Chapter 49:

  The days of waiting proved to pass far quicker than Nereida anticipated. There had been very little issue, the crew was gd that there was “shore leave” coming, even if just for a day. A skeleton crew was remaining behind, those that did not trust the sirens enough to leave the ship unguarded. Spirits were high, and the retionships between the sirens and the crew were steadily improving, with very little drama.

  There was, of course, always some drama to be had aboard a ship. Currently, Ael and Epelda were not speaking, after the Admiral had forbidden Epelda from remaining behind on nd after the blessing. The girl had been furious, signing so quickly that even the Admiral struggled to keep up with her.

  “I’m 17 years old, I’m not a child any more!” Epelda stomped her foot as she signed.

  “As long as you are on my ship, you obey my rules!” Ael shouted, the least “Admiral” thing she could have done. Nereida closed her eyes and bit back a sigh. This was going to be a nightmare to de-escate.

  “ARGH!” Epelda yelled. She looked pained after making noise, but she did not let that stop her temper. Nereida watched her daughter stomp below, the crew getting out of the girl’s way with the kind of self preservation they usually reserved for their Admiral.

  That had been a full day ago, and Epelda was still refusing to acknowledge Ael unless there was a direct crew order being given. All she had signed seemed to boil down to “yes, Admiral,” or “no Admiral”. It seemed that they were going to be at each other’s throats even when they set out to shore. It was Basiano, of all people, who managed to de-escate the situation. He took the angry adolescent to the deck, spoke to her at length about watching his sister run from her family, how it broke him and their brothers to know they weren’t enough, about their father’s angry words, their mother’s sorrow.

  “She comes from a pce of worry,” he added. “You know there is a cost to engage in lovemaking.”

  “Cost?” she signed. He smiled at her grimly, and mimicked rocking a baby. She flushed. “One time?”

  “One time is enough. My brother’s spouse, they were a political thing, and had decided not to be with each other that way after their first night. No true love between them, though they share a mutual fondness. Their child is six now.”

  “Fine,” she signed, her ire melting to mere frustration. “I won’t stay.”

  “If you do,” Basiano added, winking at Nereida who watched nearby, “both your mothers will be there for you if things go sideways. You can count on it. Just think, Nereida holding your hand, whispering soothing things to you and the Admiral standing there, catching your child as you push them out. What a wonderful family moment that would be.” Epelda looked positively horrified by that mental image. She started and stopped several signs before she settled on a thing to say.

  “Thanks, sir. Gotta go!” And she fled. Nereida ughed softly, watching the red-faced adolescent flee.

  “Was that st bit strictly necessary, Bassi?”

  “Completely,” he replied, deadpan. “Though I trust I don’t need to give you such a talk.” She snickered.

  “Oh yes, brother, try to embarrass me by bringing up the potential outcomes of spending quality time with my love. How would I live without your mockery?” He gently punched her shoulder.

  “Go turn your sharp tongue on your beloved,” he urged.

  “Oh, I will.” She winked at him and left.

  The morning finally came, and Ael, Basiano, Nereida, her sons and Epelda were among the first to get to shore. Basiano’s usual bluster was gone as he held onto their little rowboat, his knuckles white. Nereida tried to assuage his fear but he was not hearing her. The only thing that seemed to reach him at all was his own fear of drowning. His fear was paralyzing, and so Epelda helped her mother row. Once they reached the sandy shore, Basiano lept from the boat. Nereida was almost surprised that he did not kiss the dry sand.

  The sprawling beach was filled with people. There were seven fire pits set up; six smaller cooking fires and one that would be a massive bonfire once it was lit. The morning light was still pale, the sunrise dispelling the mist that sat heavy on the ocean. There were many sirens about, most of them with skin of blue like Nereida, though a few younger ones were paler. They were all dressed differently, but most of them had form-fitting clothing on. A pack of siren children ran by, chasing a ball down the beach. Most of the children wore no clothing. Alejo looked up at her with wide, pleading eyes.

  “Yes,” she replied to the unasked question. “But stay on nd, on the beach specifically, and keep your brother with you.” They both shouted with joy and ran after the pack of children.

  “Is that safe?” Epelda asked tentatively, her signing slower, and her face twisted with worry.

  “We are among friends here,” Nereida answered. “And the boys can swim long enough for help to arrive.” She smiled softly, watching her boys making friends. Alejo and Egaz had taken their shirts off to look like the others. Alejo’s skin was a darker tan than Egaz’s, but Nereida feared they would both be sunburned by day’s end.

  The adults wandered the beach, being greeted by many new faces. They were offered roasted fish, roasted fruit, wines. Nereida wanted to try it all. For though she considered the Lagrians to be her people, she had always wanted to know what the water-folk traditions were. What foods they ate, the clothing they wore, because she wanted it to be real. The first fish she tried was coated in something spicy, and she loved it immediately. Ael choked on it and had to down an entire cup of wine to stop her painful coughing sputters. Epelda, seeing the Admiral’s face, nibbled only on a small piece and had a simir, if less violent, reaction to the spice.

  “Too much,” she signed.

  “Oh you are going to hate food at court,” Nereida whispered to her daughter. Epelda ughed nervously, growing uneasy when she saw how much Basiano liked the spicy fish as well.

  “I guess I’ll get used to it?”

  “You will,” Nereida replied with a smile. “Come on, let's find some fruit to eat.”

  They wandered about, trying new foods. There were games as well, such as several different variations on ball tossing, games of strength and a spear throwing area, the st of which the children were not allowed to approach. There were ring-tossing games, the rings made of carved bones. There was a tournament sign up as well, with swords of wood. Ael brightened seeing the tournament. Nereida encouraged her to enter.

  “You should too,” Ael said with a smile. “You are no slouch.”

  “I fought dirty, if you recall. Not the image I want in a tournament.” Nereida wrapped her hand around Ael’s elbow. Mine. Ael flushed at the touch, at the meaning. “Besides… I’d be a distraction. Likely on purpose.” She gave her love a teasing smile. Ael looked back at her with something shining in her eyes that Nereida could not quite pce. Adoration, but something more.

  “Witch,” Ael sighed fondly. She kissed Nereida’s head.

  Ael signed up for the tournament, which was to happen at noon beneath the highest sun. Nereida left her lover and brother to speak to the council when she was summoned. There were twelve of them, ranging in age from te twenties to a man who had to be approaching his eightieth birthday. There were people of all genders, all of them with crowns of pink stone and very long hair with shells and beads worked in.

  “Council,” she greeted with a slight bow.

  “Princess Nereida,” one of them stepped forward. They were dressed in a tight fitting robe different from any of the others. “I am the Speaker. You are welcomed home, lost one.”

  “Thank you,” her voice cracked on the words, as a torrent of emotions swept over her. “How can I assist the council?”

  “Your brother cims he would take all like you, the unfortunate Dolphins. We wish to hear your story, to know if his offer comes from a pce of kindness, or if he seeks weapons of war.” She felt anger stir at the very idea that her brother would do such a thing, but she knew they were wise to ask. She took a breath to calm herself, but before she could answer, the Speaker continued. “We ask that you submit to a song of truth, by our Enchanter. You will not be able to speak any word that is untrue to you.” Nereida swallowed her fear. For the children she had never met, for the children like her, she had to do this. She had to do this for her boys. And for her brother.

  “I will submit to the song,” she said, her voice clear. She called on all her oration lessons as a child, on her father’s endless drills about poise under pressure. The Enchanter began to sing, and she breathed the song in, did not fight it, felt her body awash in magic that wasn’t hers.

  “Only truth will pass these lips,” she heard herself say. They were not her words, which was worrisome, but she pushed the worry down. For her brother.

  And Nereida spoke on her family, on a family she missed and loved, even her father who feared her. How her mother doted on her from the day she was first held. How her father feared she would have children, because he did not know what she really was, that he thought her some aberration, because everyone believed the sirens were mad. That she had only learned what she was when she worked aboard a sylph ship, that they treated her well, but that she never showed her true face to them. That she had lived under a gmour for decades, to the point that she did not recognize her true reflection when she caught it in the mirror.

  “But you have not worn the gmour once within our borders,” one of the Council members said. She turned toward them.

  “Because Ael saw me as I was and accepted me.” She smiled fondly at the memory, heat creeping into her cheeks. “And she told me that I did not have to reduce myself for others. That the crew had to accept me as I am, or they could leave.” She closed her eyes. “She’s the first to ever tell me that.” Tears leaked from her eyes and she let them. This was not a fight she could win, against the truth that crashed into her like waves. “Bassi always told me to be myself whenever it was safe. But even he told me to hide my face from the outside.”

  “Do you feel he didn’t trust you?”

  “Never,” she replied, the word wrenched out of her by the song. “It was the world he didn’t trust. Our father. The nobles.”

  “Would those same nobles take our Dolphins?” another voice, but she could not tell who was speaking. The magic of the song was intoxicating, and the world had faded to the sound of the waves crashing on the shore, and the song, and, very occasionally, the words spoken to her.

  “They would, though not all of them. Bassi would, my other brothers would, and once there was a siren in line for the throne…. The nobles would trip over themselves to take the next siren. Power is what matters, not blood. Power and loyalty. And no one is more loyal to a parent than their child.” The words kept coming, as did the tears. She wanted, so badly, to believe that people would just take the children because they couldn’t stand to see a baby without a home. She expressed the desire to see only the good as she wept, and they nodded at her words.

  “You have had a hard life, despite your privileged childhood,” a voice said. “We are gd to see you wish for good hearts, that you can see the truth of the world, though we hope there is bance. Why would your brother take the children?”

  “Because he can’t stand to see innocent children suffering. Because he sees me, and knows that I was spared a terrible fate. He sees me in those children. He was sick to his stomach when I told him. He thought my abandonment was an accident, or a tragedy. Not that it was genocide.” The Councillors prickled at her words, murmuring quietly among themselves. They did not like her perception of them. They could choke on their disappointment. She stood taller. She was who she was.

  The song faded, and she felt the magic drip from her. Colours seemed brighter now that she was not caught in the torrent of power. The Speaker cleared his throat.

  “Thank you, Princess.” He sounded chastised. Good. Did they expect her to like that they let their air-breathing children drown? “Have you any questions for us?”

  “Will you be making a treaty with my brother?” They looked at each other, no one speaking, but some of them shifting in discomfort.

  “We will let you know when a decision has been reached.” The Speaker gave the non-answer in a measured, even tone. Nereida nodded, understanding that they would have to speak about it without her there.

  “Please do. I will be here until dawn.” More shuffling, as if that was worrisome to some of them. Or perhaps it was excitement.

  “With this “Ael”?” She bit back a sigh, and instead painted a bright smile on her face.

  “Who else?”

  “Is that the Admiral?” yet another asked.

  “Yes.” She considered saying more, taking them to task for being interested in her now that she was grown, a princess, and not protecting her when she was an infant, but she knew it would be a pointless argument, that it might hurt her brother’s chance of doing real good. “Thank you for your time.” The Speaker held up his hand, and she froze.

  “If you wish, the Enchanter has offered to see what your bloodline is, if you are Hunter, Enchanter, Storyteller, or perhaps a Ruler. We could, if you wish, find your family.” The idea hit hard, and she had to remind herself to breathe. But she knew that finding the family that had birthed her would only bring pain. If they had brought her to nd, they had broken ws that may get them into trouble. And if they had just given her to the dolphins and hoped for the best, she would never see them as anything but monsters. Some things were beyond forgiveness.

  “I have a family,” she said softly. “And though I am grateful to be of the water-folk, I y no cim to any name or family, except the name Dolphin’s Revenge. That I will cim.” Her heart was racing in her body as anger and deep grief warred for her heart.

  “Dolphin’s Revenge… we welcome you. You and your family.” The Speaker bowed their head, and turned away from her. She knew a dismissal when she saw one, and left to trudge her way across the beach to the people who actually loved her.