes were wide, almost dazed. “We’re back,” he breathed in disbelief.

  A grin spread across my face, and then I was spinning through the long grass. “We’re back!”

  He laughed. “And I know where we are. The village is this way.” He grabbed my hand and I followed, stumbling over roots in my hurry. Then we were both running, my sore muscles and half-healed wounds pulling and protesting, but I ignored them. We were so close to home.

  Home, home, home, home.

  We ran as the first buildings came into sight, and relief flooded me like rainwater, washing away every bit of fear and worry and pain.

  Home.

  We reached the edge and slowed as the sight sank in.

  The village was in ruins.

  Buildings were piles of rubble. Trees were torn from the ground and slanted. We walked through it slowly, taking it in, and my heart dropped with every step. On either side of us, people worked to rebuild, hauling wood and rope and calling orders. They all were injured in some way: some limped or favored an arm, others were bandaged or supporting themselves on canes. Children stayed in the shade of the remaining buildings, watching from windows and doorways with wide eyes.

  They all quieted as they noticed us, one by one falling silent. Gazes followed us down the street. A few brave whispers joined them, and I stopped and closed my eyes. It was too much like walking through the Court. From the quaking that ran through Tobin, I knew he felt the same.

  “Tobin?”

  It was one of Tobin’s friends, Mikael, and he stared as if he’d seen a ghost. His eyes focused on Tobin, then dragged to me and back again.

  Tobin turned to him, wincing. “Hello.”

  Every eye on the street was trained on us, some shocked, some wary. Then Mikael laughed. At first it was soft, cracked, and then it rose into a sound full of humor and relief. “Hello?” he echoed, stepping forward. “You get kidnapped by tidespeople and have to be rescued by your little sister, and all you have to say when you return is ‘hello?’”

  Tobin cracked a tired half-smile and hugged Mikael. It broke the crowd from their spell and they pushed around us, clapping Tobin on the back and wrapping arms around me. Welcoming us back. It was a flurry of noise and movement, too much for my tired mind to process, but I was smiling. I was home, even if it was a home in worse shape than I’d left it. It was home.

  Beyond the crowd, somebody was shouting. “They’re here!” they were saying. “They’re back!”

  “Hania!”

  I knew the voice immediately. Tobin’s head snapped up, gray eyes wide. My hands shook. “Papa?” The people around us parted to let him through. He didn’t pause; he continued straight toward me, eyes shining with unshed tears. I met him halfway, bolting into his arms. “Papa!”

  “I thought you were dead,” he said, voice broken. “I thought you both…”

  “We’re alright.” Tobin stepped beside us and Papa let me go to hug him, grinning.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  I was. We both were, and the damage was more than skin deep. I didn’t know when I’d be alright, if ever. But I couldn’t tell him that. Not now. That was a matter for another day. The look Tobin gave me said he had the same thoughts, but he didn’t voice them either. “Nothing that won’t heal,” I answered.

  “Are you sure?” He looked between us. “Do you need anything?”

  “Home, I think,” Tobin said, looking less steady by the minute. He was in worse shape than I was and needed rest.

  “Of course, of course.” Papa wrapped an arm around each of us, leading the way. Every step sent a jolt of pain and exhaustion through me, but I kept going. Home. The farm, the fields, the animals. Rolling green grass and sunshine and wildflowers, hay and leather and wood. Nothing in the Realm of Tides could be better than our farm—no stunning, exotic sight.

  Raeth’s last sirensong circled my mind, and I glanced toward the ocean. Just once.

  The crowd dispersed, letting us have each other and our moment and the way home without trouble. We didn’t speak—there was plenty to say, but it could wait—and even though every muscle in me ached when the fields of our farm came into view, my pace rose. I left Papa and Tobin behind to race down the path, past the late-summer crops, past the pastures where the horses grazed, before a whinny stopped me.

  White flashed in the sun in the second before I saw a horse trotting toward me, and I stopped myself from running to meet her. “Inka!”

  She stopped by the fence and nudged at me. I rubbed her nose. “I knew you’d get home,” I whispered. “Good girl.”

  Papa put a hand on my shoulder. “When she came running back without you, I thought the worst.”

  “I couldn’t take her any farther. She was safer here. She did her job.”

  When I looked at him, he was shaking his head slowly, half a smile on his face. “Your mother was watching over you through that horse, I swear.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that, but pounding footsteps ringing behind us interrupted anything I could have thought of.

  “Hania.”

  I looked over my shoulder and everything inside me felt like it was being tossed on a stormy sea. Edrick stood there, breathing heavily, one lock of dark hair slanting across his eyes from his hurry. There was a scrape on his cheek and a half-healed bruise on his jaw, and one arm was bandaged. He’d fought when they’d come to take the others. Isla.

  I swallowed a lump in my throat and faced him. The tremor in my hands started up again. I couldn’t speak, but my feet moved on their own, closing the distance in a heartbeat’s time. His arms closed around me, tighter than Aven had ever held me. The shaking spread from my hands to everywhere else, and he tucked his face into my hair.

  “I knew you’d return,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “I knew they’d never beat you. They said—they said to give you up for dead, but I knew…”

  “They tried to break me,
Edrick,” I whispered. I couldn’t say it any louder. I couldn’t make it more real, but I had to say it, and it had to be to him. “They tried so hard, and I think maybe they did.”

  He stroked one hand down my back, a long, soothing gesture. “Never. You’re here. You won.”

  I’d won, and I’d lost, and I’d broken, and I’d survived. I didn’t know what came next.

  But that was alright.

  Maybe there was more coming that I couldn’t control. Maybe Ilan was right, and this was only the beginning. But whether or not she was, I had my family, my village, my farm. I had the green gem hanging at the hollow of my throat and the sirensong echoing through my bones, the sunlight-and-mist laughter safe in the back of my mind. I had the ocean and the sky and the scars that would never fade. They were enough.

  Enough to tell me what I’d done, the good and the bad. Enough to tell me I could survive.

  I’d gone to the realm of angels and monsters and changed it, and I’d returned. And one day, when the pain dulled, there would be stories to tell.

  My stories.

  Thank you to the following people for helping make Tide happen. Without you all it would never have gotten this far.

  Bri, as always, for your amazing editing work and endless faith and support. You’re the best friend and editor I could ever have asked for and I wouldn’t be where I am now without you.

  Sam, for helping me figure out what was missing from that first draft and continuing to cry with me over all the terrible things I do to my characters.

  Ljiljana Romanovic, for creating covers that take my breath away.

  Clara Stone, for finally letting me stop tearing my hair out all the way through formatting.

  Valerie and Rissa, for your constant support and love of this story and its world and characters from the beginning.

  Anne, my self-publishing sister, for letting me vent, ramble, cry, or babble at any time and always knowing when to listen and when to talk sense into me. And for dubbing Raeth ‘Big Daddy Rae-Rae’ no matter how much I tried to stop you. I was wrong, it does continue to amuse me.