Chapter 6

  The driving rain was making their st knot nearly impossible to tie. Nereida felt the buzzing in the air, felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck begin to rise. She threw herself over Epelda. The adolescent squeaked in indignation, but she went completely still when the fsh of light and terrible thunder shook them to their cores. Nereida pushed herself up. She was grateful her boys were below deck.

  Epelda squawked in horror. Nereida turned to look where she was pointing, and saw part of the mizzenmast burning on the deck, the still form of Ael underneath it. Nereida surged toward her, calling for Epelda to follow. Two other crew abandoned their posts to rush to their Admiral’s side. The two men were closer, and had managed to roll the heavy wood beam off of Ael before Nereida could reach them. Instead of seeing to their captain, however, they began putting out the fmes that lingered on the broken mast. The top of the mizzenmast still burned, the intense heat of the lightning was too strong for the rain.

  Torn between several equally terrible options, Nereida’s instincts to protect her family won out. She felt the rain’s call to the ocean, felt it beneath her skin, demanding to be let out. She slipped the obsidian bracelet off her wrist, feeling the full force of her power for the first time in years. A ugh bubbled up but she forced it away. Now was not the time to give in to hysterics.

  She called to the rain, directing the drops that fell from the sky so more fell on the burning mast. Water poured out of the clouds so hard it was as if the gods were emptying a bucket from the sky, the rain all falling together on that one spot. She concentrated on directing the rain until the st fme sputtered and died.

  By the time she made it to Ael, Epelda was frantically pressing her own shirt into the gash on the Admiral’s head. Nereida knelt beside them as the adolescent sobbed. The rest of the crew above deck was dealing with fires.

  “Move,” she hissed at Epelda. The girl stared at her with wide eyes. “Will you trust me? I can help but you have to trust me.” The girl nodded vigorously, shifting to the side.

  The wound was deep, and without help would scar significantly, if Ael survived.

  “I’m sorry brother,” Nereida whispered, hoping he understood why when she told him. She closed her eyes, feeling the blood beneath her fingers. Blood was water. Water was life. She tapped into her magic, and, ever so quietly, began to sing. It was a song without words, only melody, but she let it blossom from her, let it wash over her and through her, until she pushed it into the unconscious Ael. She heard Epelda’s strangled gasp, felt the girl grab her arm in fear.

  Ael took a deep, shuddering breath. The wound was closed, the skin and bone mended as if it had never occurred, except for a small mark near her hairline. Nereida let go of Ael’s head, her own head swimming with the aftertaste of magic. The rain beating on her head kept her in the moment. Epelda was staring at her with wide eyes.

  “Please don’t say anything to her.. or the crew.” Nereida leaned toward the girl, her voice hoarse from singing the life back into Ael. “We Dragon-blooded ought to keep each other’s secrets.” Epelda signed something, her movements so quick and sharp that it took a moment for Nereida to decode what the girl was saying. “How did I know? You sign like them, and I’ve spent time on a Sylph vessel. I’ve never seen anyone other than a Sylph move like you do amid the ropes. Now, we need to get her out of this rain, yeah?” She paused. “Could you shift the winds? Send the storm away from us?” Epelda nodded, but then looked down at the Admiral and shook her head no.

  “Does anyone on deck right now not know your secret?” Nereida pressed softly. The girl shook her head. “Then please, we need to be clear of this. I’ll sit with her in the cabin, tend to her.” There was a moment when Nereida thought Epelda would tell her no, would refuse to use her gift to save them. But then Epelda looked down at Ael and her bottom lip trembled as she fought back tears. And Epelda stood, and began to sing.

  There were no words to the girl’s song, only a melody that rode on the wind. Her voice was beautiful, haunting. The wind could not swallow the sound, but was forced to dance around it. Epelda’s notes rang higher and higher, an almost anguished sound. The fine hairs rose on the back of Nereida’s neck. She could feel the girl’s magic in her bones, in her lungs. The rain was carried away by the sudden shifting direction of the wind. And when Epelda’s notes ceased, there was only the sound of the waves to break the sudden empty silence.

  Nereida did not have the strength to carry the still unconscious Ael to her cabin. While she was a slight woman, only an inch or so taller than Nereida, she was muscur. As her luck would have it, however, the first mate came running toward them. Without the wind, without the waves, he moved across the wet deck with ease, sliding to a stop just close to them. He looked furious, his bright smile gone and repced with dark, angry eyes.

  “Epelda!” She threw up her hands, a recognizable sign for surrender, and he grumbled angrily. But then he noticed the blood; Ael’s shirt, Epelda’s shirt and Nereida’s hands were covered in blood. Yet Ael had no visible wounds. His eyes narrowed further, questions swirling on his face. Instead of asking whatever burned inside him, he knelt and scooped up Ael. Wordlessly, he calmly walked toward the captain’s cabin. He paused only to look back at them, motioning with his head that they should follow. Nereida obeyed, taking a moment to slip the obsidian bracelet back around her wrist. Immediately the roar of magic stilled. She could no longer hear the ocean calling to her, could no longer feel each drop of water spread about the ship. Instead she felt a crushing loneliness. A tear slipped out, and she managed to wipe it away, but not before Epelda saw. The young Sylph girl squeezed her shoulder kindly.

  Once the four of them were in the cabin, Nereida sank to the floor and leaned against the wall. Her strength was almost gone. Healing a wound that deep had been taxing beyond anything she had done. The cabin did not smell of rain and sea, but instead of leather and parchment and metal. There was a rge desk with a map and many small wooden figures on it. Two beds, one rge one with heavy curtains draped around it, and one smaller one. The washbasin was on the floor but did not seem to be cracked, a weapons rack nearby that had spilled swords and javelins everywhere.

  The first mate put the Admiral in her bed, and drew the curtains. He signed at Epelda to go sit with his Admiral, and the youth hastened to comply. She scurried across the room and slid behind the curtains.

  “Shirt,” the man called. “I’ll fetch you a new one but if you don’t want questions you can’t stay in it.” A moment ter a long, thin arm stuck out between the curtains, holding the bloody, soaked shirt. The first mate looked away, only peeking back to grab the destroyed shirt. He went to a bag, grabbed one of his own shirts, and handed it to Epelda. The girl’s arms were heavily scarred, almost striped. Nereida felt her stomach roll. Someone had given her those scars, they were too even to be caused by an accident.

  The Admiral seen to, the first mate came stomping toward her. Nereida did not shrink away from him, and instead let some of her tiredness show on her face. The truth would serve her better now than anything else. He looked over her for a long moment, saying nothing but examining her with his one good eye.

  “You’re Blooded,” he said. It was not a question, but he waited a moment as if expecting an answer from her. She inclined her head just slightly. “Which branch? Fire cannot heal.” She stared up at him, trying to decide if she should answer, if she should trust him.

  “You know a lot for a first mate.” She needed to see what time she could buy.

  “I’m well travelled,” he replied sardonically. He glowered at her. “Answer the question.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Then I will lock ya in the brig and let the Admiral decide what to do.” He shrugged. There was no malice on his face, just a touch of frustration.

  “I saved her life,” Nereida replied, puffing her chest out slightly and calling on her time in court to pull up the right amount of arrogance. “Surely that counts for something.”

  “Yes. Ya get to tell your side. Otherwise you’d be in the drink. Even if the Admiral is fond of ya, it’s my job to make sure she is safe.”

  Nereida could not help the little smile that escaped to her face. There was no way the Admiral was fond of her except as a verbal sparring partner. But there was no amusement or fondness on the first mate’s face.

  “If I tell you, will you swear a blood oath to keep the secret? I must protect my family at all costs.” He weighed her words, walking back and forth along the length of the desk.

  “If ya swear a blood oath in kind to protect the ship, the Admiral and her crew so long as you travel with us. Have we a deal, witch?” She took a breath, nodded.

  She loosened the obsidian bracelet, and slid it off. She’d need her magic to seal the oath. She held out her empty hand.

  “I need a dagger or knife.” He pulled one from a sheath on his belt, presented it to her hilt first. She smiled at him, a soft kind of smile. “I swear on my blood, my life, to protect this ship to the best of my abilities; and I shall protect her crew and her admiral until I am home.” She took the knife, cut a shallow cut into her forearm. Once blood began to trickle, she finished the oath. “Sworn in blood and magic, by my word, Dame Princess Nereida Dama D’Igna.” The first mate stared at her in sudden horror. She could not lie or downpy her rank in the oath, or it would become invalid. Her title was wrapped into who she was, and denying it would cause the magic to unravel. She calmly presented the knife back to him, hilt first. “Now you, or no expnation.” He nodded curtly, taking the bde and cutting his forearm as well.

  “I swear on my blood and by magic, I shan’t purposefully reveal your secret to any, and shall not e’er speak on it without your permission. Sworn in blood an’ magic, Evander Crowgaze.” She loosened a bit of her own magic to bind his oath.

  The oaths sworn, she took a breath.

  “I am going to drop my gmour, and all will be made clear,” she said, keeping her tone even. He nodded. She carefully undid her right boot, and revealed a silver anklet jammed into her stocking. Slowly she undid the csp, which let the magic of the gmour shatter.

  She had forgotten what it was like to be free to be herself. Pressure she had long accustomed herself to lifted from her chest, her head no longer tingled. Her long hair was a vibrant blue. Her fingers were now tipped with wicked cws, and her skin was slightly blue, like a human who had gone too long without air, skin slick and thick to protect against the cold of the water. She ran her tongue over her teeth, longer now and far sharper. The first mate gasped in unrestrained horror as he backed away from her.

  “Siren,” he managed, his voice strangled. She grinned at him, and then quickly csped the jewelry back on. The gmour restored itself, but it felt as if she were drowning. She gasped for air for a long moment, before her magic and the gmour began to co-exist once more. Her mother’s trinkets were powerful but the fire magic argued with her own.

  The first mate stared at her in awe and fear.

  “I don’t bite,” she said with a sigh.

  “You’re a siren!”

  “We aren’t all mad.” She shrugged again. “Just like I’d wager that the Moon-Touched live on, hidden from the rest of us.”

  “And you’re a princess of… that story! The foundling prince in the cave of fire!”

  “Was a princess pulled from the ocean.” She grinned. “All my stories have a grain of truth. They’re better that way.” She started to stand but her legs were like jellyfish beneath her and she crumpled to the ground. “Might I trouble you, Evander, to take me to my cabin and my children?”

  He nodded, bowing his head a little. He reached down gingerly to help her stand when he froze anew. “Do we have three or four sirens on the boat?” He hissed. She chuckled quietly.

  “Those aren’t my stories or my secrets. Figure it out for yourself.” He swallowed heavily and nodded, eyes wide and fearful. She tried not to sigh. But ship-folk were the worst when they knew what she was. Even the Sylphs that she had served with for six months had balked with she had used her water magic to help save their captain. That her species being known for madness and drowning ships was not helpful in the slightest. “Evander?”

  “Yes ma’am?”

  “My cabin?”

  “Yes ma’am.”