by Jade Kerrion
“And now the ocean’s dying,” he continued, the ache audible in his voice. “It needs my help.”
Ashe rolled her eyes. What was it with the humans and their compulsion to speak of the ocean as if it were living and aware? The ocean wasn’t the problem. The living beings in it were the problem; first and foremost, the Beltiamatu—the Lords of the Ocean.
Destroyers of the Ocean.
Chapter 13
Ashe had never cared for human food, even when she had actually needed to eat in order to live. The smell turned her stomach, but she joined Varun’s parents, Varun, and Ondine at the table and went through all the motions of enjoying the meal. Jinn, who picked the choice pieces off her plate, was hearty in his praise, which kept the lighthearted conversation chugging along.
“I really don’t understand what you meant, Varun, about Jinn’s temper,” Marina said after laughing at one of the parrot’s comments. “He’s an absolutely charming guest.”
“Probably because he hasn’t resorted to nicknames, yet.” Varun winked at Ashe, as if enjoying a private joke.
Ondine scowled, but before she could say anything, Marina handed her a plate of freshly baked dinner rolls. “So, have you enjoyed your trip so far?”
Ondine blinked hard, then straightened as she drew a deep shuddering breath. “The storms were rough. It felt as if we hit every single one of them on the way out here.” She did not look at Ashe.
Paulos chuckled. “Just like red traffic lights, eh? Some people just have a run of bad luck.”
“Varun mentioned you had some bad experiences while on a cruise before,” Marina said.
Ondine’s shoulders dipped. “It was a long time ago. We were on a yacht near Indonesia. I fell overboard; I hardly remember it but I’ve been afraid of the ocean ever since.” She glanced at Varun, who gave her hand a tight squeeze. “I hoped it would be different on a working boat instead, that being surrounded by all the purposeful activity would give me something to focus on, other than the endless sea out there.”
“Did it?” Marina asked.
“Not quite. Not with all the storms we’ve run into. They came out of nowhere. I swear this boat’s cursed.”
Ashe sighed, and Jinn cackled. Even Varun grimaced. “The sea’s not a predictable sort of creature, I grant you,” Varun said. “But the Veritas is a sturdy ship. It handled the storms just fine.”
Ondine’s chin lifted, and she slanted Ashe a sideways glance. “It hasn’t felt like it, Varun. Even you agreed that the captain was reckless.”
“That’s not what I said!”
“Surfing through that wave—”
“To open water, instead of risking the Veritas tossing on that storm for god knows how much longer.” Varun looked at his parents. “It was brilliant—”
Ashe sipped from her glass of water. Jinn squawked on her behalf. “I don’t need you to defend me, Varun. My responsibility is delivering the ship and those on it safely back to land.”
“What about the time when you abandoned the ship?” Ondine challenged.
Varun dropped his fork. It clattered against his plate. “You have a problem with that? She jumped in to save me.”
“Save you?” Marina gasped. “Varun, what happened?”
He flushed and reached for his glass of wine. “I ran into some difficulty on a dive.”
Ondine interjected. “And instead of sending in another diver, the captain decided to play the hero.” Her narrow-eyed gaze fixed on Ashe.
Jinn flared his wings and spoke for Ashe. “The best person for the job goes in. I am the strongest swimmer on the Veritas.”
Varun nodded, and Ondine glared at him. Ashe rolled her eyes. Ondine could keep her damned man. Ashe had not even wanted the assignment; she definitely did not want Varun. Besides, what would a Daughter of Air do with a human?
Varun held up his hands. “Maybe we should change the subject before my reputation as a competent deep-sea diver is completely ruined?” The tightness of his tone, however, decried his attempt at humor.
Marina passed a bowl of fruit around the table. “Freshly picked from our garden. Have some, please.” She looked across the table at Ondine. “Tell me, my dear, what are your plans after Varun is done with his study of the ocean?”
“Back to civilization.” Her smile widened for the first time, and her hunched shoulders straightened. “Perhaps a bit of shopping. I’ll be just in time to check out the summer collections in Milan. Rumor has it they’ll be amazing. It’s going to be a huge thrill.”
Ashe tuned out Ondine’s yammering about the inconsequential and instead focused on the decorated bowl in front of her. The dessert, traditional Greek yogurt drizzled with honey and served with fresh berries, was sweeter than Ashe liked, but between her and Jinn, they managed to finish most of it.
“So what brings you back, son?” Paulos asked, leaning back in his chair after the dessert bowls were empty.
“A spot of diving. The data suggests that the dead spots in the ocean originate from the Levantine Sea.”
Marina’s hands trembled upon her cup of tea. “It’s not a good place for diving, Varun. The fishermen have lost too many ships out there.”
“The Veritas is sturdier, and we have a hell of a captain.” Varun raised his glass of wine to Ashe. He frowned. “The seas will be rough, though. They always are out there.” He turned to Ondine. “Maybe you should stay here.”
“No, I’m coming along. I chartered this ship, after all.”
Varun shrugged, the normally graceful motion tightened by his taut shoulders. “Just for a day or two until I’ve gotten all the samples I need from the Levantine Sea, then we’ll swing back around to the island and pick you up. It doesn’t make sense for you to subject yourself to the storms any more than you have to, especially when you can be comfortable here.”
Ondine’s gaze darted between Varun and Ashe.
Ashe blew out her breath. Did Ondine really think Ashe was interested in Varun? She flicked her fingers. “Would you feel better if I promise not to save his life if he gets into trouble?”
Ondine’s smooth forehead furrowed into lines as she frowned. “You’re making me sound like—” She hesitated. “I didn’t intend to suggest that you weren’t supposed to help if there was trouble, just that—” She glanced at Varun, then looked back at Ashe. “I’m concerned that your priorities aren’t in the right place.”
Ashe arched her eyebrows. “Priorities? Beyond keeping my ship and crew safe? And delivering you back on shore in time to catch your private jet to Milan?”
The corner of Ondine’s eye twitched. “You don’t understand. Of course you wouldn’t. You know nothing about the world I come from.”
Ashe chuckled softly. Ondine had no idea how true those words were.
Her gaze shuttling between the two women, Marina interjected. “Varun, when you’re done with your dive, where will you go?”
“We’ll go where the data leads us.”
Marina sighed. “It’s such a short visit. I wish you could stay longer.”
Varun threw Ashe a quick, knowing glance. “Sometimes, a short visit is all you need to tie up all the loose ends.”
Ashe’s eyes narrowed. He had no idea how right he was.
Chapter 14
When the household was finally asleep, Ashe crept out of the guest room through an open window and wandered along the cliffs overlooking the water. On the horizon, moonlight glittered over the waves like silver dust on dark velvet. She had once stood here, in this exact spot, with her back turned to the prince’s mansion, to his life. As she had done that one night long ago, Ashe peered over the rocky edge. The waves far below smashed against rock and cascaded into white foam. It spread over the dark water like a torn bridal veil before dissipating.
Three centuries earlier, she had flung herself over the edge, her eyes so filled with tears that she could not see the rocks and the waves colliding beneath her. Her mind and her voiceless throat screamed one name repeatedly.
Then another voice had rent the night. “No!” the prince had screamed.
She turned in midair to look back at the man she had decided not to kill. He stood at the edge of the precipice, his hand outstretched to her, as if he could still catch her, still save her. His eyes were wide, his mouth agape.
“No!” he screamed again as she hit the water.
The sea welcomed her back, embracing her. It washed away Medea’s magic. Pain rippled along the length of her legs as they fused back into a mermaid’s tail. Her skin peeled away in bloody strips as her silvery scales reemerged. She broke the surface and drew in her final breath of air. Her tail flicked across the surface of the sea, her scales glittering in moonlight.
For an instant, she was whole, once again herself.
Then ancient magic tore her apart.
Her lower back, immersed in the water, started dissolving first. Her skin flaked off, exposing raw flesh to salt water. She would have screamed, but the excruciating pain stole her voice. She sank beneath the waves as her flesh and bones melted off, before drifting to the surface, as white as sea foam. Her last glimpse of the prince, before her eyes lost their vision, was of him staring over the edge of the cliff—disbelief and wonder in his eyes.
Her body reduced to nothing, Ashe’s consciousness lingered on the surface of the water, but it was already fraying, vanishing as her physical form had vanished. A light breeze swept over the waves; lights danced above the surface of the water, coalescing. Anyone watching from the shore might have simply imagined it for moonlight breaking on the water.
An ethereal voice whispered through the wind. Join us. Be among the Daughters of Air, and you will earn your soul.
But what good was a soul now? There was no point—
You will see him again.
I can see him again?
Join us. Be among the Daughters of Air.
Yes. Her answer was given simply, without hesitation. There was no price she would not have paid for him.
The wind drew her consciousness from the surface of the water, and swept her upward. She turned back to look upon the darkness of the water flecked with white sea foam.
She had attended her funeral.
Her consciousness darted past the prince. She had traded a soulless death for a life of servitude.
Servitude, however, was not as dreary as it sounded. The work was not easy, but neither was it onerous. There were moments of hair-raising fun—like trying to turn a gigantic hurricane out to sea. The slow, lumbering monster had made her—and millions of humans—panic, before she finally eked out a turn at the last possible moment. The disaster was turned into a minor drenching, and humanity went on its merry way, unaware that a Daughter of Air had spent days pushing a high-pressure zone into the hurricane to force its turn.
She had not seen him again, though. She thought about him constantly and contemplated returning, just for a peek, but she could not bring herself to do it. Nothing she could do for him would have made his life any better, and there were no explanations she could offer him that would lead to forgiveness.
Years turned into decades, and decades to centuries. She still thought about him constantly, but the ache was muted and subdued.
Until tonight. Until seeing Marina and Varun—mother and son—at the table and seeing the love that could have been, and what she had given up when she made that choice.
For the first time, she wondered if she had made the wrong choice that night when she stood at the foot of the prince’s bed with the dagger in her hand. Had she made the wrong choice by turning away?
Jinn fluttered overhead and landed on her shoulder. The parrot’s hard beak nuzzled her cheek, and Ashe absentmindedly stroked Jinn’s gray feathers. The wind danced around her before sweeping out over the ocean, stirring up the water. The waves rippled in response, its silver tips rising to catch the moonlight. Its glow drew attention to the darkness beneath.
The wind returned to Ashe, cold and brittle, its bite almost painful.
She stood and shrugged her shoulders. Jinn flew away to land on a nearby tree. Ashe undressed and concealed her clothes behind a bush, then leaped off the cliff.
The way down was shorter than she remembered, but she was not the same person who had once jumped off that cliff.
This time, she was in control.
She cut into the water with hardly a splash. Air came at her call, whispering to her, pointing her toward the unrest in the ocean. She caught a current and let it propel her along the underwater highways. In the distance, the water stirred, the ripples too strong to be fish, even large ones. Ashe swam toward the disturbance. The details resolved into the lean, sleek shapes of several merfolk, like orcas surrounding wounded prey. In the center of the circle, curled into a ball, was a young Nereid. Her blood squeezed out of the many cuts on her body and trailed like red tears in the water.
Ashe scowled. What was it about superiority of numbers that turned people—human and Beltiamatu—into bullies? She threw out a blast of air. It cut through the water with the force of a massive projectile and smashed into the Beltiamatu closest to her.
Unlike projectiles, however, its trajectory ignored every physical law in the universe. It curved, knocking into each of the startled merfolk, pushing them away from the Nereid. The Beltiamatu twisted around to stare at the new threat. Their eyes widened and narrowed.
No doubt, they were having trouble identifying her. She was not close enough for them to study her eyes that would have instantly betrayed her identity. They were forced to rely on other physical markers, which in combination, made no sense. She had legs, but was obviously breathing underwater without any effort. Therefore, she not human. She resembled, superficially, Nereids and Oceanids, but was larger—adult-sized, instead of child-sized. There was no category for her, except perhaps “mermaids with legs instead of tails.”
That thought seemed to occur to them at the same time. Yet their reason rejected it. There were no mermaids with legs instead of tails.
They swam closer, their spears pointed at her. Their skin was pale, their fingernails as black as death. Their voices rolled out over the currents. “Who are you?”
The better question is what are you? When did the Beltiamatu become the cowardly bullies of the ocean? When did you start picking on Nereids half your size?
“She entered our territory.”
You are more than fifty leagues from Shulim. You’re technically in open water.
Their jaws dropped. They exchanged alarmed glances, then one of them challenged Ashe. “How do you know about Shulim?”
Enough to know that you’re breaking the conventions that have kept the ocean safe for all its inhabitants.
The merman raised both his chin and his voice. “The Beltiamatu are not bound by conventions. We are the Lords of the Ocean—”
She flicked her finger at him.
The air that rushed out was a great deal more than a flick. Air molecules shaped into a pointed tip, slicing through the slower-moving water molecules, before fanning out into a hammer-like shape. It swung into the merman’s chest and drove him back several feet. His tail swished frantically, pushing against the water. His shoulders hunched over his heaving chest. “What…are you?”
I am more than you.
The merman’s gaze darted to his companions. His head dipped in a jerky, graceless motion. Two others lunged through the water toward Ashe. She twisted her wrist, and air swirled water into a spinning underwater tornado—one that obeyed Ashe instead of the laws of nature or physics. The mermaid closest to it retreated to safety. The second stared defiantly at the swirling bands of air.
The tornado seized her. Her companions stared, mouths agape, as she was twisted within the wind’s invisible coils. Her long hair whipped around her terror-stricken face. The force of the vortex, even underwater, was so powerful that she could not break out of it.
Not unless Ashe allowed it.
Luckily for them, although they did not know it, A
she was not willing to spill their blood. The ocean was contaminated enough as it was. The tornado, driven by Ashe’s command, rose out of the water, carrying the mermaid with it. The wind broke the surface and spit the mermaid out. Her scream was audible, a wail of utter panic, and then a splash as she hit the water far from where she had been ejected.
The tails of the Beltiamatu beat against the water, each motion carrying them back from Ashe. Only when they judged themselves to be at a safe distance, did they turn and swim away, vanishing into the depths.
If only they knew that her bold statement, “I am more than you,” was ten percent bravado and ninety percent a lie. She had once been one of them. Now, she was different.
Ashe swam toward the still cowering Nereid. They’ve retreated. You should return to your fellow nymphs.
The Nereid’s shoulders moved, as if she were pulling even deeper into herself. Blood continued to trail from her body.
How bad is it? Can you swim?
The Nereid’s head shook.
Ashe sighed. I’ll take you back to Beryri.
A voice carried over the current. “We’ll take her.”
Ashe turned to see the blue-haired Nereid she had met days earlier. Galene.
The Nereid’s head dipped in acknowledgement. She glanced over her shoulder and waved her hand. From behind the rocks on the seabed, several other Nereids appeared. They swam toward their injured companion, careful to give Ashe a wide berth.
Murmuring comforting sounds, they surrounded the younger Nereid and led her away.
Will she be all right? Ashe asked.
Galene nodded. “Thank you for intervening when you did. She would not have been otherwise.”
Were all of you watching the whole time?
Galene nodded again.
And you let the Beltiamatu attack her? Why didn’t all of you fight back?