by Zoe Chant
GARDEN OF HOURS
Under restoration, by order of Her Imperial Majesty, the Pearl Empress
Air-breathers regretfully required to keep out
Huh, she just had time to think, and then a wall of water hit her in the muzzle.
She spluttered in surprise—but only for an instant. Even as she choked, the pearl around her neck lit up. In a heartbeat, she was breathing as easily as a fish, Finn’s magic turning water to air in her lungs.
*Martha!* Finn’s voice spoke in her head. She could sense him running flat-out, but he was still some way behind. Speed on two legs had never been his strongest point. *What happened?*
Currents tugged at her fur. She sneezed, sending up clouds of bubbles.
*I’m fine,* she sent back to her mate as she doggy-paddled upright. *Just a fool. Forgot that sea dragons have a very different understanding of ‘garden’ to us land folk. The person you sensed is in here?*
*Yes. A little way ahead of you. Be quick. She is growing very weak.*
A coyote wasn’t naturally graceful underwater, but you didn’t sleep with a shark without learning a thing or two. She churned her legs in strong, even strokes, propelling herself through the water.
Elegant corals rose all around, carefully cultivated into living sculptures by sea dragon art. Pastel anemones blossomed like flowers, lit by softly glowing pearls scattered amongst them. Tiny creatures glinted against drifts of black sand as they scuttled about their business, polished shells as bright as jewels.
The whole scene looked completely natural. But wherever she looked, every vista pleased the eye in a way that wasn’t just random chance. Everything, down to the smallest piece of gravel, had been hand-placed to enhance the beauty of the whole. Joe had every right to be proud of his handiwork.
How about that. Boy has hidden talents. Martha could only hope that he would decide to use them more often.
Her nose and ears were no use down here, so she had to rely on eyesight alone. She pushed through velvety, deep-green fronds of seaweed, searching.
There!
A weakly thrashing form struggled in the midst of the waving seaweed. Not human, and not any type of shifter she recognized, either.
In fact, she hadn’t the faintest idea what it was.
No time to wonder about that now. Whatever the critter was, it was clearly in trouble. Even as she dove for the thing, its webbed paws went still. It drifted in the water, limbs limp.
Martha seized it by the scruff of the neck. It was near-on as big as her coyote, and chunkier to boot, but weight didn’t mean anything in water. She struck back for the entrance, doggy-paddling with all her strength, the creature dangling from her jaws like an oversized cub.
Finn was ready and waiting for her at the edge of garden. His strong arms plunged into the water, hauling them both out into air. Martha surrendered the half-drowned creature to his care, coughing to clear her lungs as the magic of her pearl faded.
On dry land, the critter was even more peculiar. In general outline, it resembled a young lion… but no lion was ever that shade of deep blue-green, lightly dappled with turquoise spots. Its short, slick fur was closer to a seal’s than a cat’s, dense and waterproof, and its tail ended in graceful, curling fins.
Martha shifted back to human, tugging her water-logged dress down to make her decent. “What the heck is that?”
Finn shook his head, still busy pumping the unconscious creature’s ribcage. “No water-breather, apparently. You reached her just in time.”
The lion-fish-whatever-the-heck-it-was gave a convulsive heave, gagging. Water spewed from its jaws. Finn kept up his steady compressions until the creature sucked in a great, desperate breath.
“Shh, shh.” Martha dropped to cradle the critter’s head, holding it steady as it thrashed and choked. “There now. Get it all out. You’re going to be just fine, cub.”
For all that the creature outweighed her own coyote, Martha could tell from its outsized paws and dappled flanks that it was just a baby. She stroked its fur, murmuring soothing nonsense until the creature was breathing more easily. With a last gasp, it relaxed at last—and Martha found her arms full of girl.
She couldn’t have been older than eight or nine; limbs long and coltish, baby fat still rounding her cheeks. Her hair was the same startling blue as her animal’s fur, shading from indigo at the base to turquoise at the tips. She wore an Atlantean-style short tunic of sea-silk, already mostly dry. She must be some kind of mythic shifter, able to take her clothes with her when she transformed.
If Martha hadn’t already seen her shift form, she would have bet her best china that the girl was a sea dragon. Everything about her screamed that she belonged to the ocean.
Except for the fact that she’d nearly drowned.
The girl’s eyelashes fluttered, revealing amber-brown irises. Those weren’t sea dragon. Her eyes were pure lion; golden, warm, wary.
“What,” the girl rasped. “What happened?”
“You tell us, cub.” Martha helped the girl sit up, supporting her with one arm. “Found you hanging in the water back there, gasping your last breath.”
“No,” the girl whispered. One hand flew to the side of her neck, fingers raking down the smooth skin as though to tear off her own hide. “No! It was supposed to work! It had to work!”
“Easy there.” Martha captured the girl’s wrist before she could hurt herself. “What was supposed to work?”
The girl twisted free. “I was supposed to shift.”
“You did, cub.” Though into what, I haven’t the faintest idea. “Saw you myself. And a very pretty little, uh, critter you were too.”
“But I didn’t shift all the way.” The girl drew up her knees, hugging them in clear misery. “Not like I should have. It didn’t work. I’m wrong. A freak.”
Martha looked to Finn for help. He’d faded back a few steps when the girl had shifted into her human skin, retreating out of her line of sight. Probably just as well. Given that the girl seemed to be Atlantean, Martha doubted that she’d have reacted well to waking up to find the most feared shifter in the sea looming over her.
But he was a sea shifter. Handling sad little baby fish-cat-things who thought they were broken was definitely closer to his wheelhouse than Martha’s. Fixing her mate with a meaningful look, she jerked her chin at the girl.
He hesitated for a second, then reluctantly came forward. The girl gasped as the light caught his craggy features. Her brown eyes went as round as pennies.
“You.” The girl sat bolt upright, her slight body tensing. “I know you.”
Very slowly, as though trying not to scare away some shy wild creature, Finn crouched down. Even on his haunches, he dwarfed the young girl. To a stranger, he would have looked totally impassive. You had to know him well to see the guarded tension behind his eyes; how he was bracing himself for the child’s inevitable reaction.
The girl’s throat worked. “You… you’re him. The Master Shark.”
Finn said nothing for a moment. Then, very quietly: “Yes.”
“You’re the Master Shark!” Without warning, the girl’s face broke into a broad, incredulous grin. She scrambled to her feet, dancing on the spot. “It’s really you!”
Finn blinked, once.
“Uh,” Martha said, just as taken aback. “You aren’t scared of him?”
“Scared?” The girl stared at her as though Martha had asked if she was an avocado. “He’s the Master Shark! He stopped the wars and fought back the krakens and brought peace to Atlantis and rescued the Pearl Empress! He’s the greatest hero in the whole ocean! In the world! Ever!”
“No argument here,” Martha agreed, hiding her smile. “But not many people share that opinion.”
The girl flipped her long blue hair, expression turning scornful. “Then they’re dumb. Like my stupid brothers. When we were little, they just wanted to be silly old knights in our games. But I was always him.”
Finn stared, slightly cross-eye
d, at the finger the girl had jabbed at him. He was always a quiet man, but Martha had never before seen him rendered utterly speechless.
“Well,” she said, and had to pause to swallow the lump in her own throat. “Nice to know someone has their head on straight. I’m Martha. No need to introduce him, evidently. What’s your name?”
“Seija.” The girl suddenly turned shy, peeking at Martha from behind a veil of blue locks. “I know you too. You’re the Master Shark’s mate. My uncle sometimes talks about you.”
Martha’s eyebrows shot up at that. “Uncle?”
“Uncle John. He’s the Imperial Champion.” The girl didn’t sound particularly impressed by this fact. She perked up, turning her worshipful gaze back on Finn. “He showed us his scar once! Did you really nearly bite him in half?”
“It was,” Finn managed to rasp out, “a misunderstanding.”
Seija nodded, apparently in deep satisfaction. “I told my brothers you could’ve eaten him if you’d wanted. Hah. He only escaped because you let him. No one could beat you.”
Martha was wracking her brain, trying to recall John’s complicated family tree. Seija did look a little like him about the nose and eyes, though her skin tone was a fair bit lighter than John’s pure ebony.
“Your mom is John’s sister?” she guessed. He’d mentioned her a few times, but Martha had never met the woman. She didn’t live in Atlantis, and their visits had never happened to coincide.
Some of the glee slid off Seija’s face. She rubbed a foot against the back of one leg, looking at the ground.
“Yeah,” she mumbled. “She’s a sea dragon. Most of my brothers are too. But my dad’s a lion shifter.”
Now Martha understood Seija’s peculiar shift form. “And you take after him.”
“I don’t!” Seija’s head jerked up, teeth bared in defiance. Her hands balled into fists. “I’m not a lion. I’m a mer-lion. I’m a sea shifter, no matter what anyone says. I am.”
“Yes,” Finn said—quietly, but with utter certainty. “You are.”
Martha saw the words hit home. Saw Seija take them into her heart, the very center of her soul; to be treasured, forever.
“That’s why you swam out there all alone, isn’t it,” Martha said, realizing what the poor child must have been trying to prove. “You were trying to teach yourself to breathe underwater.”
“I thought if I went so deep that I couldn’t get back to air again, my body would have to shift right.” Seija touched her neck again, as though still hoping gills might sprout there. “That I’d finally be a proper sea shifter.”
“There are many in the sea who do not breathe it,” Finn said. “The otters; the seals; the whales. Even sea dragons cannot spend their entire lives without air. They are no less part of the ocean.”
“But all of them can hold their breath really long!” Seija’s lower lip trembled, and tears welled in her eyes. “Their bodies are designed for the ocean. They aren’t some, some mishmash freak like me.”
“You aren’t a freak,” Martha said firmly. “You’re exactly the way you’re meant to be, and don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”
Seija sniffed. “My brothers call me Catfish.”
“Well, my brothers called me worse names than that when I was little. Learned to mind their manners once I was big enough to demand some respect.”
“But no one’s ever going to respect me,” Seija said. Her shoulders slumped. “I’ll always be the baby who’s only allowed to paddle around the shallows. I have to be towed along in an air bubble like a dry-lander just to reach Atlantis. I can swim as well as anyone, but I’ll never be able to play outside the dome with my friends, or explore the deep places. And I’ll never fit in on land, either. There’s nowhere I belong.”
The defeat in the girl’s voice broke Martha’s heart. She fingered the pearl around her neck, casting Finn a sideways glance.
*Could you make her one of these?* she asked him telepathically, not wanting to give Seija false hope. *Or know someone else who could?*
He shook his head, his mouth a flat line. *It was a great magic, born of desperation and need. A once-in-a-lifetime feat. I do not think it can be repeated.*
Martha closed her hand around the filigree locket, feeling every familiar smooth curve. Finn had poured all his love for her, all his hope, into the pearl inside.
He’d given her the ocean. He’d given her himself.
She bit her lip. *Finn…*
She didn’t even have to complete the thought. He didn’t need to say anything, either. Their hearts beat as one, united, as ever.
For the first time since Finn had put it around her neck, Martha unclasped the thin gold chain. Seija started as the locket settled against her own throat. The girl looked down at it, then up into her face, eyes full of questions.
“How did you think I managed to rescue you just now?” Martha told her. “A coyote can’t breathe water any more than a lion.”
Seija caught her breath. “Is it magic?”
“Course it’s magic.” She winked at the girl. “It was made by the greatest hero the sea has ever seen.”
“It brought me my heart’s desire, Seija,” Finn said softly. “I hope it will give you yours, too.”
“I can’t take this!” Seija’s fingertips hovered over the locket, as though she didn’t dare touch it. “It’s special!”
Martha took Seija’s hand, closing it around the pearl. “So are you.”
“But… but…” Seija looked dumbfounded. “Don’t you need it?”
“No, child.” Martha smiled up at her mate. “I have everything I need.”
“Seija! Seija!”
A boy pelted toward them. Well, a young man really, Martha supposed, but when you got past a certain point everyone under thirty looked like a baby.
“Are you all right?” The young man snatched Seija up, patting at her as though to check that she still had the right number of limbs. “You can’t keep sneaking off like this! Dad and Jane are going frantic--”
The young man stopped dead as he noticed Martha and Finn, eyes widening. They were the exact same shade of golden-brown as Seija’s. His skin was much paler than hers, and he had tawny hair rather than blue, but there was still a distinct family resemblance.
“Danny! Stop embarrassing me!” Seija wriggled free, smoothing down her tunic with the air of an offended cat licking its fur. She turned back to Martha with a long-suffering sigh. “Sorry about him. This is my big brother Danny.”
Finn pinned the young man with a cool, flat stare. To the boy’s credit, he did not immediately collapse and beg for mercy. Martha was impressed.
“One of the brothers who call you Catfish?” Finn asked.
“No, sir.” Danny frowned at Seija. “Were the boys making fun of you again? Why didn’t you tell me? You know I’ll put a stop to it.”
Seija tossed her two-tone hair. “Going all alpha on them only works while you’re home. Which is hardly ever, since you joined the Red Cross. Anyway, I can take care of myself.”
“Not too much evidence of that, cub.” Martha folded her arms. “There’s a difference between standing up for yourself, and diving headfirst into trouble just to prove a point.”
Danny winced. “Seija, what did you do?”
“All is well now,” Finn said, in tones that made it clear further questioning would not be wise. “That is all that matters.”
Danny swallowed hard and ducked his head in a respectful bow. “Yes, sir. Thank you for finding my sister. Come on, Seija. Let’s get you back to Dad and Jane. They’ve got half the city’s knights out looking for you.”
“No running off from your folks again, you hear?” Martha fixed the girl with her best glare. “I didn’t give you that pearl so you could drive your poor parents into fits.”
“I promise. I’ll use it for good, I swear. When I grow up, I’m going to have adventures and save people.” Seija peeked at Finn, suddenly shy. “Just like you.”
“I think your deeds will far surpass mine.” Finn bowed to her, as deeply as he would to the Empress herself. “May you shake the whole sea, young Seija.”
Looking rather shaken herself, Seija bowed back. Then she spun round and surprised Martha by seizing her in a fierce hug.
“Thank you,” Seija whispered in her ear.
Martha hugged her back, smiling. “Thank you, child.”
Seija released her again, forehead wrinkling in bafflement. “But I didn’t give you anything.”
“Oh, you did.” Without looking, Martha reached back, finding Finn’s hand. “One day, you’ll figure out what.”
Seija cocked her head, then shrugged, clearly dismissing the inscrutable ways of adults. With a last wave, she let Danny herd her away.
Martha watched the two disappear back into the city. “Do you think it was a co-incidence that Joe sent us to this garden?”
“No.” Finn was still staring after Seija, the lines of his face soft with wonder. “But I also think that he will strenuously claim otherwise.”
“That boy. He’d turn my hair white, if it wasn’t already.” Martha frowned as something else occurred to her. “Drat. We’re going to have to ask one of the dancers to take us to the Sea Gate in an air bubble. So much for just swimming home.”
Finn glanced over his shoulder at the rippling water wall of the garden. Then he cast her a strange, speculative look.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
“Of course,” Martha started—and then balked, digging in her heels as he turned toward the garden. “Which doesn’t mean that I always should. Finn Hernandez, are you out of your fool mind? You know I just gave away my pearl. Exactly how long do you think I can hold my breath?”
He dipped his head, capturing her mouth for a long, deep kiss. All Martha’s sense drained away.
“Trust me,” he whispered against her lips.
Without letting go of her, he stepped backward, through the magical barrier enclosing the garden. The sea embraced them, lifting them off their feet.
Finn’s heart beat steady against Martha’s chest. Silver bubbles danced around them. She couldn’t be afraid, not in her mate’s arms.
