The Surface Breaks(66)

The Sea King has come for us. That man does not deserve the name of Father, he who fastened strings into our hands, made us dance like marionettes. He murdered our mother and made us believe that she chose to leave us behind.

“What is the meaning of this insubordination?” the Sea King asks, and even now, the sound of his voice causes me to cast my eyes down, crouch my shoulders inwards, trying to show him that I am not a threat.

No more. I force myself to stand up straight. I will not cower before this man for a moment longer.

“We’re sorry—”

“We didn’t mean to—”

“But we just thought that maybe if—”

“Silence,” the Sea King roars from the water. “What kind of maids are you, to disobey your father in such a way? Have you no loyalty? No gratitude for all that I have done for you?”

My sisters whimper in response. Someone is weeping hysterically, Cosima, I do believe, and I hear the sound of flesh meeting flesh, a savage clap, and a cry. How dare he hurt another one of us? “I told you to be quiet,” he says. “Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”

I creep closer, making sure that I am still hidden from sight. I sit at the edge of the boat’s hatch deck where the Captain brought me earlier, peeking around the wooden bow. My father is there, with my sisters, and he looks smaller than I remembered somehow, his tail submerged in the water, his hair more grey than I have ever seen it.

“What have you done to yourselves?” he says, rapping his knuckles against Talia’s bald head. She recoils, then that learned blankness paints her face, stripping away any fear or hurt. Making her pretty again, the way our father prefers. “Where is your hair? Is this some sort of joke?”

“We wanted to save Gaia—”

“Do not call her by that name. It is cursed,” he says. “That’s what your mother wanted to call her. And look how she ended up.”

I watch them, each face in turn, and I see reflected in them what I know to be true in myself. They try and hide it, but I can see it in their eyes. If my mother didn’t love me, they wonder, then is there something wrong with me? I am broken. My fault. My fault.

We blamed ourselves. We hated our mother. And none of it was true.

“All I’ve ever asked from you is that you look pretty,” my father says, “and you smile when asked to. Is that so hard? Is it? Why must you all be so useless?”

Leave them alone, I think, my hands curling into fists. I am spoiling for a fight.

“What was that?” the Sea King says, turning around to look at the boat. “Who said that?”

Leave. My. Sisters. Alone, I think again and the words are seeping out of me, booming, reverberating in the wood of this yacht and soaring into the morning air. It is my voice.

“Muirgen,” my father says, looking around to find me. “Muirgen, where are you?”

I do not move, my fingers at my throat. My voice has come back to me. My feet don’t hurt any more either, I realize. Has Ceto cast another spell, unbeknownst to me?

“Muirgen,” the Sea King says, and his voice drops dangerously low. “If you don’t show yourself immediately, I am going to scalp your sisters, one by one.”

A low cry, swallowed back. My sisters are afraid, exactly as he wants them to be. He only feels like a true king when we are scared of him. “You wouldn’t want that on your conscience, now would you, my sweet?” he says, the sound of the trident banging against the side of the boat, once, twice.

My father is getting impatient. He is so accustomed to us obeying him instantly; he does not know what it means to wait. “Which one is your favourite, Muirgen?” I peek again and see him grabbing Sophia by the neck, twisting her against him so he has the trident at her heart. She doesn’t whimper, like my other sisters would have, but simply stares at the sky as if praying for divine intervention. “Beg her to come out, Sophia,” the Sea King says. He is whispering into her ear, and yet somehow I can hear him perfectly, despite my distance from them and Cosima’s relentless sobbing. “Tell your baby sister exactly how afraid you are right now.”

Release her. I stride to the side of the boat, staring down at the Sea King and my sisters. I am not afraid, and my father can see that; it is as if he has a sixth instinct for our fear. This is not what he has been expecting. Release her, I said.

“Sister,” Talia says, her eyes huge. “Sister, how are you talking without moving your lips?”

“Shut up, Talia,” my father says, and Talia’s face pinches. “No wonder no man has asked for your hand yet, you never do anything but yap.”

Do not talk to my sisters like that. My voice is louder, and I find that I like the sound of it. Did you hear me, old man?

“Muirgen?” my father says, “Muirgen, how dare you tell me to—”

How dare I what? I thought I told you to shut up.

My sisters stare up at me, open-mouthed. This is not how we have been trained to behave.

Cosima. She is still wailing, her hand covering her crushed face. Cosima, it will be okay.

“Stop that nonsense,” my father turns and roars at her, ignoring me. “All you’re good for is your pretty face, do you want to ruin that too?”

We’re all worth more than that.

“Excuse me? You’re worth more than what?” the Sea King asks, his face flushed with rage.