Chapter 26
The sun hadn’t yet risen, but a small noise startled me out of sleep. Cheek cradled against my fist, my breath fogged in the still room, a film of moisture warm across the back of my hand. I pulled my coverlet over my shoulders, waiting to hear the noise again.
A rap of soft knuckles broke the silence. Sitting up in my chair, my neck and lower back ached in protest, my spine popping as I stood.
Early blue light streaked through the room from my unshaded window, long shadows slowly shrinking toward their masters. I crossed my arms and left the coverlet behind, the white spread hanging concave over the chair like a trampled white mushroom. A draft from the window followed me across the room, stealing my heat as I traversed the carpeted floor.
I’d thought it might be Kye, but the door opened before I reached it, and into the room peered the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I halted where I stood, surprised and struck breathless, my gaze wandering over the woman’s eyes, skin, and hair.
A procession of cold prickles, like freezing raindrops, fell from my neck down my back, stronger than I’d ever felt with Nori or Olinne. The woman’s arms and legs were elongated and graceful—feline, like the limbs of a cat. She was tall, with a curved chin and a long, slender neck, the scent of water lilies following her into the room—sweet, fresh, and aquatic, with a hint of citrus.
We each rooted to the floor, taking the other in, the door ajar between us like a portal to a mystery, one that begged more questions than offered answers. Then the woman stepped through, long fingers brushing the wood trim as her feet carried her.
“Maren,” the woman said, her voice smooth and low. She gently folded my hand into her own, fingertips grazing the edges of my wrist with a gentle firmness. “What an honor to finally meet you.”
My mouth parted, surprised by the greeting. I couldn’t echo the sentiment. I knew nothing of the woman other than her name. Selena.
She wore an emerald-green cloak, long and encompassing, the hood thrown down her back, sable brown hair thick and free-flowing over her shoulders. Tilting her head, her eyes curved around my body, absorbing the hau bark I’d stripped down to the night before, relieved to shed the Mihauna-cursed corset.
She crossed her arms, deep consideration creasing her brows.
I lifted my chin, waiting.
“How old are you?” the woman asked, her voice smooth and rich, more melodious than even Olinne’s.
“Twenty-two.”
“Twenty-two,” she repeated under her breath, her eyes vaguely shifting somewhere else, as if calculating numbers in her head. She looked perhaps ten years older than me.
“Are you Selena?” I asked.
The woman reached out, lifting a lock of my hair, which she turned around in her fingers, studying it. “Yes.”
I stiffened, unaccustomed to being touched. But the woman’s gaze simmered with a quiet intensity that prompted me into introspection—as if I’d been here before but had forgotten. A faded memory brightening before my eyes, the dust wiped clean, the world sharpening into crisp lines, sunshine fleshing out all the details, leaving the view brimming with color.
“You’re a Naiad.”
Selena returned the strand of hair to my shoulder, rubbing her finger and thumb, still feeling the hair caught between them. “Yes.”
I stepped away, my eyes lingering on the lower half of Selena’s body. “You’re human. You have legs.”
“There’s plenty of time to explain. You’ve met Naiads before?” Selena’s clear blue eyes focused deep into mine, as though I were the only light in a dark room.
“Yes, I grew up with them.”
“Nori and Olinne.”
“Yes,” I said, surprised. “Do you know them?”
Selena broke her intense gaze, shifting her eyes around the room. ”I”ve heard their names.”
The bed, stripped of its blanket, the chair I’d obviously slept in the night before, the empty tray of food on the floor. With the intimate story of my evening spelled out so clearly, I felt suddenly shy. Selena strode forward, her graceful fingers curving around her own arms. She filled my cast-iron teapot and set it into my fireplace. Locating another chair, Selena sat across from me at the table.
“We know very little about you,” she said. “You know very little about us. And yet, we’ve made each other some very serious promises.”
My eyebrows furrowed. The word promiseindicated an agreement. An assurance made in good faith, in which both parties were fully informed and had the confidence of the other.
It wasn’t the wordI might’ve chosen to describe the events of the day before.
“By age twenty-two, most Naiads have had the advantage of two decades’ worth of knowledge and familiarity of Naiadic skills, culture, and way of life. From what Thaan has told me, you didn’t even know you are one.”
“Do people here know what Naiads are?” I asked.
“No.” Selena glanced at the closed door. “The average commoner would refer to us as sea maidens, which we are not.” She said it with a small bite to the word, though she smiled faintly.
“Sea maidens are fish,” I quoted Nori.
Selena nodded. “Sea maidens are a fantasy. They would have gills, I suppose, rather than lungs, according to the surrounding mythology. Bottom-dwellers who never rise to the surface to see the sun or moon, with no intelligent thought in their heads. Woven from the imaginations of men who spend their lives looking out to the water while drawing fish in their nets, wishing they could see something more. Yes, they are fish. If you feel the need to categorize them. We are not.”
“Where do Naiads come from then, if not the sea?” I asked, and immediately felt foolish. Nori or Olinne would have laughed at me for asking such a question, then answered in a parade of riddles I couldn’t untangle.
Selena tilted her head, the movement smooth and delicate. Intentional, like she processed every shift in her muscles and bones before putting the thought into action. She considered me for a moment, as though she didn’t quite believe I didn’t know the answer.
“Humans and Naiads share common ancestors. They are both descendants of the stars. Have you ever wondered why humans, as mammals, are mostly hairless? Why they have tailbones? Why they are drawn to water and can swim as infants, born with the instinct to hold their breath and float without training? Would it be surprising that your blood remembers something long forgotten, hidden under the layers of ancestry, that calls to its inherited name?”
Selena waited for me to absorb this thought. Something in her response reminded me faintly of Nori and Olinne, though she wasn’t condescending. Selena’s voice was fluid and serious, but not superior.
I traced a grain of wood along the table’s surface. “So, my mother was a Naiad?”
“She almost certainly was. What do you remember of her?”
I debated my answer. “Not very much. She was shipwrecked in Leihani. She kept to herself and never grew close to the other islanders, except for my father. She died before my second birthday.”
“That’s all?” Selena asked softly.
I shrugged. “The islanders thought she was a witch.”
Selena leaned forward with genuine curiosity. “Tell me about your father. What is he like?”
I frowned. “You think my father is a Naiad?”
She smiled. “If your father was a Naiad, you’d have grown up knowing your own legacy. Leihani is…somewhat known for its islanders” natural sense of suspicion toward Naiads, at least within our own circles. There’s history involved, and it’s written into Leihani blood, as much as the color of their eyes and hair.” Her warm gaze traveled across my face as she continued.
“I ask about your father because there are certain traits in humans that Naiads find…endearing. Qualities we rarely have, because we’re a different species, but that we find attractive in humans. Is your father social? Warm? Someone who is easy to get to know, and liked by most? Is he a bit of a dreamer?”
A short whistle came from the fireplace. I stood to refill my cup of tea, choosing the same one I’d used the night before, though I found her a clean one. “Yes.”
She watched me retrieve the teapot, using an unknown piece of clothing from my discarded dress to shield my hands. “And by comparison, are you quiet? Caught up in the peaceful scenes of nature? Perhaps you have difficulty connecting with people, sometimes not knowing whether something you say might be rude until after you have said it?”
I narrowed my eyes, placing my water down on the table. Selena leaned forward on her elbows. “Do you wonder how your only living parent could be so different from you? Where did you come from, to have inherited these characteristics you don’t share?”
I thought of the many opinions of my mother I’d grown up overhearing. Didn’t talk. Kept to herself. Solitary.
“Are Naiads witches?”
Selena poured herself a steaming cup, lifting it to her mouth and blowing gently before taking a tentative sip. “Maybe. Some might call us that. But really, we are just at home with the water. Are birds witches because they can fly? Are honeybees witches because they can pollinate? Some people might consider the act of pollination to be witchcraft, if they were to deconstruct everything that goes on within the act, the basis of food, and therefore life, as we know it. But is it magic? Is it witchcraft? To a bee, it’s just being a bee.”
I raised a dark eyebrow.
The complexity of stretching an answer to a question, lending enough uninvited information that the answer hung overhead with more mystery than the question itself, was affirming itself as Naiadic in nature.
My thumb slid over the rim of my teacup. “What other creatures descend from the stars?”
She considered my question. “Naiads and humans are the only ones I know of. There was a third, once. The Sola, born from Aalto. The sun. They bred themselves out of existence, mating with humans eons ago.”
I tucked a lock of hair behind an ear. “Do Naiads hate humans?”
Selena’s mouth quirked, as if surprised, even perhaps amused. “No. Not all of them.”
Why did Nori and Olinne hate them, then?
“Naiads do have a history of violence toward humans,” she said.
I frowned. “Why?”
Selena smiled into her cup, her answer echoing softly off the steaming liquid. “They piss us off.”
She waited for me to return her smile. When I didn’t, she carefully set her cup on her saucer. “Unless you were born and raised in an oceanic colony, Naiads live in hiding. We wouldn’t have to, if not for humans. There was a time when we coexisted, but not anymore. It would endanger our race to openly reveal yourself to one. Humans have too many superstitions—”
“The prince knows I am one.”
“Yes,” Selena said slowly. “It would be wise for you both to pretend he did not.”
Her words were firm and smooth, but she spoke with enough finality I knew she’d ended the subject. She stood to leave, but I wasn’t quite finished.
“Do most Naiads have difficulty understanding humans?”
Selena regarded me with curiosity. “It’s a skill for you to master. Though it might always be a challenge for you. Understanding other Naiads will be much easier. More instinctual. You can usually trust your gut when dealing with a Naiad.” Her eyes dipped down to my empty tray. “I assume you have no problems eating fish?”
“Fish?” My brows raised. “No, no problems. Islanders eat fish more than anything else.”
“Good. Then we won’t have to worry about your development. In the future, when given the option, always choose something from the sea. Don’t eat moray eels,” she instructed. “Let’s get you dressed. They’ll be bringing your breakfast soon. I’ve made an appointment for you with one of the royal tailors. She’ll be here this afternoon.”
“I’ve eaten them before. They’re safe when cooked.” The dark spotted eels were a delicacy, once they were rid of bones. Well known on the island for their toxic blood, moray eels were only a threat when eaten raw.
“You ate them before your transition. They’re not lethal to Naiads, but they will cause intense stomach cramps. You’ll find yourself losing your breakfast or your bowels. Or both.” Selena smiled as she retrieved my only dress from the edge of the bed, as if visiting a distant memory.
“I haven’t transitioned.” I said, wondering what information about me Thaan could’ve possibly offered Selena, if not this seemingly important piece of knowledge.
Poised with the dress over my head, Selena paused to give me a strange look. “You’ve never changed?”
I stared blankly at her.
She pulled the garment on. In my anger the day before, I hadn’t realized how beautiful it had been. Rich, forest green satin shifted over my skin as Selena tugged everything into place, lacing the sewn-in corset and cinching me tight. “You show all the signs of a mature Naiad. Someone who has gone through transition.”
“What signs are those?”
“For starters, the feeling I experienced when we first made eye contact. It’s called spiculae. Do you know what spicules are?”
“No.”
“They’re slender, sharp-pointed crystal processes made of calcium. They make up the skeletal bodies of marine and freshwater invertebrates.” Taking a notebook from her bag, she flipped to a blank page and began sketching a piece of coral, shading the protrusions like small anchors and blades. “Though we are not invertebrates, our bones take on a similar shape once we’ve changed—unless we are Naiad-born. Then it’s already there. It’s part of the reason it’s painful the first time we change. Many Naiads lose consciousness, or sleep for a few days after. Spiculae form down our spine, and when we make eye contact with a Naiad, the nerve endings along our spinal column fire, causing the chill that runs down our back. Mine was very strong when I first looked at you.”
“I’ve always felt the prickle, even when I was young,” I challenged.
“Yes, but is it not stronger now than it used to be?”
My mouth opened to say no, but I hesitated. I’d avoided Nori and Olinne since they dragged me underwater. My mouth parted, sharp comprehension burning through my mind like wildfire.
“They said they were taking me to meet their queen and pulled me under,” I said out loud, my mind swimming in memory.
“Nori and Olinne?” Selena asked, watching me with interest, her eyes deep and focused as she followed the sudden change of conversation. “What happened when they pulled you under?”
Exhaling, I thought back to several days before. It had only been a week ago, but it felt like a lifetime. “Olinne held my arms and legs, so I couldn’t swim. We sank down deep enough there was no light, and I thought I would drown. There were a hundred of them. Nori—someone gave me a breath…” I stopped to shake my head, the memory growing hazy. How long had I been underwater?
Selena waited patiently, her chin sitting over her delicate fingers.
“Then they were gone,” I said slowly, the vision of the bright surface of water, high above my head while I floated in darkness, unfolded in my mind’s eye.
“You didn’t breathe for her?” Selena asked.
“What do you mean?”
“She gave you breath. Did you return it back to her?”
“No,” I answered warily.
Selena nodded softly, reaching for my corset. “They started the transition, but they didn’t finish. The process will have to be repeated. Did you spend the next few days recovering—when is your birthday?”
The sudden change in subject made me shift my feet. I raised a shoulder in a shrug; the precise date was unknown. The Leihani calendar tracked the moon from the dry to wet season. Our nights were numbered in thirty-day cycles, abbreviated by new and full moons.
I knew that tonight Leihani would experience the full moon, a time for high tides and abundant fish. I knew this was the second moon cycle of our calendar year, which started in the dry season. I knew that Calder’s calendar year began during something called winter, though it was now spring.
But what day I’d been born, I had no idea.
“It’s important,” Selena said. “Do you know what time of year you were born?”
“In the first half of the dry season.”
“What does that mean? When does the dry season begin?”
I gazed at her from over my shoulder as she tugged my laces. “Two months ago.”
“Okay,” Selena said, thinking. She squinted, tilting her head to watch the ceiling as she pondered something. “When did you have your first period?”
“My first bleed?”
“Yes.”
I had to consider the answer. My cousin Nola had bled first, when she was still roaming with the child group. My bleeding had come much later, after my peers had separated from the group, taking part in their daily tasks as young adults of the island. “I was sixteen. I think.”
The same year sailors began to disappear.
Selena nodded to herself. “Naiads generally start later than humans. Do you remember how long after your sixteenth birthday it came? What time of year was it?”
I scoffed at the question, unable to provide an answer. Selena stared back, sober and serious.
“No, not really,” I mumbled.
Selena straightened, stepping back to look me over. “Well, we’re in luck. Tonight’s the full moon. If it’s too late, we’ll know by morning.”
“Too late for what?”
Selena disappeared into my bathing room. She left the door open, and I followed, curious what she was searching for. But it was only a comb, which she found waiting on a vanity next to the pile of hairpins I’d shed as soon as Kye had left. Motioning for me to sit, she began working through the tangles of my hair.
A mirror hung in front of me, wrought in gold filigree. I don’t know why, but I avoided looking in it.
“Naiad children bred from two Naiad parents are born with a tail, the power to transition to human already within them,” Selena started. “Historically, they are born into colonies—family pods, Siliqua Domus. Their power is already rooted within their bloodline, strong when the bonds of their existing family are strong.”
She paused to work out a knot, and I gritted my teeth at the pull of her fingers. “But Naiads who mate with humans will only have human-born offspring. They must wait for the door for transition to open during puberty: for females, the arrival of their first period. Human-born Naiads often lack the luxury of a family pod. Their power is individual, based on their ties to the land. They buildbonds rather than inherit them. Nature always seeks a balance. You were at a disadvantage, born without a Domus, so nature has supplied you with a higher level of power than that of a colony Naiad your own age.”
Her words slowed, and I knew she was waiting for confirmation I understood. I listened to the sounds of my hair being combed, lost in thought.
Born without aDomus.
“You could have taken a mate after transition and began your own colony,” she continued, “much like a young queen bee begins her own hive. But you signed your loyalty to Thaan in your blood. You”re a part of his colony now. He is the monarch.” Selena twisted my hair onto my crown, leaving a curly tendril to drape from behind my ear and over my shoulder.
I shook my head, but the surreal thought of Thaan as my King overwhelmed the rest of my cognition. A small flash burned low in my belly, but I tamed it away.
“Naiads are lunar creatures, as you may know,” she continued softly, unaware of my struggle. “We are charged by the moon’s light and energy. The longer you wait to transition, the more blood cycles you pass, the more lunar energy you absorb, and the more powerful you’ll be when you do change. But at some point, around six years after your initial step toward womanhood, puberty ends. The door closes. If you knew your exact birthday, and how many full moons you spent outdoors gathering energy, we’d be able to determine it with a bit more certainty.”
“I’ve spent every full moon outside.”
She paused. “You have?”
“Yes,” I answered, surprised at Selena’s incredulity. “Mihauna, the full moon, brings abundance to Leihani. The best crops are tended under the full moon. I”ve stayed up all night to work in my garden every full moon since I was a child.”
Selena watched me with an expression of pleasant surprise. “Did Nori and Olinne instruct you to work under the full moon?”
“No. But they knew I did.”
Her mouth twitched. “You must have great lunar energy. We’ll know more about your capabilities when you transition. And it really can”t wait. The next full moon is tonight. It will provide for an optimal transition.”
My eyes narrowed. “It wasn”t a full moon when Nori and Olinne tried before.”
Selena frowned. “That”s odd.”
“It was almost a week ago,” I remembered, the picture of it clear in my head, a silver curve in the dark sky.
Selena’s frown deepened. “Were they desperate? Had something just happened?”
“N—no?” I said, unsure. The only thing that had changed was the appearance of Kye. But he’d been there almost three weeks by then.
Selena’s eyes drifted across the walls of the room, her gaze losing focus. “They started your transition during a waxing moon and didn”t finish,” she murmured to herself. “They can”t have planned it that way. The strongest lunar energy is during a full moon. Something happened to make them think they were running out of time and needed to act. But they didn’t finish? They must have been interrupted. Perhaps something scared them off? Unless they tried it out of desperation and it didn’t take, the moon wasn’t full enough, and the whole thing backfired. They should’ve never started if they weren’t able to finish.” Wandering back into the main suite, she suddenly turned and faced me. “Did they explain to you what they were doing?”
“No,” I breathed.
Something scared them off. The keel of Kye’s rowboat from below the water slid across my memory, followed by a burst of violent bubbles, his hands and face careening through the water. But they’d tried to attack him. Hadn’t they? I was sure they’d at least started to before dashing away, abandoning me in the water.
Selena sighed. “I’ll have to spend some time thinking about it. Fools. I imagine she wasn’t happy with them.”
I gazed up at her, the memory hanging in the air. “She?”
Selena clicked her tongue. “Sidra. Their Videre. The Naiad monarch of the Juile Sea. It doesn’t matter. We need to finish your transition. You’re stuck in the middle, with only half of your abilities. The most important one, the ability to change, is out of reach. But we can’t do it here.” She looked out the window beyond the red cliffs toward the sea, dull gray and never-ending.
“Why not? Where else?”
“Naiad laws aren’t like human laws, written in stone or paper, argued in courtrooms, disciplined in lashings. Our laws are built into our bodies, inscribed in our bones and blood. If we break our laws—our vows, our promises— our bodies answer. Your blood will always keep the score, Maren. Sidra controls the waters of the Juile Sea, everything south of this coastline, including the island of Leihani. She knows your blood. She’ll know if you enter her realm.”
“So, we travel,” I guessed, trying to follow.
“We travel up the west coast, to the Venus Sea. We could go east to the Anatola. Water covers Calder on three sides, so we have options. Though the Venus Sea would make the most sense. It’s closer, and we are on better terms with the Naiads there.”
I nodded, even though I had no experience to do anything other than blindly agree. The Naiads there. Another Naiadic colony.
I couldn’t detach Kye’s face from my thoughts, the feeling of his hands underwater, patting against my shoulders, making sure I was alive. A shudder laced through my spine.
Men are traitors. All of them.
“What would happen if we did use the Juile Sea?” I asked, shutting my eyes against Kye’s touch. Pushing him away.
“She’d know where to find you,” Selena said, pointing to my new leather boots in silent instruction. “Sidra discovered you as a child. She knew what you were the moment you set foot in her waters. Nori and Olinne have been grooming you for a very long time. For all intents and purposes, you were meant to join their colony. They likely thought they had all the time in the world to mold you however they wanted. They probably know your birth date, and the day you began your first period, and precisely when the door to transition will close, and were edging up as close as they could to that date, waiting as you collected lunar energy each month.” She softened a bit, her eyes apologetic. “It was only by a stroke of luck we found you.”
I didn’t answer.
It didn’t feel lucky.
I’d simply vacated one jail cell and occupied another. A cargo hold, a palace tower, an arranged marriage with someone I hated.
If Kye had never come to Leihani, I’d still be there. I might even have transitioned to a Naiad by now. Joined Nori and Olinne’s Naiad colony, found a family pod. Would they have told me eventually that they’d killed the sailors I’d been blamed for? Would the leader of the Juile Sea have forced me to make promises in blood?
Was she like Thaan?
“You’re very different from him,” I said slowly, avoiding Selena’s eyes.
Selena nodded slightly, knowing who I referred to. Her mouth opened as she began to say something but decided against it. “Yes,” she murmured instead, hand on the doorknob.
Of course, if Kye had never come to Leihani, I might be dead. If not by my uncle, then by the rest of the island.
I forced out an exhale. “What happens when a Naiad breaks a blood promise?”
“To break a blood vow would violate the promise made by your body,” she said. “Naiads don’t lie. Not on our blood.”
“So, I’d just die?”
“Yes.” She paused, holding the door open with one hand. “I’ll be back this evening. We’ll go together to the Venus Sea. Get some sleep between breakfast and your appointment with the tailor if you can.”
Selena started to leave, but then she paused and turned to smile softly at me. “I hope you’re feeling well. Naiads weren’t made for ships.”
Then she was gone, leaving me to stare at the door.
I’d expected Selena to be someone like Thaan, or even Nori or Olinne. Someone arrogant, imperious, cryptic. Instead, I almost liked her.
At the very least, the Naiad put me at ease. There was something lulling in the richness of her voice, the focus in her gaze, the patience and respect in her explanations. Like I was an equal, someone whose thoughts and emotions carried valuable weight.
The feeling sent a ripple of doubt into my chest.
I might’ve liked Selena, but I refused to blindly believe in her. I’d been taken from my home, held against my will, and forced into an agreement that, according to my contract, could kill me.
Selena might help me transition. She might set appointments for me, might buy me a closet full of gowns and shoes. But she was still one of Thaan’s Naiads.
They could dress it up however they wanted—it didn’t change that I was a pawn in their game. Kind as Selena seemed, she was still complicit in a plot that held me captive.
I wouldn’t be bought or won over with gifts. I didn’t trust any of them.