by A. K. Koonce
And I revel in its recklessness.
Five
Fire and Water
Syren
My throat and lungs burn for air when I return to the surface. Sucking in as much oxygen as I can get, I examine the distance between me and the ship. Fabric floats around me, while other bits that cling to my legs threaten to drag me under.
I could swim for days. All it would take is for me to dive back under these waves and let myself drown. It goes by faster if I take in the painful breaths of the grainy water. After that, it’s smooth sailing once the soft gills that hide under my blue hair, just below my jawbone and under my ears, start to work.
The question is, which way do I go? Closing my eyes, I try to let the sea tell me. The water has a lot of secrets. Most, it will tell me if I listen.
“Have you gone mad?” Bear practically screeches over the distance between us. His voice bounces off of the tall waves.
“Should I throw her the buoy?” Miranda asks, chewing on his thumb nail.
“No.” Bear barks at him. “She’s a water fae. She will be fine. They’re good at swimming. Stupid decision makers, but good at not drowning, so that’s something.” He turns his anger toward me once again. “Get back on this fucking ship right now.” Rage, concern, and outright fear flash quickly over his dark features.
Is my sweet Bear worried for me? Scared the sea urchins might claim me for themselves? Crown me queen of the underwaters and treat me wildly better than his king ever will?
I almost do as I'm told, if only to keep away the eerie feeling that I, too, should be scared. I’m not familiar with these waters, and true mermaids, those not like Agatha, they’re wicked. But Bear isn’t frightened for me, not really. He is frightened for himself.
“Shh. You are ruining my concentration,” I say instead.
It starts as if it’s many voices. A loud chatter inside my head. The sea’s secrets.
Which direction is land?
I ask it again and again. Voices grow louder and louder. Noise piled on top of more chaotic noise. Until one word stands out in an unmistakable chant.
Danger. Danger. Danger.
I blink, glancing around me. Calm blue surges of water rise up to small points before fading back into the sea in small waves. Nothing looks out of the ordinary.
“Syren. Get your ass back to this ship. NOW!”
Bear’s warning is drowned out as water rushes over my face. Slick and sticky arms slide around my waist, dragging me under. I let out a startled scream, bubbles rising to the surface as I will the water to push me back up.
Another arm ties itself to my leg. Breaking the surface, my arms slap against the water as if I haven’t a clue how to swim. I try to compose myself. Try to remember how my limbs work.
Five long gray tentacles reach above the surface. Purple mouths like circles line them, and sharp teeth gnash inside each of the mouths. Daunting and most certainly dangerous. Above the vast expanse of ocean, the tentacles resemble a cage. A trap made for me.
“Shit.” Bear curses before the loud stomp of his boots against the deck ring out among the sloshing water. With blurry eyes, I try to watch him. Sword still in hand, he takes a running leap over the side of the boat. I expect him to splash into the water. Fire so hot and brilliant scorches the air as two large wings expand from his back.
This doesn’t make sense. Fire fae can bend flames to follow their will, and at most they can summon fire to shoot from their palms. They cannot sprout wings of fire from their backs.
The absurdity of it is all I can see before I’m pulled under, this time with my eyes open and ready. Two glowing red orbs stare back at me. Fangs as long as my forearm jut out of the large creature’s mouth.
With both hands, I send a current of water at the animal, trying to push away as I wiggle in its slimy hold. It falters but doesn’t release me. Water has many strengths, but my power—without exercise and without the training I should have received growing up—are not much use against the monster.
Another tentacle wraps around me, squeezing me so tightly I feel my bones popping in protest. My eyelids droop as my head spins in a terrifying way. What little oxygen I’ve been holding, I release. Then I take a large breath of water.
It never feels any better than the last terrible time. Every time it hurts. But I know when it’s over I’ll breathe just fine. So I suck in deeply and blow out small bubbles, until it’s just the water that’s keeping me alive.
Metal glimmers, sinking lower into the ocean. The sharp reflection of the fire light above the surface catches my attention. I extend my arm out in front of me, letting the water carry it into my grasp.
Bear’s sword, still awkward and long, becomes my real fighting chance as I skillfully slice through the current and slash over and over into the large arm that holds me. A shrill screech vibrates through me, but I don’t let it slow me down.
One tentacle releases me, even though the crushing weight of anxious adrenaline still courses through me.
I stab into the last meaty arm that’s wrapped around my leg. Sticky strings of red blood cling to the sword as I kick out of the monster’s hold. Bursting through the surface of the water, the air hits me, and I gasp for the ocean just like I gasped for oxygen before.
Holding my arms above my head, I dunk back under. Blistering heat meets my fingertips, then smooth and sure hands clasp onto my wrists, dragging me away from the row of violent tentacles reaching out to swallow me whole.
No one’s arms ever felt so safe as these do in this very moment. Perhaps it’s the fact that most of my life wasn’t lived in terrifying peril. Bear pulls me up, and I immediately climb his big body and cling to his chest, careful to wrap my arms around his warm neck and not touch the blazing wings on his back.
Those wings are magnificent. Burning and beautiful.
I’ve heard many things about fire fae, most of which are not very good, but I’ve never heard of any of them flying. Water drips off my fingers over his shoulders and turns to mist with a small hiss as it reaches the lines of flames protruding from his back.
The thin gills on my neck open and close quickly as if they don’t understand the water is so, so far down now. They work hard while the world begins to spin around us. So I focus on how tightly he holds me. How utterly sure I am that he won’t let me fall. Even if it’s only to complete this one task given to him by King Iri.
“Syren, are you hurt?” His voice pitches up an octave as he lands flawlessly back onboard the ship.
He lowers me down his hard chest, but the moment my feet touch, my knees give out and scrape against the deck as water sputters from my lungs. The surging heat of Bear’s power disappears, and he kneels next to me without his alluring wings. Fingers dig into my shoulders as he rolls me into his lap, tilting my face up to him. His gaze searches my face in a way that makes my heart louder in my ears.
He looks quickly away.
"You have wings. Fire wings. You could have just blazed down my island and taken me kicking and screaming.”
Why did he even give me a fighting chance to begin with?
“Destroying islands isn’t normally something I do, sorry.” He huffs that statement out and turns swiftly away. “Miranda, get us out of here before that thing rips the boat to shreds and I’m forced to carry the two of you.” He bellows the command before looking down at me carefully.
“Do you have a death wish, stupid girl?”
And reality settles back in. My idiot heart sinking back into the shadows.
“Sorry if I’m not eager to return to a king who didn’t want me in the first place.”
Bear takes in a long, slow breath before speaking again. “Even kings make mistakes. You were banished to that specific island because if you tried to swim away from it, one of the many creatures between here and any other piece of land would kill you before you could make it. You can’t just jump ship here.”
I shrug and try to smile, overly aware of the position we now sit in a
nd the steady way he holds my head between his hands. “You don’t think that was the tiniest bit of fun?”
His eyes become two small slits glaring down at me.
“No. I did not have fun.” Each word is a cutting dagger from his pursed lips.
“Pity. I sure did. You could take me for another ride with those wings of yours.” I mean for the words to come out playful but my throat still burns, and the suggestion sounds raspy and dirty in a way.
Damp fingers slide from my hairline, gently stroking along the blue gills that lie smooth and unmoving beneath my ears. My hands reach up protectively, brushing over his warm fingers.
“It seems we both have some magic that is greater than just some measly parlor tricks,” he whispers.
Intense, penetrating eyes flick back to mine. My breath hitches in my chest from the fervor of his stare, my core tightening.
And my stupid, stupid heart shuffles back out of the shadows.
Nope. No. Wait an asshole fae minute.
Abruptly, I cough and sit up, away from him.
The sails above are swollen with wind as Miranda steers us quickly away. Fresh air clears my mind as it fills my lungs.
Bear stands, stepping away from me to gather a bundle of rope.
“What are you doing?” I ask as he reaches his arm out, offering his hand. But his grip is hard when he pulls me to my feet.
“Tying you up. Clearly you’re a hazard to yourself.”
Well, shit.
Six
The Fairytale
Syren
Bitter cold air licks my exposed legs. Raw skin from the rubbing of the rope against my wrists and ankles burns as though it has been touched by fire fae magic. Perhaps it has.
No one needs to tell me that my bindings are spellbound. Or that they hold tiny pieces of iron to keep me from bursting out of the normally flimsy ropes. No, I figured that out on my own.
Bear and Miranda work quietly and efficiently in front of me. Together they man the ship, taking me farther and farther away from my beloved island. With each inch we sail closer to the Northern Kingdom, the icier the air feels.
I shiver, fighting the urge to let my teeth chatter. The Northern Kingdom is frigid, much like the fire fae’s icy black hearts. Though I’ve never known it to be this cold. Maybe my mind is foggy.
As a child, I found visiting their kingdom to be an excitement. I remember the rolling hills covered in a thin dusting of snow. Lights hung from crystal buildings, glimmering like the sun. Even when it wasn’t snowing, the kingdom had a way of feeling like it was always moving. Shifting magic made it appear as if glowing diamonds and white gems were falling from the clear sky.
It was breathtaking.
My father would have one of his guards take me to have a taste of every different hot beverage their finest shops had to offer. I remember the steaming cups of maple sin tea, spiced rum punch, and hot chocolate fluff. Often, if I think hard enough, I can taste them again.
Though as I got older, something changed. Fire fae and water-blessed fae found their differences just too . . . different. Kingdoms grew apart. Fae who were once friends found themselves enemies. And the four kingdoms found themselves at war.
When I was twenty, an infamous witch proclaimed that the goddess had shared a prophecy with her. The only way to unite the kingdoms again was for a fire fae and a water fae to marry. Time and time again, our people tried to set aside whatever bicker was between us. However, every time, something ruined the marriage before it was actually completed.
Someone would get sick and pass, an assassin would break through the castle walls and murder one of the lovers-to-be, or the most recent fiasco: King Iri’s fiancé ran away. Straight up disappeared. Suspicious? Yes, I think so.
Three possible marriages, and Iri fucks them all up. Either he really is cursed, or he’s a damn idiot.
Visions of blooming reds, purples, and oranges span across the vast horizon. Small white clouds dot the skyline, making me wish it was a fabric I could turn into a fabulous gown.
I’d do anything to get out of this sopping wet excuse for a dress. To find some warmth, I curl into myself as much as my bindings will let me.
“It’s freezing. How much longer do we have?”
“Well, if you hadn’t flung yourself into the ocean, you might not be so cold right now,” Bear growls, walking closer with a small bag.
With a grunt he lowers himself next to me and opens up the parcel. Dried meat, cheese, and bread roll out.
His dark eyebrows lower as he gives me a pointed look. “If I undo your hands so you can eat, will you try to drown me? Or do something equally ignorant?”
I chew my lip, acting as if I’m deep in thought. “Maybe.”
“I’m not feeding you. I’m not your servant. If you can’t agree, then you won’t eat. It’s still a long way to the Northern Kingdom.”
“I don’t know. The image of you doting on me is quite nice.” I look down at the shirt that covers his very defined chest. “I might even ask you to take your shirt off like a real goddess fantasy.”
“Syren.” His tone is stern against my name. Growly. Breathy. I like it.
Too much.
“Fine, fine. I won’t drown you or do anything else. Blah, Blah, Blah.” I hold my bound hands up. “Now take off the rope. I’m hungry.” My stomach rumbles loudly as if on cue.
In his hand is a small blade he must have pulled from his pocket when I was unashamedly admiring his physique. It sparks golden embers along the magical ropes as he slices through the bindings on my wrists. I frown when he puts it away, leaving the rope on my ankles still intact.
“Just so we are clear, I am nobody's servant. Especially to someone like you.”
Someone like me? He doesn’t even know me.
A burn of fury rises in my chest, but I mask it with taunting words.
“Really, Bear? It looks to me like your running errands for King Iri.” I pluck a roll from his lap, only slightly aware of my fingers skimming his thigh. Trying to appear as delicate and ladylike as possible while eating in front of this damn Neanderthal, I pull a small piece off the roll and toss it casually into my mouth. “Sounds to me like you’re his little bitch,” I add, just to really piss him off.
Bear’s face turns a light shade of pink.
My cheek brushes his course beard as I lean closer to him, making sure it’s just a whisper shared between us. “If you were in my court with this holier-than-thou attitude, I would make you get on your knees, and use that mouth for better entertainment than simply insulting me.”
The pink on his cheeks quickly deepened to a cherry red, his mouth dropping open as his eyes fall to my lap, and then back up to my face. Satisfied with the reaction, I chew the bread with a smile.
I would never force a servant to perform sexual acts on me. I’m not that kind of Princess. Yet, somehow the idea of, pun still intended, ‘poking the bear’ is too thrilling to resist. I’m much too impulsive for my own good sometimes.
“You do not speak like a Princess. Or an engaged Princess, for that matter.” Bear rolls his eyes before bringing his hands up and pulling his dark hair into a low ponytail.
“Well, you see, that’s because I’m not. I was stripped of my title and rejected all at once. I’m—I’m a free woman, actually.”
As I say that, we both glance down at the prisoner-style rope binding my feet together.
Free-ish. I’m a free-ish woman.
Miranda bounds up the steps to the upper deck we’re perched on. Lowering himself and crossing his legs, he opens up his bag of food. “Ah, this feels like a picnic. Romantic, am I right?”
Bear and I exchange a narrowed glance. I don’t think either of us think it feels very picnicky or romancey. I still feel very prisoner like. And cold. I’m very cold.
“So, Syren, how do you feel about marrying King Iri?” Miranda sits holding a small piece of cheese, waiting for my answer.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you understo
od by the way that I’ve fought against everything to not be in this exact position that I do not want nor do I intend to marry that man.” I point a finger at Bear. “Did you understand that?”
Bear grunts.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“He’s called the Crimson King. The goddess of fire has blessed him more than any other.” Miranda points out.
“They also call him the Cursed King,” I argue.
“Ladies say he’s handsome.” Miranda smirks at me. He likes going back and forth with me, I can tell.
I like it, too.
“I saw a portrait of him once. I’m not saying he isn’t handsome. I’m just saying I can go down to the Seven Elven Market in the village and meet ten fae just like him.”
Bear coughs on the meat he is chewing, smacking his chest hard with one hand. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, come one. You lot make him out to be ssooo amazing. I doubt he is anything other than a run-of-the-mill redheaded fire fae man whose lavish life has made him spoiled and is lazy in bed.”
Miranda leans back and cackles with laughter. “This girl is a hoot. A keeper. The king is a lucky man.”
“She told you, you have a girl’s name,” Bear says.
“That’s before I opened her eyes to the reality that names have no gender.” Miranda purses his lips. “I’ve forgiven her, and I’m giving her a second chance.”
“You’re so kind,” Bear whispers.
“I am. You’re right.” Like a proper pirate, Miranda has eyeliner smudged around his eyes. Carefully, he runs his fingers along it to clean it up. Or smear it more.
A gust of wind carries over the ship, rattling the sails and sending the orange-and-yellow flag whipping through the air. An hour passes and shining white stars dot the skies. They emerge one by one in the quickly dimming heavens.
Stretching out my arm, I point to one of the chunks of cheese. “May I?”
Bear looks away. I follow his gaze to Miranda, who plays ignorant and stares down at his lap.