The Surface Breaks(7)

Zale bows his head in deference to my father and Marlin does the same just a beat later.

“Many thanks for a wonderful evening, Sea King; your generosity is unparallelled.” Zale’s voice is so obsequious, I would think he was being insincere if I didn’t know better.

“Today must be celebrated,” my father replies. “For fourteen years, I have ruled this kingdom by myself.”

“Indeed, and you have done such a difficult job with great wisdom and strength,” Zale says. “Good riddance to bad rubbish, sir.” I bristle at my mother being referred to like this, but I contain myself. Anger is not alluring in maids, my father says. “If I may be so bold as to ask,” Zale continues, “to what do we owe the honour of an audience with the royal family?”

“It is late,” my father says. “And my daughters are tired. I thought you would want to bid them farewell.”

Marlin blushes. “Goodnight, Nia,” he says, reaching out a hand to touch hers, shuddering as if he has been electrified when he makes contact. My sister is motionless, her tail barely beating, eyes downcast. I do not understand such a muted reaction. Marlin is a little insipid, yes, but he is kind. Gentle. He will be good to her. I envy her that.

“You may go, Marlin,” Father dismisses him, and Nia gives an imperceptible sigh of relief. Marlin bows his head to the Sea King again, and swims away, his skeletal torso a sliver of flesh slicing through the water. My father releases Nia with a wave of his hand and I silently beg her to stay, to protect me. But she goes, because my father has told her to do so, and I am left alone with them.

“Sea King,” Zale says, digging his spear into the ground. Zale is never without that spear, although there is no need for it. The kingdom is at peace, and has been for many years now. Much to Zale’s dismay.

The war between the Salkas and the mer-folk had dragged on for ten years, the old folk say, and there didn’t seem to be a respite in sight. And then my mother – not queen then, just an ordinary mermaid at court – went to my father and begged him to call a ceasefire. In exchange, she promised to marry him on her sixteenth birthday. That was something the Sea King had long yearned for, apparently, but any maid under the age of twenty needs to have their father’s permission if they are to be betrothed. Or their father’s decision, as in my case. You’re so lucky, they tell me when they hear I am to be bonded with Zale. I am so very lucky.

As if on cue, Zale begins to talk, and it is his favourite subject. War. “We need to talk about the Sea Witch and the Salkas,” he spits, as if the word “salkas” is burning a hole through his tongue. “They are becoming—”

“Zale,” my father says softly and my spine straightens. I know that tone, and what it means, too well. “Have you forgotten that we have company?”

There is a pause as Zale’s eyes go to my face. “Of course not,” he says, smiling as if he wants to eat me whole, and then chew on my bones for comfort. We will be bonded in a year, I remind myself, me and this old man, and my throat closes up. “How could I possibly forget, when such loveliness stands before me?” he says.

“Well, then,” my father says. “I’ll ask you not to discuss such things in front of my daughter, or any maid for that matter. This is none of their business.”

Zale runs a hand over his shaved head, his eyes narrowing. They are blue, like the rest of the mer-folk, and yet they seem darker as he imagines battles, sword striking sword, heads cleaved off torsos. Zale will not be happy until his spear is smeared with blood. Preferably a Salka’s, but I don’t think he’s overly particular. “I apologize, Sea King,” he says. “And a very happy birthday, Muirgen. Fifteen at last, you must be excited.”

My name is Gaia. That is the name my mother gave me. Perhaps if Zale was a different kind of man, I could ask him to call me by the name that I prefer. But I don’t think he would care for such niceties. All he is concerned with is that I am the most beautiful daughter of the Sea King. I am a prize to be won, and Zale likes the taste of victory.

“Did my daughter not sing sweetly tonight?” Father asks, exhibiting me for Zale’s approval. I breathe through my nose, trying to remain calm. It will be over soon.

“Such talent,” Zale says, although I suspect he has no love for music.

“And doesn’t she look radiant? One of the great beauties of the kingdom. A great, great beauty.”

“That is the truth,” Zale says. “I still remember the night of that ball, when it was apparent she would become the fairest of your daughters. I knew then that she should be mine.”

I remember that night too. I had just turned twelve. That was the night that Cosima began to cry.

“You were smart,” my father says, pressing his fingertips into my shoulder blades. “You got in early. If Muirgen were not my daughter, perhaps I would have chosen her for myself.”

He and Zale laugh, and I try and smile too. Just mer-man talk, I think. No need to be so sensitive.

“But really, sir,” Zale says, sombre again. “We cannot wait much longer. There has been movement…”

“Aye, I suppose we should,” my father says. “Shall we discuss this now?”

Zale nods. The two men stand side-by-side, uncannily similar with their grey buzz-cuts and broad shoulders. They could be brothers. The Sea King unlocks an ornately carved door at the side of the balcony, opening it into the war room. I see a flash of silver, racks of spiked weapons, waiting patiently to be used.