Page 13 of Ballad of Sea and Sky

Two parts of my mind were at war as I traveled toward the end of the hall. The part that told me something was wrong was screaming at me to go to Vitulus now and alert him. But the other, more seductive part sounded like the voice of the sea, egging me on with a glimmer of gold and a temptation of feathers.

Each cell appeared empty, dried straw and seaweed covering the floors in lieu of any kind of bed. The jangling came again from the end of the hallway, and I paused at the last cell, stifling a gasp as I held out the torch to see the prisoner slumped in the corner.

If he had looked bad before, he looked worse now. More blood was crusted on the parts of his skin I could see, and I thought I saw bloody bone sticking out from the dirty feathers. Bruises bloomed over his chest and arms, and his face was bloody and swollen as he raised it to look at me.

I could barely make out his mouth moving in the darkness. “Water,” he rasped, the word coming out harsh and broken. “Please.”

I pursed my lips, trying to decide if this was a siren trick or hypnosis. But I didn’t feel compelled to move, and he looked like he wouldn’t even be able to stand if he wanted to.

I hesitated, looking at the corner for another minute until I heard another rasped, “please.” It broke something in me, and I lowered the supplies, running back to the top of the hall to fetch the keys.

They were usually kept on a hook by the stairs, to make sure no prisoner could get them off a passing guard. Sure enough, the old ring of iron keys was there, and I hissed at the biting touch of the metal as I pulled them from the wall. The guards usually wore gloves down here, but I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I fisted my nightgown around the keys so I could hold them more comfortably.

“If I open this door to give you water,” I said quietly once I had returned to the siren’s cell, “I need your word that you will not hypnotize me.”

The prisoner looked up, his head moving a little more sharply and surely than it had before. His golden eyes met mine, and he narrowed them suspiciously. He nodded once, then dropped his head again as if the effort of holding it up was too much.

I unlocked the iron cell, using my dress to protect my hand, and quickly locked the door behind me. I contemplated what I should do with the keys, not wanting the siren to get them but also needing them to get back out of the cell. I settled on leaving them on the floor as far from the prisoner as I could. If he was chained to the wall, he shouldn’t be able to reach them, especially with the iron muting his magic.

The siren’s breathing was ragged as I approached with my empty bowl and bandages. I felt a pang of sympathy at his broken wings, wondering if they could be set and healed, or if his days of flying were over. If my father planned to send them to the Siren King, I supposed it didn’t matter, but the idea of him hacking them off the siren’s body made me queasy.

I knelt before the prisoner, placing the bowl on the floor. “I’m one of the healers,” I lied, speaking quietly in case the guards returned. “I’m here to dress your wounds.”

“Water,” the prisoner croaked again, his head lolling backward to rest on the stone wall. The move exposed the strong column of his throat, ringed with bruises as if he had been grabbed there. His eyes cracked open, just enough so I could see their golden depths glinting in the darkness. “Please.”

I nodded, reaching inside me for my water magic. I didn’t have a lot of occasions to use it, other than adjusting the ocean currents for swimming. I was one of a few selkies who could summon fresh water into my hands from the earth and the air, but I rarely performed the magic.

In selkie villages throughout the Silent Isles, summoners like me were highly sought after for irrigation and well-filling in places where there was limited plumbing. Here in the keep, fresh water could be summoned by the twist of a tap.

I pulled water from the rain outside, filling the bowl as the rain fell from my hands with a faint bluish glow. The prisoner’s eyes widened at this show of magic, but he didn’t comment as I dipped a roll of bandage in the water, soaking it and bringing it to his lips.

He drank greedily, as if he had been starved for water since his imprisonment. Perhaps he had. I squeezed the water out gently, trying to make sure he didn’t choke as he drank. My hands brushed his face, his skin cold in the dank prison.

“Thank you,” he rasped when the water was gone. I dunked the cloth back in the basin, preparing another drink. “Give me a minute,” he added, glancing at my hands in the bowl. His head was still resting on the stone wall, and he closed his eyes as if trying to let the water deep into his every pore.

“I have dry bandages, if you’d like me to dress your wounds,” I offered, sitting back on my heels and waiting for him to regain his composure. I eyed the broken wings, blood still seeping from the wounds where the bones poked out from the feathers. Gingerly, I raised a hand and reached for the feathers.

His hand clamped down on my wrist so fast, I didn’t even register the movement until I was already in his vice-like grip. “Do. Not. Touch. Me,” he growled, punctuating each word with a squeeze of my wrist as his eyes bore into mine, his face contorted in fury. He was holding me so tightly I could feel the bones grinding together in my hand, and I cried out in pain. He released me at once, dropping my hand as I pulled it back and cradled it to my chest.

He slumped back, the fury replaced with something akin to remorse. “Sorry,” he breathed, shaking his head a little. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I lied, feeling my rapid healing already soothing the bruises that would undoubtedly form. They’d be gone in a day, but I’d have to find a clever way to explain them to Sereia. And Vitulus. And my parents. “I’ll go.”

“No,” the prisoner said, reaching out a hand to me. I flinched back a bit, and he held it out as if in offering. “Please. Water.”

I nodded tightly, bringing the soaking cloth back to his lips and shuffling a little closer so I could let him drink. At that moment, I realized two very important truths.

The hand that had reached for me was free of its iron chains, and I didn’t have anything to block my ears.

I widened my eyes, meeting the siren’s as he gave me another remorseful look. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. I felt a pinch and heard a single, baleful note, and then nothing as the prison and the storm and the siren captain faded into nothing.

Chapter 5

Eitherthefateswereon my side, or the skies were playing a cruel joke.

The selkie princess had just waltzed into my cell, ripe for the taking. All of that strategic planning and arguing with Zephyr about the logistics was unnecessary after all. Here she was, unconscious in my arms, like a fucking gift dropped into my lap.

My amusement when she had appeared, quite unexpectedly, to “tend to my wounds” was mitigated by pain. She was pretty, distractingly so, but she couldn’t act to save her own life.