Selena nodded. “Sea maidens are afantasy. They would have gills, I suppose, rather than lungs, according to the surrounding mythology. Bottom-dwellers who never rise to the surface to see the sun or moon, with no intelligent thought in their heads. Woven from the imaginations of men who spend their lives looking out to the water while drawing fish in their nets, wishing they could see something more. Yes, they are fish. If you feel the need to categorize them. We are not.”
“Where do Naiads come from then, if not the sea?” I asked, and immediately felt foolish. Nori or Olinne would have laughed at me for asking such a question, then answered in a parade of riddles I couldn’t untangle.
Selena tilted her head, the movement smooth and delicate. Intentional, like she processed every shift in her muscles and bones before putting the thought into action. She considered me for a moment, as though she didn’t quite believe I didn’t know the answer.
“Humans and Naiads share common ancestors. They are both descendants of the stars. Have you ever wondered why humans, as mammals, are mostly hairless? Why they have tailbones? Why they are drawn to water and can swim as infants, born with the instinct to hold their breath and float without training? Would it be surprising that your blood remembers something long forgotten, hidden under the layers of ancestry, that calls to its inherited name?”
Selena waited for me to absorb this thought. Something in her response reminded me faintly of Nori and Olinne, though she wasn’t condescending. Selena’s voice was fluid and serious, but not superior.
I traced a grain of wood along the table’s surface. “So, my mother was a Naiad?”
“She almost certainly was. What do you remember of her?”
I debated my answer. “Not very much. She was shipwrecked in Leihani. She kept to herself and never grew close to the other islanders, except for my father. She died before my second birthday.”
“That’s all?” Selena asked softly.
I shrugged. “The islanders thought she was a witch.”
Selena leaned forward with genuine curiosity. “Tell me about your father. What is he like?”
I frowned. “You think my father is a Naiad?”
She smiled. “If your father was a Naiad, you’d have grown up knowing your own legacy. Leihani is…somewhat known for its islanders' natural sense of suspicion toward Naiads, at least within our own circles. There’s history involved, and it’s written into Leihani blood, as much as the color of their eyes and hair.” Her warm gaze traveled across my face as she continued.
“I ask about your father because there are certain traits in humans that Naiads find…endearing. Qualities we rarely have, because we’re a different species, but that we find attractive inhumans. Is your father social? Warm? Someone who is easy to get to know, and liked by most? Is he a bit of a dreamer?”
A short whistle came from the fireplace. I stood to refill my cup of tea, choosing the same one I’d used the night before, though I found her a clean one. “Yes.”
She watched me retrieve the teapot, using an unknown piece of clothing from my discarded dress to shield my hands. “And by comparison, are you quiet? Caught up in the peaceful scenes of nature? Perhaps you have difficulty connecting with people, sometimes not knowing whether something you say might be rude until after you have said it?”
I narrowed my eyes, placing my water down on the table. Selena leaned forward on her elbows. “Do you wonder how your only living parent could be so different from you? Where did you come from, to have inherited these characteristics you don’t share?”
I thought of the many opinions of my mother I’d grown up overhearing.Didn’t talk. Kept to herself. Solitary.
“Are Naiads witches?”
Selena poured herself a steaming cup, lifting it to her mouth and blowing gently before taking a tentative sip. “Maybe. Some might call us that. But really, we are just at home with the water. Are birds witches because they can fly? Are honeybees witches because they can pollinate? Some people might consider the act of pollination to be witchcraft, if they were to deconstruct everything that goes on within the act, the basis of food, and therefore life, as we know it. But is it magic? Is it witchcraft? To a bee, it’s just being a bee.”
I raised a dark eyebrow.
The complexity of stretching an answer to a question, lending enough uninvited information that the answer hung overhead with more mystery than the question itself, was affirming itself as Naiadic in nature.
My thumb slid over the rim of my teacup. “What other creatures descend from the stars?”
She considered my question. “Naiads and humans are the only ones I know of. There was a third, once. The Sola, born from Aalto. The sun. They bred themselves out of existence, mating with humans eons ago.”
I tucked a lock of hair behind an ear. “Do Naiads hate humans?”
Selena’s mouth quirked, as if surprised, even perhaps amused. “No. Not all of them.”
Why did Nori and Olinne hate them, then?
“Naiads do have a history of violence toward humans,” she said.
I frowned. “Why?”
Selena smiled into her cup, her answer echoing softly off the steaming liquid. “They piss us off.”
