Page 15 of A Magic Deep & Drowning

Queen Maren glided closer to him. “You know why. Her father was one of the architects of the contract. He bargained away the poor children, smug that his own child was untouchable. These debts must be called in, as much for their future as for ours. If the men are allowed to regard the treaty with impunity, they will continue taking and taking and taking, until there is nothing left for the Old Ones. It is a balance that must be kept in check.”

It was nothing Maurits hadn’t heard a hundred times before, but now her little speech hit closer to her heart. “You could take her yourself,” he said quietly.

“Yes, I could, Minnow,” she said, using his childhood endearment, “I know that you do not wish to sit on the throne.” He looked at her sharply, wondering why he was ever surprised at the breadth of her intuition. “I see myselfin you, when I was younger. As a girl, I thought myself uninterested in the mechanisms of politics. But gradually I came to see that this inheritance is not just a burden, but a gift.”

Maurits knew little of his mother’s childhood, and less still of how she had come to the throne. He couldn’t imagine that any part of the process had been peaceful.

They watched as a pike swam by, snapping at an unsuspecting bluegill before disappearing into a crevice in the rocks. “We all have a part to play, and play it we must. For if we don’t, everything falls apart—the treaty, the lands and the sea, the Old Ones... all of it.”

“Then perhaps it is time for a change.”

There was an assessing look in his mother’s eye that made Maurits’s chest constrict with anxiety. He knew that look, and it was never good. “I have been good to you, have I not?” She did not wait for an answer. “I have granted you the form you so desire every week of the full moon, turning a blind eye to whatever it is you choose to do on land. Now I wonder if I have been too indulgent.”

His mother was many things, but he would never accuse her of being indulgent.

“With Thade fulfilling your duties, I suppose you are right—I have little need of you here. I think that I will give you leave to return a little longer, at least for a time.”

“Your favors are never given freely,” Maurits said, suspicious. “What is your game?”

“There is none,” she said, twining a strand of seaweed absently around a long, shallowly webbed finger. “You receive a valuable lesson in obedience and loyalty, and I don’t have to hear your whining about not being on land.”

Before he could question her any further, she was gone in a flash of silver fish and swirling kelp, leaving Maurits alone on the sandy floor with a sinking feeling in his chest.

The next few weeks passed in a haze for Clara. At first it had seemed as if her wedding day would never come, and now the date loomed large and final, like a death sentence. What had started as an innocent diversion had taken a sharp turn into obsession after her midnight rendezvous with Maurits, never mind that she had told him she could never see him again. Even if it was just for a stolen kiss and a goodbye, she had to see him one last time. Helma’s interruption had ruined the romance of it all, and she longed for one last, perfect moment to remember him by.

The sound of Helma’s knitting needles clicked from across the room. Since discovering Clara that night, Helma had only let her out of her sight long enough for her to attend to her necessary functions. She had even moved her pallet bed right next to Clara’s bed, sleeping beside her like a guard dog. If Clara had felt stifled before, she was downright caged now.

With a quick glance about the room to be certain there were no hovering servants, Clara lowered herself down beside Helma on the bench. “That’s very pretty. I’ve never seen you do such fine work,” she said, leaning over and inspecting the cap.

The little silver needles flashed in the mellow window light, but Helma did not look up. “My sister just had her first grandchild. It is to be for him.”

“Mm, lucky little fellow then.” Clara measured her next words carefully. “Helma, I need to ask you a favor.” She could practically feel Helma stiffen beside her. “I need you to take me to town.”

At this, Helma finally put her down her needles. “Why?” she asked warily.

The desperate look on Clara’s face must have given Helma her answer, for she said, “Oh, Clara, you cannot be serious.”

“Shh, not so loud. Please, Helma. It will be the only time I ask it of you. I only... I just need to say goodbye. And then it will be over. I swear it.” She didn’t know where Maurits lived,but it had to be in Franeker. How else would he have been able to come by way of the canal so often?

Helma bit at her thumb. “Why can’t it be over now? It’s a miracle your mother hasn’t found out. You can’t risk everything just to see him again when you’ve already gotten away with it. Besides, what do you know of this man? There is something about him... I don’t like it.”

“Please,” Clara said again, her voice reaching a wheedling pitch. “Please, help me. I’ll be married soon and tucked safe away in my new home, out of trouble. I’ll never ask anything of you again. Only please don’t send me off to my marriage with a heart full of doubt and wondering.”

The needles fidgeted nervously in Helma’s fingers. “If I say no?”

“Then I’ll find a way to go myself and my mother may very well find out.”

“You would risk your ruin?”

Clara thought about it, but only for a moment. “Yes, I would.”

Helma’s shoulders deflated. “Very well. Tomorrow.”

“Oh, thank you!” Clara threw her arms around Helma and squeezed. “You are my angel.”

Her visits to town usually restricted to church on Sunday, Clara was not prepared for the flurry of activity that surrounded her as they alighted from the carriage. Hawkers sold their wares from clever little carts, and children darted underfoot, forcing lazy pigeons into flight. The square in front of the city hall was bursting with every sort of shop, the canal wending lazily through the center under bridges bedecked in flowers.

A lie to her father about needing something for her trousseau had been all it had taken to secure permission, and thankfully her mother had been too preoccupied with her own preparations for the wedding to insist on coming.

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