“Why don’t you stay for dinner?” Aunt Junia asked, forcing a note of brightness into her voice.
“I’d love to,” he said slowly, glancing at my mother.
“It’s fine,” she said, running her fingers through her long, blue hair. “George has gone to the market to bring us back some food. As you might imagine, we’re not in any mood to cook.”
He turned toward me. “I’m sorry about Rhea. That must’ve been awful.”
“Devastating,” I said, my voice flat. “I would’ve preferred it if she’d stabbed me instead.”
Pippa’s hand drifted to her side. “Sure about that?”
Mother pursed her lips.
“What?” I asked, shooting her an exasperated look.
“Rhea was scared,” she replied.
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t think Yvonna bribed her. She threatened her. Did you notice Rhea’s body language when she was testifying? I thought she was going to wring her own hands off.”
I crossed my arms. “She was scared because she was about to betray me and worried I’d never forgive her.”
“But don’t you see?” Mother asked. “That’s out of character for her. False testimony against a friend is low, even for empty-headed, social-climbing Rhea. She’s always cared about you in her own vapid way.”
I shot Alexander a look. See? She likes all my friends.
“Besides,” Mother continued, “Rhea may be silly and immature, but she doesn’t have a vindictive bone in her body. She’s too lazy to hold grudges. And if she were only focused on currying favor, she’d side with us, not with Yvonna.”
I curled my fingers through my hair. “So, you’re saying that Yvonna scared her so badly that she felt like she had to testify against me?”
Mother nodded. “It’s the only thing that makes sense to me.”
I shrugged. “Unless Yvonna offered her a sizable bribe. But I don’t care about her reasons. Nothing can fix what she did today.”
“Perhaps not,” Mother said. “But I don’t think she did it to hurt you.”
“Even if Yvonna threatened her or her family, surely there was another way!” I cried. “She could have come to us, and you could have explained everything to the king, and Yvonna wouldn’t have been able to touch her.”
“I don’t think we’ll be able to solve it tonight.” Aunt Junia placed a firm hand on my shoulder. “Jade needs to relax and think about something else.”
I sighed. “I don’t know that I can focus on anything else. I just keep going over and over it in my head. The whole trial. What if the king acquits? He can’t do so without calling me unstable or a liar or both. We’re ruined.”
“You’re panicking, Jade,” Mother said in a steady voice.
Pippa shot me a sympathetic smile. “I thought you were very brave. Thank you. It—it makes me feel like maybe—somehow—the king might convict, even though Tor’s so important and Anna was just a servant and a naiad.”
“He might not convict,” I said. “And you’re right—even if he does, it might not fix anything.”
“Even if he doesn’t, thank you for risking so much.”
If I could do it over, I don’t think I’d go to the inspectors.
I muttered, “Don’t make me out to be a hero. I don’t have the energy for that kind of responsibility.”
Everyone remained silent, so I pushed myself up from the table.
“I’m sorry. I just can’t . . . I need to be alone. Thank you for coming, Alexander and Pippa. I just . . . I’m sorry.” I undulated to the corridor and up into my room before anyone could react.
When Aunt Junia knocked on my doorframe several minutes later, I pretended to be asleep.
Light trickled through my window the next morning, but I lay awake in my hammock for several minutes before I got up. Everything in me yearned to put the whole awful situation behind me, but I felt better after a night of sleep.
At least I wouldn’t have to testify again. The smallest kernel of hope bloomed in my chest.
I went down for breakfast and discovered that Aunt Junia was still at our house. “Good morning. Is Benjamin still asleep?”
“He hasn’t come down yet, so I imagine so.”
“I’m sorry I lost my temper last night.”
“It was nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “You’ve handled everything remarkably well, all things considered.”
“I don’t feel like it.” I rubbed the back of my neck.
“I’m afraid I feel partly responsible for this whole situation, you know. Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard to ignore your mother’s directive.”
“I heard that,” Mother huffed from the other room.
For the first time since the trial began, a genuine laugh rippled out of me. “Oh, what a mess we’ve gotten ourselves into.”
Aunt Junia cast me a bewildered look.
“Come,” I said, grabbing her hand. “I’m so tired of grief and fear and hiding away. Let’s go for a swim through the city and let them see us with our heads held high. We have nothing to be ashamed of.”
She raised her eyebrow. “No, we don’t, but we shouldn’t be foolhardy either.”
“Please?” I said. “I just need to feel normal today. Let’s go to city center.”
She shook her head and sighed. “I’m not sure that a swim in the city will help you, of all mer, feel normal, but I’ll go with you if you’re determined. Someone’s got to keep an eye on you.”
“Thank you.” I breathed a sigh of relief. I grabbed a tablet and a scrib so that I could sketch one of the statues in the plaza at the center of the city.
“Shouldn’t we eat breakfast first?” she asked.
“We don’t have to be gone for long. Let’s get it out of the way before the canals are too crowded.”
“Suit yourself.” She pulled a cloak over her shoulders, but I didn’t even bring one along.
As we swept out onto the canal, my unbound hair flowed behind me. We turned right and made our way down the center of town. Few mer populated the canals, and for what felt like the first time in ages, I caught only a few stares in my direction.
Kora came around the corner. “Kora!” I called.
She waved at me with a wan smile and swam over. “Jade! I’m so sorry I haven’t been around. I heard about what Rhea did—”
“I don’t want to talk about Rhea,” I said. “How are you?”
“I’ve been well.” She paused, looking at me as if trying to choose the safest topic of conversation. I didn’t blame her. “Have you heard about Penelope?”
“Hmm?” I shook my head. “No, what happened?”
Kora leaned in to whisper the sordid details. Apparently Penelope—a recently engaged noble just two years older than Kora and me—had gotten involved in a torrid affair with the married ambassador from Marbella and got caught sneaking out of his house the night before.
A new target for the gossips. I almost felt bad for Penelope. That sort of scandal would take serious time to recover from. Perhaps she’d be better off returning to Marbella with the ambassador.
I visited with Kora for another minute until she excused herself, saying that she was to meet her sister and didn’t want to be late. Aunt Junia and I continued toward city center. When we reached the plaza, I smiled. Populated by sculptures designed by our most talented artisans from the last century, the plaza always brought me joy.
Everything hadn’t entirely returned to normal yet, but we’d surely survived the worst of the maelstrom.
We moved between the sculptures, taking a few moments to study each one. I’d seen them all before, of course, but I never tired of tracing the lines of the statues with my eyes and remembering the stories they memorialized.
There was Eliana—the warrior queen who had defended the city against the invading sirens alongside her brother Nathanael a millennium ago. Her statue, made of blue marble, depicted her wielding a long blade while clutching the dorsal
fin of her dolphin.
I moved on to the next, which portrayed Jade, the queen for whom my parents had named me. In it, she extended a basket of fish to a group of huddled overlanders in a dilapidated boat. Her right hand pointed in the direction of the nearest shore. Our legends said that she’d shown mercy to the insurrectionists who’d tried unsuccessfully to revolt against her and that they’d killed her a year later. I reached out and brushed my hand against her face, now worn from the salt and the currents.
My gaze flitted between these ancient women, who had both shown so much bravery. I longed to be like them, but I knew that few had the capacity. If I could barely muster the courage to report a murder, I didn’t have much chance of being remembered as they were.
“I want to draw Queen Jade,” I said to Aunt Junia, “but let’s look at the other statues first.”
As we circled around the end of the row to move along the next column of statues, pinpricks like sea-urchin quills tingled down my spine. I glanced behind me and caught the eye of a navy-haired merman.
He didn’t do anything except watch me, but his icy stare felt invasive—nothing like the idle gawks I’d grown accustomed to over the last month.
I tried to slow the rhythmic movement of my gills so he wouldn’t know I’d noticed him. Looking away, I whispered to Aunt Junia, “Act normally as I tell you this, but I think we’d better get out of here.”
She stiffened but continued looking ahead. “Alright. Let’s move casually but quickly.”
We sped our pace, glancing momentarily at each statue as we swam down the row and back toward the canal that would lead us home. I hazarded a glance behind me, and my heart pounded.
The merman was following us. His silver-and-cerulean fin flashed in the sunlight.
“We’re being followed,” I whispered to Aunt Junia. I shifted the tablet to my left hand and the scrib to my right.
She pursed her lips. “I told you life wasn’t quite back to normal yet.”
I chuckled, but it came out strangled.
Someone grabbed my hair from behind, and I cried out as my head jerked backward.
Aunt Junia stopped and darted toward me as the navy-haired mer grasped for my left hand. As his fingers closed around my wrist, I dropped my drawing tablet and, with my right hand, stabbed him in the arm with my scrib.
He grunted, and his grip on me weakened. A thin tendril of blood curled up from his arm.
I scrambled away, launched upward, and yelled for Aunt Junia to follow me.
She kicked forward, and we swam away as fast as we could. When I glanced back, the merman was bent over my drawing tablet like he was trying to read it, one hand clamped over his wound to staunch the bleeding.
“Turn here.” We darted down a random side canal. “We’ll lose him before we get back home.”
“It’s not like he can’t figure out where you live,” Aunt Junia protested, her pace faltering.
“Still, better that he doesn’t know we’ve returned yet.” I swept around another corner and down another canal. “Let’s sneak in through the back.”
“I’m too old for this,” she muttered as she caught up with me. Her gills flared.
“Don’t let Mother hear you say that. You’re two years younger than she is.”
She grumbled as we careened down the dark, narrow culvert that ran behind my house. “Your mother—” She gripped her side. “—has always been the healthy one.”
I fished the key from my pouch and fumbled with the lock as the frantic energy that had spurred me through the canals dissipated. I prayed that I’d be able to act normally in front of Mother as we slipped in through the back door.
From her hammock, Mother glanced up at us with a raised eyebrow. “Yes?”
I plastered a smile on my face. “We were racing.”
“Through the back culvert?” she asked slowly, setting down her writing tablet. Her nose twitched.
“We may have been . . . inspired.” I winced. So much for acting normally.
She shifted her gaze to Aunt Junia.
“We were attacked,” said Aunt Junia. Her gills still flapped at twice their normal speed.
Mother dropped her tablet. “What happened? Are you alright?”
“Jade extricated herself from our assailant’s grasp most impressively, and we escaped. We came in through the back so it would take longer for those elements to figure out where we’d gone.”
I groaned.
“She has the right to know,” Aunt Junia said. “And the king needs to hear of it.”
Mother rubbed her temples. By the way her left eye twitched, I could tell she was making a conscious effort to remain calm. “Mer or naiad?”
“Mer,” I said. “Dark blue hair. Mostly silver tail. I didn’t recognize him.”
“So not nobility?”
“No,” Aunt Junia said. “His wrap suggested he’s a laborer.”
I hadn’t even noticed his wrap, but I thanked the tides for Aunt Junia’s steady, observant temperament.
“I . . . may have accidentally stabbed him in the arm with my scrib,” I said. “There wasn’t much blood. I’m sure you’ll reassure the king that it happened on accident as I was flailing to get away?”
Mother waved her hand. “It’s the least of the king’s worries right now, and I’m proud of your quick thinking. There was a riot in the naiad quarter today. The city’s going mad. Maybe I should have Benjamin stay home from school this week.”
He’s not going to like that. I cracked a wry smile.
“What are you doing?” I nodded toward her tablet, hoping to distract her from the assault.
“The king has asked me to develop a plan to renegotiate our agreement with the naiads so we can reduce the burden of taxes on the mer.”
I raised an eyebrow. “So, he wants to tax the naiads instead?”
“It will be agreeable to everyone,” she said. “The naiads’ continued presence in the city is dependent on the acceptance of the mer. If we can structure this plan in such a way that the mer know they can’t expel the naiads without raising their own taxes, it might help stop the anti-naiad violence.”
“And the anti-monarchical rallies,” I muttered.
“Naturally, the king is hopeful that we can make inroads against those sentiments as well.”
“That’s the real reason he wants it done, and you know it.”
She didn’t say anything.
I shook my head. “I could never be a politician.”
“That’s a pity,” she said. “There’s a recent opening on Sophia’s staff. I suggested that she offer you the job.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Sophia? Really?”
“You graduated school four months ago. With the upcoming wedding, I was going to give you a little leeway, but it’s customary to seek out a career by the beginning of the sixth month.”
“Well, yes. But . . . Sophia?”
Sophia oversaw the regulation of merchants in the city. If I wanted a political career, working for her would be a phenomenal first job. But I couldn’t stand her.
“She’s respected and influential.”
“She’s ridiculous.” I made eye contact with Aunt Junia and stuck out my tongue.
“There is that,” Mother said.
“She won’t go out in public without ropes of overland jewels around her neck, and she always speaks in that absurd, affected accent.”
“You know it’s a great opportunity, and after everything that’s happened, you may not be able to afford to be as picky as you might once have expected,” Mother said.
I crossed my arms. “That’s not fair.”
“That doesn’t make it untrue.” She was right, and I knew it.
“I’ll think about it,” I said. “But I really don’t think I have the stomach for politics.”
“A year working with Sophia would prepare you for a career as either a politician or a merchant. You have a good mind for business.”
“I agree,” said Aunt Junia.
“Perhaps.” I paused. “I’m going to work on my drawing of Kiki. But I promise I’ll consider the job.”
Despite the morning’s excitement, we passed the day in lazy contentment, allowing ourselves the freedom to relax now that the trial was over. The verdict and sentencing would bring troubles of their own, but we couldn’t bring ourselves to worry about them.
After Benjamin arrived back home, we ate a simple dinner together. By the time we finished clearing the plates, Mother had started talking about the attack in the canal again. Benjamin cast me a worried look.
“There’s a new scandal going around,” I said, wiping the last plate clean. “It seems to be distracting people’s attention.”
Mother scoffed. “Penelope’s liaisons? Please. Only the nobles care about that. If—”
Screaming from the canal outside our front door cut her off.
Chapter Twelve
“Stay inside. Go up to your rooms.” Aunt Junia put her hand on my arm and nodded at Benjamin as Mother darted to the door.
I glanced between Aunt Junia and Mother and then followed Benjamin, but I didn’t continue up to my room. He waited for me at the top of the corridor, but I waved him away and hovered above the corridor entrance, just out of sight.
“Skub!” Aunt Junia cried.
I stiffened. Aunt Junia didn’t swear. What the depths is going on?
Mother’s voice rang out over the commotion. “Stop, or I’ll have you expelled from the city.”
Silence fell over the canal. Coming from my mother, expulsion was no idle threat. She’d had mer banished before.
But never without undeniable cause.
Quillpricks ran down my spine. I had to know what was going on.
I swam up toward Benjamin and gestured for him to follow me into my room. We hurried to my window and peered outside.
Darkness had begun to descend on the city, but I could still see Mother and Aunt Junia bent over the body of a male naiad whose face I couldn’t make out. A dozen mer were gathered around them.
“Is he dead?” Benjamin whispered.
“I hope not,” I said.
“A thousand apologies, Lady Cleo,” said a pale, bearded merman who hovered nearby. “But this naiad was skulking through the canal, and I know he works in the naiad quarter. He has no business here.”
Breakwater Page 10
