by Erin Hayes
I stared at Hal, my heart slamming in my chest. “You must take care as well. Creon will not be pleased to learn you made an escape,” I said.
“Creon had no intention of letting me go. I would not have survived the night. I felt his will. My death would have been a message to my people.”
I didn’t have to question his words. I knew he was right. “Your people…there are more of you?”
“You didn’t know?”
I shook my head. “We were told the naguals had perished.”
“Then we are already dead to Creon, as are the freshwater mers we protect,” Hal said, looking distressed. He bowed to me. “I must bid you good-bye, but I am glad to have set eyes on you. I will not forget your kindness,” he said, kissing the back of my hand again. Then, on second thought, he let go of my hand and reached out to stroke my cheek, “Nor your lovely face.”
I opened my mouth to speak but didn’t know what to say so I simply inclined my head. When it came to the opposite sex, I was not skilled with words or anything else. I had male friends and was close with Seaton and Roald, but I shied away from even the slightest flirtations out of awkwardness. But something about the idea that Hal was leaving, that I might never see him again, made me feel desperate.
Hal had already moved away, swimming toward the surface, when I called to him. “Hal?”
He turned toward me.
Focusing very gently, I sounded an almost inaudible note. I wanted to tell him that I was so glad that he’d come with my father’s name on his lips. The sound was infused with gratitude and the hint of something more. I wanted him to know that meeting him had meant something to me, even if I didn’t have the words to say what. I sounded a note and let the water carry the vibration to him.
When the sound reached him, Hal looked at me in amazement. He smiled softly then bowed to me. In a low voice uttered with a similar vibration, he said, “It is the same for me as well.” Then, with a shimmer of light, he shifted into the form of an enormous alligator, turned, and disappeared among the waves.
Chapter Four
Once Hal had gone, I rushed to surface. Sure enough, the yacht was there. The important visitors had arrived, and I hadn’t been there to provide a royal welcome. No one was aboard. Creon was going to be furious. I headed back to the grotto and tried to think up an excuse, but I was distracted. If the nagual lived, what about the other aquatic shifters? Hal and Creon spoke of the freshwater mers, but I thought they’d been decimated. Why had their existence been kept a secret? Hal said a new war was coming, but what did that mean? But, even more important, what had come over me? I’d never told anyone about my gift, not even Indigo. Now I’d shared my deepest secret, that I knew siren song, with a complete stranger. I was lost in a whirlwind of thoughts when I finally arrived at the grotto.
The king’s royal chamber was crowded with mers, many of whom I didn’t know. Looking the strangers over, I realized that these were not Atlantics. Their hair was plaited in braids trimmed with shells and stones. Some wore long, dark-colored robes that floated strangely in the water around them. The mermaids’ chests were covered in snake or alligator hides, and they carried talismans made of coral and bone.
“Ink,” Indigo scolded me in a harsh whisper, rushing to meet me when I entered. Pulling my hand, she led me to a coral shelf above the assembled crowd. “Where did you go? Creon went into a rage when he realized you were missing. Don’t you see who’s here?”
Isla sat alongside Creon as he spoke in cordial tones to the strangers. Whoever they were, they must have been important. After the display we’d seen earlier, it was almost too much to bear. But much about Creon’s rule had been hard to take, and now I had even more reason to suspect he was a liar. My mother and father had died, and shortly thereafter, the war ended. Why? Something didn’t make sense. Creon’s reign began just as peace came into accord. Most in the tribe questioned what he had done to bring about an end to the fighting, but no one had the nerve to confront him. Isla claimed that Creon brokered peace because of my parent’s death. I didn’t believe her. Now, some new danger lurked on the horizon. What was it? And how was I going to do anything about it if I had to leave the coral kingdom that very night?
Trying to bury my thoughts, I clenched my jaw and turned my attention to the visitors. “Who are they?” I whispered to Indigo.
“The Gulf tribe,” she replied excitedly. “You’ve missed half the discussion. Apparently, some deal has been struck.”
“What kind of deal?”
“I don’t know,” Indigo said with a shrug. “They talked about the contaminated conditions in the Gulf of Mexico and a plan to find a new home for the Gulfs. Did you see their young king? He’s handsome.”
“His name is Manx,” I told her. Seaton, who had met the new king of the Gulfs the year before in Pensacola, had not been impressed. He’d called him an overgrown and spoiled child. I hadn’t been interested enough to ask more. Nonetheless, I looked him over. Sunlight slanted through holes in the cave walls above the grotto and fell on Manx. His long, dark hair floated in the water around him. I studied his muscular body. He was a drywalker like me. He bore swirling tattoos on his arms. His tail was a dark blue, the color of the deepest pockets in the ocean, each scale trimmed with a filigree of red. His body was athletic, and from this angle, I could see he was handsome. But what of it? It wasn’t like he had the rugged charm of the nagual. A creature like Hal could make any mermaid’s heart beat faster. The nagual was a fine creature, not an overgrown child.
I looked away from Manx. I was an orphan of the war between the tribes. The Gulfs were our enemy. Peace or no peace, these people had killed our kind, my parents. It left a bitter taste in my mouth to see them in our grotto.
Indigo, however, was staring at him. I followed her gaze. We must have been eyeing him too intensely because this time Manx looked at us. Even from this distance, I could see his eyes were bright, green-blue. He smiled at us. I looked away.
“Well, that’s embarrassing,” Indigo whispered behind her hand.
It was then that I realized why the Gulfs were there. Something told me that the Gulf tribe was there for more than just a friendly, diplomatic meeting. Something told me there was a reason I was sent, with haste, to round up Indigo. Something about the way Manx held himself so gracefully before Creon told me that a bargain had, indeed, been struck. Something told me, when I saw the glimmer in Indigo’s eyes as she gazed at Manx, that my cousin suspected the same thing I did. All the words yet unsaid spoke a truth: the Gulfs had come for Indigo.
King Creon moved from his dais. All attention turned to him. I gazed back at Manx and was surprised to find him staring at me. He grinned, a bemused expression on his chiseled features.
I then saw an elder woman among Manx’s group motion for him to turn his attention back to the Atlantic king. Manx did as instructed, looking dutifully in front of him. The ancient-looking mermaid set her gaze on me. She had long white hair adorned with shells and bones. She was a frail looking thing, her skin deeply wrinkled. Her tail had started losing its green-gold pigment. The old mermaid was dying. She must have been the Queen Mother, the renowned ancient lady of the Gulf. Was she there to help broker the young king’s future? I held her gaze. She softened, nodding politely to me, then turned her attention to Creon.
“Noble king,” Manx said then, “We thank your highness for affording us this official visit to your court to discuss the joyous agreement drawn between our tribes.”
“We, too, are pleased with our negotiations. All will come to fruition in time. But today we shall share a special announcement.” Creon motioned for Indigo to come forward.
I was right. My cousin squeezed my hand, rose tepidly, and then moved toward the gathered troupe. In the very least, my cousin would be happy with a handsome king. Indigo’s tastes had always been very different from mine. I had no use for a puffed-up merman. Until that very morning, I’d never had use for any male save the friendships I shared with Seaton and
Roald. Now, however, I couldn’t shake the nagual from my thoughts.
As Indigo moved forward, Lady Isla’s expression change from serene disconnect to worry. She rose quickly and motioned for her daughter to stop. She shook her head at Indigo who paused.
Creon cleared his throat. “My apologies, Lady Indigo. I had intended for Ink, Daughter of Dauphin and Coral, to come forward.”
Me? What in the hell did they want from me? I sat frozen.
Indigo looked back at me, confusion plastered on her pretty features. Nonetheless, she came back and took my hand, pulling me gently through the water. Both of us stunned, Indigo led me to the royals. King Manx and the ancient Queen Mother watched my reaction with worried skepticism.
“Ink, for the deep’s sake, plaster on a smile before you start another war,” Indigo whispered in my ear then let me go, coasting me toward the assembled group.
She was right. I gave a lukewarm smile then swam to them.
“I…my apologies, Your Highnesses,” I stammered, bowing to them. “I was confused.”
“Ink, it is our royal decree that you will bond to King Manx in the ancient tradition of our people. Your bonding, which will take place tomorrow night, will cement the peace between our tribes,” Creon pronounced grandly.
Flabbergasted, I gazed at Lady Isla. She was smiling serenely, but I could see the worried lines forming around her mouth. She knew as well as anyone that this was a disastrous match. I…I couldn’t marry one of them. How could they just give me away to a complete stranger and a Gulf? Enraged, I didn’t know what to say.
King Manx looked at me with a perplexed expression on his face.
Creon laughed good-naturedly. “I think she is in shock, Your Majesty. This high honor is far beyond her expectations. Isn’t that so, my sweet niece?”
I was stunned. There was no discussion to be had, and I dare not argue in front of the Gulfs. It would humiliate my tribe. It was done. Decided. Creon had kept this arrangement secret on purpose, knowing I would reject the match if I’d had the chance. I would never marry a Gulf. But he could not send Indigo to them because she could not drywalk. She was a merdolphin. I was the only pawn Creon had. He would force me to do his bidding, cornering me so I could not say no. I might have hated Creon, but I loved my tribe. I would protect them at any cost. I was trapped. I had to put on a false face for their sake.
“It is a great honor, Your Majesties,” I choked out.
King Creon nodded, satisfied, then turned to the Queen Mother and the other Gulfs and began conferring over the details of my bonding ceremony. With detachment, I heard that the Gulfs would attend my exile ceremony. My new king would be there to receive me on land. It would be a joyous celebration as the bride rose from the sea to meet her intended bonded one. Someone spoke of a mansion in Miami and how the Gulfs had already arranged everything for me. Miami? The Atlantics ruled Miami. Why were the Gulfs in our city?
My heart slammed in my chest. I closed my eyes, tuned it all out, and listened to the sound of the waves. Water lapped against the cave walls of the grotto. Somewhere in the distance, I heard dolphins whistling to one another. Overhead, metal clanged against the rail of the yacht. A whale sounded. Its sorrowful moan reverberated within my soul. I turned my focus further away and felt the yawning depths of the ocean surrounding me. Something deep inside me screamed at me to swim down into the darkness, down to the sandy bottom where, somewhere, my father’s bones lay broken and picked clean. I imagined curling up next to his bones, cradling him.
Someone took me gently by the hand, breaking the spell. My eyes popped open. I was surprised to see that it was Manx. His charming façade gone, he looked at me with sympathy. “It will be all right. Please don’t look so upset. I don’t know why you were not told, but I see this is coming as a surprise. I’m sorry for that. I will do everything I can to make you comfortable.”
“It’s not you, it’s just…”
“We are the enemy.”
I shook my head, not wanting to talk about the war, not wanting him to suspect my true feelings. “No, it’s not that. It is a surprise, but a pleasant one,” I lied. “Did I hear someone say Miami? Not Pensacola?”
“The Gulfs have been in Miami for a year now, part of an ongoing peace accord,” Manx said dismissively, but something told me he wasn't entirely forthcoming. “Miami is where we will live, Ink. It is a hot, human-infested city, but there is a life to be had there. It is fun, even exciting. I’ll show it all to you. We are strangers now, but that will change. And I want to get to know you. I mean, after all, you have quite a reputation.”
“Reputation? What kind of reputation?”
“Your tribal. All the Gulfs know of the Atlantic princess and her massive tribal mark. There is even a prophecy about you. Didn’t you know?”
I shook my head. While my tribal mark, which covered most of my back, was far larger than any mers’ mark I’d ever seen, there was nothing particularly special about it. I was confused.
“From the darkness of our dying years, an inked princess of the Atlantic will rise to save the Gulf’s children. It was a cecaelia who made the prophecy. You should have known we’d eventually ask for you.”
“I…I’d never heard of such a prophecy.”
King Manx shrugged. “Perhaps it’s just superstition, but it pays to take advantages where they can be had. Don’t worry, my inked princess. I’ll take good care of you.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “What makes you think I need to be taken care of?”
He grinned, then leaned into my ear. “All mermaids want a mate who worships them, and I will worship you.”
I smiled at Manx mostly because I wanted him to stop talking. The whirlwind of events was beginning to make my head hurt. I looked away from the pretty king in in time to see Creon’s guard approach and whisper in my uncle’s ear. While his expression didn’t change, the muscles around his eye twitched. Creon nodded then waved the guard away. The king stared off into the distance, lost in thought, then turned and looked directly at me. There was a tempest in his eyes. This time, I held his gaze. I wanted him to know it was me. After what he’d just done, I wanted him to know that I was the one who had set Hal free. I gave him a hard stare, and in the end, it was the king who looked away, a frustrated look on his face. If Creon wanted to play with me, then he had just made a huge mistake. I would go to land with pretty King Manx, but I would be no pawn. If Creon wanted a war, that’s what he was going to get.
Chapter Five
The caps of the waves off Aurora Island shimmered silvery in the moonlight. The island, located off the coast of Florida, had long been a sacred place to the merfolk. Too small for a fancy human hotel, the land too unstable for a beach house, and the water too infested with sharks for partiers, the remote little island was the place where mers walked out of the ocean to begin their year in exile, their year as a drywalker.
I tread water, my head and shoulders above the waves. I could feel the sandy ocean bottom with my shimmering blue flipper. Isla, Indigo, and Creon swam in the water nearby, the rest of the tribe, including Seaton, deeper in the water behind us. On the sandy shore, King Manx stood waiting, the Queen Mother at his side. Torchlight illuminated their faces. Behind them, a group of drywalkers, many of whom belonged to my tribe, stood waiting. Among them was Roald, my old friend. His hair looked very yellow, paled by his days in the sunlight. He had a strange expression on his face. Why did he look nervous?
A path from the ocean to the beach been lined with glimmering shells, flickering torches, and a rainbow of flowers. I could smell the heady scent of the blossoms. The smell of earth things burned strong in our noses. Life in the water had tuned our senses to the subtlest scents in the environment. It was a skill that was both a blessing and a curse for drywalkers.
“They are ready for you,” King Creon said, urging me forward when I did not move.
I glared at him.
I then gazed back at King Manx who was smiling at me. He looked handso
me in the firelight. He was wearing a white shirt that fluttered open at the neck and tan pants. His feet were bare, and his long hair was unbound. He was holding a pale blue robe. I would emerge from the water in my naked human form. While it was the custom, the thought of it humiliated me.
Isla swam closer to me. “Don’t be afraid. I’m sorry all this is happening against your wi—”
“I’m not afraid,” I said, cutting her off, then turned to Creon. “You’ve sold me to my parents’ killers. I’ll never forgive you.”
“Ink,” Indigo said, her voice full of warning.
Creon motioned for her to be silent. He moved closer to me so his voice could not be heard by the others. “I don’t need your forgiveness. If you’re brave enough to play with a nagual, let’s see how you fare with the Gulfs,” he said, then turned and swam away.
I gritted my teeth and turned back, staring at those gathered on the small island. Steeling my nerve, I swam forward. My tail dragged along the sandy ocean bottom. I curled it, resting it on the sand, then closed my eyes. I had seen the transformation many times, had come to bear witness as the others left the tribe for their year in exile. I always pitied them.
The first crash of agonizing pain washed over me. I felt as if I had been stung by an entire bloom of jellyfish. Pain swallowed me. It was like I’d been sliced from my flipper to my waist. I betrayed myself by gasping out loud.
“Ink,” Indigo whispered softly.
My body arched as another shooting wave of pain bolted upward. My body shook as jolt after jolt racked me. After the sharp pains had subsided, I felt a warm tingling sensation. I opened my eyes. Blue and gold light spiraled around the lower half of my body. I stared down at the water in amazement, watching as my tail slowly transformed into legs.
The glowing light then traveled up my body. It centered on the tribal mark on my back. The mark began to feel very hot. Suddenly, pain seared across my back. I felt like I’d been scraped along a coral reef. A drywalker’s tribal mark forms into its final pattern when we make our first transformation. The mark on my back, strange and large, always puzzled me. Now I learned it was renowned enough to earn me a prophecy. I hardly knew what to think of that. Had Creon known? Would he believe something like that or did he just find a way to use it to his advantage? The answer, it seemed, was obvious. At the end of the pathway, King Manx waited for me.