“You wouldn’t ask that if you had been raised noble.” Talia paced along the carpet. “Gustan’s death put him in line to inherit the empire. He might feel indebted to Lirea for helping him toward that goal. Hiladi are fanatical when it comes to repaying debts.”
“But Gustan was his brother.” Danielle knew her protests were naive. She had seen enough squabbling at court to know how far people would go for power, but knowing and understanding were very different things.
“He wants to kill me too, doesn’t he?” asked Lannadae. She had grown quiet, curled at the head of Morveren’s cot. “Lirea killed his brother, so he’ll repay her by killing her sister.”
Morveren reached over to comb her fingers through Lannadae’s hair. “I’ll never let that happen, little one.”
“I hated her for what she did to me.” Lannadae bowed her head. “I hated being trapped in that cave. Having to stay hidden, feeling afraid every time a ship passed by and wondering if each day would be the day Lirea found me. When I went to sleep in the winter, a part of me hoped I wouldn’t wake up. I just didn’t want to be afraid anymore.”
Morveren’s eyes had filled with tears. She wiped them away with one hand. “I’ll find a way to save you both.” She looked at Snow. “But I’ll need help.”
“I’ll do whatever you need if it helps Beatrice,” said Snow.
“Good.” Morveren studied Snow. “How skilled a witch are you?”
“Sorceress, not witch.” Snow grinned. “I was skilled enough to chase off Lirea’s air spirit, wasn’t I?”
For the first time since returning to the ship, Morveren smiled. “You’ll have to show me what you can do, once I’ve rested. For now I hope you’ll excuse me. That song took a great deal out of me.”
“Let me know if you need anything,” said Danielle, rising to leave. The others followed, even Lannadae, who appeared troubled. “What is it?” Danielle asked.
Lannadae waited until the door was closed behind them. “She wants to save Lirea. I know I should too, but I don’t. She killed Levanna. She killed our father. How am I supposed to feel safe while Lirea still lives?”
Only hours before, Lannadae had been leaping and splashing in the water like a child. Now she appeared lost, haunted by fears and memories no child should have to face. Danielle searched for words of comfort, but found none.
“Did you ever fear your stepsisters would kill you?” Lannadae asked.
“Once, yes.”
Lannadae looked up at her. “What did you do?”
“I fought them,” Danielle said. “And I found friends to help protect me.” She managed a smile for Lannadae’s sake. “The same friends who are protecting you. We’ll keep you safe, Lannadae. I promise.”
Snow sat in the cutter, flirting with James as she finished off a second peach-filled pastry from dinner. One hand rested on the ropes securing the front of the boat to the deck. She smiled at James, then licked the crumbs from her fingers. He was supposed to be swabbing the rest of the sand and water from the ship, but for some reason he appeared to be having trouble concentrating.
Snow sucked a bit of fruit from her index finger. If poor James clutched that mop any more tightly, he would snap the handle. She stretched, then lay back to rest against the canvas folded over half of the boat. When that didn’t work, she crossed her legs on the edge.
James dropped his mop.
Victory! Snow fought to keep from smiling. Never underestimate the power of bare feet and a little ankle.
“So this is how a sorceress spends her time?” Morveren climbed the chocks and grabbed the edge of the cutter, grunting in pain as she pulled herself inside. She straddled the bench, resting her tails in the puddles on the bottom of the boat.
“Are you all right?” Snow asked.
“Too much time out of water,” Morveren said. “Our bones aren’t as strong as yours. We’re built for the lightness of the sea. Up here, I feel as though my bones have turned to rock.”
“I could mix up a willow tea that might help,” Snow offered.
“It’s no less than I deserve.” Morveren sank down, resting on the bench. “My magic isn’t what it once was, and I spent most of that strength protecting you and your friends. When we reach my home, I’ll need you to help me unravel the defenses I left behind.”
Snow glanced at James, but Morveren’s arrival had clearly reversed the effects of Snow’s charms. He was hard at work, though his face remained slightly flushed. “What kind of defenses?”
“Nothing as powerful as Lirea’s air spirits,” Morveren said. “What type of magic do you practice?”
Snow shrugged. “I use mirrors a lot, but I’ve studied a little of everything.”
“A dabbler, you mean.” Morveren snorted.
Snow reached down to touch the water puddled in the bottom of the boat. She whispered a quick spell, and frost spread across the surface. Morveren yelped and yanked up her tails. Bits of ice rimmed her scales.
“Not bad,” Morveren said, rubbing the ice off. She turned around, searching the ship. “That cat. Can you command him to come to us?”
Stub was trotting along the starboard rail, a bit of fish clutched in his teeth. “Command him?” Snow repeated. “You haven’t known many cats, have you?”
“Magic is about strength of will. If yours is no stronger than that of a ship’s cat, how can you hope to overpower my old spells, let alone subdue my granddaughter?”
“Talia usually does most of the subduing.” Snow brushed her fingertips over her choker. “Mirror, mirror, shining bright. Bring that cat into the light.”
Glimmers of sunlight danced along the railing, guided by her mirrors. Stub’s tail lashed as he watched the lights jump down to the deck. He shifted his weight, then pounced. The lights raced away, Stub in pursuit. Moments later, Stub stood on the side of the cutter. He sat and lifted one paw, then the other, searching for the lights, which had mysteriously vanished.
“I told you to command him, not trick him with your mirrors,” Morveren said.
“He’s here, isn’t he?” Snow said, more sharply than she intended.
“True enough. You did well, considering your youth.”
Snow stopped herself from touching her hair. Her appearance made her look older than most of the people on this ship. “My youth?”
“I’ve been practicing magic for over two centuries,” Morveren replied. “You’ve spent perhaps twenty years? Thirty?”
“Perhaps.”
“You lack subtlety. If your spells were songs, you would be shouting at the top of your voice. I noticed it before, when you wove your shield against my voice.And your mirrors make powerful tools, but you use them as a crutch. Whoever taught you should never have allowed you to become so dependent on—”
“Nobody taught me.”
Morveren leaned back, studying Snow as if for the first time. When she spoke, the scorn was gone from her voice. “You learned on your own? And you didn’t kill yourself in the process?”
“Not yet,” Snow said.
“You might have potential after all.” She was smiling as she spoke. “Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
Morveren splashed her. “Do you want to learn or not?”
Grudgingly, Snow closed her eyes. “Now what?” “Now you listen to my song.”
Snow waited. She could hear the waves breaking against the hull. A pair of deckhands walked by, whispering about the Hiladi ship. Pulleys squeaked as the crew trimmed the sails. “You’re not singing.”
“You’re not listening,” Morveren countered. “You’re trying too hard. You’re so tense, like a child who believes she can shit pearls if she pushes hard enough.”
Snow opened one eye. “Undine can do that?”
“No. But my older brothers told cruel stories when I was young. Now shut up and listen.”
“Easy for you to say.” Snow tugged her earlobes, trying to clear the congested feeling. “You’re not the one with worm goop corking your ears.”
“So stop using them.”
Resting her hands on her thighs, Snow tried again. She had learned at a young age to see things that weren’t there. It was the only way to detect the spies her mother sent to watch her. Imps and minor demons, little more than flickering afterimages. They weren’t invisible, not in the traditional sense. Rather, they hid among the real, blending into their surroundings. The trick was to push the real world out of focus in order to see what lay beyond.
She tried to do the same with the noises around her. Voices faded to a buzz. The waves melted into a steady crash of sound. She could hear the drumbeat of her own heart. Even that sound faded, the thrum of her blood becoming little more than a distant rhythm.
For a moment, she thought she heard it. Humming, faint and fragile as a whispered breath through a flute. Snow stretched out with her senses, but the sound slipped away.
“Subtle as an amorous squid, you are,” Morveren said. “You waste more magic searching for my song than I’ve used for the actual spell. You overwhelm it with your clumsiness.”
Snow stuck out her tongue, keeping her eyes closed. Stillness had never come easily to her, but she did her best. Slowly, the humming returned. A simple scale in a minor key, rising and falling again and again.
“Good. Open your eyes.”
Snow found Stub sitting on the edge of the boat, head tilted to one side, the tip of his tongue protruding from his mouth. “How did you do that? Your song wasn’t even strong enough to command a butterfly.”
“Lannadae told me what happened when you brought Talia and Danielle down to meet her. Lannadae was afraid, and she attacked them. Lannadae is undine. She’s stronger than any human, but Talia beat her. How?”
“To start with, Talia carries enough weapons to arm a battalion.” Snow raised her hand before Morveren could speak. “Fine, so strength isn’t everything.”
Morveren reached out to tickle Stub’s ear. “It only takes a single thought to direct the mind. Your job is to provide the right thought. Sing with me.”
“What?”
Morveren hummed out loud this time. “Sing with me.” She spoke without interrupting her song.
Snow nodded, humming along with the mermaid. A single scale, reminding her of music lessons when she was young. That tutor’s breath had smelled like old fish too.
Morveren sang lower. Snow matched her. Morveren changed keys in midscale, jumping to a higher pitch. Snow grinned and chased her song. Their voices grew quieter.
“Sing to the cat,” Morveren said. “Don’t let me hear.”
Snow did her best. She lowered her voice even more and concentrated on Stub. His ear twitched.
“Good. Now weave a vision into the music and scare him off.”
She imagined a troll sneaking up to yank Stub’s tail. Between one note and the next, she shoved that vision at the cat.
Stub’s claws dug into the wood, and he scrambled away, hissing.
“You sang louder at the moment of sending,” Morveren said. “I could see that hairy beast as clearly as the cat did.” She pointed to the aft of the ship. “They say a true master will weave a song loud enough to deafen your helmsman there, and she would sing it so precisely that the man next to him would never hear a single note.”
Snow flexed her legs, trying to work the stiffness from her muscles. She glanced at the stumps of Morveren’s tails. “If you’re so skilled, why couldn’t you stop Lirea from doing that to you?”
Morveren bowed her head, staring at the lumps of scars and misshapen scales. “I never claimed to be a master. Her wind spirits took me by surprise, and her madness gave her strength. I was able to stop her from killing me, but that was all. Even if I had the strength to overpower her, I would have destroyed her mind in the process. That’s the other risk of sheer, brute force. You may crush that which you hope to control.”
“Sounds like Talia again,” Snow commented.
Morveren lay back and smiled. “Now see if you can persuade that poor beast to bring me some of that fish.”
By the following morning, Stub refused to come out on the deck if Snow was anywhere to be found.
Morveren had assigned one task after another. She would splash water onto the side of the cutter, telling Snow to freeze a single drop without affecting the rest. When Snow finally managed that, Morveren sent her off to cast an illusion only one person would see. That took most of the evening, but eventually Snow returned, exhausted and exhilarated, leaving behind one very confused chef.
Morveren divided her time between rest, Lannadae, and Snow. Currently she and Lannadae were shut away in Danielle’s cabin, enjoying a morning nap. How much sleep did mermaids need, anyway?
Snow turned her attention back to the carpenter who was working to repair a section of the starboard railing. Morveren hadn’t given her any more lessons, so Snow had been making up her own. She hummed to herself, gathering her magic for another attempt.
“There you are.” Danielle smiled as she approached. Talia followed close behind. Danielle carried Stub in her arms, but the cat hissed and fled when he spotted Snow.