“Did you help it?” Olinne asked without preamble. “The walking traitor?”
“Was it hideous?” Nori asked, a slanted smile curving her lips.
“I didhelp him, and he was…” I paused to consider the question. “Nice,” I lied, my tone demanding the subject to be dropped.
“He hasn’t left. We can smell him.” Nori lay sunbathing in the shallows.
“No, he hasn’t left. But I hope he does soon.” I sat on the water’s edge, toes in the sand. The vision of him gazing at me from across the garden flashed in my mind, complete with the hungry stares of every island woman in the background, waiting for me to—what? Sprout claws and fangs? Pounce on him and drag his lifeless body back to a secret lair somewhere?
It’s not safe here. That’s the witch’s garden.
Cursing inwardly, my fingertips found the knot that had formed at my temple.
“I do not trust his smell,” Olinne said.
“Nor do I,” Nori replied. “Filthy traitor.”
My eyes rolled under my hand. The Naiads’ tirades toward men had dominated our conversations since the day we’d met, and I’d long since learned not to argue. I wasn’t sure where their terror of sailors had originated, or why they didn’t seem to fear the men of Leihani the way they feared travelers of the sea, but it didn’t really matter. Convincing the Naiads that men were harmless was like convincing the islanders I wasn’t a witch. Their minds were made, and there was no changing them.
Not that I wanted to. I had more use for dried bat guano than I had for men.
At least guano made useful fertilizer.
Olinne dipped her chin, filling her mouth with water and releasing it in a gush over Nori’s head. Nori glared at her, swiping her copper tail to send a splash of water back. The crest of an oncoming wave neutralized it, and Olinne grinned mischievously as she sank below the surf, white-blonde curls disappearing under the water.
“She can never letbeafter the round moon. It provokes her.” Nori tilted her head toward the vacant water Olinne had resided in the moment before. I snorted, absently chewing a strip of sugarcane as I settled my buckets, preparing to begin my daily hunt for clams on the isolated beach.
“His blood smells like syrup,” Nori said.
I lifted my head in surprise. “You can really smell his blood from this far?”
“Pulpy. Rich. Sweet. The blood of a pampered life.”
Slightly disturbed, I narrowed my eyes, unsure if she was serious or simply trying to needle me. “A pampered life? How do you know?”
“They all smell that way. Before they harpoon you and strap you to their ship’s prow.” She flashed a rare grin, white teeth visible along the sides and back of her mouth.
I was past the age of feeling threatened by a sharp Naiad smile.
“What doesmyblood smell like?”
Nori considered me for a moment, slanting near enough that I leaned away. The Naiads rarely came so close. Her skin was luminous, a lush glow under the warm sunshine. She inhaled deeply, tilting her head to one side, like she’d scented something she hadn’t expected.
“Life.”
Shewasteasing me.
The Naiads often spoke in riddles when I asked direct questions, giggling as they evaded sharing any knowledge. Sometimes it was warranted, like when I veered too close to a subject I knew they couldn’t reveal to a human.
But other times, it was so pointless and frustrating I’d like nothing more than to kick sand in their scales, climb in myva’a, and ignore them for a week.
“Don’t worry about the boy,” I said.
“Boy.” Nori’s mouth curled as she lay in the shallow water. She swirled her index finger in the tide, inciting a tiny whirlpool, sending flecks of pale sand spinning. “An innocent title for a traitor.”
I frowned, watching bubbles rise from the dimple my toes had left in the sand. “Man, then. You have no reason to believe he’s a traitor.”
The words flew from my mouth as if they had wings of their own, and I stiffened at hearing them. Why was I defending him? I didn’t even know him. But he’d come to Leihani in a rowboat; he may as well have climbed into his own coffin when he entered the ocean. I couldn’t imagine why anyone would cross a sea in a tiny wooden vessel. Unless they were running from something. Maybe he was a traitor.
