61. Nori
61
Nori
N ori rode the surface of the sea. The wind tugged at the waves, raking foam across the top. It sent her red-wine hair flying, but she ignored it.
She watched an unknown Naiad woman clinging to driftwood as one of the island canoes neared, a young man reaching for her. He pulled her in, and she collapsed at his feet. Turning her over, he brushed her raven hair from her face. Then reached behind him in the canoe and drew his knife.
The foolish Naiad. Why would she come here, to the island of people who hated their kind?
Nori stiffened, waiting for the islander to stab the woman. But he didn’t.
Carefully, he cut the ties of her bodice. The woman gasped loudly, as if she’d been struggling to breathe under the constriction of the garment. Nori stifled a doubtful snort.
He gathered the unknown woman closer, his words soft and reassuring, though Nori couldn’t make them out over the water. The canoe turned toward shore. Nori followed it all the way to the docks, where the islanders beached it and helped the woman on staggering feet.
The villagers came running from the market. They surrounded her, the unknown Naiad, and a few ran ahead to call the healer.
None of them yelled. None of them threatened. None of them attacked.
Eyes wide and disbelieving, Nori sank into the waves to report to her queen.
“She has not touched the water since arriving on the island,” Sidra said. The Queen knew such things. She’d once told Nori she could feel it, the way a rock feels different from a leaf. She sensed each Naiad in her water—and knew the strange young woman hadn’t returned to the waves.
“No,” Olinne confirmed.
“Continue to watch her.”
So, Nori did.
The woman had befriended the man who saved her. Nori could only catch short glimpses of them from the sea. Whoever the Naiad was, she knew Nori was there, keeping an eye on her. She was careful to avoid the beach, never visiting the shore alone, so there was never a chance to speak with her.
She walked through the palms like a phantom, her feet so soft and silent it was impossible to follow. The islanders hailed her from across the market. The island women pulled her into their groups, chatting as they wove their baskets. The men performed for her like birds in mating season, vying for her attention.
None of them seemed to shun her, as the islanders should.
Nori watched as the island man who had pulled the Naiad into his canoe married her on the beach at sunset.
A crown of lobelia flowers sat over her head, her islander husband handsome and young, dressed in his tattooed skin and grass skirts. He grinned at her after they kissed. As if she weighed nothing, he picked her up, stalking towards his little house at the top of the hill.
The island cheered. Nori sank into the depths.
The scent of corda-cruor hung heavy in the air. Fresh, young, vibrant. Like energy.
Like life.
Nori waited in the reeds of the sea.
The woman appeared, for once by herself. She carried a bucket to the water’s edge, only a few feet away, kneeling to fill it. Her eyes flicked to Nori’s, as if expecting to find her there.
“Who are you?” Nori asked without preamble.
The woman gazed back, unafraid. Her long black hair rippled with cool tones in the island sunlight, her blue eyes the brightest Nori had ever seen, like the glass bottles sailors sometimes threw into the sea.
She tapped her throat with her fingertips, her mouth parted gently, eyes patient as she waited for Nori to understand.
“You’re here against a blood oath. You can’t speak,” Nori said.
The woman gave her a solemn nod and stood. “Alana.”
“Alana,” Nori echoed.
The woman stared at Nori, waiting for something. From the top of the hill, the sister of the Naiad’s husband appeared, a hand cradling her inflated belly.
“Wait for me,” the human woman called down the hill at Alana.
Nori shrunk under the waves, receding into the reeds before surfacing further away to watch.
The sister stalked through the palms, stopping before the Naiad, and gasped. Her mouth hung open, and blood drained from her face as if she’d suddenly seen a monster.
But there was no one there but Alana.
The mute Naiad watched the young woman, wide-eyed with surprise. She took a step toward the sister, and the woman spun away. Darting up the hill, she let out a shrill scream, sand flying behind her feet.
Alana watched her go, the unease written on her face fading into determination.
Nori sat hidden in the reeds with Olinne, watching beyond the curve of the cliffs as they melted into the shore. They were hidden here, where the tall rocks blocked any view of the island. It had turned into their secret meeting place, theirs and Alana’s.
Alana wove around the white cliffs. She met their eyes and smiled.
Strapped to her chest was a round bundle, swathed in tapa cloth. Alana cradled the infant child as she turned the baby for them to see. Nori and Olinne squeezed together for a closer look.
The baby’s skin was warm and dewy, a fluffy patch of curls crested the top of her head. Her eyes squinched shut in the sun, but she opened them a moment later, blinking at them. Eyes as dark as obsidian stone, reflecting the sunlight like stars hanging in the night sky.
“She’s beautiful,” Olinne breathed.
“What’s her name?” Nori asked.
Alana mouthed a word, then her face crumpled. She sat abruptly, her forehead cradled in her hand, and fought tears.
“That’s alright, creature,” Olinne said, reaching for her hand.
Alana wiped her cheeks, offering them both a brave if not flimsy smile. She pulled the child in against her chest, beaming down at her with a broken smile, then wriggled the baby back into her straps and stood. Glancing at them, she strolled her index and middle finger like feet through the air.
Nori nodded, leaning into the waves. “Enjoy your walk.”
They watched Alana drift through the rocks along the beach in silence. Olinne made a noise, and Nori glanced at her. Tears carved tracks down her cheeks, and she smiled sadly. Nori took her hand and squeezed.
From around the bend, movement caught their attention.
A sailor rounded the cliffs. He caught a glimpse of Alana before she disappeared from view, winding around the shoreline. He stared after her for a moment, then glanced around the empty beach before trailing her steps.
Nori glanced at Olinne, but the curly-haired Naiad’s tears had already dried, her eyes locked in the man’s movement.
Sinking into the waves, they followed him.
The child learned to walk. She ambled short steps, losing her balance and falling to her clothed bottom with a squeal of laughter. On the shore, Alana watched her daughter, blue eyes dancing. Her hair was beginning to lose its lustrous shine. Her skin had dimmed, porcelain covered in dust. Her blood was slowly killing her, turning toxic in her veins.
Nori sat on her tail on the waves, only a few feet away. “How much time do you have?”
Alana sighed, her gaze on her child. She held up eight fingers.
“Months,” Nori asked hesitantly, “Or days?”
Months . Alana enunciated the movement of her mouth, though her tongue rendered her silent.
“You could leave her with us,” Olinne suggested softly. “Eight months is enough to fulfill your vow. Come back to her, healthy and whole.”
Alana stared at her child as if she hadn’t heard. She blinked, and tears slid down her cheeks.
Nori sighed, sharing a silent look at Olinne. The curly-haired Naiad bit back the weeping curve of her mouth. “We will care for her,” Nori said. “We will love her as if she is ours.”
The little girl gathered sticks and stones along the beach, stacking them just within the ocean’s reach, celebrating with giggles when the tide crept in and pulled her treasures away.
Her mother watched, smiling faintly. Her skin was sallow. Dark shadows rimmed her eyes. She appeared malnourished, her neck and chest a sequence of hollow dips and ridges, her arms atrophied to almost nothing.
Alana met Nori’s eyes. She pointed in the direction of the water, emphasizing a point, her eyes wide. Today , she mouthed.
“Do you need our help?” Nori asked. “Do you want it to look like an accident?”
Alana swallowed, glancing at her child.
“We’ll keep her safe, as long as she remains in Leihani,” Olinne promised. “I swear on my blood.”
Alana’s gaze snapped to hers, surprise in her eyes at the promise.
“I do as well,” Nori said. She thrust a sharp nail into her palm, and Olinne did the same. They took each other’s hands, and the three Naiads watched as a faint glow lit between their palms, the ignition of a vow written in blood.
Alana stood, her hands so tightly balled, her knuckles rang white. She inhaled through her nose, glancing between the two of them, tears running freely down her cheeks. Thank you , she mouthed.
“I’ll return with the Queen,” Olinne said. “She can summon a storm.”
The silver Naiad slipped under the tide. Nori inclined her chin toward the girl, who ran in and out of waves, hands high over her head. “The queen will summon a storm. Only if you wish us to. And not until you’re ready.”
Alana nodded, eyes rimmed with red. I’m ready , her lips soundlessly moved.
Nori let the tide carry her away as Alana approached the girl, catching her as she ran. She lifted her in the air, and they pressed their foreheads together, the child’s sandy hands curling around her mother’s hair.
A hand took Nori’s, and she glanced down at Olinne, hidden just below the surface. Queen Sidra loomed behind her, unable to completely rise out of the sea, but close enough to watch. She lifted a hand and sent the first strong wave crashing up the embankment—just loud enough to command the attention of the islanders on the docks down the shore.
Alana glanced out at the water as she pulled her daughter to her chest, eyes wide. She set off, dashing along the sea-side cliffs, back to the pathway that would lead her up the beach, her legs a blur of motion and water as she ran. Birds took to the skies, flocks rising to the air above her.
She changed direction, turning to climb the cliff instead. Sidra sent another wave, higher than the first. It knocked Alana sideways, though she quickly recovered. The toddler’s terrified screams penetrated their ears underwater. Olinne squeezed Nori’s hand, both unable to look away.
A third wave hit as the islanders crested the hill.
They stopped in their tracks, afraid of coming too close to the wild tide, but Alana’s husband raced forward. His screams split the air as he hurdled over rocks and sagging palm trees to reach his wife.
Alana didn’t see him. She cast one last glance over her shoulder to the sea, raw fear in her eyes. With one hand, she clung to the rock, arching her arm over her head, throwing the child over the lip of the cliff as a tidal wave crashed over her body. A few feet away, her husband skidded to a stop, his mouth contorted in waves of pain and disbelief.
The water fell away, and Alana was gone.