The Teeth in the Tide

by Rebecca F. Kenney

  When the golden-haired captain with his ship full of goods had finally arrived, he became a legend instantly.

  Kestra remembered that day with acute clarity. She had been in the garden, dutifully weeding the beds and dropping salt tears onto the turnip tops—tears for her little cousin, her uncle, and her beloved aunt, her father’s sister.

  When the watch bugle had sounded, smooth and bright, Kestra could hardly believe it. She had run, with everyone in Anchel, to see the miracle ship. The threat of plague had kept the crew aboard ship during most of their stay, so Kestra barely caught a glimpse of the boyish captain; but her mind had linked him with life and hope. The ship’s departure a week later had plunged her into choking darkness. She sank, mired in heavy, viscous sadness that kept sucking her down, down.

  And then her orphaned cousin had moved to the inn. Fifteen-year-old Mai had spent those first months wandering from bedroom to kitchen, sometimes sobbing, sometimes screaming and throwing any object that came to hand. Lumina had been surprisingly patient with her. “We must set aside our own grief,” she’d told Kestra. “Your cousin needs us.”

  So Kestra had learned to silence her own pain, to shut down her anger. To claw her own way out of the dark—or at least to pretend the darkness wasn’t there. She did her chores, ran her errands, and brought trinkets to tempt her cousin until finally, one day, she earned Mai’s first smile since the tragedy.

  Even now, when Mai looked at her with that blend of concern and sadness, it triggered an instinct in Kestra—the urge to make it better, the impulse to hide her own emotions and focus on Mai’s needs.

  “I wish you could find someone to make you happy,” Kestra said.

  “I am happy when I’m working on my projects. Not so much when I have to help Aunt Lumina, or work the salt grinders for Umi.” Mai smiled wryly. “But when I get to study things, and find new ways to use them or new things to record about them—it’s a thrill like nothing else. Like a hollow inside me is filled right to the brim. Definitely not something I could get from a person.”

  “I don’t know,” murmured Kestra, brushing out her hair. “Depends on the person, I suppose.”

  Did Flay give her that kind of satisfaction? Physically, he was more than satisfactory. And they were friends. He cared about her deeply. But there was still so much she didn’t know about him—his other relatives, his childhood, where he went during his voyages. Under that gleeful optimism, that easy charm, who was he?

  Mai settled into her blankets, her mouth already relaxed and her dark lashes lying in half circles against her pale skin. Standing in front of the speckled mirror, Kestra sponged her face, lined her eyes with black paint, and smoothed a little pinking cream on her cheeks. Then she slipped out of the bedroom, inched down the steps, and tiptoed through the kitchen to the bathing room.

  Shadows swathed the wide bathing chamber, and the chill in the air tightened her skin. Two lamps shone warm amber at the far end of one of the baths. At intervals along the paneled walls stood smooth wooden benches, piled with cushions and thick towels. Tall stone urns held lacy palmata branches, and where the lamplight gleamed, their boughs cast sweeping shadows that danced large over the wall.

  At the end of the lighted bath, his arms outspread along the edge, reclined Flay. His head was tilted back, his eyes closed. He looked utterly weary.

  Kestra padded along the edge of the bath and stripped off her nightdress. When she slid into the water beside him, he jumped.

  “Torrent and tide, Blossom—you startled me.”

  “Sorry. Would you rather I let you sleep?”

  “Never.”

  He reached for her, and they slid together, fitting so perfectly that Kestra ached with the beauty of the exquisite connection between them.

  Long moments later, his legs still tangled with hers, Flay kissed her, fervent and deep, and looked into her eyes, a wordless plea. She knew he was asking again—Come with me.

  “Do you love me?” she said, before she could stop herself.

  He drew back, eyebrows lifting. “Do I—”

  “Wait.” She pressed his mouth with her fingers. “Think about it before you answer. I’m not looking for a few careless words to make me happy for a moment. I want the truth of how you feel.”

  He shook himself free, and his smile had a wary edge that she couldn’t help noticing. “After what just happened, I practically worship you.”

  “Stop joking, Flay. Please. Why do you really want me to come with you?”

  “Blossom, I’ve met girls prettier than you. More educated. Wealthier. I’ve even met a few who were more talented in the kitchen.”

  She frowned. “In case you were wondering, this isn’t going well.”

  “Wait. I’m not done.” He cupped Kestra’s bare shoulder with his hand, drawing her closer. “You’re the only one I’ve met who combines so much charm, sweetness, talent, and intelligence in one beautiful body. And you are something beyond all of that, too. It’s as if you’re the sky and I’m the sea, and I can’t help reflecting you, being changed by you. If you ever disappeared from the world I would be colorless, and lifeless. And that, Blossom, is why I can’t leave you here to languish and starve on this gods-forsaken island.” His lips brushed against hers, soft and warm.

  The words burst inside Kestra, a glittering explosion that left her beautifully broken, perfectly shattered. She crushed her lips to his, threading her fingers through his yellow hair, aching to have him always near, always a part of her.

  But love couldn’t resolve his situation, or hers. The life paths that had separated them before would do so again.

  “If I went with you, where would you take me?” she whispered.

  “Maybe to Meroa, or Zertadt. I could set you up with a house and a shop. You could cook and garden. You would be safe. I’d take care of you.”

  It sounded so pleasant, so secure. She could see herself bustling around a tidy cottage, serving soup and pastries in a cozy shop, waiting like a pretty little doll for her handsome captain to come home and take her out of her box—to play with her until he had to go away again.

  Something deep inside Kestra, something wild and reckless, rose up and growled at the image. If she ever did leave her town and her family behind, it wouldn’t be for a lonely life in a strange town, no matter how safe and comfortable Flay tried to make it.

  “I’d rather sail with you,” she said.

  “Impossible.” Flay’s mouth tightened. “It’s a rough life, not suited for a sweet blossom like yourself. My crew would keep their hands off, but I couldn’t guarantee you wouldn’t be mauled and pawed at some of our stops. And ships are filthy, crass places. There’d be no garden, and little to cook with sometimes. Even less to wash with.”

  Kestra smacked her palms onto the edge of the bath and pulled herself out, twisting her long black hair so the water squelched out and splashed onto the tiles. Flay watched her, his eyes hungry again. She snatched a towel and wrapped it around herself.

  “I don’t want a safe life, tucked away in some other town, waiting for you, far away from everyone I know. If that’s the only choice you’re offering, I’d rather stay here.”

  His jaw tightened, and he leaped out of the bath, whipping a towel around his waist. “Here? Where the coastline is threatened by countless teeth and claws? Where whole families ride the edge of starvation for weeks on end? Where the town’s existence depends on mining and selling a resource that will one day run out?”

  “In one of your ‘safe’ towns, there would be plenty of other cooks and gardeners. Here, I’m the best. I’m useful, Flay. People rely on my talents. They would miss me if I left, and that’s worth something to me.”

  She read his displeasure in the set of his mouth and the bend of his shoulders. “I can’t live knowing you’re in danger, Blossom.”

  “We’re working on a plan, remember? The day after tomorrow, we’ll catch a mermaid, and Mai will study it. She’ll find a weakness, something we can use to ge
t rid of them all.”

  “Devising such a scheme could take months. Years.”

  “And you can come back to check on me each quarter.”

  He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I could come more often, maybe, if we didn’t have to skirt around that one stretch of ocean, where the ‘monster’ lives.” He scoffed. “By bilge and breakwater, if I’d known that was why my father and the other captains told me to avoid the area, I’d have sailed through it earlier.”

  “You don’t believe in monsters?”

  “Monsters, yes. The mermaids, for example. And people—people are the worst monsters.” His face darkened, and she knew he was thinking of his father. “But monsters the size of islands, bursting up from the broken crust of the sea? No. I’d sooner believe it was all invented by that tortured mermaid, just to scare her captors. Maybe her lie grew into legend. And now it’s a little joke of my father’s, meant to play me for a fool and slow me down. I’m sure he laughs about it with his other captains. His son, the soft idiot who dutifully avoids the Forbidden Zone for no other reason than that he was told not to go there.” He smacked the wall, then sat heavily one of the benches. “My brother would never fall for such a trick.”

  “Your brother?”

  “My illustrious older brother, Feral. He commands the largest of the slave ships in my father’s fleet. Specializes in rare kinds of slaves, and unusual animals. Of course they’re all beasts to him. Goods to be sold and used.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “That’s how our family’s money is made.” He leaned his elbows on his knees and looked down at his palms. “You’re wise not to want to connect yourself with me. Anything I have to give you would be tainted anyway.”

  “Flay.” Kestra stroked his bare shoulder, then curled her fingers into his damp golden hair. “That’s not why I said no.”

  He sighed. “I know.”

  She leaned her head on his shoulder, and they sat in the half-dark, staring at the glimmering water.

  “I do love you,” he said.

  The words dropped raw and naked into the stillness.

  Kestra’s heart throbbed, her breath quickening. She knotted the fingers of her left hand into his right one. “I think I love you, too,” she said. “But I’m not sure it’s enough.”

  -8-

  Rake

  Rake had a mirror, an ornate gilded thing salvaged from a shipwreck—a gift from Calla after his first mating. He’d hated it, refusing to look into it for weeks, because it showed him someone he didn’t want to see. But at last, when he resigned himself to his purpose, he realized that making himself beautiful eased the path to the Queens’ favor—Calla’s, anyway. And since she was the most powerful, it was in his best interest to please her.

  But now, he had another use for the mirror.

  He rifled through his collection of human tools until he located one sharp and sturdy enough for his plan, and with it he cracked the mirror into large, shiny shards. Eyeing the path of the light, he propped the shards between rocks at strategic angles, a few just outside the cave entrance and others at various levels within, tweaking them so that the mirrors reflected each other’s images.

  As he worked, Jewel bobbed in the water beside him. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m setting up mirrors so we can see someone approaching before they arrive.” Rake swished away, cocking his head to survey his work. “Let’s try it out. Watch this mirror, here. I will leave, and you count how many heartbeats from the time you see me returning in the mirror until the moment I enter the cave.”

  He swam out through the arch and along the passage between the other males’ quarters, until he was sure he was out of view of the first mirror. He was curling around to swim back when a hand seized his tailfin. Rake tensed, snarling.

  “It’s only me.” The owner of the hand, a slim, pale-haired male named Shale, backed away, plucking nervously at the web of shell-studded rope he always wore around his upper body. The makeshift garment concealed scars much worse than Rake’s own.

  “Shale. You startled me.”

  “You have been tense lately,” said the other male. “Did something happen?”

  “Something worse than usual, you mean?”

  “Serving our Queens is an honor and a pleasure,” Shale said loudly, his bright green tail wriggling with anxiety.

  “Indeed.” Rake’s mouth twisted in what he hoped was a wry grin, but it felt more like a grimace.

  “You should join us for ten-square. We’re betting with human teeth now. It’s fun, but it would be more enjoyable with you there.” Shale’s sallow cheeks flushed as he said it.

  Rake had noticed the way Shale looked at him—the admiration, the hint of longing. He’d even encouraged Shale, letting his tailfin brush the other male’s chest occasionally, slithering too close once or twice. It was a game, born of boredom and desperation—and the urge to find someone who cared.

  But Rake’s boredom was past, and his desperation had a new focus. “I have other responsibilities.”

  “Ah yes, the little squid in your quarters. I’m surprised they are allowing you to raise him outside the nursery.” Shale’s gaze turned as sharp as a mermidon’s knife. “You must be truly special.”

  Rake laughed bitterly. “Tell that to Queen Acrid.” He started to swim away, but Shale caught his tail again, a fierce grip this time.

  “There is talk,” said Shale. “A rumor that the spawn is Queen Calla’s. That you and Calla share a—a bond.” His lip curled in disgust.

  From the hollows and arches of the breeders’ quarters, Rake noticed faces emerging—angular faces with pointed ears swiveling to catch the conversation.

  “We share no bond,” Rake replied, loud enough for the listeners to hear. “Such connections are disgustingly humanlike, abhorrent to our kind. To mention me and the Queen in such a way is to make me nearer her equal than I am, when in truth I am a mollusk slinking along the sand, and she is the mighty shark soaring above me, seeking glorious prey.”

  Shale’s lips retracted over pointed teeth, the expression more sneer than smile. “Such poetic language, for a slave. And what of your spawn?”

  “The ‘squid,’ as you call him, is nothing to me. An annoyance. A sea-worm I am tasked with instructing so that he may serve some purpose. He’s more of a punishment than a sign of favor.”

  “As you say.” Shale backed away. “Perhaps we’ll see you at ten-square again soon, once you’ve had the chance to teach the spawn his place.”

  “Indeed.” Rake turned toward his cave in time to see a small golden tail disappear through the arch.

  Jewel had been listening.

  “Sucking whelks,” Rake swore. He sped back to his cave and darted inside.

  Jewel rounded on him, tiny teeth bared. He streaked past, grazing Rake’s bicep with his jaws.

  “Stop, spawn,” Rake ordered.

  Jewel slashed again, opening another shallow cut.

  Rake seized the boy’s skinny arm and shot upward, dragging him forcibly to the surface. Their heads broke through the surf, shedding bright drops, and Jewel gagged for a moment before finding the rhythm of lung breathing.

  “What you overheard was a lie,” said Rake fiercely. “You are not a punishment, or a worm, or an annoyance. I said those things to protect you. If they knew what you mean to me, they would take you away. They’d kill you. And then I would—if you died, I would—” He struggled for breath, for words. “I’d throw myself to the merlows.”

  Jewel stared, shading his eyes from the sun. “You didn’t mean any of those things?”

  “No! Not a word of it.” Rake didn’t try to lower his voice, or soften the cutting edge of it. “I told you, you are precious to me. More than precious. You are my life.”

  Jewel’s hard little face softened. “I like that. Those words—they make me warm inside.” He laid a palm over his chest.

  Rake grinned, relieved. “Me too.”

  They stayed a while, drinking
in the sun, and Rake pointed out the birds darting over the sea.

  “Usually they fly too high to touch,” he said. “But I’ve seen the mermidons catch them sometimes, when they dart low. I suppose they must be good for food.”

  When they descended again, Jewel hovered more closely, ‘helping’ Rake with his preparations. Rake took him along on a salvage trip to a nearby shipwreck, where they collected a pronged metal claw that was solid enough to use as a climbing hook. Jewel discovered a collection of metal implements half-buried in sand, and Rake used them as lockpicks, practicing on a handful of ancient padlocks he’d bartered from another male. He traded a few bracelets for pieces of sturdy rope, which he wove and knotted together as tightly as he could, hoping desperately that their connected lengths would be enough to get him to the top of Kiken’s sea-wall.

  And then Rake did a thing he wasn’t proud of. He made himself a disguise, modeled after the breeder Shale.

  He made a wig first, using pale locks from one of Queen Bruta’s castoff hair pillows. The vest was easy enough—rope strung with white shells. The trickiest part was the tail. Rake’s scales were unique, flashing amber and gold in any stray beam of light. To copy Shale’s green tail, Rake fashioned shark skins into the right shape and sewed them together. He and Jewel spent hours collecting discarded green scales from the edges of the merlows domain. Now and then, they were chased away by mermidon guards, but no one asked what they were doing, or why. To the mermidons, a couple of males scrabbling on the sea floor and picking up shiny things was a topic for ridicule, but not curiosity. Rake was never so grateful for their underestimation of him.

  Finally the tail was mostly covered in green scales, sewn on with whipgrass filament. Rake filled in the rest of the gaps with kelp leaves and sparkly green bits from the walls of his cave. Occasionally, when another male passed by or a mermaid delivered his rations, he had to scramble to hide his work in the sleeping alcove; but thanks to his mirror system and Jewel’s vigilance, he always managed to conceal the project in time.