There’s another!
Moments later, Lirea spotted a third. The sharks swam together, their formation almost as tight as that of the undine. Her people could face three sharks, but it would be costly, and the blood would only enrage the sharks further.
Ready spears,
sang Nilliar.
Form a ring, and try to herd them toward the center.
The undine moved with one purpose: to protect their queen. Nilliar swam into the center of the circle, where she twitched her arms to simulate injury and lure the sharks into the trap. But as they waited, the sharks slowed. One turned away, swimming back toward the human ship. A second followed.
Lirea waited, heart pounding, to see if the third shark would still attack. This one came close enough for Nilliar to swim forward and strike its nose with the butt of her spear. The shark turned back, pausing only to snap at something in the water. It returned to the human ship, where a fourth shark now waited.
They’re following the humans.
Lirea swam after, being careful not to get too close to the sharks. Something floated on the waves nearby. She jabbed it with her spear. A fish head stared at her with empty eyes.
They’re tossing fish parts overboard to attract the sharks.
That wouldn’t cause them to attack us,
sang one of her warriors.
Or to break away once they decided to attack.
They say the human princess can speak to the animals,
answered Nilliar.
They obey her wishes and protect her from harm.
Lirea spun around, her song angry.
When
I
speak with animals, you look at me as though I’m mad.
The undine looked away. In a low voice, Nilliar said,
You also told us you interrogated a boat earlier today.
Lirea’s anger faded as quickly as it had come. Nilliar had a point. Lirea swam to the surface and watched the ship sail away. “They have only four sharks. We’ll summon more warriors. We can—”
“The rest of the tribe will have reached the spawning grounds by now,” Nilliar said quietly.
Lirea struck her across the face.
“Your body knows,” Nilliar continued, her tone unchanged. Blood dripped from her nose. “Perhaps you can’t taste it, but the rest of us can.”
Lirea could have screamed. Without the scent of a royal to fill the water, the undine would be sterile. No matter how loyal they might be, some pressures were impossible to fight. If Lirea didn’t return home soon, those undine of breeding age—easily half of her tribe—might leave to join other tribes, destroying all she had accomplished these past months. “It’s too early.”
“Spawning has been known to come quickly in times of danger,” Nilliar said. “The pressure to breed is strong. The urge was building even during the migration. You can’t fight it anymore, Lirea.”
“No . . .” Lirea could hear the knife’s anger, a match for her own. “Then we attack now. The sharks—”
“Could slaughter half our number, and the blood would draw more sharks to serve their princess.” Nilliar wiped her nose. “Even if Lannadae is with them, the risk is too great.”
Lirea was no longer listening to her fellow undine. Another whisper floated on the wind. This new voice was seductive. Familiar. Lirea began to tremble. “Where are we?”
“North of the humans’ island kingdom,” said Nilliar.
The clouds blocked the stars from view, but there were other ways of navigating. Lirea dove, seeking out the deeper currents to confirm her fears.
A shark taunted her in the distance.
You can’t stop us.
She swam back to the surface. “I know where they’re going.”
Lannadae has slipped through your grasp again, and she’ll never let you be queen,
called another shark.
She’s going to kill you.
“Where?” asked Nilliar.
“We have to stop them. The sharks don’t matter. We can’t let them reach—”
“Lirea, no.” The other undine drew back, leaving Nilliar alone to face Lirea. “Please, my queen. Your people need you.”
Lirea would have been within her rights to kill Nilliar for such defiance. If Lirea so wished, she could drive a spear through Nilliar’s heart for such insolence, and Nilliar knew it. “Lannadae is taking them to Morveren.”
Nilliar sank lower. “I’ve hunted sharks before, my queen. If you order us to attack, we will obey, and we will die.
You
will die, and Lannadae will have won.”
Kill you dead!
the sharks taunted.
Dead as a really dead thing!
Nobody had ever claimed sharks were creative. But their voices were little more than whispers next to the rage of her knife.
You let her escape before because you were too slow and weak. Lannadae is there! She’ll free Morveren!
“Nilliar—” Lirea watched the ship go. She bowed her head. Nilliar was right. “Send a singer to find Captain Varisto. Order him to destroy the human ship.”
The knife screamed its fury, filling her eyes with tears of pain.
“Where will we find him?” Nilliar asked.
“Swim north.” Lirea lay back, listening to the wind. “Swim until the sea turns red. He will be there.”
To Nilliar’s credit, she asked no further questions. She knew the place Lirea described, as did the rest of the undine. Nilliar gestured, and one of the warriors stripped off his harness and weapons. He dove beneath the surface, seeking the deeper currents that would speed his journey.
“By the time he reaches Varisto’s ship, it might be too late to intercept the humans,” Nilliar said.
The sharks cried out again, adding their voices to that of Nilliar and the knife.
Dead!
“Oh, shut up.”
Only Nilliar and the sharks obeyed.
Despite Talia’s fears, the day passed without incident. She hadn’t decided which was more likely, the undine attacking the
Phillipa
or one of the crew taking out his fears on Lannadae. But either the undine weren’t worried about a single small vessel, or else Danielle’s sharks had done their jobs. One of the younger crewmen, barely more than a boy, had been charged with dumping the occasional handful of offal into the water. At those times, Talia could see the dark forms of the sharks as they came to the surface to feed.
As for the crew, whatever their feelings toward Lannadae, not one of them disobeyed their captain. Talia saw one or two men stop to stare at the mermaid, only to be dragged away by his fellows, usually with harsh words of warning.
Most of the crew wore lifelines against the storm, long ropes that secured them to the ship. Talia had reluctantly allowed Captain Hephyra to loop one of the lines around her waist. The sheets were furled, all save the foresail and main topsail. Any more sail in such weather would risk cracking the mast. Hephyra herself took the helm, holding the wheel steady against the wind.
She showed no sign of strain, but when she had stepped away earlier in the day, it had taken two men to keep the wheel under control.
Talia increased her scrutiny once night fell, pacing the edge of the ship and searching the water for any trace of motion. As she passed the boats, Lannadae peeked out and beckoned with one hand. The dinghy was nested within the larger cutter, both boats resting on chocks and secured with double-lines.
“What’s wrong?” A canvas tarp covered the back of the boats, though the bottom of the dinghy was ankle-deep with water from the rain.
“I can’t sleep,” said Lannadae.
Talia allowed herself a slight smile. “Neither can I.”
“It’s too dry, and sound travels so strangely above water. So many voices. And no way to seek deeper waters to escape the wind.” Lannadae sank lower in the boat. “You must think me a coward.”
“You’re young,” said Talia.
“Have you been friends with Cinderella and Snow White a long time?”
“Danielle for about a year,” Talia said. “Snow . . . we’ve known each other longer.” She glanced at the cabin, wondering what they were doing. Danielle was probably huddled in her cot with a bucket. There was only so much Snow’s teas could do. Snow, on the other hand, had been known to sleep through anything. The lurching of the ship might be enough to ruin even her sleep. Still, Talia wouldn’t have put it past Snow to simply tie herself to the bed and dream merrily through the night. Assuming she didn’t find someone else to do the tying.
Lannadae rested her chin on the edge of the boat. “Snow told me the women in your city decorate their shoes with glass beads, to make them look like Cinderella’s slippers.”
“Some do.” Talia smiled despite herself, remembering the first time Danielle had learned of that trend. Seeing Danielle’s outrage, Snow had naturally hurried out to buy a pair for herself. “A few of the more well-to-do families even tried to capture rats and doves as pets, but that fashion passed more quickly.”
“I’m working on a new story of how Cinderella summoned the sharks to protect us.” The cord Lannadae had used for her story back at the cave was now looped around her wrist like a bracelet. She started to tug it free. “Would you like to hear?”
“No.” It came out more sharply than Talia intended, and Lannadae shrank back. “Perhaps another time.”
Lannadae pulled herself up onto the frontmost bench in the boat. “Do you have any sisters, Talia?”
Talia’s fists tightened. “I did. One sister and three brothers.”
“Where are they today?”
“Dead.” She rubbed her neck, trying to work out some of the tension in her muscles. “Look, I know you’re frightened. I’m just not very good at comforting people.”
“Why are you so mad at Snow White?”
And there was the tension again. “I’m not mad.”
“You press your lips together every time I mention her. I thought that was one of the things humans did when they were angry.” She smiled. “Yes, like that.”
“Go to sleep.”
“I can’t, remember?” said Lannadae. “The wind is too—”
“The wind is starting to die down.”
Lannadae pulled herself higher, looking out at the sheets of rain pounding the ship. “But—”
“Go to sleep.”
Talia hadn’t lied. The storms were finally slowing. Talia threw off her lifeline the instant Hephyra did, figuring if it was safe enough for the dryad, it was safe enough for her. Soon the wind eased enough for Talia to fully explore the ship. She could see much more from atop the masts.
Morning found her on the footrope that hung below the foremast top yard. One hand held the yard for balance as she moved through a simple combat form, testing the lines. The better she knew the
Phillipa,
the faster she could get where she needed to be if the undine attacked again.
Hephyra had replaced the lines since Talia’s last time on the queen’s ship. The new ropes were slightly thinner than she was used to. The masts appeared thicker as well, though that was to be expected. Like trees, the masts added a new ring of growth with each year.
She spun on one foot, switching hands as her opposite foot swept the legs from an imagined opponent.
“You move as though you were born to this ship.” Captain Hephyra stood on the topyard, arms folded as she watched Talia finish her form. “You’re distracting the crew, though.”
“
I’m
distracting them? What kind of captain wears a skirt, anyway?”
Hephyra grinned. Her skirt flapped like the blue and white banner atop the mast. Only the heavy tassels at the hem kept her thighs covered. “My invitation still stands, you know.”
“No, thank you.” Talia pulled herself up onto the yard. “I told you two years ago—”
“Yes, yes. You serve Beatrice. As do I.” Hephyra rubbed the gold tattoo on her wrist. “And if Beatrice doesn’t survive? What then, Talia? My crew could use a woman of your skills.”
“To do what? You can’t go back to Fairytown.”
Hephyra ran one hand down the mast, caressing the wood. The gesture was sensual enough to make Talia flush. “I can’t return to the grove of my sisters, no. But there are other ways to return. I know the smell of your magic and your curse, Talia. I know you have scores to settle with the fairies, as do I. Tell me, when was the last time one of the silver fleet fell prey to pirates?”
“Not in a hundred years.”
Hephyra winked. “Consider your future, Talia.”
“My future lies with Beatrice,” Talia said firmly.
“For now, perhaps.” Hephyra began to climb down the mast. She didn’t bother with the ropes. Her bond with her tree allowed her to cling to the wood like an insect, moving with even greater ease than Talia herself. “Snow will never return your feelings, you know.”
Talia grabbed the ropes to keep from falling. “What?”
“Never think you can conceal your longing from a dryad, dear Talia.” Green eyes caressed Talia’s skin. “There could be other benefits to joining my crew. My kind is far less . . .
particular
than you humans. You don’t have to remain chained to them.”