Page 68 of Surfaces
The song of my magic reverberated as I came to that conclusion. It hit a high, happy note, warbling agreement.
I put out a hand in front of me and let a tiny thread of song turn a three-inch space in front of my fingertip into a miniature whirlpool that traveled through the sea with me, spinning like a top.
Though I was pleased with my progress, a sudden burst of red-hot frustration seared me. And into my mind popped an image of a random siren with light blue hair. I imagined stabbing him in the gut with a knife and then reaching in and yanking out his innards for his children to see. That vicious image jarred my mind enough to muffle my magic’s song and snuff out my whirlpool. Instead, I cringed, my arms coming up to my head as rage rocketed through my skull.
“Majesty?” Ugo swam closer. “You alright?”
I clenched my teeth and nodded as the vision inside my mind shifted to Ugo instead and my black rage directed itself at him.
I struggled another minute, floating in place as my stomach churned and my conscious mind fought back against the irrational blots of fury speckling my soul.
Gradually, it receded like the tide, leaving behind only the detritus of tainted memories and the knowledge that something was horribly, horribly wrong with me.
Or with Watkins.
Was Lizza right?
Was I feeling what Watkins was feeling right now? Some manner of frustration and fury during the tournament? Was it warping through our connection and turning awful? Or was he really that heartless a bastard? Was the awkward sweetness of his personality here in Navagio all an act?
Or was Lizza completely off base? Were the visions unconnected to anything or anyone else? Was I paying the price for my magic and going mad?
I’d have to find out which it was sooner rather than later.
Otherwise, these random emotions—no matter their cause—would drive me insane.
20
I cheated.
I wasn’t supposed to swim through Navagio and look for the competitors—I was supposed to go and sit for another hour just tapping my royal fingers as I waited for my suitors to return. But I was shaken by everything that had just happened and not ready to see Gorgono again while I felt weak and vulnerable.
So I used a queen’s privilege and the fact that no one could outright force me back to the mayor’s rooftop. I did what I wanted.
I dawdled behind the rest of the guards and soldiers on our return, eyes diving down to search the streets for any man I might find familiar.
Perhaps I was subconsciously searching for Watkins, wanting to understand what was happening to me, but I didn’t see him. I just swam down over an underwater granary tower made of stacked barrels—Paavo and Ugo and two other guards trailing me, concerned looks on all their faces.
I didn’t explain myself, just kept on swimming above Navagio’s rooftops, the sun warming my hair even as a cool current slid across my toes.
I dove down once—thinking I saw Valdez slipping down a narrow alleyway.
Ugo exclaimed, “Hey! What! Wait!” as he and Paavo changed course to follow me. I darted between a building made out of the side of a ship, complete with little portholes, and a bubbled glass construction that looked as delicate as any sugar-candy tower our cook in Evaness castle had ever made. But when I peered into the shadowy alleyway, Valdez was gone.
I gave my guards a sheepish shrug and used the moment to swim toward a wider thoroughfare lined with people, waving at a few excited mer children, who tugged anxiously at their parents’ hands as they tried to get over to me. I swam down the street for a bit as Ugo scolded me for my impulsiveness.
“Well, waiting on that roof is boring!” I exclaimed. And after the false alarm—I was still brimming with adrenaline and I wanted to shake some of it off. I used my transparent fins like fairy wings, darting up and down in the streets, waving to the friendly onlookers as I searched for my competitors.
When I reached a corner that led from a wide, open shopping lane into a narrow and twisting residential corridor, a woman octopus shifter with a pink tentacled lower half, pointed down the side street and said, “There, Majesty! I saw one of them go in there!”
I thanked her and swam, holding up my purple skirts so they were out of my way, wondering what in the world some of my competitors were doing in the middle of what looked like a residential neighborhood. Perhaps a sewing needle or two might exist over here, but certainly no horseshoes or animal hearts…not unless there was a local hedge witch who resided here.
I swam lower and lowered my feet to the sand, tiptoeing along the wall. I peered into a window to see Humberto’s striped face flush in frustration as he spoke with an older woman—one who had the hunched posture of a seamstress.
Humberto’s words carried through the window, though they were muffled. “Please. I’ve tried everywhere. I can’t go back empty-handed!”
The old woman, whose hair was a grizzled orange and pink, swam around a table and I caught sight of her teal tail, which had a long, ragged scar on it. “I don’t want to help that sky-breathing queen!”
I drew back slightly, closer to the wall, so that she wouldn’t be able to see me.
