The Deepest Blue(3)

I’m afraid for them. Forgive me, Elorna.

Mayara then reached with her mind—clumsily, due to her lack of experience—toward the squidlike water spirit. Release me, she ordered. She pushed the thought directly into the spirit, as if she were plunging a knife into the spirit’s mind. She’d never done it before, not intentionally, but Elorna had described how it felt, like a shout but silent. It sounded impossible . . . but it worked.

The tentacles unwound, and the spirit retreated.

Looking up, Mayara saw the glow of the sun in the fissure. But it was too far. She was too deep now. I’m not going to make it.

I’m sorry.

She heard a high-pitched giggle—the child-shaped spirit. Its throat may have been torn by her knife, but she still heard the giggle in her mind. The sound felt like claws scraping inside her skull.

Mayara aimed her thoughts at the spirit and shouted silently, Give me your air!

Compelled, it swam toward her.

Air—now!

The spirit clamped onto her, its tiny arms wrapping around her torso. It pressed its face against hers and exhaled. Manipulating the water as if it were fabric, the spirit created a bubble around Mayara’s head. It filled the bubble with air pulled from the water.

Mayara breathed.

Holding on to the spirit as if hugging it, Mayara kicked her legs and swam upward. The air pocket came with them.

She broke through the surface. Releasing the spirit, she ordered, Go!

With another horrible high-pitched giggle, it sank back under the surface. Mayara swam for the rocks and hauled herself out of the water. She collapsed on her back, her head resting against a mound of seaweed, and stared at the sky as she breathed in the sweet, plentiful air.

Her leg, where the spirit had bitten her, began to throb. She held up one arm and examined it. She had the barest blush of a bruise where the tentacles had squeezed her. That will be magnificent in a few hours. Worse, at some point in the fight, she’d lost her favorite knife. She’d probably left it embedded in the squidlike spirit.

“Ow,” she said out loud. Her voice cracked.

She closed her eyes and let herself unceremoniously pass out.

WHEN SHE REGAINED CONSCIOUSNESS, HER FIANCé, KELO, WAS there, quietly dabbing her wounds with a salve. He was intent on his work and hadn’t noticed she’d awoken. She studied him in silence for a moment.

He was undoubtedly handsome. Mayara’s cousin Ilia had once declared that he was the most delicious-looking man in Belene, and Mayara was positive it wasn’t an exaggeration, though she admitted to being biased. His hair was so black that it was nearly blue, his arms and chest were muscled from lugging rock back and forth across his studio, and his dark bronze skin was smooth and perfect. But as nice as all that was, it wasn’t what drew Mayara to him.

It’s this. The fact that he isn’t yelling at me for being stupid, when I richly deserve it.

“Do I want to ask what happened?” Even Kelo’s voice was beautiful.

She tried to decide what to tell him. Ultimately, she chose the truth. “I did Elorna’s dive,” Mayara said. “And then it got complicated.”

“It always seems to. But you’re alive.” He kissed her forehead. “That’s what matters.”

But it wasn’t all that mattered. She’d broken a promise to her sister and used her power. She hadn’t broken her greater promise, though: no one in the village knew she’d used it, and they wouldn’t know.

And maybe that was enough.

Because that was what had happened to Elorna. She’d used her power in front of the village, word had spread, and the queen had heard.

And that had led to Elorna’s death.

Only Kelo and Mayara’s parents knew that Mayara, like Elorna before her, could sense and control the spirits that plagued Renthia. And even telling him had been tough; it had pretty much been the moment she realized she loved him and trusted him with her heart . . . and life. Still, she felt it necessary to say, carefully, “If anyone asks what happened . . . I’m going to have to lie.” She knew he’d read between the lines to see the truth.

“No one will ask,” Kelo said confidently. “You’ll look too radiant. Can you stand?” He helped her to her feet. She expected pain when she put weight on her leg, but none came—Kelo must have brought a strong salve. She wondered how he knew she’d need that.

Because he knows me, she thought wryly.

He looked up at the top of the skull. She did as well and noticed a rope dangling—that was how Kelo must have gotten down.

“Can you climb?” he asked.

Eyeing the top of the skull, she thought it seemed much farther up than when she’d dived. “Sure.” Gripping the rope, she began to climb. He followed.

She tried not to think about what had just happened: how she’d used her power, how she’d hallucinated Elorna’s voice, how she’d nearly died. And for what? A few abalone?

No, she realized firmly, that’s not why I did it.

Ever since Elorna died on Akena Island three years ago, Mayara had been determined—in addition to living her own life—to live the life her sister had striven for, to try to experience the things that Elorna would have wanted to experience. It was the best way she could think of to honor her.

Besides, Kelo was going to love the shells! She could tell by the weight of the pouches that she’d harvested massive ones.