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Chapter 1
Evya
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Itire of the tasteof blood.
The coppery tang carries on every current of my ocean, a specter of war I can never escape. The battle is over for today, but fires still burn along the distant shoreline and the sea still churns around me as I swim. Each crazed wave swells higher than the last, echoing with the fury of my people and the memory of pain and destruction. The blood of war has stained the waters. The blood has stained me.
Maybe that’s why the ocean doesn’t heed my pleas today.
Be calm, just for a few moments.My thoughts are accompanied by a faint pulse of magic from my soul, which carries my silent words outward for the sea to hear.Let me find Lirana before it’s too late.
I sink below the surface as another wave swells above me. A few powerful strokes of my long tail carry me deep into the murky expanse of sea. As I dive, I listen, expecting the resonant thrum of the ocean’s voice to fill my mind in reply.
There is only silence.
I let out a hiss of frustration. Everything has gone wrong today. The elves’ surprise attack drove my warriors from our last stronghold on the mainland beach. Not even my magic could fend off the explosive blasts and poisonous smoke conjured by the elven mages. We didn’t stand a chance. Now all I want is to make it back to the palace without losing any more of my warriors, and I’m failing in this task too.
To think this was supposed to be a day of celebration.
Weariness presses on me as I swim deeper in search of my missing battle-sister. Distantly, I’m aware of the pain throbbing in my side. I glance down to see blood seeping through the gray fabric of my cropped wrap top, and cringe. I’ve reopened the wound I received during the fighting today.
It doesn’t matter. My wounds never get a chance to heal properly when each day is a new raid on the elves, a new barrage of fire from their mages, another death to avenge. Soon I will be nothing but scars, inside and out.
Even below the crashing waves, the currents buffet me on all sides, shoving me this way and that until my head spins from dizziness. My tail and fins twist in eellike motions as I try to outstrip them. At last I break free from their hold and shoot down toward the ocean floor.
“Lirana!” I shout my battle-sister’s name as I slip through the water, searching for any trace of her. My pulse quickens with urgency. It has been over an hour since Lirana fell back from the rest of my warriors as we retreated from the battle on shore. I’m not even certain I’m searching in the right place. The strong currents might have carried her far off course and left her at the mercy of the sharks that hunt on the fringes of the underwater ridge—or worse, she has been discovered by the elven scouts that patrol the coastline of the mainland.
Murk clouds my vision as the ocean depths swallow up the evening sunlight above. Even if Lirana is close by, I could swim right past her and never see her. I must risk rune-light.
I reach for the small, shark-hide pouch I wear attached to a cord and tucked beneath my abalone breastplate. A little glass orb rests at the bottom of the pouch, nestled beside by a swath of clean bandages, a vial of nyafish venom, and a few other items I carry for emergencies. The orb flares to life at my touch. The thin, swirling lines of the magical runes etched into its smooth surface begin to glow with white light, which swells until it seems I hold a star in my hand. The gleam spreads out around me, bright as midday, illuminating a vast stretch of sandy sea floor.
Apprehension tightens my chest. I try not to envision the threats that might lurk above. All it would take is for one elven dragon rider to fly overhead, catch sight of the bright glow beneath the waves, and drop an explosive into the water. I would be dead before I could blink.
At least then no warriors would have to die to win my hand.
The wry consolation cuts through my worries, even as a new knot of dread coils in my stomach. Tonight is the first night of the Shantura festival—and of my mate challenge. The Seamother will expect me to be at the palace even now, braiding pearls into my hair and preparing to meet the chieftains and warriors who have come to contend for my hand. Never mind that I’m weary from battle and grieving the loss my people suffered today. My mother demands I take a mate, and such challenges always take place during the ten days of the spring festival.
Dread darkens to anger. I shove the thoughts to the back of my mind and quicken the pace of my strokes as I slip through the water. I’ll think about the challenge when I have to, and not a moment before. Right now, I must find my wounded battle-sister.
A flash of shell-pink scales catches the corner of my eye. I whip around. Relief washes over me as I see Lirana huddled in the shelter of an outcropping of stone. She’s alive, but the battle has taken a high toll on her. Blade wounds crisscross the umber skin of her bare arms, and blood streams from a long gash on her tail. Black curls have escaped from the loose knot at the nape of her neck, and her overlapping plates of iridescent abalone armor are broken and charred. The runes etched into the shell plates weren’t powerful enough to shield her from the blasts of explosive magic conjured by the elves today. Still, her gaze is alert as she watches me swim toward her.
“Evya? You should be at the palace by now.” Her voice holds a sharp edge of pain. “You’re going to be late for your own ceremony.”
“It’s not as if the Seamother can hold it without me.” I flash a grin, even as my suppressed worries reach back into my mind like the coiling tentacles of an octopus. “Although if you’re so concerned, I can swim home and let someone else rescue you.”
She opens her mouth as if to retort, but a snarl of pain comes out instead. “Depths take Falamar and his mages. I thought I had the strength to make it home, but—” Her hand goes to the gash that cuts through her shimmering pink scales, and she bares her sharp teeth in a grimace.
I sink down beside her for a closer look at the wound. It’s not deep, and should heal well if tended soon. Yet I can see why it was too painful for Lirana to make the long swim back to the ridge unaided. I retrieve the small wad of bandage cloth from my pouch and unfurl it, then loop the strip of fabric around Lirana’s tail and bind it tight across the wound. At least that should stop the bleeding until I can get her to a healer.
I slip the rune-lantern back into its pouch. Some of the tension leaves my shoulders as its light goes out. Inky darkness closes in around us, but I can read the currents well enough to travel home regardless. I loop one of my arms around Lirana’s torso, careful not to jostle her too much. Then I start to swim, propelling us both with smooth, rippling movements of my tail.
“You should have sent someone else to find me so you could prepare for tonight.” Lirana’s expression pinches as she glances over my disheveled blonde braids and bloodstained clothing. “Unless you plan to present yourself to your future mate looking like you just wrestled a shark.”
I snort. “What difference would it make? The contenders will fight over me all the same.”
And it would serve my mother right for insisting I be mated while my mind and senses are filled with war.
