Page 11 of The Sea of Zemira (The Zemiran Chronicles 1)

“Rain or shine, Nola,” he reminded her, pulling her gaze back to his. “I plan to sell everythin’ I made this last month, and you can demonstrate to the customers how well these beauties fly.”

She outstretched her arms. “I’ll make them fly like—” she smirked, “hmmm.” Her eyes lit up. “I’ll make them fly like the dragons I see in my dreams. Like the one Pederick tattooed on my arm,” she said, flipping her arm over to reveal the maroon dragon on her forearm. “The dragon I see comes soaring so high above the sky that he looks like a speck of dust.” She smiled so big, the little dimples on her cheeks widened. “But as small as he looks, his roar is mighty, and his speed is swift. One moment he’s there, and then, he disappears behind the clouds.”

Her voice quieted to a near whisper, but she simply looked up at her father and smiled faintly.

Duncan rested his arm over her shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze. “Well, those dreams of yours seem to be more excitin’ than the fairy tales the villagers tell their children each night.” His smile grew wide. “Perhaps it should be you who tells us those stories.”

Her expression grew somber. “I’m glad they at least get to tell stories, Father. The king—”

Her father hushed her, and she stopped at the door before coming inside. She realized her mum could hear her, thus spoke again in a quieter manner. “—he can’t continue to get away with what he’s doing. Look at our land, Father. It is nearly dead. Magic—we need it back.”

“Shhh, quiet now. We should not speak of such things! It is what it is!”

Her lips pouted; her shoulders slouched. “For now,” she protested.

The Lardbrak’s cottage stood on a small field atop an elevated, flat hill, close to the beautiful cliffs separating the deep-blue ocean from the dry, brittle land—one hour by horse from the palace walls.

A field surrounded their home; it had been gorgeous once, filled with purple irises and virescent thick trees. That is what her parents had told her. She was only a baby at the time when the trees had already begun to die.

The leaves from Zemira’s trees turned to dry crisps, falling from their branches shortly before her father found her floating on a wooden board, and never returned the following year. The grounds shaded to black, and the only life that lit their city was the moonlight reflecting on the water.

Their land was dead, and they had to rely on the king’s monthly food deliveries that would keep them healthy and strong. Half of the produce was overly ripe and molding—taking the lives of about twenty villagers a year. They mostly lived off eggs from their livestock and fish from the ocean, both becoming scarcer by the day.

Decorating the Lardbrak’s cottage was a masterfully carved burgundy front door and grey-colored stones that stretched from the floor to the roof. It was her father’s most admirable masterpiece. The house was small and quaint, but it protected their family from the world around them—until the day came when it could not. The feeling of uncertainty about the future hit Nola when they entered their home and saw her mother sitting patiently, waiting for them to join her for breakfast. A full-plated meal was hard to come by, but that morning they had what they needed to fill their bellies and get through another day.

The pungent smell of her mother’s fresh baked bread and omelets permeated the hallway and into the kitchen. The meal was small and somewhat simple—one potato and eggs—but seemed enough for the family of three. Though it was delicious, Val’s bread needed to last the entire week, for Nola only ate a small piece.

“Duncan, dear,” her mother began, “Nola should not be gallivantin’ ’round the forest wit’ ye. Look at ’er gettin’ scraped up with twigs and dirt and learnin’ to use a weapon made for war.” Val poured boiling tea into a cup while Nola rolled her eyes, but her mother lifted her chin. “If this is ’bout those dreams ye’ve been havin’—” her mother started to say.

“It’s not,” Nola said, cutting her off but instantly regretting it. She loved and respected her mother and she was also aware of the dangers of drawing attention to herself. King Matthias disapproved of the town folk using weapons unless they were part of his guard or part of the wealthy who resided near the palace. That was why her father had to sell his goods at the marketplace. The elite were the only ones who Matthias allowed to purchase that kind of weapon. Yet the feeling of a bow in her hands, despite the king’s ridiculous orders, was unlike anything she could have imagined. It was the one thing that truly made her feel alive—the one thing she needed to master to protect herself from her enemy—King Matthias.

“I know you want to protect me, Mother,” she said, reaching out and gripping her mother’s hand. “But I’ve had to pretend that I am a nobody my entire life.” She then closed her eyes tightly. Her parents continued eating in silence, giving her space to think. Slowly, she opened them back up. “I don’t want to be nobody. I know there is something better out there for me. And—” she gestured to the kitchen window that faced the path that led to the city. “It’s not there.”

“Oh, Nola,” her father said, drawing her eyes to his. “You have never been a nobody.”

Nola shrugged, flashing her parents a fake smile. She wanted to be something other than what she was. Still, she struggled to see that future but needed so desperately to believe it was possible.

Her thoughts had often wandered to the sea; she thought of it as alive, often inviting her to let go of that human part of her and transform into her true self. But she would not. Ever since her parents told her she was a siren and how she came to them, Nola worried she would never be able to change back if she summoned her tail. The curiosity was there, of course, but it did not lessen her fear.

She bathed with rags and soap but never soaked—never sank her legs in water because she feared she would lose them forever.

But that was not the case anymore. Nola wanted to know where she came from because it was a part of her whether she wanted it to be or not.

The future was uncertain, but she wondered every day what her path looked like. The only thing that made her feel truly happy was training with her father and though her mother’s intentions were not ill—she did not see life without her bow. If only her mother saw her in action with her arrows, she would see she was born for extraordinary things. She was born to fight. And who knew, maybe someday she would use those skills to protect the people from the king who had been destroying their land.

“Maybe, Mother, after today’s market, you can see what Father has taught me,” she said. “Do come. Please.”

Her mother crossed her arms and leaned back against her chair, staying silent for a moment before her expression softened. “Of course, I’ll be tha’. Though, promise me ye both take up other hobbies. I want ye to be safe from ’arm’s way and wantin’ this—” She paused and glanced at her husband, who gave a stern look to silence her.

Nola looked up. “Wouldn’t learning to fight be the best lesson Father could teach me?” she asked. “The lessons I learned in school growing up are nothing compared to what Father has shown me.” She glanced at Duncan and gave him a small smile. “I have the skill to defend myself with my bow, and also by magic.”

Her mother blew out a breath. “We still don’t know much ’bout that,” she said. “And believe us, Nola, we want ye to understand everythin’ tha’ makes ye special.” She gripped her daughter’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “Did ye not come to us by chance, dear. Yer father and I know tha’ the powers ye were born with are achin’ to be released. We see it in yer eyes every time yer lookin’ out into the sea. Ye may pretend ye don’t want to swim, but yer instincts tell ye otherwise.”

Nola lowered her gaze, looking at their hands clasped together, and gave her mother a weak smile.

“It’s as though there’s a part of me missing by not exploring the siren side of who I am, you know?”

Her mother nodded, “I know ye yearn to explore tha’ world. But the king set his mission to destroy yer kind. It’s for yer own protection, Nola. Ye shall ’ide yer magic from those who may use it against ye.”

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