Page 11 of Voice of the Ocean

With those words, the queen swam from the room.

“No!” Celeste shouted after her through her tears. “Mother, wait!”

No answer.

In frustration, Celeste slammed her fist into the floor, sending bits of sand swirling into the water. Then she crumpled, tears blurring her vision. It poured from her. All the confusion about the humans, the prince. All the anger at her sister, at her mother, at the Chorus for assigning her a babysitter, at Maeve, who was always too busy. But most of all, at herself. For thinking for one second things would be different. That her mother might understand. Or at least talk to her about it. She should have never spoken of these things. She knew better. And now she had no future.

What was she if she were not a member of the Chorus?

What would she do?

Nothing. The answer hit her all at once.She’d do nothing.

It took time for the sobs to slow, the tears to lessen, her vision to clear. She looked around the room, gazing at the things she’d collected over the cycles. Colorful glass bottles. Shiny human coins. Sparkling jewels. Silver combs upon a shelf. Celeste pushed herself from the floor and picked up an object she’d found on a ship that had sunk after a siren raid. She moved her fingers over the smooth golden surface before pressing a little knob at the top. It sprang open, revealing a glass-covered face with two arrows, one long and one short, connected in the center but pointing outward. The arrows didn’t move on their own, but if she turned the knob, they spun around. She wished for the hundredth time that she knew what it was.

It was on one of her rare trips out to sea that she had found the object. For her eleventh birthday, her parents gave Maeve, Sephone, and Celeste permission to leave the castle grounds after significant begging. Sephone had been sixteen, so it was her responsibility to keep an eye on Maeve and Celeste. Other sirens their age were allowed to leave home unchaperoned. But, of course, their mother had sent along a royal guard, Helena. She was fun to be around, so it didn’t bother the girls. The summer waters were warmer than usual, if you swam high enough. Maeve and Celeste took turns daring each other to swim up a little toward the surface, each one trying to get closer than the other. They didn’t make it far before Helena suggested another game.

When they came upon the shipwreck, Celeste squealed with joy. The ship was lying on its side like a carcass of a great whale. The wreck was recent, so there wasn’t much growing on the ship yet, but already fish and other small creatures had made the husk their home. Shrieking battle cries, Maeve and Celeste raced each other to the vessel. Shipwrecks happened every so often, but Celeste had never scavenged a ship before. The little princess reached the ship first but hesitated before entering. What dangers lurked inside? Whatever had happened to the ship, it had been violent. Large pieces of the walls were missing or damaged. Had the Chorus done that?

“You look like you’ve seen the Sea Witch,” Sephone teased.

“No,” Celeste said, swatting at her sister. “I’m not afraid.” And with a deep breath, Celeste plunged inside. No door was left unopened. No secret undiscovered. She didn’t even take much; she only wanted to see it all. Thick rope too heavy to move. A collection of tiny blunt knives; little tridents; and small, shallow bowls attached to some handles. Waterlogged books. At the time she hadn’t known what they were. Their warped covers and delicate pages looked like clams. Sirens didn’t have a common written language. But the Chorus later taught her of books, and how humans used words to keep their stories instead of Songs.

In the ship, Celeste felt like an investigator, collecting clues about human life. And in a back room, she saw something shining on the floor. The golden object. Solid and smooth in her hands. And when Sephone entered the room, Celeste tucked the item away into her satchel so her sister wouldn’t fight her for it.

Sephone and Celeste had been close for a time, despite their age difference. But as those final two cycles went on before Sephone left, her sister’s fascination with shipwrecks and stories faded. Interests the sisters once shared. Instead, Sephone began taking lessons from tutors. So many that Celeste hardly saw her. When she asked, their mother told her that Sephone was preparing to become a wife to someone from another kingdom. The king and queen said it was Sephone’s choice. She did not have to marry a foreign siren royal if she did not wish. But Sephone accepted the role with grace. And when the day came for her to visit the other siren kingdoms, she left.

It had been five cycles since Sephone had gone, but somehow Celeste still felt her absence everywhere. Her mother tried to spend time with Celeste when she could, but she was so busy being queen that even with her father’s aid it was too much work. And they wouldn’t let Celeste go visit Sephone.

“We cannot use such immense resources for a simple visit, little star.”

The oceans were just too vast. Too dangerous. It was rare for sirens to journey through the Wasting Waters between the kingdoms, where most didn’t survive for long, though it was said the Sea Witch lived there, deep in a cave.

The ice kingdom of Skalvaske lay to the north, founded by Queen Klara, the third daughter of the Goddess. There sirens grew to be the size of whales, though it was the smallest siren kingdom in population.

Celeste had only met one siren from another kingdom. A diplomat from Ayakashi, in the east. Founded by the second daughter, Queen Suna, it was the second-largest kingdom to Staria and home to the most renowned storytellers. Sirens would risk swimming the ocean just to hear their tales. But the encounter with the diplomat was short, and Celeste was not allowed to ask them questions. She was left with only her lessons to give her the answers she sought.

Pulling herself from her memories, Celeste placed the golden object back on her shelf. The overwhelming tide of feelings had ebbed, but she could not shake her sadness. Soon it would be time to leave for the mission.

A mission she could not miss.

Setting her jaw, Celeste took up her spear from its place against the wall. A gift from her father on the day she joined the Chorus’s initiates. She remembered wanting to hug him after seeing it. It was the most beautiful spear she’d ever seen. The shaft was wrapped in stingray leather, and around the top near the wings—the part of the spear that protruded from the sides like a cross guard—black pearls were inlaid. Celeste placed the spear reverently upon her lap and began to sharpen it. With each rhythmic scrape, she felt herself sink into her routine. She could do this. She was ready. She had worked too hard for too long to give everything up now. After tonight she would be a full-fledged member of the Chorus, and her mother wouldn’t be able to keep her locked up in the palace any longer.

Rising from her chair, she secured the weapon to her back. She smoothed her hair with her hands, weaving it into a long white braid and securing it with a bit of fish leather. Then, with a steadying breath, she exited her room and made her way down toward the main hall.

“Where do you think you are going?” The queen’s voice halted her. She stared at her daughter, eyes wide with shock. Around her, two members of the council exchanged glances.

“I am leaving for my mission so I will arrive early,” Celeste said, respectfully nodding toward each council member, one of whom—the head of the council—was Maeve’s mother.

The queen left her company, barreling down upon her daughter. “No, you are most certainly not. You are forbidden from going to the surface.” She kept her voice low, tossing a glance toward the council members behind her.

“I am an initiate of the Chorus,” Celeste said, lifting her chin and refusing to lower her voice. “I am required to go. My absence from this mission will result in my removal.”

“Perhaps that is for the best,” her mother said quietly, moving into her daughter’s path.

Celeste’s eyes pricked with tears, the careful calm she had cultivated shattering like thin ice. “I am not a child, Mother!” she exclaimed. “You cannot order me around like?—”

“Then stop acting like a child,” the queen retorted, all effort to hide the dispute gone. The words struck hard. “How am I to trust you when you come home spouting nonsense! It is too dangerous. If you fail to control yourself, you could hurt someone.”

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