It is indeed a mermaid who appears, swimming feverishly, determination folding her beautiful face into a frown. She looks very much like Alia, though her hair has the colors of autumn strung through a base of curled blond. Her eyes are a honeyed amber unusual here in this kingdom of shades of blue.
“Send her away. Even if the knife is made, you don’t have the—” Anna starts in a moment before I whisper “létta” yet again, and she cuts off. This makes me smile just a little bit—I probably couldn’t make a pot boil right now, but I can do that.
The mermaid sees me and doesn’t waste a beat, diving right in.
“Witch!” she spits with rage. “My sister will fail. That boy won’t fall in love with her in four days—he’s to be married.Married!And in fewer days than she has left!”
Now that’s a surprise—he’s so young. But the fire inthe girl’s eyes sparks with truth.
“Give me the antidote,” she demands. “I’ll pay whatever the cost. Take my tongue, my eyes, my ears, hell, have my tail and fashion it for your own. Whatever the cost, I’ll give it to you.”
I don’t reply, and the girl looks me up and down from the other side of my cauldron, her eyes glowing behind thick lashes. The fury within her is eager to escape through more than just words.
“One day is already gone. How can you just sit there like that? She has three days left to live!”
The girl raises a hand as if to topple my cauldron, that anger begging for release.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I say, calm in the face of her fury. This only serves to make her angrier, but she removes her hand—she’s a smart one.
When she speaks again, her voice cracks, the mermaid’s ire shattering into a new wave.
“Bring my sister back. You stole her from me. From all of us. You knew hers was a fool’s ask—a death sentence—and yet you did it anyway.” Her teeth are bared, and somehow that makes her look younger—she’s close in age to the mermaid who came here. The sea king’s most recent brood. “Do you know what the sea king will do when he finds out what you’ve done? What my father will do? Why start this again? You know the danger. Why?”
I level the girl with my gaze, and I know what shesees—young face, dark hair threaded through with silver, I’m as pewter-toned as the rest of my world. To her, I must look every bit of my reputation. This thing she’s been taught to fear—a freak of nature, tethered to my cove by her powerful father because of the things that I’m able to do. She came in here with fire and verve, angry at being left behind. Angry at what Alia’s bargain may bring. But she came, despite my reputation. Because she loves her sister as much as her sister thinks she loves this boy.
“Child—”
“Runa. Use my name. You’re not my oma.”
This nearly makes me smile—her oma I am definitely not. “Runa, I already know what your father will do because he’s come and done it. And because of that, I cannot help you.”
Behind my back, I can practically feel Anna’s soundless judgment—the knife is safe and ready to use. Though it was not plain in Alia’s bargain, surely this girl knows her history—the magic will accept the boy’s blood if her sister fails at love. I could give the knife to her now. But magic always takes an exchange, and I have done the work without promise of payment until now.
“You cannot... ,” the girl starts, sputtering despite her clear strength. The weakness in her voice signals a sob rising, high and hard. “It’s like you’ve torn my arm from my body. She’s my twin sister. My other half. Please...”
“Your father depleted me of my magic. I want to helpyou, but your request alone is not enough, Runa.”
The girl smacks the cauldron in frustration, and the metal rings out around my polypi trees, clanging to the surface, up to the sun that barely shines here. “You changed her—endangered her—for one stupid boy who doesn’t even know her name. It should be more than enough that her twin sister wants her back. I shouldn’t need anything else. I should be enough.”
I level my gaze at her and smile, which irritates her more. “Ah, but you have what I need.”
The girl’s brows pull together, but she doesn’t ask, waiting instead for me to plainly state what she must do.
“You see, I know about you, Runa. Famed gardener, are you not? Little Runa and her special flowers. Alia, yes, she’s known for the beautiful things she can make,” I say, gesturing to the red flowers the little mermaid offered me before I took her voice. “But she can’t do what her twin can do. Runa, the last-born daughter by a minute, the one who keeps her father strong with all the ríkifjor he can stomach?”
Something in the girl’s eyes hardens—honey frozen on a winter’s day. “They’re guarded. EvenIcan’t go there unsupervised. I can’t—”
“Then I can’t help you.” Runa’s jaw sets as I continue. “Your father came to me, frustrated that he doesn’t have the power to bring Alia back, and drunk on ríkifjor, attacked me. He attacked my power—undermining the only personalive who can save Alia. To have the power to save her, I need to build my strength back up. Surely thirty of those flowers would do.”
“I can’t bring you thirty flowers. Maybe one, but thirty? They’re protected both by magic and by armed guards. There’s no way—”
“Seeds, then.”
“But—”
“Runa,” I say, wrapping a tentacle around her waist, drawing her in. To her credit, the girl gives me no reaction—not a blink, no curl of revulsion, no tremble of fear. Her face is blank, hard, determined. “I cannot change my price. It is up to you to figure it out. If you want your sister to live, bring me the flowers and we will deal. Then you will have what you need.”
5
