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“And you thought you would find such reprieve near the shore?” The Seamother circles around me, drawing closer. “The waves are restless there. The elf’s song stirred their rage.”
“Stirredyourrage, you mean.” The words fly out before I can stop them. I try to force back the fire rising in my veins.
“Do you accuse me, daughter?” Lightning flashes in the Seamother’s eyes. “Iamthe ocean, and the rage of my heart is the rage of the waves.”
“We’re all weary of rage,” I bite out.
“We are what the elves have forced us to be—you as much as I.” She glances over me. I’m conscious again of all my bruises and bandages, of the scars that cover my skin and the warrior runes marked along my limbs.
Shame clouds over me. What right do I have to speak of peace when I’ve tasted as much blood as any of the Atathari? What right do I have to hope any of us can escape this war? I might have saved one man tonight, but I can’t stop the elves from attacking tomorrow or keep my mother from retaliating when they do.
And the lethal gleam in my mother’s eyes tells me that arguing with her will only get me hurt again.
The Seamother’s face is a storm, but when she speaks again her voice is the same lulling calm. “Yes, the ocean’s rage belongs to all of us. So tell me—how did the waves rise in anger to the enemy’s song, only to quiet a moment later? The waters tell me all is well, that there were no foes on the shore tonight, yet I heard him. Did you hear his voice, Evya?”
A sliver of hope pierces through me. Is it possible the ocean really kept this from her? “Whose voice?” I try to sound disdainful. “The elves make such a racket with their singing, I barely give them a thought anymore.”
“You heard nothing?” The Seamother floats less than an arm-length from me now, her gaze as sharp as the spear in her hand. The spear she is extending, inch by inch, toward my chest. My hope sours into fear as she coils the end of her tail around mine, holding me in place. Even if the sea has kept my secret, my mother suspects I’ve done something treacherous. “You heard nothing, though you went to the shore instead of preparing to meet those who have come to challenge for you?”
“Iwaspreparing.” A new angle of explanation springs into my mind, and I seize upon it, praying to the Creator that my mother will believe it. After all, it is true enough. “I wanted to go someplace far from the palace so I could think clearly before meeting the contenders.”
The Seamother releases her hold on me and withdraws a little. The fury in her eyes cools. “Surely you’re not nervous about that. You’ve faced a thousand battles without a flinch, and yet you fear something so ordinary as being mated?”
I snort. “Battles come and go quickly. The same can’t be said for mates—at least, so I’d hope.” These words came more easily, spurred by emotion that I don’t have to fake. I latch on to the uncertainty, the anxiety, glad to both speak truthfully and change the subject. “Maybe none of the challengers will prove a worthy match. Maybe—”
Maybe none will gain my heart.
The last thought silences my tongue with shock. How could I be thinking of love? My people don’t need me to fall in love. They need me to join with someone who can fight beside me and protect the Atathari.
And I will. Of course I will. I’m not such a fool as to place my people in danger by following the whims of my own desires.
Except I just did so with Keliveth, though I can’t find the courage to admit it.
My shoulders slump as shame drapes its heavy mantle around me. What would my mother do if I told her the truth—that I’d been drawn by the song’s beauty and spoken friendly words with an elven prophet simply because I wanted to?
The Seamother circles around me, icy water rippling from her as she swims. The coldness shivers across my skin, raising goosebumps on my bare arms. I don’t have to think hard to answer my own question. If my mother knew the truth, she’d banish or kill me, and go after Keliveth in vengeance. The seas would rage all the more.
What good are courage and desire when they would sweep away my entire world like a tidal wave?
“You should trust the Rite of Challenge, as every chieftain and heir of the Atathari has done. This is the way of our people, and we will not depart from it.” My mother halts in front of me again, her gaze still boring into me. “I think one of the contenders, at least, will prove more than worthy. Arcorlan Fethani has sworn to take on the Challenge, and my favor is on him.”
Trepidation spikes through my heart. “Arcorlan is here?” I’ve never set eyes on the Fethani chieftain’s favorite grandson, but the rumors are enough to make my blood go cold. “They say he drowns whole islands and slaughters sailors out of spite.”
“Yes.” Approval swells in the Seamother’s voice, turning my stomach. “He’s not afraid to claim his right as a master of the seas, and he does not let fantasies taint his sight of the world.” She drifts closer to me, swimming around me in a circle so tight that her long gray hair tangles around my body like a net. She halts with her face inches away and her spear tip hovering by my ear. “He does not consort with elven prophets or dissuade the waters from their rightful anger.”
The point of the spear bites into the soft flesh below my ear, and I yelp in pain. Every muscle in my body goes tense, desperate for flight. Yet my limbs are frozen in terror.
“Stop!” The word comes out in a squeak.
“Did you think I would not see when you snatched a foe from my hands? A Dalzana, no less?”
“I ... He isn’t ...” I choke out. The Seamother strikes me across the face. My head snaps to the side and fresh pain lances through me.
“Idiot child, lured by a pretty song,” she hisses. “It might have happened to a lesser warrior, but to my own daughter? The one who wields the fiercest magic of any of the Atathari? The one I call my heir?”
My mouth moves in silent protest as my mother prods the spear’s point deeper into my flesh. Red clouds the water around me.
More red. More blood. The war will go on and on and on, and no one will never be able to stop it.
