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Evya works quickly, marking a few thin lines and accenting them with curving slashes. As she lays the last mark in place, I feel the rune activate. Warm power floods through me, then settles into my bones, becoming part of me.
Evya sits back, looking satisfied. Without a moment of hesitation, I call my own magic to life from within my soul. Lines of indigo soul-light flare out from my extended palm and run along my limbs and torso, settling in all the places where my skin is red and sore. The light forms into runes that absorb the pain and restore the skin. Unlike the tattoos, these runes are temporary, but their power hums with tremendous intensity. My skin mends within seconds, though the effort of casting the runes leaves me momentarily breathless. Evya watches, her eyes shining with fascination.
“I can teach you the runes for healing sometime,” I offer as the strands of light fade away.
It strikes me as unfair that the merroc have no knowledge of this particular set of runes. The knotwork runes function as a sort of magical alphabet, channeling the natural magical energy of Tandith into particular forms. Anyone born with a scrap of magical ability can learn to use them, and they’ve always transcended every race and culture within this world, and even in many of the worlds that lie beyond Tandith. But different peoples have honed different aspects of runecraft over the ages, and unless we share, we’re always missing out on useful magic.
“I’d like that,” Evya says. “I have always relied on the sea to heal me, but it’s so angry now that I can no longer work healing magic through the water.” Her voice brims with eagerness. “It seems our peoples haven’t traded our knowledge of runes in a long time. I want to change that.”
“Tell me about the runes you made,” I say, suddenly annoyed at myself for getting caught up in my worries earlier and not asking her about them. Without the pain in my skin, I can feel their power as a gentle hum deep within me, in harmony with the magic of my own soul. It’s strange, and yet feels right, as if this extra portion of magic is filling in a gap I didn’t realize existed. “What sort of magic did you work?”
She grabs my left hand and pulls it toward her, then points to the runes with her free hand. “This one”—her fingers brush the base of my thumb and trail up my wrist, where the ink lies in a cluster of large spirals—“will let the water know you are a friend, so the currents won’t drown you of their own accord. Outsiders who come to live among my tribe take this mark for their own protection. The sea doesn’t like strangers.” She runs her hand over my shoulder. A spark of energy jolts through me as she traces the outline of the symbol. “I marked it on your wrist so everyone would be able to see it. I want them to know which contender has my favor.”
“Won’t that put us both in more danger?” I picture the Seamother’s livid face as she threatened to flay us alive.
“Maybe, but it will also show my people that I have the courage to choose a favorite even against my mother’s will. The workings of tuath politics are blunter than you’re used to. Bold moves will gain us more respect, even from those who dislike us.” She shrugs. “Besides, most of my people think highly of me, and if they see that I accept you, it will give you favor in their eyes too.”
I file her words away carefully. Maybe I don’t need respect from Falamar’s court, but I will need to figure out ways of winning over the Atathari.Bold moves to earn their respect.
Evya drops my hand and reaches to the smaller runes on my ribs. They hum with power under her hand. Her touch lingers on each rune just a little longer than necessary, sending a tingling sensation over my skin. “This one is for endurance and strength, and this one is so that you can speak clearly underwater. This one will let you swim deep without being crushed. The last one will make your lungs go still whenever you are underwater so you won’t accidentally inhale.” She pauses, looking thoughtful. “If you wish, I could add a rune to prolong the time you can endure without breathing, but I think that will not be necessary for a star-dweller.”
I straighten in surprise. She’s correct—as an elf whose ancestors were created to dwell among the stars, I don’t need air to survive, although I could still drown if I were to inhale water. That particular trait is not one my people usually reveal to those beyond our kindred, however. It’s so closely tied to the sorrows of our distant past—the destruction of our first homes in the star-clouds, the sundering of the great Houses, and the desperate flight of the survivors to Tandith—that we rarely wish to speak of it even amongst ourselves. It’s also a trait that can prove an advantage in warfare. “That ability is supposed to be a secret.”
Evya’s mouth curves into a sly smile. “I endeavor to learn the secrets of my adversaries. Do you not do the same?”
“A fair point.” Yet I can’t claim to know anything so valuable or personal about the Atathari. I need to remedy that, especially if Evya’s people know more about elves than I initially expected. Still pondering this, I shift our conversation back to its original subject. “What of the last rune?”
She runs her fingers over my right shoulder. “This one will give you greater awareness of the sea so you will find it easier to navigate on the currents, sense which parts of the water are particularly safe or dangerous, and move and fight effectively. You will still have much to learn, but this will help.”
“You’ve thought of everything,” I say in awe.
She reaches up a little higher and traces the line of my jaw, sending a thrill of pleasure through me. “I don’t want to lose you. If I can’t stop you from risking your life for me, then I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you survive.”
This time, our kiss is slow and deliberate. I savor her touch, her taste, her smooth skin beneath my fingers and the fierce beating of her heart. It takes all my self-control to finally untangle my fingers from her long hair and pull away. I shift back from her, breathing hard and fighting the urge to reach for her again. I see the same desire flaming in Evya’s eyes, even as she deliberately breaks my gaze and turns her attention to packing her ink and needles back into her rucksack.
It would be all too easy for us to get lost in each other—and a part of my mind whispers it wouldn’t be wrong. Unlike elves, tuath require no vows or ceremony to wed. If a couple lies together once, then they are mated forever, bound by a magical connection that can only be broken by death. What is the worst that could happen if we simply took each other as mates now? Surely that would stop the challenge from happening, and we could negotiate the terms of an alliance afterward.
I shake my head, forcing the shameful idea from my mind. Even if Evya doesn’t want the mate challenge to happen, it’s considered a sacred custom among the Atathari. I will not tempt her to incur the wrath of her people by breaking it, nor can we afford to risk the peace treaty by doing things out of turn. If we gave in to our desires now, we would still be far from victory.
Evya finishes packing up her supplies and fastens the flap of her satchel, first moving in flustered haste, then gradually growing calm again. I rise to my feet and look away from her, feigning interest in watching the lapping waves until the heat in my veins begins to ebb. When she stands and we finally turn toward each other again, her expression is cool and composed.
As we stand face to face, I realize for the first time that Evya is taller than I am. Though I’m tall for an elf, she stands a few inches above my height. I tilt my head up to meet her eyes, wondering with sudden unease if she finds it strange or off-putting to have to look down slightly to meet the gaze of her lover. But her bright smile and the spark in her eye hold no trace of disdain. I brush away the petty fear. I have too many real concerns to worry over something so frivolous.
Evya nudges me toward the water. “Try the runes. Make sure the magic works.”
The runes glow with faint white light as soon as the surf washes around my feet. I wade into the water until the sandy floor drops out from under my feet. Beside me, Evya slips headfirst under the waves. The water is too cloudy to see the transformation as she shifts to her sea-dwelling form, but a moment later her shimmering white tail fin breaks the surface of the water. She skims beneath the waves like a dolphin, circling around me impatiently while I tread water.
I take one last breath and let myself sink. Panic rises within me as the water closes around my head, but I fight back the urge to stay on the surface. The warm energy pulsing from my runes reminds me I have nothing to fear.
I need to give myself to this new world and embrace whatever comes of it.
I swim deeper, squinting through the cloudy water. The ocean floor drops down farther and farther, and I dive down to meet it. Each stroke I take feels easier. The rhythm of breathing is replaced with the throb of magic, but it feels almost natural. The panic seeps away. I no longer feel the urge to inhale. The magic that pulses through me is enough to keep the water from entering my lungs and sustain me in the absence of air, at least for a time.
I glance up and see the play of sunlight on the water far above me. I’ve never swum so deep, and yet the sea seems to coax me deeper, hinting at wonders I can’t yet imagine. Thoughts of Falamar and the disapproving court fade to the back of my mind. Before, the ocean was only water and salt and sand, but now it’s a living thing. I sense each current as it brushes me. I sense the crabs that scuttle over the sand and the little, brightly colored fish that flit past me. I can sense the ocean’s mood—a swirl of curiosity and playfulness and wariness all sparked by my presence.
Evya races around me in a dizzying spiral, then swims close and grabs my hand. Her smile is brighter than the shimmering sunlight.
“Come with me.” Her voice sounds clear through the water. “I want to show you something.”
