Page 64 of Between Salt and Serenades
“Are you actually considering his idea, Zel?” My face scrunched as I imagined Breena jammed into a box brimming with humidity. I’d assumed Rory was messing with us, but here Zellia was, taking his suggestion seriously.
“Well…” She trailed off. “I’m not really seeing any other way to get her off this ship. Rory says we’ll be there any minute now, and not only is Breena unconscious, but she still has her seal tail. I know I haven't been to land in awhile, but I suspect we would draw a little too much attention carrying her through town. Am I wrong?”
I stood and let out a deep sigh as I stretched my weak and stiff body. Peering out onto the horizon, Barthoah’s coastlinecame into view, as I had suspected. Glancing down at Breena as she slept on the deck, I felt guilty that I hadn’t had the energy to carry her below deck to the hammocks that resided there. I could have at least made Rory do it.
Thinking back to earlier today, everything that happened was a distorted blur, as if nothing had happened at all. From the moment we’d gotten into the net until now, everything we’d done and said felt like a weird dream.
Staring back out to the expanding view of the rocky shoreline, I said, “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I see your point.”
Rory and I had emptied the trunk together as Zellia tried to clean herself off a bit with a bucket of sea water. When everything was out of the chest but a layer of fabric at the bottom, we worked together to pick Breena up and gently place her inside.
I barely breathed the entire time Breena was in the trunk. As we walked down the docks and through town, I went back and forth between yelling at Rory to slow down when I felt we were jostling her too much and telling him to speed up so we could get her out of there as fast as possible.
I’d made Zellia and Rory stop for a break once we made it out of town and into a meadow clearing. We placed the trunk down in soft grass, and I opened the lip up to adjust Breena and fan her sweat slicken face. When we finally arrived at his cottage, my legs were burning, and my back felt all but broken.
We carried her to a spare bedchamber where she could continue resting and healing in the comfort of a safe, cozy bed. Zellia used a damp cloth to clean Breena’s exposed human skin, but we both felt it best to leave her tail alone for the time being. When I first saw her half transitioned, I’d thought she was the most magnificent sight I’d ever laid my eyes on. Now, seeing hertail poke out from under the sheets, the feeling of wonder I once had looking at her shifted to deep-rooted worry.
Zellia and I eventually left Breena to take care of ourselves. We both bathed, dressed, and shoveled human food down our throats. Before Rory left again, he pulled out a dress his neighbor dropped off for him to mend, and Zellia took the upgrade from the rags very willingly, despite the unflattering cut of the black fabric.
“How are you feeling? You seem good,” I asked my sister as she finished up her strawberry porridge. She looked at me with a mouth full and nodded her head.
Her throat bobbed. “Surprisingly, I feel fine. Better than you look.”
“Thanks for that,” I chuckled, digging my shoulder into hers. She laughed as she scraped her metal spoon against the sides of her ceramic bowl for residual porridge and bits of berry.
“Where did you send Rory off to again?”
“You know those netted enclosures I told you about?” I asked. She nodded with a focused gaze. “Breena cut one when we left land, freeing everything inside it. We did it with the intention that we’d see those creatures slowly making their way into the Dreslee and the Selkie Cove. The opposite seems to be true, and we need to figure out why that is.”
He’d left almost as soon as we got Breena in bed, not wanting to waste time when his mother was still at risk. Sure, she was safe with my grandfather, but even I saw the risks in drawing out our investigation into the hybrids.
A high-pitched whistle sent Zellia jumping out of her chair. I rose from the wooden table and headed to the stove to silence the disruptive noise.
“Want some tea?” I asked, removing the copper kettle from the small stove flame. Zellia shrugged in indifference, her hand over her chest as if to slow her racing heart. She’d yet to sit backdown, but I poured her a cup anyway. I brought it back over to the table with a small plate of shortbread, disregarding the fact that we had both just eaten more than enough.
“Smells good, lass. Make any for me?”
I cranked my head to see Rory amble through the front door. He closed the wooden slab behind him then braced himself on the wall as he removed his boots one at a time.
“No. What did you find?” I turned back to my cup of tea and gestured to Zellia to sit, but she still stared at the fisherman, following his movements with her gaze.
Rory rubbed his brow with the heel of his palm and dropped his shoulders. His eyes flicked over to Zellia, as if he’d just noticed she was in the room. The fisherman cleared his throat, adjusted his posture, and said, “I’ll see about picking you up a few dresses tomorrow, Zellia. That old hag’s garments just won’t do.”
“Hag? What a lovely thing to say about your neighbor,” I spoke into my tea before Zellia had the chance to speak.
“I mean no disrespect,” Rory chuckled. “Greta is an actual hag. An elder witch.”
“You know a witch?” Zellia asked in awe, smoothing her palm over the wrinkly old fabric hanging from her hips.
“Of course! We have a coven that resides here in Barthoah. Amazing women. Great hats.” Rory's lips curled back into a pleasant smile. Sometimes, it was impossible to give the man a hard time. He reminded me of Mai—relaxed, unproblematic, but occasionally skittish.
“Wow. I… well?—”
When Zellia couldn’t get her words out, I knew exactly what she was thinking. I’d been right where she was, so I smiled and said, “It’s a lot different here than you expected, isn’t it?
“You can say that again,” Zellia muttered then faced Rory. “Are all humans kind to fae, or are you the exception?”
“I wouldn’t say we’reallkind to fae, no, but I’d like to think most of us are. But look, I’m not going to stand here and pretend like there hasn’t been a violent history between the sirens and the humans. To our general population’s understanding, though, we dissolved our tension years ago. The sinking of the Ever Wanderer was the final straw for humans and sirens alike. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that a lot of lives were lost on both sides.”Rory set his bag down on the rocking chair and cleared his throat. My stomach flipped inside out at his mention of the Ever Wanderer, and I didn’t miss Zellia’s nervous gaze shifting toward me.
