Depths

by Jacque Stevens

  I stared past the blade, watching a snail slime its way up the base of the altar, unable to think of another reason to delay things. This wasn’t like Erys or even a fish. I could give my own blood if it would please Mother.

  My hand rose. The sharp edge of the blade glittered in the lamplight.

  My blood splattered on the altar.

  The voice had lied. It hurt a lot. More than a normal cut would, and I was certain each drop carried a piece of my soul. My breath hitched. It seemed something had caught hold of my neck, squeezing the lifeforce out of me. Black spots appeared.

  I coughed and stumbled until my mother slapped me on the back. “Ari, are you all right?”

  I opened my mouth. Nothing. I coughed and tried again. My voice! What happened to my voice? I put my hands around my throat, my eyes so wide my mother started to nod.

  “That’s the price, then. Not to worry. Whatever you get in return will be far greater.”

  I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t scream. My voice was gone! How could anything replace that?

  The blood on the altar bubbled like boiling water on the stone surface. Smoke seeped into the mass of blood until it grew, engulfing the snail. The creature retreated into its shell and spun like a top on the altar’s surface. After a few silent beats of my heart, something emerged from the coiled shell, a black imp the size of a bullfrog—a slimy bullfrog with a tail and crumpled wings.

  She stretched out her wings, still dripping with slug slime, and glanced up at us with yellow eyes. “Greetings.” It was my voice, coming from an imp’s mouth. “I am Lilthe. I shall be your daughter’s voice and guide among the humans.”

  “Perfect,” Mother said. “Men care more about looks anyway.”

  How could she be so sure? All Erys seemed to do was talk and demand I do the same.

  Perhaps she didn’t know men as well as she claimed.

  Give the shell to Arianna, the voice demanded. It will allow us to call you, to see what you see, and if you ever need to speak, Lilthe will speak for you.

  Mother nodded, like it all was perfectly expected. She picked up the creature’s shell and used a leather cord to tie it to my neck like a charm, a token of the oath I just made. “You will go to Solis. You will become their queen. You will make way for us to enter and claim the empire. And then you will take the prince’s heart. You will not be able to mess anything up this time.”

  I wouldn’t be able to mess up. Erys was going to die.

  The words echoed through my mind. The warning was clear. I had to become the queen that Mother wanted and take the heart or lose my own. I would still become a siren in the waves.

  My island, my garden held no comfort for me that night. I knew it would be my last. I didn’t even try to get my secret book from the weeds.

  I would have cried, but my own voice sang. The imp, Lilthe, glided down with her bat-like wings to land at my side. In the darkness, I could just make out the outline and her yellow eyes.

  “Your voice is gorgeous. I really love it.” She sang another few notes—her throat pouch expanding at the end. “Are you sure you never called the elements or made the water move before? I’m sure you could if you tried.”

  How was I supposed to try anything now? I didn’t have my voice. The creature had stolen it from me.

  She cocked her head. “Are you mad at me? Because I took your voice? But I only want to help. That’s all I was made to do. And when we’re with the humans, I’ll speak for you, say whatever you want.”

  That couldn’t be all. She was here to make sure I never made a mistake.

  “Oh, that’s just what your mother assumed, but all I want to do is make you happy.”

  How could she know what would make me happy? How were we having a conversation at all?

  She smiled. “That’s right. We’re bonded by blood. I can read your thoughts.”

  So, she already knew. I hadn’t guarded my thoughts at all.

  “You’re in love with the prince, or at least you think you are. You want to marry him without killing him. It sounds dreadfully boring to me, but if that’s what you want . . .”

  She would let me save Erys?

  “Yes, but I’m not so sure that is what you really want. Your mother’s stories of men might have been . . . incomplete, but they are not untrue. You still have much to learn.”

  She paused, letting me feel the full weight of the words before she smiled again.

  “But your mother doesn’t care about that boy; she simply wants to take her revenge on Solis through him. So give it to her. Become his queen, give her access to the throne she craves and a whole host of new subjects to rule and feed on. Then say the boy is yours in the same way your sisters keep men—call him your pet, your prize, and she will not object. Valadern would not object and even let you make the siren’s bond with another sacrifice if that is your wish. Be her most dutiful and beloved daughter, and your mother will reward you just as Valadern rewards all his priestesses.”

  I wouldn’t have to kill Erys? That was all I wanted. Erys wouldn’t be my pet—I never wanted a man like that, but I could say I did if that would be enough to spare his life. Other men might be the beasts my mother claimed, and she could feast on all of Solis if she wished, but if I could save Erys, long enough to see if his heart was truly mine, that would be enough.

  “Perfect,” Lilthe said. “That should be our deal, you and I. Claim that boy’s heart in love only. Get him to marry you, give your mother full access to his empire, and then, as the victor, you shall decide his fate. You might still decide to kill him then, but it would be your choice.”

  I never would.

  “You seem so sure. I think I shall enjoy this bargain very much.”

  Chapter 9

  I pictured it over and over again, resurfacing on the shore near the fishing village. Like a leap back in time, Erys would still be there, offering to show me the whole empire in the same vibrant color of my storybook. But all I saw was an empty stretch of sand.

  A cold breeze trickled through the palm leaves, slipping through the folds of my tunic. I clutched my arms together tighter as if they could provide more warmth. One small step and then another led me toward the weak lights of the village, where oil lamps hung over the windows. I would find Erys again soon. I just needed to make it on my own for a bit.

  Well, not quite alone.

  Dark wings flapped ahead of me, landing on a rock spire. Yellow eyes gleamed in the moonlight, brighter than the lamplight I followed. “You need to move quicker than that. Do you want some man to catch you walking the streets at night?” The imp lectured me in my own voice.

  I stared past her to the thatched roofs and weathered huts. It couldn’t be that dangerous. Erys said I didn’t need to be afraid.

  Lilthe laughed. “In that case, why don’t we just ask a man?”

  I would. I walked until I found one standing by the shore. Now what?

  The imp flew to my neckline, twisting herself into her coiled shell. “Just hold onto me, and I will speak for you. No one will know the difference.”

  Once my hand was on the shell, I crept closer to the man. Cloth hung around his loins, nothing else. He recoiled rope and straightened up baskets taken from a moored fishing boat tied to a post. His wild hair shook, and his muscles stretched with every movement.

  I took a step forward. Then another one.

  He looked up, and my heart sped to my throat. He stared, but even if I could speak on my own, I couldn’t think of a single thing to say to him. My mother and sisters were leagues away, and he was a man. Not a skinny boy who had lost his sandals, but a broad-shouldered man with hair sprouting all over his naked torso.

  I swallowed hard. I could do this. I had to do this, or I would never see Erys again.

  I tightened my grip on the shell and opened my mouth. “Can . . . can you help me?”

  Must Lilthe make me sound so weak? But then, if I had control of my own voice, I wasn’t certain I would sound any stronger. I hel
d onto the post like a lifeline.

  He eyed the length of my legs. A smile formed, hints of laughter in his words. “Missed your quota, girlie? Aye, I can help.” He put down the rope. “Got a whole shipload that can help you. What are you charging?”

  “I just want to know . . . how to get to Solis. The palace where the prince lives, I mean.”

  “That all?” He walked away from the boat, closer to me. “Girl, you aren’t charging enough, but I’ll help you. If you want to join our crew, we could even find you a good Madame who’ll set you up better.” He lunged for my hand and caught my wrist.

  I stumbled against the post, the man pressing against me. My back hit the wood with a light thump before I remembered the knife belted on my back. Could I reach it?

  He laughed, using his other hand to lift my chin. “Don’t tell me it’s your first time. I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but you have to fill your part of the bargain first.”

  My mouth opened. Lilthe gave a weak cry in my voice, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted to scream, reaching for a sound down in the depths of my soul. His lips were on me, his teeth. Bile filled the back of my throat as I cried for something words could not express.

  His hand moved from my chin to my heaving chest.

  Thunder cracked, and he turned his head.

  There was my chance. My free hand, that had been holding the imp necklace and guarding my chest, moved to my back. I pulled my knife and slashed at the air blindly. The blade cut the cord of my necklace. The hand on my wrist opened in surprise.

  “Hades’s fire,” he cursed, using the Galathian name for the God of the Underworld.

  I hit the ground before I scrambled into a dead run. The sand under my feet gave way to dirt, then cobblestone. My feet beat against the stone—an empty, solitary echo. I passed several dark buildings until I realized no one was following me.

  Had Lilthe helped me somehow?

  I wasn’t going to question it. I fled into the night.

  The knife never left my hand as I ran. I stumbled into a white stone before feeling my neck. It burned from where I had yanked myself away, the necklace still gone.

  I didn’t see Lilthe. I was alone.

  But I was used to being alone. I wanted to be alone. I never wanted to see another man again. My breath came in ragged gasps as I clutched the marble stone for support.

  A long howl made my blood freeze. I took a step back and immediately stumbled. The ground was unlevel—filled with mounds and sunken places. A graveyard.

  The howling beast charged through the dirt and weeds. In the dark, it seemed nothing but white fangs, yellow eyes, and thick fur so black I couldn’t tell where it ended.

  Could I run again? I had to try. My legs burned as I climbed the stone, larger than the rest with a marble cherub as my new neighbor. I put myself between its outstretched wings as the beast whined and pawed the stone. It could almost reach me, just by standing on its hind legs.

  I held my knife in front of my face.

  What was this thing? There was no room for a creature this size on my island!

  “What was that? Cerberus?” a man asked, and the light of a torch came closer.

  The beast’s ears twitched, and he danced between us, demanding help to bring me from my perch. The man took a hold of the scruff on the creature’s neck before he found me.

  This fat, balding man also looked at my legs, but instead of an eager smile, he frowned, as if the sight of them offended him deeply. He raised his voice, waving his arms at me. “Away with you. This is a house of worship. We do not permit your kind here.”

  Another figure appeared next to the man as the creature continued to whine.

  “Brother Furgus, there is no need for that. Can’t you see she’s scared to death?” A veil covered the woman’s hair, a white cloth about her face. Black cloaked the rest of her body like the priestess robes my family sometimes wore.

  I refused to come down, but she shook her head.

  “You don’t have to worry about Cerberus.” She petted the creature. “He might be a boarhound and meant to guard the place, but he doesn’t have the heart for it. He wouldn’t know what to do with a boar or bandit if he caught one.”

  A hound? The creature was a dog? How did it get so big?

  They were all still looking at me. The woman had to be safer than the man and the dog. She would help me, if anyone could. I sheathed my knife and slid from the gravestone.

  The woman led me inside the stone building. I glared at the man’s retreating back, calling the man and the dog beasts equally with my eyes.

  Mother was right. Lilthe was right. Men were horrible.

  Chapter 10

  The robed woman stopped in a large room lit with candles. Rows of benches filled up most of the space. Candle smoke and frankincense scented the air. My breath caught in the gaze of a dying man, head turned, mouth open in agony. I almost pulled for my knife when I realized it was only a painted portrait—a sacrificial scene I had grown used to thanks to my family of sirens, but this man had been set on a post for the birds to feed instead of an altar. What kind of place was this?

  “What’s your name?” the woman whispered behind me.

  I turned, reading the wrinkled creases around her smile, the age spots on her round cheeks, and warmth of her brown eyes, but I had no way to answer. Lilthe was gone.

  “Are you dumb, or are you foreign?” That question also had to be left unanswered. She tried again. “Do you understand me?”

  I nodded. I could do that much. It seemed I would have to convince everyone in Solis to ask me only yes or no questions until I found Lilthe again.

  “You can sit here, dear.” The woman waved to a chair behind all the pews. “What were you doing out so late?”

  I sank into my seat. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. At least I didn’t think so. If a woman couldn’t walk and ask for directions in this village then it was worse than my mother had described.

  I glared in the direction of the man outside, blaming him for everything that happened before. When my mother and sisters took over the providences, I would be sure that they killed that man and the fisherman first. Maybe I would watch.

  The woman followed my gaze then shook her head. “Don’t be so hard. He might be a priest, but he’s still a man and you must consider . . . Well, there is a certain kind of woman who walks the streets at night dressed the way you do.” She gestured to the length of my legs, exposed under my short tunic. “They tend to be selling.”

  Selling? Selling what? My eyes widened.

  Oh.

  Women wanted to sell that? Didn’t the men just take it?

  “You would do better to avoid associating yourself with that crowd,” she said.

  I certainly didn’t mean to. I wasn’t used to wearing much clothing, but there never was anyone else to see me. Except for my family. I pulled my legs up onto the bench, but it wouldn’t hide me.

  The woman hunched down and patted my shoulder. “We’ll get you something different to wear. Though I don’t suppose you could tell me where you came from? What happened to your family?”

  I wouldn’t tell her even if I could talk, but my eyes strayed to the farthest window anyway, the one facing the sea.

  “A shipwreck?”

  I let the lie stand. My family often visited shipwrecks. Or caused them.

  “You poor dear,” she said. “Would you like to stay in the convent tonight? Only women live on this side, and we can keep you away from the priests if it would help.” She gestured to the darkened hallways. “I’m Sister Leah.”

  She wasn’t my sister. Wait. Was she a nun? Part of a group of women living together like Erys had said? I scanned the room with a new interest. Icons of the tortured man stood facing all the pews. An altar stood among the benches. It was a place of worship, but I didn’t smell dried blood. Didn’t they bleed for this god as we did for ours?

  Well, at least it was familiar. Valadern might curse me for entering the cha
pel of another god, but that seemed a lesser concern compared to what I had faced outside.

  I followed Sister Leah to the back hallways, passing a tray on a table.

  The glittering copper caught my gaze. I took a coin from an open tray. On one side was a picture of the sun for Solis, but on the other was the prince’s profile. Erys.

  Sister Leah shook her head. “Now you’re a bold thief, to do it in front of my face. Those are donations and tithes from the village.”

  I pointed to the prince’s picture and out the window a dozen times. She had to understand. It wasn’t the coin I wanted.

  “You want to go somewhere?”

  I nodded and tried again.

  She laughed. “You want to see the prince? The picture is prettier.”

  I disagreed. The pictures of princes held in my vellum codex were different from meeting Erys in the flesh, but he was much better than a picture and I had to see him again. I had to become his queen, to see if he truly was my love or if it had been an act like my family and Lilthe had implied. I had to learn if he was a beast or something from a storybook who would be worth defending from the coming storm. To kill him or love him until I died.

  “You can’t just go to the palace unannounced,” Sister Leah said. “They’ll likely have you whipped.”

  They would?

  She put her hand over mine. “Keep the coin. But if you wish to stay here, you are going to have to work, and we’ll have to call you something.” She thought for a moment. “Anne, perhaps?”

  It was so close that it seemed there should be some way to prod her to the right name, but I couldn’t think of anything. I would have to be Anne if I wanted to stay.

  There were fifty benches in the chapel. I knew. I scrubbed each and every one the next morning, after all the sisters chanted in prayer. As I continued my work, I found other statues in the room besides the tortured man. A huntress with a bow. A man with wings on his feet. Another with a laurel of grapes and raising a cup to the heavens. Then I froze next to a statue with a thick beard and carrying a trident in his hand. Could it be?