Vast and Brutal Sea

For Adrienne Rosado, my best friend and soul sister. All of this

is possible because you believed.

“Now put me into the barge,” said the king…

“for I will into the Vale of Avilion to heal me of my grievous

wound;

and if thou hear never more of me, pray for my soul.”

- from Le Morte d’Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory

The Daughter of the Sea would never be loved.

She was the first child of the Golden Queen and King Elanos of the

Erabos Kingdom. King Elanos, descendant of the first Kings of the sea,

watched his daughter tear free from the birthing sac without the help

of the midwife. She slithered between her mother’s split tails, silver

and pale as the face of the moon, haloed in blood and flesh.

They called her Nieve.

Her sisters needed help. For long, painful hours, six more

daughters followed, wailing and ripping their way into the sea. Nieve

grabbed one of her sisters’ hands, curious at the strange face that

shared her crib, and sunk pearly teeth into her golden flesh.

The midwife reeled Nieve into a crib of coral, separating her from

her sisters who bloomed like violet and turquoise jewels in the quiet

darkness of Glass Castle.

It was the Golden Queen’s first pod with the king. Her voice

echoed in the new, shining halls, not in pain like the queens before

her, but in happiness. She was his prize after the war with the rebel

tribes, and together they would birth a new reign in the deep,

ignoring the whispers of distant enemy shadows.

Merfolk came from all the oceans, bringing precious gifts for the

princesses. They stayed, wonder struck at how the little ones shone

with the queen’s golden skin and the king’s eyes, one turquoise, one

violet.

Then there was Nieve, with a paleness that radiated like

starlight. She brought awe, nestled in her mother’s warm arms like a

pearl.

And as she grew, fast and strong, she reached and reached for the

brilliant fissures inside the quartz scepter of her father’s trident.

The court smiled tightly at the brazenness of the tiny mermaid. Gasped

in awe at the silver princess swimming with wild white-bellied sharks,

taming them with the tender pads of her fingertips.

A thousand eyes trailed Nieve around the walls of Glass Castle. A

thousand whispers always present, yet always at a careful distance,

not knowing the extent of the curious sparks of her hands. It was

magic-so rare that it had never presented itself in the royal family.

Not since the legends of Eternity, when the children of Triton fought

the winged fey. With each battle, the Sea Court moved deeper into the

coldest breaches of the seas.

King Elanos recognized it. Magic, like the core of his trident,

the spark that could summon storms and tear into the rocky beds of the

ocean floors. But in a mermaid, the magic was uncontained and

unpredictable. The king watched as the spark grew in his silver

daughter’s eyes until, in a fit of anger, she killed.

It was an accident.

The palace guard would not let her swim to the surface. She

thought she was old enough to see the world alone. The guard grabbed

her and pulled her back down to court. She pressed her hands on his

chest for a moment, just a moment, and stopped his heart. His body

froze, eyes gaping at the princess, until a current carried him away.

An accident.

The court watched her, unsmiling, unnerving, unloving.

He watched her, the king, sleeping with eyes open, ears open, to

the murmurs of his daughter’s sleep talk, and he knew what he must do.

•••

His enemies came in the night.

But in the dark of the deep, it was always night-rebel tribes

against his door-the sea people of warmer oceans with copper scales

and onyx weapons. They sought retribution for the Golden Queen stolen

from them by King Elanos so long ago. But the queen had grown to love

her captor, her husband, her king, and she wouldn’t go-wouldn’t leave.

She was pregnant once more, and this time, she was certain it was a

son.

King Elanos had waited for this day. He knew their kind was

dwindling in numbers. The blood of war was no longer as appetizing as

in his youth. It was a queen they wanted and a queen the rebel tribes

would get.

And so King Elanos took his first daughter from her single chamber

and led her to the rebel Southern King.

Nieve screamed, as her mother had screamed when she was taken so

long ago, the sound echoing through the ocean, the current yielding to

her palms, and at once, King Elanos took Nieve’s face. He had never

held her, not as a child, not as a daughter. But she wasn’t a child

any longer, and he held her then, looking into her pale moon eyes, and

said, “Daughter, do this and you will save your kin.”

The kin who turned away, relieved that the silver princess would

no longer grace the court. The kin who peered between glass pillars as

she was taken away. Some crying. Some smiling.

And without looking at her weeping sisters or her mother, Nieve

took the hand of the Southern King.

She could hear the sigh of relief, like the last breath of a

tempest. She looked at her father, dark hatred slithering into her

heart and she promised, I will save my people, Father. But who will

save you?

NOW

Layla is gone.

Layla is gone and there’s a chance I may never get her back. That

she’s dead. That I’m two days away from losing her, the throne, and my

life because for a moment, I wasn’t strong enough and the silver

mermaid knew it.

She knows me in ways that I don’t even know myself, knows the

paralyzing fear that swelled in me when I thought I could lose the

girl I love.

The ship hits a wave and heaves. I grab on to the table in front

of me and drop the knife in my hand. I can hear Brendan and Kai on

deck moving weapons around. They’ll come checking on me any minute and

I know I have to hurry.

The pressure on my temples builds like tiny land mines going off

in my head. I press my palms and squeeze, but the image doesn’t go

away. I see Gwen. Gwen putting a pale hand over Layla’s mouth and

diving off the pier into the water.

Layla can’t breathe underwater.

I hold on to the basin in front of me, face myself in the scuffed

mirror, and examine the damage. My skin is peeling over my nose. Salt

water stings the thin cuts on my face, trickling down my neck and down

my chest. I can feel the ghost of an injury where Nieve’s fingernails

cut me the first time she found me. Was it only eighteen days ago?

Eighteen days ago that I washed up on Coney Island after the freak

storm created by the arrival of the Sea Court’s Toliss Island.

Now, despite everything I’ve been through, my journey is far from

over. Just a little bit more, just a little bit, I tell myself to keep

going. I have to wake the Sleeping Giants, powerful creatures that

once belonged to the first kings of the sea. They’re my best chance at

defeating my enemies. Their strength is legend and we’re heading to a

place that will help us find them.

I pick up the knife again and get to work. My body shakes like a

house during a hurricane every time I exhale.

I can do this.

I’m psyching myself out.

I jog in place like I’m warming up before a meet. But the

combination of jogging and the waves lapping around the ship knocks

over the jars of healing gunk the urchin brothers applied to all my