I’d thought it might be Kye, but the door opened before I reached it, and into the room peered the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I halted where I stood, surprised and struck breathless, my gaze wandering over the woman’s eyes, skin, and hair.
A procession of cold prickles, like freezing raindrops, fell from my neck down my back, stronger than I’d ever felt with Nori or Olinne. The woman’s arms and legs were elongated and graceful—feline, like the limbs of a cat. She was tall, with a curved chin and a long, slender neck, the scent of water lilies following her into the room—sweet, fresh, and aquatic, with a hint of citrus.
We each rooted to the floor, taking the other in, the door ajar between us like a portal to a mystery, one that begged more questions than offered answers. Then the woman stepped through, long fingers brushing the wood trim as her feet carried her.
“Maren,” the woman said, her voice smooth and low. She gently folded my hand into her own, fingertips grazing the edges of my wrist with a gentle firmness. “What an honor to finally meet you.”
My mouth parted, surprised by the greeting. I couldn’t echo the sentiment. I knew nothing of the woman other than her name. Selena.
She wore an emerald-green cloak, long and encompassing, the hood thrown down her back, sable brown hair thick and free-flowing over her shoulders. Tilting her head, her eyes curved around my body, absorbing the hau bark I’d stripped down to the night before, relieved to shed theMihauna-cursed corset.
She crossed her arms, deep consideration creasing her brows.
I lifted my chin, waiting.
“How old are you?” the woman asked, her voice smooth and rich, more melodious than even Olinne’s.
“Twenty-two.”
“Twenty-two,” she repeated under her breath, her eyes vaguely shifting somewhere else, as if calculating numbers in her head. She looked perhaps ten years older than me.
“Are you Selena?” I asked.
The woman reached out, lifting a lock of my hair, which she turned around in her fingers, studying it. “Yes.”
I stiffened, unaccustomed to being touched. But the woman’s gaze simmered with a quiet intensity that prompted me into introspection—as if I’d been here before but had forgotten. A faded memory brightening before my eyes, the dust wiped clean, the world sharpening into crisp lines, sunshine fleshing out all the details, leaving the view brimming with color.
“You’re a Naiad.”
Selena returned the strand of hair to my shoulder, rubbing her finger and thumb, still feeling the hair caught between them. “Yes.”
I stepped away, my eyes lingering on the lower half of Selena’s body. “You’re human. You have legs.”
“There’s plenty of time to explain. You’ve met Naiads before?” Selena’s clear blue eyes focused deep into mine, as though I were the only light in a dark room.
“Yes, I grew up with them.”
“Nori and Olinne.”
“Yes,” I said, surprised. “Do you know them?”
Selena broke her intense gaze, shifting her eyes around the room. "I've heard their names."
The bed, stripped of its blanket, the chair I’d obviously slept in the night before, the empty tray of food on the floor. With the intimate story of my evening spelled out so clearly, I felt suddenly shy. Selena strode forward, her graceful fingers curving around her own arms. She filled my cast-iron teapot and set it into my fireplace. Locating another chair, Selena sat across from me at the table.
“We know very little about you,” she said. “You know very little about us. And yet, we’ve made each other some very serious promises.”
My eyebrows furrowed. The word promiseindicated an agreement. An assurance made in good faith, in which both parties were fully informed and had the confidence of the other.
It wasn’t the wordI might’ve chosen to describe the events of the day before.
“By age twenty-two, most Naiads have had the advantage of two decades’ worth of knowledge and familiarity of Naiadic skills, culture, and way of life. From what Thaan has told me, you didn’t even know you are one.”
“Do people here know what Naiads are?” I asked.
“No.” Selena glanced at the closed door. “The average commoner would refer to us as sea maidens, which we arenot.” She said it with a small bite to the word, though she smiled faintly.
“Sea maidens are fish,” I quoted Nori.
