The Deepest Blue(21)
“You’ll note that I didn’t actually threaten anyone.”
“You won’t tell me whether my husband lives or not, either from sheer spite or because you enjoy feeling powerful. Then you hint at your power over villages. What am I supposed to think?”
He looked stunned. She guessed not many people spoke to him this way. She wondered if she’d misstepped. Maybe I jumped to conclusions. Maybe he hadn’t meant to threaten anyone. She took another breath to steady herself. She felt embarrassment creeping up her neck, along with fear. For her family’s sake, she shouldn’t anger him. “If I misunderstood, please accept my apology, my lord.”
His lips quirked—was he smiling? “Such a pity I did not meet you under better circumstances. Do you always speak first, think later?”
Now she didn’t just feel embarrassed. She was mortified. What would Papa say if he knew she was speaking to the head of the Family Neran this way? Secretly, she thought Grandmama would approve. “Nearly always.”
“It’s charming,” Lord Maarte declared. “But as delightful as you are, time is limited. You have been found to have an affinity to the six spirits of Renthia—water, fire, ice, air, earth, and tree—and as such have the potential to someday link yourself to spirits of Belene as queen, a bond that would grant you enough power to protect both our beloved islands and the entirety of Renthia from the deadly wild spirits that slumber in the Deepest Blue. Because of that potential, your fate is our fate. . . .”
He continued reciting the words as if he’d said them a hundred times before. He probably has. Every woman of power on Belene had to hear these words. I just never thought it would be me. She’d always thought she’d be able to hide her power forever. She’d promised both Elorna and her parents, and for years she’d been able to keep that promise. If the spirit storm hadn’t hit their village . . .
For the first time since her wedding day, she asked herself why the storm had hit their village. Wasn’t the queen supposed to predict the storms? And shouldn’t the heirs have been sent to deflect it, or at least to assist them? But no heirs had come.
“Where were the heirs?” she interrupted.
A faint shadow of irritation crossed his face. As if she hadn’t asked the question, he said, “In accordance with the laws of our island, laid down by the first queen of Belene, all women with potential are given a choice, to choose a path that is the best match for their temperament. Both choices are noble and necessary.”
“The storm that hit my village,” Mayara pressed. “It shouldn’t have happened. Even if the heirs couldn’t stop it from coming, they should have been there to help.” She thought of Helia, her pregnant cousin, dead with all her dreams of the future. “My friends, my family, my neighbors—people died. And the heirs didn’t come. They weren’t even there after it was over to help with the dead. Why didn’t they come?”
“A queen must make difficult decisions,” Lord Maarte said stiffly. “The heirs were needed elsewhere.” He then continued. “The Silent Ones enforce our laws by using their power over the islands’ tame spirits. They do not face Akena Island and are never asked to risk their lives against the wild spirits, nor are they required to shoulder the burden of becoming queen. In return for their lesser risk, they must swear obedience to our queen and forsake their name, family, and all ties to their prior self.”
Mayara saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head sharply—and paid for it with black spots that filled her vision. When they cleared, she saw that, unlike what she’d assumed, she was not alone with Lord Maarte.
The three Silent Ones stood in the shadows.
As always, they wore their white masks and gray robes. Mayara felt shivers up and down her spine. She’d seen many spirits over her lifetime, both wild and bonded, but none of them were as disturbing as the Silent Ones. It was the way they stood as if they were stone—they reminded her of the bones of the leviathans. There was the same kind of ancient feel to them. She couldn’t explain why, but it didn’t feel human.
She knew they were ordinary women under the masks and robes. In fact, they could have been exactly like her, recent brides from tiny villages who had to leave their families and homes because of a chance accident that revealed their power. But they felt more foreign than the wild spirits themselves. Worse, because she couldn’t sense them in the way she could sense spirits.
“Your other choice is to submit to the Island of Testing. Survive for one month, and you will have proven yourself worthy of becoming an heir. Survive, and you will be trained to contend with the wild spirits and taught the secrets of the sea. While the Silent Ones are akin to the queen’s police force, the heirs are her army. The heirs are vital to—”
“Is my husband alive?” Mayara asked the Silent Ones. “Did you kill him?”
All their eyes were fixed on her, and she thought she saw slight variation between them: one had narrow brown eyes, one had black eyes, and one had unlucky blue eyes. Death eyes.
“If you killed him . . . then I’d rather die than be one of you. Did you do it?”
“Of course they did,” Lord Maarte cut in. “He tried to aid your escape.”
Mayara felt as if she’d been hollowed out.
Lord Maarte continued talking, but she didn’t hear him. Kelo . . . dead? She knew they’d punished him. She’d heard him scream. But a part of her was certain they wouldn’t let him die. He’d be back in his studio, making new charms, picking up the scattered shells and bits of driftwood. He’d miss her, but he’d know she was safe. And someday, maybe . . .