To Kill a Kingdom(53)

In the ocean, there are only mermen. Most serve as guards to my mother, protecting the sea kingdom of Keto. They are the strongest warriors of us all. Vicious and deadly creatures, more vile than their mermaid counterparts. More brutal than me.

Unlike sirens, mermen have no connection to humanity. Sirens look like humans, and so there’s part of us that’s connected to them. Or perhaps, they look like us. We’re born half of sea and half of them, and sometimes I wonder if that’s where our hatred really comes from.

Mermen don’t have this problem. They’re crafted more from the ocean than any of us, made from the most deadly mixes of fish, with tails of sharks and sea monsters. They have no desire to interact with land, even for the purpose of war. They exist, always, under the sea, where they are either solitary and disciplined soldiers of the guard, or rampant creatures who live wild on the outskirts of the ocean.

Under order of the Sea Queen, these are the creatures we mate with. Before I was thrown into this curse, I was promised to the Flesh-Eater. Mermen have no time for names and other nonsenses and so we call them as they are: Phantom, Skinner, Flesh-Eater. While mermaids are fish through and through, laying eggs to be fertilized outside of their bodies, sirens are not as lucky. We must mate. And it’s the brutality and savagery of the mermen that make them a worthy combination to create more of our murderous race. At least, that’s what my mother says.

“I’m glad the captain agreed to let you stay,” Madrid says.

I shake the thoughts of home and look at her questioningly. “Why would you be glad?”

“We need to start outnumbering them.”

“Who?”

“The men,” she says. “Ever since we pulled down to skeleton crew, there’s been too much testosterone aboard.”

“It seems safer to have a full crew for this mission.”

She shrugs. “The captain didn’t want to risk them.”

“Or he couldn’t trust them.”

Madrid heaves herself back onto the ship’s deck, her fairy-like boots stomping against the wood grain. “He trusts us all.”

There is something defensive in her voice, and her eyes narrow ever so slightly.

“Are you upset?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. Humans are so sensitive.

“No,” Madrid says. “You just shouldn’t say things like that. Someone might hear.”

“Like who?”

“Kye.”

“Because he and Elian are good friends?”

“We’re all good friends.” Madrid throws her hands in the air. “Quit doing that.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re trying to meddle.”

It seems like such a silly thing to be accused of in the grand scheme of things. I’m plotting to steal back my birthright, betray my mother, and then rip out Elian’s heart so no human can be a worthy threat to us. Yet somehow Madrid thinks my comments on her friendships are troublesome. Will they have a word for what I’ll be when I turn on them?

“What are you talking about?” Kye asks, stepping out from the cabin belowdecks.

He looks at me with a mix of mistrust and curiosity. It’s a drastic change from the carefree rapport he shares with everyone else aboard the Saad. If there’s anyone on this ship I’ve failed to convince of my usefulness, then it’s Elian’s pseudo-bodyguard. I could leak every bit of information I have on the Sea Queen – I could even tell him where the Diávolos Sea is – and Kye still wouldn’t think I’m worth keeping around. His earlier threats in Eidyllio play in my mind. He looks at me like he’s just waiting for me to slip up and reveal any number of things he could use to sway Elian further into the notion that I can’t be trusted. Whether it’s on this ship or in my mother’s ocean, there never seems to be a time when I don’t have to prove myself, or worry that anything I do could lead to my downfall.

“Apparently, I’m a meddler,” I tell Kye.

Madrid snorts. “At least she’s open to criticism.”

“Good,” Kye says. “I have a lot of that to go around.”

“Speaking of things to go around.” Madrid looks at my dress with a grimace. “Don’t you want to change your clothes sometime soon? You can’t honestly want to be stuck in that thing for the rest of the trip.”

“It isn’t a trip,” Kye says. “It’s a sacred quest to save the world and destroy the Sea Queen and we shouldn’t be bringing along stragglers.”

Madrid nods. “Sure,” she says. “But we also shouldn’t be making Lira wear my cleaning rag.”

I finger the hem of the white dress. It’s fraying toward the bottom, string peeling from the fabric like skin. The material isn’t so much white anymore as it is a muted gray, thick with the charcoal of smoke and grime that I don’t want to imagine the origin of.

“She can dress herself,” Kye mutters. His eyes cascade over the wrinkled dress, to the shabby ends of my red hair. “If you were planning something though,” he says,“start by giving her a shower.”

“A shower,” I repeat.

He sighs. “Warm water and soap. I’m assuming they have that where you’re from?”

Madrid tugs her shirtsleeves up to her elbows, revealing sundials and poetry painted onto every inch of her skin. The tattoos on her hands and face are simple enough, but there’s no mistaking the ones that circle her arms, past her elbows and probably winding over her shoulders, too. The mark of Kléftesis pirates. Killers by trade. Though I assumed she was from Kléftes, I never dreamed Elian would choose an assassin to be on his crew. For a man who denies being at war, he certainly picks his soldiers well.