Page 17 of Between Fear and Favor

“Oh,” she said, and she pulled her plump bottom lip into her mouth. “That must be how…My father was a landwalker, but he died before my mother returned to the sea. I suppose she poisoned him.” A frown graced her delicate features, and my own mouth dropped open. After only speaking to her for a moment, I’d apparently dug up some old wound.

“I apologize, that must feel…” Horrible? Strange? Gods, I wished I could eat my words.

“No, he was not a good man. You did not offend.” Fox fixed a smile onto her face, far more exuberant than I thought was true. “You solved one of my life’s great mysteries even though my name was the answer all along.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I was always too afraid to ask her.”

“Your mother? Is…Is Estri your mother?”

At this, the woman laughed—hard. “No, no, I am of her servants’ line. My mother, her mother before her, we’ve all served the queen. Don’t tell Her Majesty you asked that.”

“Would she be offended?” I asked, a sly smile kicking up my lips. I tried to control it, wary over how quickly this person had gotten past my defenses. Hadn’t I learned anything from Mairin? I couldn’t trust anyone—even myself. Yet, here I stood, naked, and strangely at ease. All things considered, I thought I was doing quite well.

“Offended or amused—it would depend on the day,” she offered. “Either way, I’d keep it to yourself,” she said, conspiratorially. Her posture had softened a bit, and I wondered if perhaps I’d found a friend.

“You mentioned a ball? I thought it was dinner.” I supposed Estrihadmentioned a ballroom.

“There will be dinner, yes,” Fox said, perhaps not fully understanding me. “Why are you not dressed?”

Slowly, I looked her up and down; what she wore would hardly count as clothing. I twisted my body, looking around the sparse room. I didn’t bother with rudeness or sarcasm—something told me she would understand neither. “Where are the clothes?”

Looking past me, she squinted her eyes at one wall of coral. On legs that didn’t seem quite suited to the movement, Fox walked across the room, and stood with her hands on her hips as she glared down at a rather large anemone.

“Give,” she demanded. About to ask her what in the gods’ name she was doing, a gurgling noise quieted me. Stunned, I watched as the yellow anemone belched out a large wad of aquamarine fabric. It floated in the thin wall of water encasing the coral walls until Fox snatched it.

“I am sorry it is now wet,” she said, spreading out the fabric with a crinkling of her long nose. The gown was a light blue color, but I saw hints of vivid pink and orange within the layers. “I know land walkers prefer things to not be wet.”

“I think I’m going to have to get used to it,” I offered, smiling at the woman.

She tilted her head in a gesture that didn’t appear entirely human as she laid the dress over her arm. “A wise attitude,” she said, before turning back toward the anemone, eyes lighting as if she’d just remembered something. She poked it—hard. “And the rest.”

This time, when the creature belched, the item did not float. Instead, the small metal box slammed to the ground, and Fox winced.

“Quarrelsome creature,” she murmured before picking up what had fallen. When she passed it to me, its weight surprised me. “I do not know if you need my help for that, but I am here, Your Highness.”

I struggled with the rusted latch and opened the box. Inside lay the most beautiful tortoiseshell comb I’d ever seen, alongside a tiara made of moonpearls and twisting spires of violet coral. I blinked at the items, curious about why they were down here. I’d assumed the seaborn mostly kept their other forms, especially after Fox showed such discomfort over the feeling of her hair on her back. What need would they have for these items?

Absent-mindedly, I reached for the comb, inhaling a hiss as the sharpened points cut into my fingertip. Why in the gods’ names would someone create something so viciously sharp to care for their hair? As I held it in my hand, staring slack-jawed at its intricately designed handle, I supposed it might have been for show. There was something strange about it, though. It felt almost heavy in my hand, and I didn’t want to put it down.

“I have heard landwalkers do something called a curtsy. The Seaborn Queen has no use for it, but I can learn if?—”

“No, I do not want that. And please call me Lavenia,” I said. “There is no need for formalities with me.”

“Oh, no. I cannot do that, Your Highness,” Fox said, high-pitched voice going quite loud. Hand darting for mine, she pulled my wounded finger to her mouth. There was a wicked scrape on my skin from the comb, and a bead of blood welled up on my fingertip. I blinked when she swiped her tongue over it. Within a moment, the pain was gone. Looking down, only a small pale scar remained. “You are perhaps the most important guest we’ve had in all my life. Only Old Telemern remembers when Rhia left these behind.”

“The goddess?” I asked, dumbly. Estri’s words about Rhia, when she’d said I’d looked like the goddess, suddenly came back to me.

“You should seek out the old leatherback at the ball.” Fox chuckled, headed toward the coral door she’d entered from. “He might take his two-legged form to have a chance to bore you.”

“So, I should put this gown on and wait?”

The woman nodded. “Do you need my help?”

Glancing at the saturated mess of fabric she’d gently laid to float atop the seaweed, I sighed. “No, thank you.”

Chapter 11

RAINIER

It was exhaustingwork swimming after the merrow. Its long green tail was all I could see as it raced away, moving far faster than I could have dreamed. I was already worn out—between the physicality this endeavor demanded and the divinity I’d had to use. I couldn’t lend more to my cause. As it was, I’d had to reduce the size of the airy armor around my body, only keeping a small pocket at my mouth to breathe. Soon, I’d have to open a rift and leave.

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