Page 2 of Secrets Among the Tides
“You’re a blessing straight from the gods, Maisie.” He released his hold on both kelp and cup to reach out and cradle my cheek for a split second before pulling away. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’ll pray to them that you aren’t Selected tomorrow.”
His words were a reminder that I wasn’t completely safe and that I never would be until this war was over. Tomorrow was the Selection and up until now, I’d avoided such a fate. My luck could turn at any moment. No one—save for business owners, mothers, mer younger than sixteen and the elderly—were exempt from it. I was nineteen and had been entirely too lucky up until now.
The war had been going on for as long as I could remember, the Selection had begun when I’d been thirteen. The royals had probably been tired of sending their own into battle.
Despite the fear gnawing at the center of my stomach, I smiled at my boss. “You’ll not be rid of me so easily. I plan on inheriting the place once you die.” I winked and he laughed.
“You’re meant for bigger things than running Tides’ Tavern for the rest of your life, Mais.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I waved him off before pulling more cups towards me to continue shining. As I did my job, my gaze frequently found the telly, looking at repeat images of the Princess and her Prince, Josiah’s words playing over and over again in my mind.
I wanted to desperately believe what he was saying, that somehowIwas meant for a life bigger than this one. That I was destined to help the mer here. But that was utterly ridiculous. I wasn’t a princess. I was no one but an orphaned mer from the backwaters of Lagoona.
And never, in the history of anything, had a backwater mer made a worthwhile change in the world.
~~~
ARTISAN’S SQUARE WAS LOCATEDin the centermost part of the small pond of Lagoona. It was one of the prettiest sights, though perhaps that was because of the market. Every Finsday, artisans from all over the ocean came to set up their stands and sell.
I couldn’t afford half the things displayed there, not many could except the Lords and Ladies of Lagoona, who’s rich homes bordered the Square. Though it was ways away from my own home, I still liked to visit after work to see what it was they had to offer.
“Pearls! Get yer pearls here!”
“How ‘bout a lovely necklace for the merfriend? The diamonds arereal.”
“Beautiful rubies, straight from her Majesty the Queen’s crown. Half off!”
I inhaled deep the scent of the market. During the day, when the sunlight from up top pierced through to illuminate the waters below, the yellow glow of it would hit the jewels just right, casting an underwater rainbow against the pond floor. Colors of magenta, red, cerulean blue and gold would dance with the movement of the water and capture my attention for a long while.
The stands all seemed to mush together to the point where it was hard to tell where one ended and another began. They were made up of all materials ranging from deep sea coral shelves, as well as wood and metal. They used the finest looking sea silk as mantels, the bright colors looking more expensive than anything I’d ever own.
The stands were all lined up on one half of the square, the other half was occupied by a very large dais that was used for public announcements and…other things. In the middle of the Square sat a very large nautilus shell, the opening of the chamber spilled out bright pink water lilies. As far as sights went around here, it was all we had besides the cattail forest and the alligator breeding grounds.
I navigated my way through the crowd at a leisurely pace, bumping past locals as well as soldiers keeping watch. The day was almost over, nighttime soon approaching, and already, some vendors were packing up to leave. My eyes darted everywhere at once, taking in what sights and colors from the outside world I could. Coral, shells, sea glass and jewelry; some vendors even sold two-legger objects thrown into the sea.
I paused before a weapons’ table, my gaze holding on a winking, black blade.
“Like what you see, little mer?” the vendor, a surly merman, with spikes trailing from his forehead down to his spine, asked. His body was a sickly gray, mottled with brown spots. He held the blade up before him for my examination, balancing it on his palm. It was the length of my forearm with a sharp tip, but curved edge. It was polished black, immaculate. The hilt was studded with a single sapphire jewel. “Polished obsidian,” the merman continued. “A rare blade, made by Thalassar’s finest.” He handed it to me, placing it in my reluctant fingertips. “Go on,” he urged. “Give it a swing.”
Tightening my grip on it, I took a stroke back, observing the blade as if it would move itself.
“Go on.”
I took a deep breath and swung the blade in an arc over my head. I had no idea what I was doing, for I’d never held a blade in my life, save for the kitchen knives I used to chop food with at the tavern.
This blade felt different, its purpose clear in the weight as I made a series of jabs. This blade was meant to defend, to protect. It was a blade made for battle.
I froze, holding the weapon away from me, breathing heavily.
“Very light, as you can see.”
“It is very pretty,” I observed.
The merman snorted. “If you’re looking for ‘pretty’ I suggest you go get yourself a necklace. This weapon here is meant to be dangerous, to kill. It isnota decoration.”
He said it as though beauty and danger could not go hand in hand. As if you could not be one without the other. I saw the beauty in this danger and just because it was meant to draw blood, did that, in turn, make itugly?The act itself was ugly. The weapon, however, was not.
“I meant no insult,” I said cautiously.
