by Frost Kay
Stop being foolish.
She dropped her gaze back to the sheets and reached for the last one. Her chance of having a child was a hundred to one.
Plus, a child meant marriage…and marriage just wasn’t possible. A husband held too much control over what his wife could and couldn’t do. She’d worked too hard to become a High Healer to give that up. Sure, she could try to get pregnant, but… Mira winced. People were cruel to bastard children. She’d learned that growing up and wouldn’t wish that on any child. Even with Jacob adopting her and his protection, the ridicule, gossip, and bullying were horrid.
Mira gathered up the folded linens and walked toward the apothecary room.
“Mira! What about the dragon story?” Isa asked.
She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at the child. The little one never forgot anything. Her mind was sharp. “Give me a moment to put these away and then I’ll be back.”
Isa vaulted off the cot, jostling Gav as she bolted toward the apothecary door. She pushed it open and stood in front of Mira. “I can help!”
“Thank you,” Mira murmured as Isa trailed behind her, knowing exactly why the girl was following her.
Jacob turned to them and smiled. “Isa, my dear, you’ve come to see me! I have something for you.”
Isa squealed and bounded to Mira’s papa, hugging his legs. “What is it?”
Mira rolled her eyes and chuckled as her father knelt. He held out a spoonful of honey. “For my sweetest little bee.”
The little girl took the spoon, bussed his weathered cheek, and sprinted from the room, already shouting at Gav about her new treat, the door swinging behind her.
“That one is busy, busy,” Jacob commented, shaking his head. “I bet she runs poor Marq into the ground.”
Now that did make Mira smile, for she had caught Isa dressing up the king not three days ago. He hadn’t seemed like he’d minded in the least bit, though.
“If anything,” she said, “he’s the one tiring her out.”
“True. The man loves his grandbabies.”
Her smile faded a touch as she caught a glimpse of longing in her father’s face at the mention of grandbabies. Mira was his only child, but she didn’t hold a drop of his blood. Did he mourn the fact that his family’s name wouldn’t continue?
“I can hear you thinking from here,” he said, his expression soft. “This is enough for me.”
“Am I that transparent?” she asked, stowing the sheets on the shelf above her head.
“Only to me. You’re my daughter, and we’ve worked together a long time.”
She leaned a shoulder against the wall and crossed her arms. “Do you wish I had chosen a different path?”
“Absolutely not,” he replied, shuffling to his chair near the small hearth. “My only wish is for you to be happy. Are you happy?”
She was. Sort of. But what person got everything they wanted? That wasn’t realistic. Her gaze moved toward the door Isa had disappeared through.
No. There would be no children for her. She’d just have to be content with being an auntie to all of her friends’ precious babes.
Chapter 2
Mer
“That’s the last of it,” Sin said.
Mer nodded, tucking the dried seaweed into her jacket. It would save many lives. “You have my thanks.” She pulled the leather pouch full of gold from her belt and held it out to him.
Sin shook his head. “I won’t take payment for something that is my duty.”
Mer stepped closer, took his hand in her own, and placed the pouch in his large palm. “You never know when you’ll need it.”
The tall Sirenidae studied her. “How are you holding up?”
She closed his fingers around the gold and stepped away. “I’m fine.”
“Lies,” he murmured as he tucked the gold into the back of his ill-fitting leather breeches. “It doesn’t look like you’re taking care of yourself.”
She glanced around the dock and at the nearby brothels. There were quite a few people about, but no one was paying them any attention. The sailors and merchants were either too drunk or otherwise occupied. Mer turned her attention back to her former brother-in-law.
“I’m doing the best I can.”
He shuffled on his bare feet and pushed long, silvery dreads out of his square face, a face that was so similar to Ream’s it hurt Mer to look at Sin for too long.
“I don’t understand why your grandfather postponed the judgement again,” he muttered.
Mer gritted her teeth. She’d hurt the king’s pride and his heart. He couldn’t let her disobedience go unpunished, and coupled with Ream’s betrayal… There was a price to be paid.
“It wasn’t right of you to protect us,” Sin said quietly. “We should be standing beside you. It’s cowardly to stay silent and let you take the brunt of what occurred.”
“I took the lead in disobeying him. I shoulder the blame alone.” She tipped her chin up. “The goal was to help our allies, not tear our kingdom apart.”
“We would rally for you.”
Her breath caught. “But you will not do such a thing.” It was a command more than a statement.
“No, we will not,” he replied. “No one wants civil war. We’re already too divided as it is.”
“And that is why you need to keep silent,” Mer reminded him. “My grandfather will not listen to me. I disobeyed him, but I didn’t betray him to our enemies. There are those among the Sirenidae who are not loyal. I need you where you are so we can discover who was working with the Scythians.”
Sin nodded curtly and glanced at the black waves lapping gently against the dock. “Or who still is.”
Mer had nightmares about the bloodthirsty monsters of Scythia. While Aermia and Scythia had signed a treaty, and Blaise was now in control of the throne, the kingdom was one strike away from disaster. Far too many of the Warlord’s men still held positions among the court.
“You know we still love you, right?” Sin asked.
“What?”
Sin cocked his head. “Just because Ream is gone, doesn’t mean that you’re not family. You are still my sister.”
He held his arms out, and Mer didn’t hesitate before walking into them. Sin hugged her tightly, and she blinked back tears as she inhaled his familiar scent of salt and sand. He smelled like home.
“You need to eat more. My brother would be beside himself if he saw the state of you.”
Her tears did fall this time, stinging her cheeks. No one spoke of Ream, like his betrayal negated his entire life. “I miss him,” she whispered brokenly.
“I do too,” Sin replied.
“Do you know what the worst part is? If he’d survived, I don’t know that I could have lived with the knowledge that he’d helped the Scythians hurt our people. But, despite that, I still mourn the future we’d planned.” Mer pulled away and wiped at her face, hating the tears that caused her cheeks to itch. “I wanted a family, and all of that is gone now.” She inhaled roughly. “Am I selfish?”
“Let yourself mourn. It’s natural.” Sin cupped her cheek, his long fingers tangling with her hair. “Your future is not gone. Changed, but not gone. You can still have a family.”
Mer hiccupped and gave a watery laugh. “I am a traitor. No good Sirenidae man would have me, and, even if he did, my actions would always bring shame upon our family and our children. I couldn’t bear it.”
“You are not alone. You will get through this.”
She nodded and pulled his hand away, giving it one squeeze before using her shirt’s sleeve to scrub her face. “I’m sorry for the self-pity.”
“You never have to be sorry for your grief. You’ve suffered much, and your trials are not yet finished.”
That sobered her. “Have you heard anything about my judgement?”
Sin frowned and crossed his arms. “Nothing.”
“It’s been postponed twice.” She stared out at the darkened outline of the nearest ship bobbing in
the bay, a sliver of moonlight gleaming off the waves. “What is he waiting for?”
“You’re a favorite of your grandfather’s. I’m not sure he knows what to do with you.”
“He has a vindictive streak. Make no mistake, he isn’t delaying because he’s unsure, he’s delaying because he wants it to hurt me as much as I hurt him.” She snorted. “And because he knows how much I hate waiting.”
“Patience is not your virtue,” Sin agreed, a twinkle in his pale magenta eyes.
“Ha ha,” she huffed.
Her brother-in-law gave her a half smile, before glancing over his shoulder back at the sea. “I need to return before someone notices my absence.”
“Be safe,” she said, swallowing the lump in her throat.
“You as well. I’ll see you next week.”
Mer nodded and spun on her heel, refusing to say goodbye or watch him leave. She’d already said goodbye too many times to people she loved.
Her gaze landed on her aunt’s old but well-kept vessel Sirenidae, skipping over the shouting merchants nearby. The ship had been painted pale green, contrasting the dark wood of its hull and deck. It had a few more scars than it did before, but the ship was still majestic.
Mer ignored the sailor’s bawdy stories as she strode down the dock, gripping the rope rails. Then she quietly moved across the ramp, with the ocean rolling gently below. When her feet met the deck, Mer peered around curiously. The ship was clean—its wooden deck was well oiled, practically gleaming in the soft lantern light. Large white sails billowed in the breeze, a stark contrast to the black night sky dotted with stars.
She hovered on the edge of the lantern’s light. All seemed right, but it was too quiet.
“You’re right to be leery, ma fille,” a smoky voice called softly from the stern.
Mer sighed. Nothing got past Lilja.
“Lurking in the dark?” Mer called, moving toward the stern. She jogged up the stairs and arched an eyebrow at her aunt, who leaned casually against the far railing, a pipe dangling between her fingers. “What is that?”
Her aunt smiled. “I won it in a card game. I’m deciding if I want to keep it or toss it into the waves below for a wee one to find.”
“Toss it,” Mer said, slinging her left hip against the staircase handrail. “Discovering treasure is exciting."
Lilja tossed the pipe over her shoulder and into the sea. She brushed her palms against her leather trousers and sauntered forward. Mer kept her expression blank, even as she began to sweat. Her aunt was up to something. Lilja paused at the top step and studied Mer.
“Are you going to tell me what you’ve been up to, or do you plan to lie to me some more?” her aunt asked softly.
Mer pursed her lips. The best strategy was to keep silent. She’d learned from a young age that Lilja could even coax secrets from the stones.
“You know I love you, right?” Lilja said.
That was not what she expected to hear. “I love you, too.”
“Do you trust me?”
“I do,” Mer said slowly.
“Then listen to me closely. You are in over your head.”
Her hackles rose. “Excuse me?”
Lilja stared down at her, her expression grave. “I’m not ignorant of the herbs you’re distributing, nor am I unaware of your association with the Spymaster of Aermia. I am worried for you.”
“I can handle it.”
“You are beyond capable, but if your actions are reported to the Sirenidae king, you will not come back from this. He is a bitter, old man with too much pride and time on his hands.”
“Do you expect me to do nothing?” Mer replied calmly.
“No, but I don’t want you to be banished from your home permanently.”
“You’ve done just fine.”
“I’ve carved out a life for myself, but it has been excruciatingly painful. I would not wish the tragedies I’ve suffered upon anyone.” Lilja arched a brow. “Why didn’t you come to me? I would have helped you.”
“When exactly? Between the times Hayjen’s not dragging you somewhere private?” Mer’s stomach lurched, and she glanced away from her aunt’s piercing gaze that always seemed to see too much. She was truly thankful that her aunt had survived the Warlord, but it was excruciating to be around Lilja and Hayjen when they were so wrapped up in each other. Every look that passed between them was like a dagger to Mer’s heart, reminding her of what she’d lost.
“I’m so sorry about Ream.”
“Are you?” Mer asked woodenly. “He was a traitor.”
“You loved him, and you’re hurting. Your pain is my pain,” Lilja said, placing a hand on Mer’s shoulder.
She shook Lilja’s hand off and turned her back on her aunt, descending the stairs. “You have no idea of the kind of pain I’m dealing with. Every time I think of him—” Her breath caught. “Every time, it’s as if I can’t breathe. When I close my eyes, I relive him dying in my arms, begging for me to rescue his daughter, pleading for forgiveness. His choices led to the deaths of innocents. Ream isn’t here to atone, but I am. I have to set things right.”
“You are not to blame for his actions.”
“Am I not?” Mer bowed her head. “Because of my inattention, the enemy got to him. I could have protected him from that. I won’t fail to protect others. I don’t care if it gets me banned from the sea. I will never stop fighting those demons.”
“It won’t bring him back. It will eat at your soul,” Lilja said.
Mer laughed sharply. “What soul? Mine died in the Thalassan Sea with Ream.”
Chapter 3
Gav
Gav’s eyes snapped open, and he gasped for breath. Shudders ran through his body as he shook off his lingering nightmare. His hand went to his leg as pain ran from the back of his knee to his heel. What he wouldn’t give for a night of undisturbed rest!
Isa huffed on his right side and muttered something unintelligible in her sleep.
Calm down. Breathe through the pain. Don’t wake her up.
Counting down from fifty inside his head did the trick. He exhaled slowly and turned his head to stare at his daughter. In the faint light of the dying fire, her hair still glowed a fiery red. His lips lifted in a small smile. Even in sleep, she never stopped moving. Her limbs tangled with the blankets, and her hair was matted around her head. How had it come out of its braid? He thought he’d secured it better than the night before.
Isa mumbled something else and tossed an arm in his direction, her little hand landing on his shoulder. He reached across his chest and brushed his thumb over her knuckles. Such a precious little girl. She was the one light in his life.
Since he’d arrived at the palace, she hadn’t left his side. She’d flat-out refused to sleep in her own bed and chosen to sleep in a cot in the infirmary with him. Not only that, but she’d pushed it next to his so she could try to keep his nightmares away. He grimaced as he stretched farther to pull the curls away from her mouth and nose that were dangerously close to being sucked inside. Isa sighed and then flopped the other way, her little foot kicking out of her covers. Gav watched her for a moment before turning his face to the left, toward the fire. His attention snagged on the person sleeping in the rocking chair.
Mira.
The blasted woman had fallen asleep in the bloody chair again. His jaw clenched, and he glared at her. She was going to run herself into the ground if she didn’t get some proper rest soon. Even in the dim light, he could see the dark bags beneath her eyes. What good was a healer to anyone if she didn’t care for herself? He hated seeing his friend in such a bad state.
His bladder made itself known, and he stifled a groan. Time to get up.
With care, he sat up and swung each leg over the side of the cot. His gaze dropped to the piss pot next to his left foot, and he scowled.
Mira clearly thought he was a complete invalid. Incapable of even relieving himself.
He wasn’t about to unbutton his pants and pee in a room with
two sleeping females. He could damn well shuffle over to the privy at the back of the infirmary. It wasn’t that far.
Gav picked up the smooth cane from beneath his cot and got to his feet. Pain shot down his leg as he put weight on it, and he managed to stifle his gasp and not crash to his knees. He inhaled slowly and tested his bad leg before edging around his bed and hobbling his way to the bathing room.
By the time he was finished in the privy, sweat ran down his spine and his body shook.
Closing the door quietly behind him, he spun around. He counted his paces as he moved across the large room. His leg twinged, and he stumbled, catching his cane on the nearest cot.
“Damn it,” he growled, trying to right himself, his gaze pinned to his feet.
Warm hands clutched his hips, and he grunted, stumbling again. He only had a second to register Mira’s startled blue eyes before they both crashed to the ground. Agony pulsed through him, and he could hardly catch his breath as dots flashed across his vision.
“Ah, hell,” Mira groaned.
Gav blinked, breathing hard as the world came back into focus.
“So heavy,” she grunted.
He blinked again and lifted his head, coming nose to nose with Mira. Three things simultaneously slammed into him. First, he’d somehow managed to protect her head during the fall. The back of her skull was cradled in his palm. Second, he was on top of her, all her curves pressed intimately against him. And third… Embarrassment heated his face. It seemed that being celibate all those years didn’t make certain desires go away.
“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to scramble away. He grunted as he put his weight on his bad leg and slipped.
“Omph,” Mira huffed, her hands clutching at his shoulders. “Stop wiggling and let me do it.”
“If you just give me a moment,” he hissed, trying to untangle the fingers of his right hand from her hair while attempting to keep his lower half from pressing against her. “Your hair is caught.”