Chapter 31
The sun had nearly set when a knock sounded at the door. “You’re late, Urchin.”
“It will be more dramatic, my love,” I replied, rolling my eyes as I pinned the final feather in my hair in preparation for my official coronation as Selkie Queen.
I turned and Caspian froze, his eyes wide as he took in the blue, silky gown I’d worn the night we first met, the ornamental shell pauldrons, now adorned with my very own sea dragon scale like his, and my hair, adorned with shells and feathers and braids.
He looked resplendent as well, with the addition of a necklace of sea dragon fangs—gifted, not stolen—and shells adorning his shoulders. The new scars across his chest and side made him look more rugged and fierce now that they were healed—my warrior king, fresh from battle for his people.
He was also wearing a selkie kilt that showed off his muscular tanned legs. It did terrible things to me, and I couldn’t wait to tear it off of him later.
“Skies, Marina,” he breathed. “You are a goddess.”
“So I’ve been told,” I smiled, taking his arm in mine as he grinned down at me. “Shall we?”
“I thought we’d fly,” he countered, opening his arms to me.
I frowned. “Your wings—”
“Have been officially cleared for flight by Mira herself,” Caspian interrupted, placing strong hands on my hips. “I even flew this morning.”
“It's only been two weeks,” I argued, skeptical that the amount of damage he’d suffered could have fully healed that soon. Granted, he’d been forced to rest most of that time, sitting through endless meetings and negotiating trade and new governance.
“I’m fine, Urchin,” Caspian drawled impatiently. “I tested them this morning.”
He grinned at my incredulous stare. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I knew you wouldn’t approve.” With another grin he scooped me up into his arms.
He headed for the balcony that adjoined our chambers and threw open the doors. The winter evening chilled and pebbled my skin as the sun dipped below the horizon, but it was going to be a beautiful Solstice night.
Caspian launched in a gust of wind, laughing as I squeaked in surprise.
“Go slow,” I commanded, clinging to his neck as we rose above the keep. “You’ll ruin my hair.”
“Can’t have that, can we?” he teased, swooping in a controlled dive toward the beach below us where our subjects were gathered—selkies and sirens upon the beach, glittering sea dragons and kelpies in the surf beyond.
Some of my people were still wary, I knew. Caspian had made sure it was known publicly that no siren was to use their song to compel any selkie, but many still chose to plug their ears in fear of siren song. The fact that they were willing to stand together was enough of a victory for now.
Many of the Nordhavn mates had chosen to stay through the celebration. Those who had already returned home did so with the open invitation to return whenever, and the promise of open trade and travel between the Isles and the mainland.
The sight of winged and unwinged people standing side by side below us sent a thrill through me as I recognized several children from my music lesson in the cliffs waving and clapping.
“Your people seem to be settling in,” I commented, shouting in Caspian’s ear over the wind.
“Our people,” he corrected. “I just got word that another ship is on the way. Almost everyone will be here next week.”
“We’ll need to clear more cliff dwellings.” We’d been steadily clearing the abandoned cliff dwellings to make them habitable again after five centuries of disuse, but it was a daunting and somewhat disgusting task. Although it was looking like many would remain empty for the time being, we planned to clear them all. They’d be a welcome place for visitors, and we hoped that siren numbers would grow in the coming years now that they had returned home where their magic was strongest.
“I can’t wait,” Caspian groaned. I laughed at his distaste for cleaning. I knew he was anxious to sail—to establish a clear trade route. It killed him that the task would fall to Astraios instead, as it was too early in our new rule for him to be away from the Isles. “Are you sure I shouldn’t go with Astraios?”
“No, you insufferable seagull,” I said firmly, smiling with hope for my friend and her budding relationship. “Sereia is going, and they need to have their own adventure. Let them fall in love without your brooding presence making them feel awkward.”
“I do not brood,” Caspian replied haughtily as we alighted on the beach. He stole a quick kiss before everyone clamored for my attention, and the bond within me stirred with desire. It had been quieter, now that our mating wasn’t quite so new and Caspian’s injuries had healed, but strong emotion stirred it to life. Caspian’s desire was a pulse through my body as he murmured, “I’ll show you exactly how much I don’t brood later.”
“I look forward to investigating under your kilt,” I replied with a too-chaste brush of my lips against his.
The ceremony on the beach was presided over by one of the priestesses, who was still far too much in awe of me for my taste. The selkie lords and siren council were our witnesses, having merged into a new joint advisory body that insisted on taking up all of our time with meetings.
Both Caspian and I knelt in the sand, the surf lapping at our bare feet, as the priestess recited old selkie prayers to the sea. The sky bled a deep purple as day turned to night and my father’s crown—my crown—was placed atop my head.
I’d commissioned a matching crown for Caspian, and I’d had both reworked. Golden feathers now wove between the silver coral, a true emblem of both of our peoples.
The priestess finished her prayers, handing me a small dagger with a handle of pearl. I cut my palm, then handed the blade to Caspian who did the same. We clasped hands, letting our mixed blood trickle into the sand and flow into the sea, a blood-bond to the land we now ruled together.
With a little nudge from me, the sea arced in a glittering wave behind me, forming wings to match my mate’s.
“Rise, Queen and King of Sea and Sky, and greet your people.”
The party was, of course, the best part of the ceremony.
The cooks had outdone themselves, with Reuben providing recipes and inspiration for meals that would honor siren diet and culture alongside traditional selkie dishes. He grinned at Caspian as we filled our plates, making sure we each took a large helping of fish stew.
It is time, little goddess, came a watery voice from behind me. I dropped my bowl, which Caspian caught neatly in his free hand.
“Seas, Ran, don’t sneak up on me like that!”
I do not sneak, Ran replied haughtily. I glide.
Caspian snorted a laugh as he placed both of our bowls on a nearby rock, lest I spill fish stew all over myself.
“What is it time for, exactly?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
For us to return to our lake. His eerie, depthless eyes looked almost sad as he added, My herd grows restless for home.
“But you’ll visit?” I asked, feeling Caspian’s arm snake around my waist in a comforting weight. “This isn’t goodbye forever?”
I suppose as the king of my people, I will be required to meet with you. I believe you call it ‘diplomacy.’
“What do you call it?” Caspian asked. I could hear the amusement in his voice.
A waste of time.
“I’ll miss you.” I threw my arms around his watery neck as I held back tears, feeling a bit ridiculous for crying over a horse that tried to drown my mate once.
Until you need me again, little goddess, Ran snorted confidently, tossing his watery mane and soaking Caspian as I released him. We are even now.
“Thank the fucking skies,” Caspian murmured, earning another flick of water from the horse on response.
I could still drown you, winged one.
“No drowning people!” I chided. “The southern island is yours, but you’re not to drown anyone on the inhabited islands. That will be part of the treaty between your people and mine.”
What if they come to our island?
“Then yes, they’re fair game. The island is yours to protect as you see fit.”
“We’ll make sure our people know,” Caspian added.
What if there are bad, evil people on your islands though? Ran asked, as if this were a great concern he should deal with immediately. I could drown them.
“I’m not doing this, you busybody,” I sighed in exasperation. “No drowning. That’s an order.”
Ran tossed his head in annoyance. Fine. We will drown only the bad people.
He galloped away as my shout of, “No drowning!” was lost in the wind.
“I think I’ll miss him too,” Caspian mused, squeezing me tightly.
“You will not,” I snorted, turning in his arms.
He kissed me, eyes dancing with mischief. “No, I probably won’t.”
Ran joined his herd—a line of glittering water horses galloping across the sea, neighing their approval into the wind.
“Show offs,” Caspian murmured.
The usual drums beat a fierce rhythm against the sand as dancing began. Soon, strings joined in, played by several sirens on lyres and fiddles, the first the island had heard in five hundred years. I saw a few of the guests cover their ears in panic, eventually lowering their hands when nothing untoward occurred.
Caspian handed me my stew, which was now somewhat cold, and we ate while watching the crowd.
The only people who didn’t seem to be enjoying themselves were Hesperus and Vitulus. Neither seemed to be able to cross the divide between them, yet they also were drawn to each other at every meeting. Vitulus stood a few feet away like a statue as Hesperus spoke to one of the selkie lords, his eyes full of both disgust and yearning.
“Such a shame that those two can’t work it out,” Caspian quipped.
I nudged him in the ribs. “Give them time. It must be hard for Vitulus.”
“Realizing his mate is a male, or that he’s a siren?”
I shrugged. “The latter, more than the former I think.” I’d never seen Vitulus romantically involved with anyone, and his professions of caring for me had never been heated. Never passionate, nor full of longing.
I now understood why.
“I’m not sure the bastard deserves happiness after all the shit he pulled,” Caspian grumbled as he finished his meal and piled my dishes atop his.
“You’re just relieved he’s not a rival for my affections anymore more,” I teased as we returned them to the wait staff, who I hoped were allowed to enjoy the party once the meal had ended.
He laughed, nipping my ear and moving his fingers over my ribs in a way that made me lose my capacity for speech. “He was never much of a rival, Urchin.”
“Scoundrel.”
“Dance with me, Urchin,” he laughed, leading me to the beach where others had gathered. Their forms were a glorious blend of siren steps and selkie rhythm, everyone dancing to the music in whatever way most moved their souls.
“Do you remember the tavern?” Caspian asked, reading my thoughts as he gripped my waist with one hand and took my hand with the other. “It feels like it was years ago now.”
“Only months,” I sighed, tipping my head back and smiling up at him. “I almost miss the simplicity of being kidnapped by a rogue pirate king.”
Caspian laughed, spinning me on the floor to the lively beat. The sand was cold against my bare feet, but I didn’t mind as the warmth of Caspian’s embrace lit me from within.
Mira’s medicine kept my lungs from bothering me, and Caspian had suggested we go in search of a more permanent cure once the Isles were more settled. I wasn’t in a rush, though. Far from being a burden, I’d come to view the illness as a gift. If it was the price I had to pay for my magic—for the ability to protect my mate and my people—I would gladly pay it.
I smiled as one by one, our friends and family joined us in the dance. Zephyr and Ana, my father and mother, even Astraios and a frowning Sereia danced under the winter moonlight to welcome the dawn of a new year.