Page 65 of Surfaces
Sahar just smiled. “We can’t.”
His good shoulder fell. “Are you joking? We just have to sit here and wait? For three sarding hours!”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure the pain in your arm will keep you distracted while your stand-in does all the work,” Sahar batted back, ruthless as ever.
“True. I’m an invalid now. I might need my dearest mother to feed me while they’re gone.”
“So long as you like the poisonous bits of puffer fish.”
“My favorite.”
I felt like dragging the pair of them into a tight hug, telling them their snarking was adorable and I wanted to turn them both against Bloss whenever she returned to visit. My sister wouldn’t know what had hit her.
But I didn’t. Instead, I said, “Well, I suppose we can make this time useful at least.”
So I sat down next to Gorgono—who pointedly ignored me and opened his mail, reading over a long parchment. But his rudeness sparked an idea. I requested writing materials and a lap desk. Then I wrote a letter to Bloss asking for help on behalf of Reef City. I wrote another to Macedon about trade. And another to Rasle, to see if we could establish some sort of treaty regarding visitors, since so many part mer lived on their shores.
I’d taken a break to shake out my cramping hand when a yellow-tailed merman flew through the water toward us. I glanced around the city, but no jets of steam shot up through the waves.
Were we being attacked? Or was this mer a lone madman? A distraction?
Ugo and my replacement guard, Paavo, closed ranks in front of me, their spears jutting out as their eyes darted around, constantly returning to the yellow haired man approaching us. Ugo reached into his armor and I saw him pull out a vial of speed potion, the kind that Felipe had used to move me from harm before.
I reached out and gently put my hand on his freckled arm. “I won’t need that,” I whispered.
“All due respect, Majesty, but this is the one area where I’m not allowed to let you make that call.” Ugo spoke out of the side of his mouth—eyes still on the stranger, who shouted hoarsely as he approached, as if he’d been shouting for a while.
“Attack in the quarry. Attack!” The merman’s words beat him to the edge of the roof.
I shot up out of my seat, the lap desk tumbling to the side, ink trailing around me, my betta fins flapping hard as I gained height. Gorgono did the same.
“Show us,” I commanded.
In synchrony, all the guards surrounding our building turned to follow the yellow-tailed mer, who nodded and turned south. We swam swiftly, my pulse crackling. The song of my magic welled up easily inside of me when I called it this time, the wispy voice growing stronger and louder as we rose through the waves. The beat of the music seemed to fill up the space inside of me where my heart had once kept tempo.
Fast,my mind urged.If we want to help—then we need to get there quickly.
The yellow-tailed merman shot off to the right, swerving around several tall metal towers. I darted between them instead, taking a more direct route, energy infusing every pore in my body, fear and the need to do something driving me.
Of course, we can’t get through one event without an attack. Damned bastards,I thought fiercely.
I vaguely heard members of the public, swimming up as we passed overhead, asking what was going on.
To answer all of their queries at once, Paavo announced loudly, “Rebels are attacking the quarry.”
Quite a few mer drifted up from the crowd to join us. “Bastards!” one spit.
“Stay back,” Paavo warned them.
“Don’t tell me to stay back. This is our home!” a mer with a gap between his teeth retorted. “We’ve a right to defend it!”
“Let them,” I said, because I agreed. I also appreciated any and every citizen who saw these rebels for what they were—a threat to stability. They weren’t even making demands! Who just attacked like that? They were little more than common criminals then. If their hatred for me was the only thing uniting them, then they didn’t have a cause great enough to warrant respect.
They deserved ferocity.
Our band grew larger as more and more citizens spread the word while we swam through the city, until a mob swarmed behind us, shouting and threatening.
Ugo said nervously, “I don’t know if I like them at our backs, Majesty. Untrained men…can be unpredictable. Trained men make mistakes, but regular ones filled with testosterone? I think we’re courting disaster.”
