Page 84 of Beneath the Haunting Sea

“Huen swallow your liver,” Talia muttered under her breath.

Wen choked off a startled laugh.

The ambassador just kept frowning. “I’ll wish you good day, then.”

Talia stared slack-jawed at Wen, waiting until she heard the front door click shut and hoofbeats fading away from the house before she collapsed onto the floor, laughing so hard her eyes began tostream.

Wen sat beside her, grinning wider than she’d ever seen him. “Wellthatwas a narrow escape.”

He gave her a handkerchief and she wiped her eyes, still giggling. “What would he have done if he thought weweren’tmarried? Frowned severely and thrown us into the sea?”

Wen snorted, which made Talia laugh even harder.

“Seriously, though. How in Endahr did you have marriage papers in thesideboard?”

“I found them in my father’s things when we were shutting up his office. They weren’t signed, of course, but he had them ready for us. I forged your signature and brought them here a while back, just in case something like this were to happen.”

Talia leaned back against the sofa, absently petting the white cat who came to rub against her knee. “I’m glad you did.”

He nodded at theletters. “Who are those for?”

“My friend Ayah. She’s apprenticed to a palace librarian, always knee-deep in dusty books, and she’s originally from Od. You two would have a lot to talk about.” Talia sobered. “She’ll never know what really happened.”

“Maybe I can write to her. Explain things, tuck one of your letters inside of mine. Our wretched ambassador can’t have anything to say about that,especially if I send Ahned to see it personally onto a ship.”

Talia brushed her finger over the crackly envelopes. “I’d like that.”

“Den-Arras did have one good question.” Wen scooted closer to her, laid gentle fingers on her arm. “Whathaveyou done to your hands? They’re the worst I’ve ever seen. And don’t give me that nonsense about gardening. I’ve spoken with Anira—you disappear down tothe beach every morning.”

So he had been paying attention. She didn’t know what to say—she just shrugged and shook her head.

He didn’t press her. Instead, he cleaned her hands, gently washing the dirt and blood away, bandaging the cuts in strips of white linen. “I wish you’d let me help you, with whatever it is you’re doing.”

She didn’t want to lie to him anymore. “I have to do it alone, Wen.I’m sorry.”

He sighed, like that was the answer he’d expected. “Then for the gods’ sake, Talia, be careful.”

But she couldn’t promise that.

Chapter Thirty-Six

IT WAS RAINING AGAIN, FAT DROPS AGAINSTthe windows. Talia sat reading in the parlor in her usual chair, pouring over stories about Rahn’s Hall for the hundredth time, while the white cat purred by her feet. A sudden spattering of hail rattled the glass and she started, knocking her pen off the end table with one elbow. The white cat pounced on it and batted it behind the bookcase,ink splattering all across the carpet.

“Caida’s teeth,” said Talia, sighing, and she got out of her chair to retrieve the pen. She scrabbled behind the bookcase with one arm, straining to reach, and hit something wedged tight against the wall. It came loose and slid to the floor in a swirl of dust. She sneezed, loudly. The cat leapt up onto her chair.

She sat back on her heels and pulled theobject out: a sheaf of yellowed pages, pressed between two loose covers and bound with a length of dirty leather cord. She stared at it for a moment, brushing off the dust and wondering how long ago it had fallen behind the shelf and been forgotten. Or perhaps someone had hidden it. The edges of the cover glimmered with remnants of gold leaf. For some reason, it reminded her of the temple under thehill at the Ruen-Dahr.

She untied the leather cord, taking off the top cover with care. The pages, creased and brittle with age, were written out by hand in a tight, elegant script.

At the top was written:The Sorrow of Endain, as told by Ahna Groy-Aild, penned in the seven hundredth year of the Billow Maidens’ curse.

Talia’s heart began to race. She grabbed the lamp and rested it beside her,bowing her head over the ancient writing.

But Endain, the youngest Billow Maiden, grew weary in her binding. The power of the sea god flowed stronger in her than her older sisters, and she felt the weight of Rahn’s curse more acutely than the rest.

Every month she resisted the pull of the moon, staying at the base of the Tree when the other Waves had already swum to the surface. But the struggle cost her dearly. She could feel the curse writhing within her, stilling her heart, sucking her breath away.

And then her mouth would open of its own accord, and the sea would pull her swiftly upward. Helpless, she joined her sisters’ haunted chorus, and sang the sailors to their doom.

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