Sea Witch Rising

by Sarah Henning

  I forgive you. I know you thought killing Niklas was right.

  I’m sorry I’m the reason you will live in this body.

  I hope you come to love it.

  “No! No, we can fix this. No. Don’t say that. You’re just tired. You’ve lost blood. The sun is coming up and it’ll be all right. You’ll be all right. Two sides of a coin—me and you. That’s how it’s meant to be.”

  Alia brushes a strand of hair off my face.

  Runa, she says, and I wince again at the sign—two. The two of us. I’m the second. She’s the first. I love you.

  She signs it as that blue line between the sea and the sky flashes white. I read her eyes and I know she can feel it.

  It had to be romantic love. Our love was strong enough, but it wasn’t what the magic needed for this exchange. I take her hands into mine and say exactly what I wished to tell her the moment I realized I’d lose her like this, to this boy, to this dream. “Alia, I love you.”

  The light changes again, the first fingers of dawn slipping up from the horizon. They sweep across us, iridescent. Alia’s hands grow lighter in mine until they’re nearly nothing at all. Pressure builds in my chest until the whole of me trembles. Her hands don’t shake in mine. Nothing moves her, serene as she is. Alia closes her eyes, and I know with complete certainty that I’ve seen the blue there for the last time.

  I draw in a breath—a long pull of the brine air with lungs made for it—and watch as Alia becomes nothing but sea foam.

  My sister, my twin, my other half, gone.

  17

  Evie

  “SHE’S FAILED. SHE’S GONE—CAN’T YOU FEEL IT?” ANNA asks in her stolen voice.

  Yes, yes, I can feel it.

  Even though the dawn does little here, it’s definitely risen, the morning tide changed. The magic has shifted yet again. Alia didn’t make it.

  Nothing went according to plan. Though she captured Niklas’s eye, his whole heart was not hers. She wasn’t the one to kill Niklas—Runa did that, and the blood didn’t even drip on her feet.

  She’s gone, and the sea king knows it. He felt it just as surely as we did. And his rage will be worse when he realizes not only is his one daughter dead, but the other—and the power he gets from her special skills—is staying topside forever.

  Yet Anna’s babbling on like we’re getting Christmas decorations rather than another body dead from magic. “She’ll be here soon—a baby tree! Won’t that be fun?”

  I’m beginning to regret giving her a voice.

  “You know what you must do now?” she asks with conspiratorial glee.

  “Enough, Anna. A girl is dead.” I’m tempted to silence her not with just a quick spell, but for good.

  Why did I bring her back?

  Yes, I missed her. Though there’s no undoing what she’s become. What she did and what she tried to do. It’s only been four days now, but it’s clear that this Anna is not my Anna. She never will be again. Still, somehow this Anna, in all her earnestness to make up for lost time, by forcing her opinions on me, has torn a memory loose from the brambles of our history.

  My Anna was always keen on advice too. Always suggesting another way. Something else to try. Most of the time it was because though I lived in the literal shadow of royalty, I would never think like them, and she knew it. Nik and Iker were different from most, the people’s princes, as it were, but my outlook on the world was still different.

  That Anna was trying to help—I know it. Trying to nudge me in an acceptable direction. Fit me into a little box so I could last longer in our trio. She knew I didn’t belong, and she used what influence she had to keep me around, safely protected from any calls for my removal from Nik’s orbit.

  Her advice meant something then, and I always wanted to return the favor, but she never sought me out until that day when I dared her to go into the ocean.

  “How . . . how do I get him to look at me . . . the way he looks at you?” Anna asked, shoulders slumped on the steps of her home, the day before her shared birthday with Nik.

  I sat down next to her and pulled my knees tight to my chest, the other hand on hers. The three of us had just spent the day together, as always, before Nik had to leave for finance lessons with the royal treasurer.

  Anna’s question was an awkward ask, but it was one that could be made from a position of power, if not age. A fisherman’s daughter must always answer a friherrinde. Yet I didn’t know what to do with her question any more than I knew what to do with how Nik looked at me.

  I thought of all the things I’d done that Nik seemed to like best—working a ship like a boy instead of a girl, swimming into the depths without fear, and then there was the time we never spoke of, when I saved him. I’d thrown myself onto a rock to break his fall, leaving me with a collapsed lung, a dead mother, and yet a healthy, safe Nik.

  Finally, I said, “He wants you to be brave.”

  Anna’s lips pursed, tears sparkling in her eyes. “I’m just as brave as you. That’s not it.”

  “You are just as brave as I am; we just have to prove it.” My mind wheeled for a chance to cure her desperation. There was a way to make Nik see. There had to be. “A race. Tomorrow, we can go to the beach and swim against each other. And make sure you win.”

  Anna’s nose scrunched up. “That doesn’t sound very brave.”

  “Did you see the ocean today? The current’s fierce. It should be the same tomorrow.”

  She inhaled deeply and looked up, blue eyes scanning the beautiful lawn and the towering turrets of the castle beyond. After a long moment, she nodded. “It’s a start.”

  It was. I just didn’t know it was the beginning of the end.

  Now, I sigh and look to where this Anna is rooted, here, forever with me. Because of me.

  “What should I do?” I ask, finally.

  If she weren’t tethered to the sea floor, Anna likely would’ve leaped into a grand twirl for all the joy that’s in her voice when the suggestion she’d kept deep inside bursts forth into the murk between us. “You need to become human, Evie! Go home. Restore the balance. It’s the only way you can stop the sea king.”

  She’s so happy I nearly feel bad cutting her down. “I can’t do that. You know I can’t. You know I tried to leave long before I asked him to free me.”

  “Yes, long before. You haven’t tried now.” She says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You just sent two mermaids to the surface. If the sea king is that upset about losing a fraction of his magic with two of his brood on land and three others with missing hair, you know it would make his fins curl to know you’d escaped above.”

  She’s made her case.

  And she’s still going. “Besides, you’ve used your land magic and coupled it successfully with sea magic. Urda has made you strong in ways no one has ever been, Evie.”

  It’s a compliment, and I let it seep into my bones, because I can’t remember the last one I received. Still, what she’s saying is an impossibility.

  “But I have nothing to give Urda for the exchange,” I say, piling my tentacles beneath me. The one abbreviated tip sits nicely on top. “My hair, my voice, I’d need it all to weather the trip above and survive whatever the sea king does to retaliate.”

  “What about the ring the girl has? It was Nik’s, no?”

  I flinch at his name on her lips. I’m unsure if she can tell, though. I keep my voice colorless. “Runa has no need to bring it to me now.”

  Anna laughs. “And you’re going to let a little thing like that get in your way?”

  The ring, the knife, the princesses’ unused hair—Anna has a point. It could work.

  18

  Runa

  AS THE GOLDEN RAYS OF DAWN SWEEP INTO MY EYES, the memory of Oma Ragn singing hits me like a cannonball to the chest.

  Come away, come away—

  O’er the waters wild.

  Our earth-born child

  Died this day, died this day.

  Come
away, come away—

  The tempest loud

  Weaves the shroud

  For him who did betray.

  Come away, come away—

  Beneath the wave

  Lieth the grave

  Of him we slay, him we slay.

  Though it was sad, I loved “The Mermaid’s Vengeance.” Because I knew it was from above, there was a little measure of guilt within me for its appeal, Father’s constant refrain about the dangers of humans, the evils of humans, in my ear.

  Once, when I was older, I asked Oma Ragn about it, and why she’d sing it at all if a human wrote it. Her answer was immediate.

  “My dear Ru, I’ve sung it to all my girls for a simple reason: we cannot forget what humans think of us.” She paused and gave a little smile. “Or what we can do to them.”

  The light shifts from gold to salmon, the sun crisp against the waters, and all I can do is watch the spot where Alia once was.

  “Or what we can do to ourselves, Oma,” I say, the song swirling in my head.

  For once I wish I could cry the way humans do. I can’t, not yet, not until the exchange has been made for good. I may cry then, but it doesn’t help me now, my sorrow having no real means of escape. A sob isn’t enough. Beating my fists against the ground isn’t enough. Screaming at the sky isn’t enough.

  Though I’ve never felt them, I imagine tears as a release. When a body has nothing left to give, it can only will its anguish back to the earth. Much like Alia just did. She became tears a thousandfold and returned to Urda.

  “Runa?”

  I startle at my name spoken aloud, wrenching my head around to look over my shoulder. My hand crawls to the pistol in my lap.

  Will. He’s standing there, his body protected by the stand of trees. His hands are raised in the air like I’m pointing the pistol at him already. Despite the shock on my face, he takes a step over the brush protecting him and comes into plain view, his hands still up. “Runa, I’m not here to hurt you. Or capture you. I promise.”

  He takes another step, his body fully exposed and mere feet from me. It’s enough that I shoot up to standing, barring him from coming closer.

  “What do you want?” I ask.

  He lowers his hands a little, but still keeps them out. His eyes flit to the gun in my grip, but there’s something about his hesitation that isn’t about what the pistol can do.

  “I saw what you did to those guards. Back there. I . . . the fire, it was a spell I’d never seen.”

  I say nothing.

  This boy is Niklas’s friend. His cousin by marriage for a few brief hours. He’s not an Øldenburg, but he’s adjacent enough that the last thing I need to confirm for him is that I’m a witch. I shift on my feet. I don’t want to kill another human today, but I find my finger sliding to the pistol’s trigger.

  “Oh. Look. No—I mean, I can only do this.”

  A little sheepish grin curls at the corners of his lips as he bends down and plucks a blade of grass from the earth. He holds it up and swipes his hand over it like the magician at one of the pre-wedding parties we attended. I’m about to roll my eyes, when he says something that makes the hairs on my forearms stand straight up.

  “Vaxa fagrliga lágr kappi.”

  The blade of grass shivers for a moment in the dawn’s light before spilling out of itself—stretching down and up and out until, in two blinks, it’s something else entirely. A flower—thin white petals and a sunny yellow center.

  Will bows and presents it to me. “William Jensen, at your service. A very serious wizard who can only make daisies.”

  I don’t take it. I’m too stunned. “A wizard?”

  He nods. “It’s a big term for what I can do, but yes, I have some measure of magic. Not like you—or Alia.”

  I suck in a deep breath. “Did you see her go?”

  He nods and after a long pause, he speaks again. “I’m sorry.”

  That thick feeling of release presses hard on my chest again and suddenly I either want to tackle this boy and whip him with the pistol in my hand the way the guard had hoped to do to me or sink into the ground and sob until my voice is raw and used. I sweep my finger off the trigger because I don’t trust myself not to actually use it, and hold the grip tight in my fingers. “What do you want?” I repeat.

  “To help,” he says simply, still holding the flower out for me.

  “I don’t believe you.” I haven’t been in these legs long, but they stand sturdy beneath me. Unflinching. “How do I know you won’t haul me back to the castle for imprisonment or worse? Your cousin has told everyone in the castle that we’re the reason her husband is dead. I don’t know you, Will, but I know your loyalty bends toward her and the dead king.”

  He places the flower in the front pocket of his coat. “Don’t shoot me. I have something I need to show you.”

  “If it’s more flowers, there’s no need.”

  Will steps over the brush and into the trees. My hand slides back up to the pistol trigger as he squats down. When he stands, there’s a man under each of his arms, both clad in uniform of Øldenburg Castle. More guards.

  “My cover,” he says. With a grunt, he raises them up higher and presents them to me. Each man has a giant goose egg at the temple, raised enough to make their heads appear deformed. “They won’t remember what they saw in the valley. Heck, they might not remember their own names once they open their eyes.” He drops the men in a heap. “Now do you believe me?”

  I don’t. Not yet. I shake my head.

  “I’ll take you to Katrine.”

  At the witch’s name, I gasp. “You heard us talking about her. You probably don’t even know who that is.”

  To my surprise, he laughs. “She’s the most powerful witch in Denmark—of course I know who she is. Who do you think I asked to help me learn to spell anything beyond daisies?”

  “She’s not very good if that’s still your only trick.”

  His cheeks pink and his nose crinkles in a very becoming way. “That has more to do with me as a student than her as a teacher.”

  I don’t say anything more. Will takes a deep breath. “Runa, listen. Katrine’s place is a safe house for our kind. It’ll be your best bet.”

  Eyes on me, he reaches down to the guards’ bodies and tosses each man’s pistol and ammunition across the grass to my feet.

  “Think it over. But I’m unarmed, and I know the way.” He stands again, this time with his hands at his sides. “And if what I’ve said has led you astray, shoot bullets or fire, and that’ll be that.”

  I stow the weapons and ammunition in my pockets. Will seems to sense this means he’s convinced me, and he stands on edge, waiting for me to take the first step. But first I have some questions—I’m not as trusting as Alia.

  “Why are you doing this? Why do you want to help me? Why would this Katrine woman want to help me? A murder suspect is a murder suspect, most especially if she’s a witch.”

  Will isn’t flustered by my questions. He answers plainly, blue eyes never straying from my face. “Because I’ve spent the last three months of my life doing whatever I could to keep Havnestad’s U-boats from getting into the hands of the Germans.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they will be the single most deadly weapon of this war.” He pauses and lets that sink in before continuing. “A plane can drop bombs, yes, but there are warning sirens and bomb shelters and the like. U-boats come at you from the deep with no warning and no mercy. Just this month, one sank the HMS Pathfinder. Split the hull in two, sank her within minutes. Two hundred fifty-nine souls lost to the sea.”

  My breath catches at the number—two hundred fifty-nine.

  I’ve just lost my sister and it feels like the end of me too. How many dozens of people felt that way after their loved ones were slaughtered at sea?

  And if that’s what humans will do to each other, what will they do to us?

  “You can imagine after that success, they want as many boats as possible.
And though Denmark is neutral in this war, Niklas saw an opportunity for his practically bankrupt kingdom to pay off some debts and maybe make a buck. They’ve been secretly building boats here with plans to set them to sea in the Øresund Strait for Germany.” My mind pages back to our schoolroom map of pinched waterways and open seas. “Sink soldiers, sink cargo—murder men on their decks, and starve out Great Britain: that’s Germany’s plan.”

  I’m flabbergasted. I don’t have a stake in what these humans do—Germans, English, Danes, they’re all the same to me. But the sheer loss of life and the cruelty of it all is almost tangible.

  “Sofie’s father encouraged Niklas to build U-boats. Waved money in his face and whispered promises in his ear. This war ruined the summer whaling season, and his coffers were already looking lean, so he took the bait.” Will glances down and away now, the memories flashing behind his eyes. “I tried to convince him he could make money another way. And Sofie worked on the baron, but a daughter can bend her father’s ear only so much.”

  Well, that’s something I do know from firsthand experience.

  Will continues. “When it was clear convincing wouldn’t work on either end, we made alternate plans. I don’t want—and the witches I know don’t want—these weapons in the hands of anyone. They have to be destroyed, and we’re going to see to it that they are.”

  I was always taught that humans were our own worst instincts put to souls, but maybe there is some good here. “And Katrine is one of the witches who is against the boats?”

  Will nods. “Like I said, Katrine’s home is our safe house. When I say you’ll be safe there, I can guarantee it, because though we’re not murder suspects, if we fail, we’ll likely be captured by a bunch of angry Germans before Havnestad can banish us for witchcraft.”

  He catches his breath and meets my eyes. “If you’d like to join us, we could use a witch like you.”

  For effect, he holds out the flower once again. A peace offering.

  This time, I take it.

  The sunny little thing shines in my hands. There’s no root to it, but it’ll do. I place it gently on the spot where my sister once was. “Vaxa. Líf.”