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He follows without any more questions, and I find myself thinking back on his conversation with Wallov, despite the looming threat the fleet presents.
“Are you planning on having children anytime soon?” I ask him once we’re up top and headed for my quarters. Niridia gives me a calculated look, nodding in approval when she sees I’m with Riden. Her injured hand is held up by a sling around her neck.
“Not soon,” he says, “but someday. I hadn’t thought it possible with this life before. But here, on this ship, a child would be safe. Well, probably not quite as safe as on land, but safe enough with this crew around.”
My mind is turning at this reveal. Riden fathering a child? I can’t quite wrap my head around it, and my mind is having a harder time than usual with my father in our sights.
“Wouldn’t you like to have a child someday?” he asks.
The question puts Roslyn and my father in the same space of thought in my head, and I shudder before finding a response. “I’ve honestly never thought about it.”
“Never?”
“No. I already look after a whole crew. I don’t see how a child would fit into the mix.”
“I can picture a fiery-haired child running amok on this ship, locking her dolls in the brig when they misbehave.”
I laugh.
“You can probably only have daughters, right? No sons?”
I suppose I hadn’t really thought of that, either. “Probably. But would they be like me? Or would they be… human?” I almost saidnormal.
“Does it matter?” he asks.
Confusion tears through me. He begrudgingly allows himself to be in the siren’s presence. Why wouldn’t he worry that a child I bore would have a siren in her, too?
The lack of water is getting to his head. He’s delusional.
Sorinda is already waiting for us in my bathing chamber.
Riden takes one look at the tub full of salt water. “Are you serious?”
“Very.”
“What is the plan, exactly?”
“I get in the bath, go full siren, and you try to bring me back.”
“You’re not contained,” he says.
“The bath is bolted to the floor. I can’t move it to the brig.”
He must sense how nervous I am, how much I reallydon’twant to do this, because he says next, “It’s fine. Get in the water.”
I take off my boots and any other dangerous items. I stand only in a black blouse and leggings. I decided it best not to wear white since I knew I would be getting wet. In front of Riden.
I step into the tub, every muscle in my body tensing at the onslaught. The water is cool, causing bumps to prickle along my skin. My own mind turns traitorous, begging me to take in the water, aching for the power and surety and revitalization that come with it.
I know that as soon as I allow myself to sit down, the water will consume me, and I will be helpless to take it in. To be the siren is to never be afraid. To never hunger or thirst. Never doubt or worry. Never fear. It is an existence unlike any other. Carefree and wondrous. Sometimes I crave it, but I also know that with it comes the lack of all things human. Causes me to forget all the humans I love so dearly.
I don’t want to forget, but I need the siren to beat my father. I’m sure of it in a way that I can’t explain. If only I can merge the two halves of myself to achieve it.
I let myself sink into the water. My worry morphs into confidence. Weariness turns to strength. I lie down, letting power envelop me. I raise my arms to stretch, to swim, but they crash against metal.
What the—
This is a container. Not the sea. No, I can feel my precious ocean below me, separated from me by meters of wood.
