Silenced

by Ekaterine Xia

  Small bubbles trailed out from behind his hair, and I realized that my decision would be made for me if I didn’t act.

  I swam closer and brushed his hair away from his face, intending only on breathing for him, just one breath, enough to prolong his life enough so I could think on whether or not I dared risk my parents’ wrath and possible confinement for a man who was close to death anyway.

  His face came into view and I froze, feeling much the same way I did when I’d been whacked over the head by a dolphin’s tail when I was younger. A stone lodged in my chest, heavy and unyielding, but my decision was made.

  He looked exactly like the man I loved.

  I leaned in, took a deep breath, covered his mouth with mine, and exhaled slowly, infusing my breath with my magic as I did so. His hands came up to grasp at mine, his eyes opening briefly to reveal dull green eyes that sparked with a strange light before they fluttered shut again.

  Mother’s Depths. He’d seen me. Possibly seen my tail. He’d definitely seen me, my nude torso, the collar of pearls that protected my modesty, and the jewels woven into my hair.

  I could let go. Let him drown. Stay safe.

  I should. The light in his eyes had not been wholly on the side of righteousness.

  regret

  My conscience pricked at me. I was a dragon princess, and his was a life.

  Everything in me screamed against letting this man die, but even if he wasn’t a twin to Xin, could I really let a man expire in front of me, knowing I could save him? It was said that saving a life was the ultimate grace, no greater offering possible for our goddesses.

  His eyes opened again and they looked straight at me. An olive green, not emerald green, muddy, without the spirit of the man I adored, but I couldn’t swim away regardless. Close enough. Too close to let him die, I told myself, but I knew it was an excuse.

  I couldn’t let a man die simply because he might harm me.

  Another breath, and then I drew away, intending to place a bubble around his head so he could breathe on his own, but he clasped me to him, his eyes open and frantic, his arms iron strong with fear. I drew from my magic, flicked my fingers, and made him an air bubble, popping it over his head. It glowed in the gloom, drawing his attention and gradually he stopped struggling. A look of wonder came into his eyes, awe washing over his face as he took a breath, then two.

  “Sleep.”

  His eyes widened, a too-sharp gleam flaring before his head slumped forward, his hair coming down to obscure his face again.

  I breathed out a sigh. It was too bad he was lucid for the entire process, but there was nothing I could do about that now. Now for the question of how to transport him. I could hold him in my arms and swim with him that way, but his legs would get in the way of my tail and severely hamper my speed.

  I eyed his cloak. Perhaps I could hold onto that and drag him that way? Another thought or two and I discarded that idea. It would hardly be efficient and I didn’t want to have to worry about it choking him. Then a thought occurred.

  I fingered the dagger at my belt and grinned.

  Minutes later, I’d managed to fashion a crude harness out of his cloak and strapped him in, looping the lead strings through my belt to evenly distribute the weight. I beat my tail experimentally, pleased when it appeared that the plan would work, and started for the nearest coast.

  If I was fast and didn’t tarry, I could possibly be back in my bedroom before court tomorrow morning with no one the wiser about my exploits. Remembering that Xin would watch for my return, I cursed under my breath and put on a fresh burst of speed, using the energy from the storm to boost my own efforts.

  The moon was just setting when I cut the harness away from him and pushed him up higher away from the water, allowing the scraps to float away on the receding tide. I’d had to shift to my two-legged form since my mer form would only hinder me in the shallows and I felt remarkably naked. My enchanted sea silk belt had lengthened to form a short skirt, more than long enough to cover everything that needed it when dealing with a land dweller, but there was something about him that made me want a full complement of armor before I woke him.

  “Awaken.” I put a bit of a push into my voice even though the greater part of me wanted to just leave him there to wake on his own. There had been something in his eyes before I’d spelled him to sleep.

  He groaned, his eyes opening.

  “You’re...” His voice was ruined by the sea, but I couldn’t mistake the avarice twisting his face. I cursed under my breath, gave him another shove into the shallows, and moved for deeper water.

  His hand manacled around my wrist, surprisingly strong for a man I’d thought near death.

  “Stay... Mine...”

  “Let go,” I ordered, putting the full weight of my power behind my words.

  Muddy green eyes widened with rage, but his fingers loosened obediently.

  “Stay still until I go,” I commanded further.

  A hectic flush swept across his cheekbones.

  Strange, what a mer noticed in the heat of battle. For some reason, the long line of his neck stayed with me, even as I turned and leapt for the safety of the sea. It was the long, uncomplicated length of a man who had never known a moment’s worry or fear.

  Fear that he’d brought to me. I regretted saving him. Oh, how I regretted saving him.

  There was only one man I wanted to look at me with that measure of lust and possessiveness and this man wasn’t him. And that cold light of fanaticism...

  Even worse than the fear was the regret. I would never approach another drowning land dweller with the same light heart as before.

  I shuddered. The water wasn’t quite deep enough to dive yet, but I sank beneath the waves, swimming toward deeper water. I called my mer form to me as the sandy shore fell away, reveling in the immediate rush of strength being in scales gave me.

  “No! Wait! I’ll have you yet, little mermaid, and then you’ll regret leaving me!”

  I already regretted it. But what was the alternative?

  I ducked my head and put on a fresh burst of speed, swimming with all my might toward the safety of home.

  It had been a mistake. My mother was right to forbid the mermaids from saving human men. I’d thought it sexist and misogynistic, but I was wrong. Most unfortunate I couldn’t ever admit that to my parents. Couldn’t even truly admit it to myself, because if I did, I would have had to go back and slit his throat.

  lingering danger

  Water calmed me as I raced away from the shore and deeper into Mother’s embrace. Yuu and Youu swam at my sides, their bodies flashing red and orange.

  I winced and moved faster, drawing from my reserves. Youu and Yuu hadn’t followed me onto land, but they were close enough to realize what was going on and now they were upset.

  Of course, their anger would be as nothing compared to my family and Xin’s if they knew what I’d done and hadn’t done.

  Yuu stopped swimming, one of her tentacles hooking and twining with Youu’s. Knowing what she wanted to do, her mate sped up so he was swimming ahead of me, Yuu trailing behind in his wake.

  I groaned. Oh no.

  Some thought that octopuses couldn’t communicate well, being non-vocal and non-telepathic, but we of the sea knew differently.

  There was no avoiding them either. When motivated, octopuses could swim more than twice as fast as the fastest mer and Youu was nothing if not incentivized by what happened.

  Yuu’s body continued to shift between red and orange, perhaps very slightly slower now that we were out of danger, or perhaps because she could lecture me with her tentacles. Seven was more than enough to gesticulate her anger, worry, and chide me for breaking the rules while threatening to tell everyone what I’d done.

  It was going to be a long trip home.

  Unlike Yuu, I couldn’t sign while I was swimming, and stopping to plead my case would delay our return.

  Yuu continued to harangue me, her tentacles nearly tangl
ing in her rage.

  Perhaps I could shift to my other sea form -- but no. If I changed to my faster form, I could easily outpace Youu, but it was probably better to let Yuu work out her anger before we returned lest she make good on her threat to tell.

  The octopuses and I had an agreement. They wouldn’t tattle on my excursions, provided I took sufficient care. Much as Yuu was furious over the land dweller’s perfidy, that she and Youu had let me save him without protest would factor into her end decision whether or not to tell.

  Unable to determine if I wanted her to tell, I worried my lower lip.

  Was the danger past?

  I liked to think so, he being a land dweller without magic and clearly unable to swim.

  Did I owe it to the city to admit I may have garnered such ...attention? Did I owe it to my family? Some of my younger siblings often went above to the land dweller cities, frequently without guards to avoid drawing attention. What if this man prompted enough interest that they were discovered and taken captive?

  Even Water couldn’t soothe the terror and guilt then.

  I put my head down and counted my heartbeats all the way home.

  The Mothers smiled upon me, for Xin was speaking to another guard when I passed the boundaries of the city. I shot past him, the octopuses trailing in my wake as they visibly debated whether to reveal all, and darted for my kelp nest.

  Sleep. Everything would look better once I had some sleep and food when I woke. The feast and gaiety would keep my younger siblings close for a quarter moon at least, so I had some time to think on what happened.

  Nacre stung my eyes when I burrowed into my favorite nest and pulled the fronds around myself. The sensitive tendrils wove together, hiding me and cradling me in place. Two pearls trailed from my eyes and I shut them against more tears, taking refuge in darkness.

  contrite heart

  My mother’s cool hand on my forehead woke me to full awareness.

  I opened my eyes and met her fathomless gaze. It took everything I had in me not to squirm and betray myself. My mother wasn’t all-knowing, even if it too often seemed like it.

  “Not ill then.”

  Her mental voice was tender, and I relaxed. Good. She didn’t know what I’d done.

  Queen-mother settled herself into the gentle embrace of the same haidai cluster that cradled me in place on my favorite rock, tendrils of the seagrass coiling around her fingers. She petted the delicate strands, her gaze never leaving my face.

  “It was only supposed to be for a while longer,” she murmured. “A year, maybe two after your coming of age quest. I promised your king-father I wouldn’t say anything, but I think this has gone on rather long enough. Don’t you?”

  I looked down and away instead of blinking and gaping. No, she didn’t know, but there was clearly something else in the water.

  “Or perhaps I should have him speak on his own behalf. It was his brilliant notion, after all. Xin and your brothers’, although I do think your father should have known better than to agree.”

  My head snapped back up. “Agree to what?”

  Her tiny smile deepened. “That Xin would keep his distance until after you reach the age of majority.”

  My jaw dropped, anger roiled in my stomach, and a stream of bubbles streaked out of my throat, blocking her face from view.

  My mother reached out and tapped my chin, closing my mouth. “They had some idea that it would be unfair for Xin to snap you up. Like an unsuspecting shrimp by a shark, they said. Should let you go out and see more of the world, they said.” She paused, her smile turning into a sly smirk. “As if they really considered what that seeing would entail. Clearly they want more mer flirting their tails and fins around you.”

  Another stream of bubbles escaped me, this time from the giggle I couldn’t hold back at the thought of how my father and brothers would react.

  King-father would mutter something about wishing he could stuff me back into his pouch the way he could when we were newly born merlings and my brothers would finger their spears with that particular grimace-smirk that asked for blood to be spilled.

  My sisters were much more at ease about such things, knowing that flutters of the tail often meant very little.

  “Laughter? Good. You’ve been drooping around far too much lately. Your little heart is torn between rejoicing that you clearly share his adult feelings and worrying that you haven’t been sneaking past the guard.”

  That sobered me up quickly. “He’s not my anything, much less my heart. And little? Hah.” Xin’s name meant dawn, but it had the same sound as heart in our language, and no one ever forgot to tease me about it, although much less in recent years. All things considered, I didn’t want the practice being resurrected. I ignored what Queen-mother said about sharing his adult feelings. I wasn’t about to just forgive him years of coldness, particularly as the reasoning behind it was beyond laughable.

  “Mmm, that so?”

  I tossed my head. “What, did he think that I would simply be here, waiting for him like a captive pearl in a clam? He must have been poisoned with absurdity.” I pursed my mouth and blew out a gust of bubbles. “The same kind of absurd that inflicts so many as they reach adulthood. Particularly the males.”

  My mother laughed, the sound like chiming bells. “Shall I send him away then?”

  She gestured. The gently curling sea grass fronds furled and stilled, revealing a too-familiar form.

  Xin.

  His eyes were sea dark, the deep green lightened only by rivulets of gold, like sunlight playing over the waves. His hip length hair was not caught up in his usual warrior’s braid, but flowed loose around him, a cloak of golds and reds more beautiful than the sea anemone I loved to coax to grow near my abode.

  Pfah.

  I shook my head, hard. The mer inspired me to poetry, of all things. And for what? For a mer who didn’t even bother to acknowledge me past the barest civilities.

  “Elle.”

  I bit my lip and turned my face away.

  How could a simple word hurt so much? Elle, short for elegant, the Yingwen rendering of my name. I’d given up hearing the name again, spoken with his distinctively husky voice. Unlike most, Xin’s mental voice was just as throaty as his physical voice, with the faintest croon to it.

  My mother made the hand gestures for behave at me and left, patting Xin on the shoulder as she swam past.

  I huffed. As if he were the one needing moral support.

  Elle

  Xin settled on the sand beside me and peered up at me through unfairly long lashes. “Elle.”

  I frowned at him. “Why the change of heart?”

  “What happened that day? You were frightened when you returned.”

  Should’ve known.

  I puffed out a peal of bubbles at him in utter disgust. “Good thing I had no hopes. If you’re here as Commander of the Guard, then you can go. Nothing happened.” That he needed to know of, I silently added.

  “You’ve gotten better at lying.”

  I turned my head. “Nothing to do with you.”

  “And that, that wasn’t a lie. And precisely why I’m here today.”

  Riddles? I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “Your fear wasn’t the clean terror of having narrowly missed a giant squid or a shark, Little Eighteen. It was a human male, wasn’t it?”

  My tail clenched so hard around the rock I was perched on that a warning spasm shot through my muscles.

  Xin lifted a hand as if to stroke the cramps away, froze, and then his hand fell back to his lap. “I knew then, and I realized that I was a fool.”

  “Oh? Do tell.” This ought to be good. I managed a smile despite the fear gnawing at my gut. Fear from being reminded of the obsession clear in the human’s eyes. Fear that he’d tell Queen-mother that I’d disobeyed. Fear that he wouldn’t and I’d have to be the one to tell her. Or not.

  “It is your choice whether to tell Their Majesties or no,” he offered softly.

&
nbsp; I lifted my chin. “You were saying something about being a fool.”

  A wry smile curved that lush mouth. “I realized, the more fool me, that I’d cut off any chance of being the mer you’d swim to when you were in terror, that if anything you’d avoid telling me of what you feared because you no longer see me as being unequivocally yours. I thought I was being noble, opening your eyes to options that you might have ignored otherwise, and all the time, I was taking away from you.”

  I just looked at him, beyond being able to parse his words and decide what it meant. For me. For us. If there could be an us.

  I’d slept poorly since I saved the man, torn between losing my freedom or being sequestered for my mistake. I could keep it my secret and remain unfettered in theory, but I’d grown so afraid of the outside and above I could barely bring myself to pass beyond the barrier. The night brought new nightmares, ones in which I wasn’t able to escape. Ones in which other mer were taken captive in his bid to capture one of us for his own. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t see how he would be able to persuade a mermaid to his hand. The look of frustrated entitlement in his eyes convinced me that he would somehow find a way.

  Xin was right. I was isolated in my thoughts, but the knowledge was an abstract one, not something that I particularly wanted to consider at the moment. Or could consider.

  “And?”

  He faltered, the light in his eyes turning lost for a moment and my traitorous soft heart fought to rally enough to give him a clue.

  “You’ve made a decision. Again. Without talking to me. And now you’re informing me of this choice you’ve made. Granted, this wasn’t a decision I could help with, but what do you expect from telling me this? Should we just pretend the last four years never happened? Do you expect me to say all is forgiven and bygones can be bygones?”