by Lani Lenore
“No,” he managed.
Ellister nodded, seeming content with this, thoughtful.
“It was so long ago that she told me, and yet I remember every word,” Ellister spoke up again. “I was only a child then, but I knew the moment I saw her that she was the most perfect creature I’d ever seen.” He seemed caught in the memory, looking out the window, and Nathan did not interrupt. “She said that I would not be able to pronounce her name, and so I had called her Bliss. She said that she would always aid me, and yet after all this time, I have not seen her again.”
Nathan did not speak—was unsure of what he should say. It was as he’d suspected, but he was unprepared for what Ellister said next.
“Why do you think women have such deceitful mouths?”
Nathan wondered, now that the conversation was turned back on him. His first thought was of his mother and her deceit, but beyond that, all he could think of was Treasure and her truth. He didn’t think she had ever lied to him—at least that he could see—and he couldn’t imagine her being anything but an honest creature. Even Sophia had shown him a side of her that was nothing but honest. Deceitful? No. But the one Ellister spoke of, yes.
“Perhaps there is truth in it somewhere,” he said as a vague assurance, and hoped that was enough to appease the king.
Ellister hummed thoughtfully.
“There is one more thing, Nathan. It’s about Amelia.”
Nathan could not halt the way that his heart seized, fearing the worst. Could Ellister have known that she had snuck away, or that she had been with him? It was not a far-cry to think that he had found out, and Nathan knew that consequences could be very real if he even suspected.
“She was different after the coronation—fearful, uncomfortable—though I suppose I can imagine why. Last night, she seemed terrified.”
Last night? He’d not prepared himself enough for that. Nathan felt a lump of fear in his throat. Had Ellister been with her just a night after him? Perhaps it would be his own fault if that were the case. He may have driven her into his arms—the arms of the man he had insisted she marry.
“I don’t want her to feel fear or doubt,” Ellister went on. “I suspect she might be more sensitive to all this because she came from the sea herself, but she is doubtlessly affected. I need to see her through to the wedding.”
Nathan was surprised to hear him say anything about perceiving her feelings, but he supposed that it should make him feel better, if only just a bit.
“Likewise, I suspect that after this war is over, I’ll no longer have need of you.” the king mentioned, turning the subject around, and Nathan was once again seized. “Do yourself a favor, and don’t give me further reason to believe I can’t trust you.”
Nathan gulped, wondering if he should say anything at all. Perhaps Ellister would know that any reassurance was false. He soon decided that silence was as accurate as admitting guilt.
“Have I done something to upset you?” Nathan asked, careful, but indignant. “You’ve been different toward me, but I don’t understand why.”
“The girl refused me,” Ellister said, and Nathan felt relief, “which is her right, for now. But I can’t help thinking about the day I saw you two together in the corridor, and that leads me to wonder if the wall between us didn’t have something to do with you.”
“I’ve barely had any contact with her at all,” Nathan was quick to say.
The king’s blue eyes were cold in his direction—as cold as the rain.
“You and I both know how they can draw a man in.”
Did Ellister think that by including himself, he could bring Nathan to confess? The man was clever, but Nathan would not be outwitted.
“I haven’t been near her since that day you speak of, but even then, I was only looking for her truth. I swear to you, king, I have not touched her.”
Nathan thought it was probably the best lie he had ever told, and with such conviction.
Ellister did not give much reaction, but after eyeing him a moment, dismissed it.
“You may go,” Ellister said, turning himself from the window to take a seat at the desk, without setting his eyes on Nathan at all.
The former pirate gave a short bow of his head and stepped away, reaching for the door, when Ellister’s voice once again claimed his ears.
“Nathan.” He turned back to a sharp gaze full of intent. “One false step and you’re through.”
Though his mind swirled with thoughts of what Ellister knew about his night with Treasure, or whether it was anything at all, Nathan did not have to look in the man’s eyes for long to know that he meant it.
2
The sand was still wet and clumpy from the excess water, uncommon to the area. A low fog was hanging about, letting the sea almost disappear beneath it. If not for the rush of the waves, Nathan might have walked into it, but he knew better. With a lantern to guide him, he knew where he would go.
He could see her eyes already, shining like low beacons in the dark. He’d delivered her message and she was waiting for him, just as she’d promised, to bring her part of the bargain. Answers. Finally after so long, he would have them.
“I did what you asked,” he said once he was close. “I gave the king your message.”
“I know.” The purr in her voice made her sound pleased—as if he cared. He pressed the lantern into the sand, rooting in.
“And now you owe me answers,” he insisted, half-suspecting that she would try to distract him with another thing, but she was surprisingly agreeable.
“Speak,” she allowed. He watched her climb up to lounge on the rock, the water running down her body in rivulets. He tried not to look at her nakedness, finding that it was not a temptation. She sickened him. He did not have trouble finding his voice.
“How is it possible for a sea nymph to become a human?”
“Are jou speaking in riddles?” she asked with a laugh. “I don’ know what jou mean.”
She would not catch him with this one. “You know about her. You threatened me over her. She was an imperfect and now she has legs. Tell me.”
Bliss rolled her head back and sighed, but he knew he had won. “I suppose dere is no reason I can’t just tell jou. De girl—jour Treasure—asked me to give her legs and let her walk on land. I gave her what she wanted.”
“You?” he asked, though he did not know why he was surprised. “You made this happen?”
She leaned forward to rest on her stomach, smiling madly. “I’m also de one who took her tongue. It was de price of our deal.”
Nathan was stunned—so much that he could scarcely get out his next question.
“Why? What could you possibly want with her tongue?”
“I have my reasons. I needed it. She needed to come to jou. We made a trade.”
“Well it’s not worked out like she planned.”
“I have seen dat. A shame.” He didn’t think she cared at all. “Tell me: how ‘ave her troubles been otherwise?”
Other than being pampered in the palace and doted on by Ellister?
“What do you mean?”
“I warned her dat coming on land was not a smart ting to do. We have enemies here. I suppose she has been able to avoid dem so far, but it’s only a matter of time.”
Enemies? The answer hit him then, and it was a great revelation. He was surprised, now, that it had not come to him before. The sirens. Yes, it made sense. It went along with what she had said yesterday—what he had deduced. Excitement was welling inside him to have this knowledge. He felt that he had been after it for so long.
“Ah, I see dat jou understand. I mean de angelic demons of de air. Dey are de guardians of de surface world. Dey do not treat us kindly. Dey seek us out because we have no souls. Dat is how dey know.”
Matters of the soul had always been a questionable subject to Nathan. What exactly was a soul? The soul had always been as real to him as the creatures at the bottom of the sea—something so distant that he could not fathom its existence. The
look on his face must have given him away.
“Now jou are starting to understand. We may look like jou, human, but we are not. We are creatures mixed wit human blood, and no amount of magic can change dat.”
“What does that have to do with the sirens? Why do they care?”
“Sirens are protectors of de humans. Or, perhaps dey used to be. I know not what deir intentions are now, or whether dey care for humans at all. Whether dat is true or not, dey are enemies of us. If we linger out of de water for too long, dey will sense us and seek us out. Dey have no reason to trouble d’ose wit souls. Dey only seek monsters. Jour Treasure is a walking target. She knew dis, but risked it all to be wit jou. Perhaps she is safe in de palace, but if she stays out of doors for too long… I would guess dey already know about her. It’s only a matter of time.”
Nathan was shocked to hear this, his mind a tangle. Treasure had come here to be with him despite a constant threat? Even knowing that she might eventually fall victim to some creature that wanted to slay her, she had come on land. Perhaps she thought it was merely a better way to escape abuse in the sea—another means to an inevitable death, but he felt guilty. She had risked coming here just to be with him, and he had turned her away. She had never been a coward, and the weight of what she had risked was heavy on him.
“How can I get them to leave her alone?”
Bliss shrugged. “Dere is no way. She knew de risk when she took it. All to be wit jou…and yet she is not even wit jou, is she?”
Nathan fought the urge to take her head off for this cruelty, but he was not close enough, nor could he afford to do that. This one had powers that he could not fathom, and she had given him answers. With that, their deal was done.
“I need someting else from jou,” she said. Her voice was beginning to grate on him.
“I’m not surprised,” Nathan sneered. He was already picking up the lantern. “But that wasn’t part of our deal.”
“Tomorrow is de wedding, no? I imagine jou want no part of dat. Come back here and meet me den. Perhaps I will have someting to help jour Treasure be jours again. Can I count on jou?”
Nathan felt helpless, for it was an offer he couldn’t refuse, even if it was a lie. He was hopeful for it, yet hated it so much that he couldn’t manage words. She seemed to know.
“Until den,” she said dismissively, and once again she left.
3
His sober mind was swarming with thought, busy as a hive. Sirens, mermaids, a royal wedding: these were things Nathan had never pondered in past months. He’d never needed to. His life had been far simpler before. That was how he’d liked it. All he’d been concerned with was the drink in hand, the gold between his fingers, and a soft place to rest his head. When his conscience had dared to pester him, he would drown it, forget it, and move on. But since he’d met Treasure, had chosen to love her, it seemed there was no end to his trouble.
Nathan walked through the decorated streets, strung with banners which boasted the king’s crest—rolling silver waves on a field of blue. He could not escape the fact that the wedding was tomorrow, or that there was no way he could stop it. There would be so much celebration that he wouldn’t be able to stomach the sickening joy. There was only one thing left, and that was to drink himself into a stupor and force sleep.
The ceremony was to be a public affair, set in the streets. He tried not to think about that as he walked toward the docks, but he couldn’t help it. What would happen when Treasure stood before Ellister at the altar? Would she smile at him and be glad to call herself his bride? Would she love the king in his place? Perhaps she had forgotten him already.
She turned him away, he reminded himself. But that wouldn’t last for long. Tomorrow night, in fact, she would likely be his for certain. Why—oh, why—did he have to think about this? And what about the ceremony itself? What about the sirens? Would they descend for just one fish on land in the time it took her to meet the king? He had no way of knowing that either. There were too many questions in his head as he turned off the main road and into the rows of manors beyond. His last hope was to trust that silver-tailed witch to bring him some resolution—a way to keep Treasure safe. That was now the least he could do for her, and he hoped she could be happy without him.
And what of you? he wondered. What happens now?
Before he knew it, his feet were taking him along a path that he’d once treaded as a youth. It was so familiar, coming back to him after so many years, that he didn’t even think of it until he raised his eyes to see the steeple in the distance—the church—and he realized where he was. His father had seen to it that he’d frequented that place every time the doors were open, but he’d always hated it, never understood it, and his heart hadn’t softened toward it now.
Nathan stopped dead in the middle of the street, as if the cross mounted atop the building was warding him off.
Words came back to him, spoken by that hateful black-hearted nymph. Dey seek us out because we have no souls. Dat is how dey know. Once again, he was back to that, faced with accepting it. Could a soul truly exist? The thing he’d fought against for his entire life was now back to slap him in the face.
Holy men believed that the soul was a sacred and hidden relic to be preserved at all cost, supported by tithes and confessions. But was that the truth? If it was the difference between a man and a beast, perhaps it had to do with everything he’d been trying to cast aside for so long: every care and feeling of guilt.
To accept this would go against everything he’d urged himself to believe, and yet he could not quite deny it now, if even the creatures of the deep had more of an understanding of humanity than he did. The soul was a moral compass. It was the heart and mind as one—the essence of life. It was a mark, a difference of choice, and the root of empathy.
If that were true, his own had taken a beating. It may have been the very thing he’d been trying to crush. Perhaps it was mutilated beyond all recognition, but it was still pulsing there, wasn’t it? It had never died.
Now, more than ever, it had value.
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been…years…since my last confession, and I accuse myself—
A thought was stirring, only an inkling, and perhaps it would cultivate further through the night, but for now, Nathan shook his head. He did not want to be so deep. For once, he could not find the guilt that always reared its head, but only sorrow and anger. He did not need forgiveness from another if only he could forgive himself. Perhaps that was the trick of it.
Lowering his eyes and clenching his teeth, he stepped into an alley, cutting the church from his sight. There was nothing left for him here.
Chapter Twenty-Four
‘Til Death
1
Treasure stood before the mirror, gazing at her own reflection. Attendants swarmed around her, dressing her in a grand gown of white and gold, arranging her hair and painting her face, but she felt detached.
Today was an important day—even greater than the coronation, which she had not been presented for. She suspected, however, that this day might go just as well. Worse, perhaps. The Mistress would not lie down, and Treasure herself had other things to worry about.
The sirens will come for me. I’m a fish out of water and they will come.
By now, she understood what this wedding meant. She was set to marry King Ellister, the man who had welcomed her into his home, but by that, she would be bound to him in the eyes of all those in the kingdom. She would be bound to him in the way she had hoped to be bound to Nathan, and she would never have another chance. They did not have such customs in the underwater kingdom. Nymphs were largely without feelings of attachment, and there had not been a male among them in a thousand years.
Ellister was not a terrible man in her eyes. She believed that he could keep her safe if only he understood, but she did not know how to make him aware. In this one gesture, she was losing everything that she had wanted. But there was no sense worrying over it. There would n
ot be much beyond this day.
Treasure wanted to cry, but she was completely numb. She winced as they tightened her corset, and she imagined what it would be like to never breathe again.
2
The sounds of celebration were boisterous in the distance. An orchestra was playing joyous melodies and vendors were shouting in the streets. Children were laughing, despite recent threats and warnings. There was damage from the flood, but the ghosts were gone, and the people were allowing themselves to be uplifted.
Nathan knew the truth. He could hear them, but he was not a part. He was down at the shore instead.
Another night had slipped past him that had been aided by a bottle in his hand. He could not count the number now. The day found him groggy, but as the hour of the wedding approached, he knew he had to get himself clear. Bliss had insisted that he meet her again, and he would honestly rather be anywhere else but the wedding, even if it was with that silver-eyed witch. The sirens had not descended in so many weeks, and he hoped they might hold off another day. There would be so many guards that he hoped Treasure would be safe, but he did not want to watch her marry another—as if Ellister would let him anywhere near the ceremony.
Every time he thought of that, he laughed a bit, pitifully.
“I’m here,” he called once he’d arrived at the spot. She was not perched on the rocks where he had seen her before, but he knew she must be close. The sun was bright. She might not wish to be seen.
“I know,” came the response from behind him. “I see jou just fine.”
The voice had not come from where he’d expected. Slowly, Nathan turned away from the sea, looking along the shore. A figure approached him from the shadows, looking much like the darkness herself, save for glints of tiny beads on her body. The sun hit her then, and he saw her in full glory. Her dress was a net of shells which rattled over her shapely frame as she walked. Walked.
Nathan was surprised, but not floored. This dark one had given Treasure her legs, though what she now wanted on land herself, he could not say. Bliss stepped up to him, wearing a satisfied smirk. She was only a bit shorter than he was, wearing a crown of pearls in her woven hair.
