They simply stared at me.
I swallowed. “Is it safe?”
“Nothing is safe, little creature,” Nori said.
The sun was low; I needed to get back with my clams. The tide was building, and I’d come here in my father’s canoe. Its outrigger wasn’t as balanced as mine had been.
“There is danger in all things. How do you know the safer path is the one in which you donotmeet her?” Olinne said, trailing my glance at the sun. “You’ve worked your whole life to become our third. Do not hesitate now.”
“Can’t she come to the surface?” I asked, navigating around their lithe bodies to my father’sva’a. I set my buckets inside and turned to face them, releasing a slow breath.
Nori pulled herself straight over the edge of the rocks. “She does not come to you.”
Olinne nodded. “You will come to her. When the moon is full.”
Glancing again at the sea, I scratched my neck.Mihauna, the full moon, was just over a week away. “In deep water?”
“In deep and dark water, yes,” Nori said. “At night.”
Growing up under the Naiad’s instruction, I’d witnessed plenty of eeriness from them. A smile too forced, words darkly cast, concealed looks shared between them, as though they hoarded secrets too ominous for a human’s ears. I’d always dismissed their antics as Naiad tendencies—they were a different species, after all.
But under the weight of their stares, I couldn’t help but feel like there was something they purposefully kept from me.
I reached a blind hand, groping for the canoe. The Naiads watched it bob, flicking their eyes back to mine. “I’m not Naiad. I can’t breathe underwater.”
Olinne smiled. “We will breathe for you.”
Biting my lip, I stared at the sea.
I’d never feared it before, but I also hadn’t strayed below where light filtered through the water. Waves churned in the distance, hard and unforgiving. How deep did it go? How cold was it where sunlight didn’t wander?
The Naiads watched me in a way I didn’t recognize. A certain hunger pulled at the corners of their eyes, tugging their smiles tight.
“When the moon is full,” I said, pulling my feet into the wooden vessel and sinking safely in my seat. I wondered if that meant I wouldn't see them again untilMihauna.
Strangely, I wondered if I even wanted to.
They didn’t answer, but their heads rotated as they watched me paddle away. I propelled myself out enough to turn from them, the hairs raising on my arms as the incoming tide pressed me toward my beach.
Ahead, the water grew so deep, I sat over nothing but a blackened shadow. My stomach churned with foreboding, and I forced myself to not look down.
When I glanced back, the Naiads were gone.
10
Someone had filled my father’sva’awith standing water.
It waited for me on the docks below the market, partially submerged, one side of the hull tilted under the waves. I paused when I saw it, knowing the islanders were watching, waiting to see what I’d do.
Every pair of village eyes stabbed at the back of my head. Focused, hard—a hundred knives pressed into my skull. They wanted another rise out of me, and I wanted nothing more than to give it to them.
Having sold my clams, I sat on the dock’s edge, leaving my empty buckets as I plunged in. The tide was high, the water warm and salty, swells lifting the waves over my head.
I reached for the side of my canoe and rocked it back and forth, turning my face to avoid the water that sloshed out, hitting me in the eyes. Cursing under my breath, I grappled with the dock edge, clumsily lifting one foot over the side and rolling over the wood planks, bringing a rush of water dripping with me.
I gritted my teeth, refusing to glance behind me at the lingering stares along the boardwalk. Tossing my buckets in withperhaps too much force, I sank into the seat of theva’a, rolled my shoulders, and set out for home.
The salty sea water dried over my skin, leaving it feeling taut under the sun. As I ascended the stairs of my veranda, my father’s voice greeted me before I saw him. He turned to look at me, engaged in friendly conversation with some guest, and his smile dropped at the sight of me, sodden and dripping.
