Chapter Ten
Serena's polite smile freezes on her face, unable to move. Surely she heard him wrong.
"I'm sorry, can you repeat that, your majesty?" She asks.
"Werewolf Liaison," he says again.
Serena's eyes snap up to his. There is no trace of humor there. She looks to Nerin and Zayla, standing below, then out to Mariam. No shock or surprise show on their faces. Zayla looks away, suddenly very interested in the water that crashes against the bottom of the whale-rock. Mariam manages to hold Serena's gaze, and the way her forehead wrinkles is heartbreaking. There is worry there, but Mariam will not do anything to prevent the assignment. If there was any special brew made, it will be used to drown away Mariam's sorrow that she will probably never get an assistant.
"I'd send you off with the formal words, to your group," the king says, "but there hasn't been a Werewolf Liaison since—"
"The Maiden Massacre," Serena finishes for him, looking back to Cliff Beach, where the last Werewolf Liaison was murdered. Blood pounds in her ears as she looks at the desolate beach. Despite the cold wind spraying droplets of icy ocean water at her back, her entire face goes hot.
"Remember, as a graduating Undine you are to remain with your chosen job through the next two nights as part of your initiation before you can return home for rest." King Merrick grows taller, lifting himself up on his tail and using his trident for help.
"My chosen job? I didn't choose this,” Serena says, fighting back tears. She turns back to the king, trying to understand why the Undine hate her so much. "Is this one of punishments?"
"It is," says the king, his voice gruff.
"I'd thought yours would come last…" Serena trails off, her words catching in her throat. And be the worst. But what could be worse than this? She takes a deep breath.
I will not let him see me cry.
The king moves closer to Serena, looking out at Cliff Beach, where the King's Guard still stands in formation.
"Almost eighteen years ago, I watched my wife go to land with her protector to have our son. By the end of the night, both were dead, and I returned to the sea with the only survivor in my hands. A baby girl."
Serena looks at the king. His face is grim and wrinkles line the edges of his eyes. He is lost in his memories. "That night was, and will always be, a tragedy," the king's voice breaks. He takes a deep breath. "But like an underwater volcano, spewing poison and scorching the area, paths are created for new beginnings, rich with minerals. Amidst the destruction, there is hope."
Serena wipes her cheek with a shaky hand, tears finally bubbling over.
"Try not to think of this as your punishment, Serena." He puts his hand on her shoulder. It is heavy, with calloused fingers. "It is your destiny—and what you do with your calling could decide the fate of our kingdom."
The touch disconnects Serena from the increasing emotions of fear, anger, and sorrow. The king has never touched her before; she doubts he ever touches anyone. Body rigid with surprise, she glances at his large hand draped over her shoulder. He squeezes once, then lets his hand drop.
"Now, go and make proud the ancients who watch over you," says the king, gesturing to The Dry.
Serena follows his gaze to the beach, then up the cliffs to the forest and down to the ominous passageway leading to the rest of The Dry, which is shrouded in shadows.
A large wave crashes into the rock. Serena stumbles forward, almost pushed off. When she straightens and looks around her tiny island, King Merrick is gone.
Serena looks back to the beach. The guard is retreating into the water, now that the king has left. Ervin sees her still standing there and pauses, frowning. Murphy steps forward to whisper something to Ervin, who scratches his temple but continues into the water.
As the last of the guard disappear beneath the waves, sharpened spikes of a trident glisten in the moonlight in a final farewell. Then, Serena is alone. She takes a deep breath and dives into the water at the next swell. She drifts with the current, her body numb. The ceremonial words come to her, rolling around her head—unstoppable as the oscillating tide.
We are willing.
I'm not willing, thinks Serena. At least not anymore. Before, going to The Dry was an adventure, and an escape from Society. It doesn't hold the same allure when she is forced ashore.
We are prepared.
The picture of the bloody, dying maiden fills Serena’s mind. It is one image of many in the stack of werewolf books Serena was charged with studying. What she thought was punishment for her close brush with the creatures was instead maybe actually meant to prepare her for her new role in Society.
We are Undine.
Serena snorts and saltwater rushes into her nose, burning her throat. Breaking the surface, water and foam sputter out of her mouth, nose, and gills. She crawls onto the beach, her transformation clumsy and almost as painful as her first time as a young Undine. Wave after wave forces her forward until she manages to pull herself far enough away from the unforgiving surges.
Sprawled out on the sand, she turns to look at the ocean.
Even our great mother is pushing me away, she thinks.
Serena puts her hand over her mouth, choking back a sob.
What you do with your calling will decide the fate of our kingdom.
One more deep breath and her gills settle, sealing shut against her neck. Serena rubs her face, smoothing away grimy sand, bitter seawater, and the creases in her forehead that threaten to remain permanently.
Standing up, Serena stares out at the ocean until her legs stop shaking. One small, dark cloud moves across the sky. The moon blinks out behind it, then comes back, as if it is winking at Serena.
One side of Serena's mouth tips up in a scrutinizing smile. Fine, if one world doesn't want me, I'll make another my home.
She turns toward the passageway. Streaks of moonlight don't stretch very far past the tops of the cliffs to help light the narrow corridor in between. Crickets call out from the shadows, beckoning for Serena to join them.
"I'm coming," she mumbles back to them.
Serena brings her scales forward, letting them crawl down her arms and cover her knuckles. One by one, they emerge past her neck and over her temples until they blend in with her hair line. At her elbows, knees, and ankles, the scales stack on top of one another, providing extra protection while still giving her room to move. The bulky weight will slow her down, but the scales give her confidence. Donning her body armor, Serena stands a little straighter, shoulders pulled back.
Serena gains control over her bioluminescent features. Her hair dims, returning to its natural dark black, perfect for blending in with the shadowed forest. She increases the strength of her reflective guanine crystals spaced throughout her plated body.
As she walks forward, the tiny mirrors match the sand at her feet, until they flair with color.
She pauses, eyes drawn to something gleaming gold standing out amidst the taupe sand—a trident. Serena walks over and bends down to pick it up, keeping her eyes on the tree line. The decorative red tassels tied around the long handle brush Serena's hand. It is Kai's weapon. The Second in Command wouldn't leave it behind by mistake.
Serena looks behind her. She has never seen a guard without his trident. Maybe an excuse for him to come back? Hope blooms in her chest. She scans the surface of the ocean, but it remains barren all the way to the moon.
She sighs, looking back at the trident. No one is coming back.
Moonlight flickers off the sharpened tips as she turns the trident in her hand. Serena grasps the heavy weapon, fumbling to get one end tucked under her arm. She walks forward again, ripping off the red tassels and leaving them behind on the sand; they won't blend as well in The Dry. Serena traverses the passageway and enters the forest, her body armor reflecting the long lines of dark browns and greens of the trees.
After a short, steady jog, she climbs atop a rock, using it to jump onto a fallen tree trunk. Sprinting, Serena follow
s the incline of the trunk, leaping off the end to take to the trees where the wolves won't follow.
Her fingers only graze the lowest branch, then she lands back on the ground. The trident weighs her down and renders one arm useless for catching branches. She readjusts her grip on the trident and tries again. A complete miss.
Eyes darting around her surroundings, Serena squints into the darkness. No wolves, at least not that I can smell. But I need to get into the trees. She looks at the trident and lets out a frustrated huff. She considers ditching it, but it is her only real weapon.
She lifts up the trident so it is parallel to the ground. Widening her stance and taking aim, Serena extends her free arm as a guide. She leans back and thrusts her arm forward. Her hips rotate at the same time and she releases the trident. A resounding thud echoes through the forest as the weapon pierces wood. Without hesitating, Serena runs, plants her feet, and jumps. Her hands grip the long stem of the trident, extended parallel just a few feet under a branch.
Wind slides across her scales as her legs swing up. When Serena can see her toes above the trident, she lets go. Her body arcs and she thuds on the branch above the trident. She bends down and tugs on her weapon. It is deep, and won't budge. Serena wraps her legs around the branch and hangs upside down in order to use both hands.
When the log releases its hold, Serena runs her hand over the three punctures already bleeding sap.
"I am sorry," she whispers to the tree. "But I would be grateful for your shelter tonight."
It is the same thing Undine say when forcing their way into thick coral in an emergency, and it feels right to say it now.
Serena pulls herself on top of the branch. She leans her head back against the bark, breathing hard. Crisp air blows through the trees, pressing against her breastplate and she is grateful for her armor. But despite the extra comfort, dark shadows move in the wind, and the trees are restless, as if they can't wait to see how Serena's night plays out.
She sits on the branch, pulling her knees into her chest—trying to ward away the vulnerability that settles there. She looks at the trident once again.
At least Kai cares.
A new resolve sets in. Serena swallows, convincing herself to suspend judgment against the king and Society, at least until she has more answers as to why this particular punishment has been given to her.
Taking a deep breath, she looks up. The branches up here are plentiful, as opposed to near the ground where they are sparse and flimsy. Serena climbs with ease, using the trident's stem as leverage when she can. She stops before she reaches the weaker branches, settling into an especially large crook where branch meets trunk. The wood is smoothed down at the fork and there is a small clearing going straight to the open sky just above it.
Serena brushes away remnants of a former nest and curls into the tree, trying to imagine she is in her sleeping cove. Her mind drifts around her cave until she can almost smell the bitter kelp that grows out of her caged experiments on the floor. She hears the tide trickling in, beating against jars and her dry box. Serena fingers the charm still hanging from her necklace, wishing she left her mother's jewelry behind.
Turning on her other side, bark grabs hold of her scales, threatening to tear them off. She shifts carefully, rolling onto her shoulder so she is facing the thick center of the tree. The moon works hard to pierce its canopy. Slivers of light run down the craggy bark and across Serena's hips and legs.
With a slender finger, Serena traces the maze of lines zigzagging throughout the tree's outer shell. Just like her own scales, the dark, reddish-brown bark is smooth when she runs the pad of her finger one way, and rough the other direction.
"We aren't so different, you and me," she whispers to the tree. "Except maybe you have more friends."
Branches from its neighbors wave at her in the wind. One side of Serena's mouth curls up in a lopsided smile, and she waves back.
The Rising Page 13