Tide

by Lacy Sheridan

  I didn’t say it aloud, but I knew we both understood.

  Aven let out a long breath and settled onto his back in the grass. I stretched out beside him and closed my eyes against the sun. His voice swept through and around me like the wind.

  “Once, before the war or the barrier, long, long ago, there was a selkie named Saari. She was the daughter of one of the High Court—the Court’s leaders—and she was said to be beautiful, and merciful, even though her people weren’t. Fierce as any warrior but gentle.” I couldn’t help a smile; she reminded me of another selkie. “She loved the humans her people had enslaved. She watched them and learned about them. They taught her the work they did, how to craft with her hands, and she taught them how to read the clouds and winds. But one human she loved above the others. And they knew, because of what they were, they could never be together. He could be killed for so much as looking at a selkie woman the way he looked at her.”

  Another forbidden romance. Old stories were riddled with them, and my heart dropped, helped along by the guilt creeping along my bones.

  “What happened to them?” I asked.

  “For a few years they were happy, in secret. Deeply, wonderfully in love. And then the humans rebelled.”

  I swallowed a lump in my throat. “The war?”

  “No, that came later. The humans of Saari’s Court—my Court—fought against the tidespeople for control and used all Saari had taught them against the selkies and their allies. And Saari’s lover led them.”

  “What did Saari do?”

  “She was torn between her lover and her people. She fled. But when the High Court faced the human warriors themselves, they captured her lover and sentenced him to death. Saari appeared before it could be done and threw herself between him and the spear that would end his life.”

  “She died?”

  “She did. She gave her life rather than let him lose his. And as she lay on the ground, alive but past help, her lover stepped down, kissed her cheek, drew her dagger, and stabbed her father as he knelt crying.”

  I opened my eyes to find Aven watching me, something deep and sorrowful in his eyes. “What happened?” The question came out a whisper.

  “He was killed where he stood, and humans barred from every part of the Court but its heart. Saari was regarded as a hero and a fool, and from that day on, every child in the Court was told her story as a warning.”

  “A warning never to trust a human.”

  “Never to trust or love outside of their own. When the war came and the realms were split, they took us to the newly made barrier. My mother and my teachers stood in front of it with me and all the other children in the city. My teacher said, ‘This is what they take from us, if we let them. Our lives, our magic, and our pride. If they return, they will repay it in sweat and blood.’ And the Court has held firm ever since, with every human who’s managed to make it there.”

  I shivered despite the warmth of the glade. “So I’ll be going into a Court that hates humans maybe more than any other?”

  “I don’t know about more, but there aren’t many that match mine.”

  “So why don’t you?”

  He gave me another long, quiet look I couldn’t decipher. “I did,” he murmured.

  And then, before either of us could say more, there was a flash of light that made me shield my eyes, and Moray’s silky voice interrupted. “Are you two going to sunbathe all day or are we going to go home?”

  Aven cast me another fleeting smile and got to his feet, offering a hand to me. I took it and he pulled me up. “We should be at the border by nightfall. Ready to face the monsters?”

  I’d found the legendary selkie. I’d freed him. I’d found the way to pass between worlds. I’d fought my way out of the heart of a vodianoi village. I’d gained the favor of a sprite. Not on my own, no, but I didn’t need to be on my own. Moray gave me a fierce, fanged grin, and Aven’s hand lingered around mine.

  I knew the Court would put everything I’d done so far to shame, but I’d survived longer than even Aven had expected.

  I nodded. “I can handle monsters.”

  The nearest edge of Aven’s home Court was guarded by a training camp. Some three hundred warriors in cruel and cutthroat living quarters, the eldest and most experienced beating skill into those below them by any means necessary. Should there ever be trouble at the border, they would react swiftly and take care of it before it reached the first village.

  Or so Aven explained to me as we walked through the woods, every step carrying us closer. And with every step my confidence wilted.

  I tried to picture the warriors at the camp like Aven—bold, powerful, but kind. He was a warrior of the Court, after all. But every time I tried to convince myself, the memory of the merrows on the festival night crept into my mind. They were warriors of the Court, too.

  I rubbed at my arm, the wounds healed now to little more than fading pink scabs and shiny new skin.

  “You’ll be safe while we’re there,” Aven said for the eighth time since we’d crossed the border. “I promise. I may have been gone but I’m one of them, and you’re under my protection.”

  I tried to keep my nod steady and firm. “I know.”

  Moray turned a loop through the air. “The camps haven’t changed, trust me. They’re as vicious as ever.”

  “That’s not comforting, Moray,” I muttered.

  The sprite laughed. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

  Aven cast it a look but his words were directed at me. “The camps are rough, yes, but there are worse places. And if they haven’t changed then they’ll listen to me when I tell them you’re not to be harmed. We may lose the element of surprise by time we get to the Eyes, but at least we’ll be fed and rested.”

  “I’d rather be fed and rested than take them by surprise,” I said. Fed and rested and stronger. Readier. And it would be a lie to say I wasn’t dying for a bath. Surprise could be damned, my mouth was already watering at the thought of a decent meal.

  Moray stopped and Aven held out an arm to stop me as well. I watched them, both looking out into the distance and focused on something I couldn’t see or hear. Cursing my inferior senses, I held my breath and listened for anything beyond the whisper of the wind and the calls of birds.

  Quiet, practiced steps. A moment later, they were followed by indistinguishable voices.

  “Some will attack first and ask questions later,” Aven said under his breath. “Stay by me.”

  As if I’d ever consider straying far from him here. But I nodded and kept quiet, sticking a step closer to him as we continued forward. Before long, a pair of forms came into view and I held back my trembling.

  One was a merrow, towering and fanged like the ones who had attacked my village. He was not dressed in costume furs but simple fighting leathers, which did a good deal to make him look less monstrous, though the sight of him chilled me to the bone. The other was a woman who I might have thought to be human if not for the way she held herself. Light and strong and dangerous. Her fiery hair was braided down her back, bright against the dark leathers she wore to match the merrow’s. She spun a spear idly in her hands, a weapon much sleeker and more elegant than the roughly-made one Aven had stolen from the vodianoi.

  I glanced to Aven, about to ask if she was a selkie, but a breath of wind cutting across my face stole my voice. When I turned, a thin knife was stuck in the trunk of the tree beside me, inches from where I stood and trembling with the force.

  Aven looked unfazed, though my heart was beating against my chest like a hammer. “Now, that was uncalled for, don’t you think?” he asked.

  The merrow already held a second knife in one hand, yellow-green gaze on us. “Who are you and what is your business here?”

  “We’re passing through and need shelter for the night, if you’ll give it.”

  A scoff. “Do you know where you are, little lost selkie?” As if he didn’t look younger than Aven.

  The woman at his side paled
and took half a step back. Aven raised his chin and stepped forward, Moray and I trailing behind him. My heart sped up at the sight of that knife, poised to be thrown right at us. “Do you know who you’re speaking to?” Aven asked in return.

  The woman dropped to a knee, head bowed. Her braid slid across her shoulder, and with the movement I caught a flash of earthy brown rippling across her neck. Sealskin.

  Another selkie. A selkie who was kneeling to Aven.

  “My sincerest apologies, Lord,” she said.

  Lord?

  I threw Aven a look, but he was focused on the two warriors, ignoring me. My question must have been evident on my face; Moray shook its head the slightest at me, its expression saying to keep quiet.

  The merrow fumbled with his knife, near to dropping it in his hurry to tuck it away and kneel as well. “My apologies,” he echoed the selkie woman. “I didn’t recognize you, Lord, or I would never have—it’s been—”

  “Fifty years, yes, I know,” Aven said drily. “Get up.”

  Both rose, the merrow looking significantly abashed. The woman clasped her hands behind her back, neat and prim in every way, though her eyes glittered with something I couldn’t read. “We’ll provide whatever you need of us, Lord,” she said. “Our finest cabin can be prepared for you and your companions before nightfall, and we’ll order a meal prepared, as well. I’m afraid our stores aren’t near the quality you’ll find in the Heart or the Eyes but whatever we have available is yours.”

  “Anything is fine, thank you. What are your names?”

  “Ellesaeah, Lord, and this is my partner, Calistar.”

  Calistar eyed me as we walked and I shuffled closer to Aven. Ellesaeah hadn’t acknowledged me—she was too busy staring at Aven like he was a god stepped down to the earth—but the merrow’s upper lip curled whenever our gazes happened to meet. Aven caught it and spoke calmly, though there was an underlying current of steel and venom in his voice. “I won’t have anybody I travel with made to feel unsafe here,” he said.

  “Of course, Lord, but she’s a human.”

  “A human in our land like you’re a merrow in a selkie-run camp?”

  That quieted him, and he kept his gaze straight ahead, jaw set but silent, the remainder of the walk. Every inch of me prickled with fear and tension, my mind preparing to run or fight, and I fought it down to stay calm. Aven’s sudden switch didn’t help. Even in the prison, when he’d been cold and threatening, he’d never been like this. Now everything about him, from the way he walked to the words he chose, spoke of stance and power.

  It wasn’t real, a show for the warriors. It had to be. But having the Aven I knew beside me would have been far more comforting.

  The sounds of clashing metal and shouting became clearer the further we walked, and soon the first tents and shelters were visible. We stopped at the edge of a clearing, where unrefined cabins circled two dirt pits. One held a fire in the center, some large animal I couldn’t identify roasting above it: the smell alone made my stomach twist with hunger. The other was twice the size, occupied by several pairs of warriors engrossed in battle. Three others watched over them, barking corrections and insults. More figures bustled around between cabins, carrying food or weapons or tubs of water. They all wore the same fitted, high-necked outfits as Ellesaeah and Calistar, sleek and black with tiny gemstones studding the throats—purple, blue, clear, green—turning them into proud shadows.

  We passed the first cabins and the pit that held the fire, receiving lingering glances from the scattered warriors who noticed our presence. Beyond, between the cabins, I caught sight of two rows of thick wooden poles driven into the ground. A boy who looked younger than me—fourteen summers, perhaps, had he been human—was tied to one with his wrists bound around it and tugged halfheartedly at the ropes with a scowl. I didn’t ask why he was there.

  A raw, ragged scream of pain echoed from inside a building. I jumped, head whipping toward the sound, but Aven put a hand on my back to guide me forward.

  To the other side of us, a woman tossed a bucket of red-stained water into the grass.

  Calistar stalked beside us, looking like he was halfway to sulking at the way Aven had spoken to him, but Ellesaeah bounced along with her chin raised, braid swinging and sealskin flashing with every step. She practically skipped ahead of us to reach the trio watching over the sparring. Before she could get a word out, one of the warriors in the pit slipped, stumbling to the ground as his opponent’s blade ended up slicing across his face. He yelled and I flinched away from the sight of blood dripping onto the ground.

  When the one responsible looked up at their supervisors with a panicked expression, the man beside Ellesaeah—a middle-aged, graying, solid wall of scar and muscle—yelled, “Are your legs broken? Get up, both of you! You continue until I tell you to stop or one of your worthless hides is ready to be put on my wall!”

  Neither protested; the injured man staggered to his feet, one hand clutched over his eye and blood seeping down his wrist, and lifted his blade again.

  Aven was a warrior, like them. This was the kind of place he’d once lived.

  I thought again of those faint scars he bore. Scars where his skin had been cut out of him and where he’d fought and bled for his people.

  Ellesaeah’s voice brought my attention to her, where she stood before the older warrior in a stiff salute. “Sir.”

  His stony gaze swept over me, full of disgust, and then to Moray and Aven. He opened his mouth, looking like he was about to spout out something nastier than whatever Calistar was itching to say, but his gaze flicked to Aven and he paused, then closed it. There was a heartbeat of silence before he bowed his head, which didn’t quite hide the shock that settled on his face.

  His knee hadn’t yet touched the ground when Aven stopped him with one raised hand. “Don’t. I’m not here for a formal visit.”

  “Of course, Lord.”

  Lord, my mind echoed again. Aven had said he was a warrior—trained with them, taught with them, sent away to war. Not that he was a lord. Lords didn’t fight wars, they stayed shut away in their lavish homes and ordered armies from a distance.

  Maybe they were mistaken and Aven was playing along for safety’s sake.

  Maybe they weren’t.

  “We’re in need of shelter and anything you’re willing to provide for the rest of our journey,” he said to the warrior, that note of easy command entering his voice again. “Food, clothes, and weapons. And my companion is injured,” he added with a nod to me.

  I almost told him to worry about his own injuries, but the look the older warrior gave me silenced me. I’d never been looked at like that—not even hatred, but like he was looking at some bug he didn’t want to deal with.

  Moray crossed its arms, shifting so it bobbed between Aven and I. “She’s the companion of your Lord and has my favor. Think twice before you speak.”

  A muscle in his jaw tightened and he said, “Ellesaeah, escort the human to the baths. Treat her wounds and provide her with fresh clothing. She is a guest.”

  “Yes, sir.” She turned and took my arm, her touch gentle and friendly, though I hesitated before following her.

  “And Ellesaeah,” Aven called after us. The younger selkie stopped and glanced to him. “Keep in mind that I’d be even less merciful than your commander here should anything dear to me be harmed while I’m here.”

  Another cold threat to keep me safe. I couldn’t stop from thinking about what he’d said to me in the glade—they will pay in sweat and blood. I was no longer among just a few scattered threats, I was walking deeper into a Court that would kill me for what I was without a second thought.

  If Aven needed to play the icy Lord to keep that from happening, so be it.

  Ellesaeah gave a nervous little nod and led me away. I followed her through the camp, refusing to look at the people we passed, though every one of them looked at me. I felt their gazes following us, heavy and cold. Neither of us spoke, and she pushed open the
door of a small building—pale blue-lavender walls, a thatched roof, simple and inelegant—and held it for me. I didn’t see a choice but to pass through ahead of her. She was friendly, at least. If her own conscience didn’t keep her from hurting me, Aven’s threat would. I hoped.

  She shut the door behind us, sealing us in a dim room lit only by the sunlight breaking through a few small, high-set windows. I blinked, letting my eyes adjust, and, after a soft hiss behind me, they were helped along by the comforting familiarity of candlelight. The room was small, square, with a short table against one wall, where Ellesaeah stood. Four candles flickered atop it, beside a basin of water and a small cluster of jars. Across from it was a screen, and behind it a bath, already full and steaming. I almost shook in anticipation at the sight of it.

  “Bathe,” Ellesaeah ordered. “I’ll find something fresh for you to wear.” Her eyes passed up and down me, a quick, practiced scan that I was sure told her volumes. I shifted under her gaze, more than ready for her to stop. “Are you comfortable in leathers, or would you prefer a dress?”

  “Dress, please.” I’d never worn anything like fighting leathers in my life and though now was probably as good a time as any to start, the thought of it made me tremble. I’d done plenty of things a village girl wasn’t supposed to do, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to put dressing for war on the list.

  She nodded. “I’ll see what I can find. Don’t leave this room without me. Our Lord may not be close enough to protect you should someone decide they don’t like the sight of you.” There was a question hidden in her voice—why are you with him? —but I didn’t answer it. Instead, I murmured a thank you and received another nod in reply before she left.

  Not the warmest escort, but not the worst, either.

  I stripped off my ragged, ruined dress and left it in a pile on the floor; there was no rescuing it. My back and a dozen other wounds stung as I stepped into the water, but I almost sobbed in relief at the warmth. I sank down as deep as I could, the water settling at my chin and the heat working into every aching muscle, and closed my eyes. What kind of turn had my life taken that a bath in a tidespeople’s warrior camp was like paradise?