Page 56 of A Magic Deep & Drowning

He is a wastrel, a weak and ineffectual son who shirked his duties. He is alive, but unfit for the throne.

What was to stop her from telling all of the water folk assembled here? Thade could have taken her voice again, but then he would appear as unjust and cruel as he feared being perceived.

“I will speak,” she said, louder this time. In her pocket, she could feel the magic of the stones vibrating through her, and was beginning to think that perhaps Neese had been right; Thade underestimated her. “And if my words offend or wound, then I pray that you hold me accountable, and no one else.”

Thade’s glare narrowed on her, the twitch beneath his eye almost imperceptible. But she saw it, and she knew that so long as they were under the eye of the assembled water folk, that he could not hobble her by taking her voice.

“Speak, then,” he bit out. “But do not waste the time of my subjects. They have come to see justice carried out, not listen to the prattling of a girl who does not understand the first thing about this kingdom.”

A thousand eyes watched her, and those were only the ones that she could see. No matter where she was under the water or what she was doing, she could always feel someone, something, watching her. It was the same sensation that would dance down her spine when she was young, standing by the canal.

Squaring her shoulders, she could feel the wrap of her spinet teacher’s switch at her back, commanding her to pull herself taller, to lift her chin. She had hated the man, hated those lessons with a passion, but she was grateful now for the armor they afforded her. She was not a meek little girl; hermother had ensured that, even if she had intended the lessons have the opposite effect.

She moved further into the hall, her feet finally having acclimated to the cold, damp stone. Taking her place in the center, she turned slowly. The faces that watched her would have once filled her with horror. Some looked human enough, but others she had never seen before, had never even heard about in stories. Now she feared she was not worthy to address them. She began to speak, but her voice came out cracked. She tried again, clasping her hands so that they would not tremble.

“I came prepared to speak in my defense, but I now see that what my people have done is indefensible.”

The great hall had already been hushed, but now silence draped over it, thick and expectant. Thade sat forward on the throne, gills and nostrils flared. Behind her, Maurits had not moved so much as an inch, his quiet presence steadying. She dropped her hands to her sides as the trembling stopped.

It was not difficult to speak the truth. In fact, it was easier than anything she had ever done. Her old life had been one of routine and meeting expectations. It was simple, but it was not easy. Her words had always had to be carefully considered so that she did not attract her mother’s wrath or her father’s displeasure. Her inclination to run wild on the estate had to be carefully tamped down, and her dutiful daughter role carefully practiced.

So she was not frightened now. Anxious perhaps, but not frightened. A veil had been lifted from her eyes, not once, but twice. First, when she learned that there truly was magic in the land, that all the stories from her childhood were more than just stories. The second, the painful realization that her world was built upon the suffering of another, her comfort pillaged from the rubble.

“Every accusation which has been leveled against me is true,” she said. “The wealth and prosperity of my people havecome at the expense of yours. There is nothing I can offer in my defense except that I did not know, and now that I do know, I am sorry. I will do whatever I can in my limited power to remedy this injustice.”

To her surprise, tears rose to her eyes. Her chest felt hot and tight despite the pendant at her throat which allowed her to breathe. Thade’s and the queen’s words had found their mark, but it had not been until she had seen the devastation with her own eyes that she truly understood. And what did that make her? What did it say that the most macabre proof had to be paraded about in front of her to make her understand the true depths of her people’s cruelty and malignance? She had always thought herself to be good. Well, mostly good, anyway. She said her prayers, obeyed her parents, was not unkind to her servants. But she had simply been an ornamental masthead on a cruel and ugly ship.

“I beg you, all of you, to know that I do not claim my ignorance as innocence. Your anger is justified. But only please, please know that there are so many on land who, while ignorant, would be horrified to learn the truth.” Though even as she said it, she was unsure of whether it was true or not. Her parents had certainly known, and they had been glad enough to go on living with blood on their hands. “Please, just know that the children were innocent in this, just as the children that now live on land are innocent. They did not deserve to die. Do not exact a punishment on them for the sins of their forebears.”

Thade looked genuinely confused. “What my mother did or did not do with the children is not a concern of mine,” he said. “They were called in as part of a debt from the bargain that was established and the humans broke. As such, it is fitting that you are the last child to be collected; an end to an era of injustice and broken promises. If a flood is to be sent, it will not discriminate between man nor child, just as the humans did not discriminate when they built their cities over the water.”

While her words had surprised Thade, it did not seem that they had overly moved him. “You have all but argued against your own case,” he continued. “What would happen to the rule of justice in the kingdom if I was to let you go now? There must be consequences.”

“But what of all the other creatures on land?” Clara asked, her voice pitching higher. “Will you punish them for the folly of a few? I believe that there is still much good in humanity, that we can yet be stewards of the land. Maurits,” she said, a sudden bloom of hope taking hold of her. “Ask Maurits. He understands the value of art and music and science.”

Thade’s lip curled up at the side. “Maurits, as you call him, cannot tell us anything,” he said, gesturing to the bubble that hovered just over his shoulder. “And even if he could, he is hardly the voice of reason when it concerns humans.”

At some point there had been a shift in the atmosphere in the hall. The expectant hush had faded, replaced by whispers and excitement. Clara began to feel as if a tide had turned, and that everyone else was aware of something that she was not.

Thade looked almost bored as he rose from the throne and planted the trident beside him. “I have made my decision,” he declared. The whispers immediately died down. “Clara van Wieren, last of the children, will be put to death so that the scales of justice may finally be balanced. There will be a flood, and the land will return to water, its rightful and natural state.”

She had known that it was a possibility, that even with all the apologies and heartfelt words that it might not be enough. But the prospect of death, of really dying, had seemed faraway all the same. Now it was staring Clara in the face. If the folk of the Water Kingdom were disappointed or upset with the ruling, they were careful to hide their true feelings. No one came to her rescue, no one spoke for her. Only Maurits seemed affected. He strained against his bonds, every muscle in his body twisted in silent anguish.

Numb, she stood her ground. What would her death accomplish? She thought of Fenna’s spirit, destined to roam the silent grounds of Wierenslot. Would Clara have been better off slipping beneath the water as a child? She never would have known the pain of her mother’s hand, the coldness of her father’s indifference. But then, she never would have known the quiet joy of a walk she once took in the shade of the canal, a handsome stranger beside her. She never would have known the unconditional love of a true friend, regardless of his form.

The stone in her pocket sang. It was a big wish, far greater than wishing for her bonds to fall away. But that had been a wish working against magic. This was straightforward, simply a wish for a thing to happen. Perhaps it could be done.

She cut her gaze back to Maurits where he had finally given up fighting against bonds and was watching her with unnerving stillness. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her. She could tell herself that her death would accomplish nothing, that even if she sacrificed herself, there would still be a flood and the world above the waves would be decimated. But the truth was much less noble: she was simply a coward who did not want to die. Not here, and not like this.

Thade was conferring with an advisor, and the guards who had borne her here were busy restraining Maurits. If Thade had thought her capable of resisting his decision, he would not have left her unguarded. He would have bound her with magic, ensuring that she could not reach into her pocket and close her freezing fingers around the stone there. But Neese had been right—he underestimated her. No one thought that the girl condemned to die was anything other than a meek sacrificial lamb who would willingly go to meet her fate.

So, like her parents and Hendrik before him, Thade was not expecting her to have a smoldering ember in her soul, a fight in her heart. When she reached for the stone, her wish was clear and true.

Chapter Thirty-Five

A peaceful sense of falling came over her, and Clara surrendered herself to the magic. It was the same sensation of when she had fallen asleep in the kitchen as a child, and Helma would lift her up and carry her back to her chamber, tucking her nice and tight into bed. She felt warm and soft and loved, draped in magic.

But the warmth quickly faded and Clara jerked awake to find herself on the hard cobbles of a square. The windows of Amsterdam’s rickety houses glowed through the night, and a damp breeze carried the smell of woodsmoke and cooking meat, making her stomach tighten with hunger.

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