“I don’t know. We could go to your father. After we find the Iele. He’s emperor now. We can tell him what’s happening. He’ll stop it. He’ll get a message to the other rulers of the water realms—”
Ling cut her off. “Um, Sera? You are a ruler of a water realm,” she said.
Serafina looked away. No one spoke. The tension between the two mermaids was palpable, and just as prickly as it had been before Serafina had swum off to join the shoal.
Sera had apologized and Ling had said it was not her fault, but none of that changed what had led to the disaster—the fact that Sera couldn’t accept that her mother was likely dead, or that she was now the ruler of Miromara.
Lena was the one who broke the tension. She came into the kitchen carrying sea flax bandages, pieces of a Styrofoam cooler, scissors, and several fronds of gracilaria weed, a painkiller. She dumped it all on the table.
“It’s going to hurt bad. Real bad. You’ll probably scream your head off, wet yourself, and pass out,” she said.
“Hey, Lena, ever hear of something called a little white lie?” Ling asked.
Lena didn’t reply. She was looking down at a sickly kit who was swimming around her. “What’s the matter, Radu?” she said, scratching the creature’s head. “Still not feeling well? Hang on, little one. I’ll get you your medicine in a minute.”
Ling looked at the heap of supplies on the table. “Have you ever done this before?” she asked.
“No, but I’ve set more duck wings than I care to remember,” Lena said cheerfully.
“Duck, mermaid…same thing,” Ling said. She lifted her arm away from her chest. Her wrist flopped. “At least it’s not my sword hand.”
Lena let out a low whistle. “Looks like both bones are broken,” she said. “Neela, take hold of her forearm and hold it still.”
Neela was horrified. “Me? Why me? I can’t do that!”
“You have to,” Lena said.
Neela held her hands up. “Wait…I need a zee-zee. I won’t get through this without one.”
“You? What about Ling?” Serafina asked.
“Ladies, can we please just do this?” Ling said, through gritted teeth.
“Neela, steady Ling’s arm. Serafina, when I say so, pull her hand. Straight out. Slowly and gently,” Lena said. “We’ve got to separate the broken edges.”
“Did you have to say that?” Neela asked, turning green. “The bit about the broken edges?”
Serafina took Ling’s hand. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry,” she said softly.
“Just do it,” Ling said.
“Neela, you ready?” Lena asked.
Neela nodded. Lena placed a frond of gracilaria weed on the table in front of Ling. Neela stuffed it into her mouth and swallowed it.
“That was for Ling,” Lena said.
“Oh,” Neela said. “Sorry.”
Lena handed Ling another frond; Ling chewed it.
“Okay, Serafina, go,” Lena said.
As Serafina stretched Ling’s arm, and Neela supported it, Lena worked on the break. With sure but gentle fingers, she found the edges of each bone and fit them together. Neela gasped as she did. Ling, however, didn’t make a peep. Furrowed lines on her forehead were the only signs of the terrible pain she was in.
“You are one tough merl,” Lena said admiringly.
When Ling’s arm was straight again, Lena splinted it with the Styrofoam, then secured the splint with lengths of sea flax. Next she made a sling out of an old scarf. When she was finished, she gave Ling another frond of gracilaria.
“Thank you,” Ling said, her voice ragged with pain.
“Are we through here? Because I am really light-headed, people. I need to sit down,” Neela said.
Ling rolled her eyes. Serafina cleaned up Lena’s supplies. And Lena asked if anyone was hungry. They all were. She complained how they’d eat her out of house and home, then served them heaping bowls of stew thick with salvinia leaves, frogspawn, and river root. Darkness had fallen, but Lena had turned up the lava globes on her wall. It was cozy in her overstuffed kitchen, and Neela felt immensely grateful to be inside it. She shuddered to think of what would have happened if they hadn’t found her.
After the dinner was eaten and the dishes cleared away, Lena sat in a rocking chair she’d made out of an old terragogg baby carriage, scooped Radu into her lap, and crooned to him. The kit was obviously in pain.
“What’s the matter, bibic?” she said worriedly. “Is it your stomach? Why don’t you eat?”
The kit mewled piteously. Ling, watching him, waggled her fingers in the water and caught his attention. Then she started making a strange series of clicking and popping sounds. The kit clicked and popped back at her.
“It’s not his stomach. It’s his left gill. He’s not eating because the pain’s so bad, it’s put him off his food,” Ling said.
Lena, wide-eyed, stopped rocking. “How do you know that?” she asked.
“I just asked him. I speak Dracdemara, his language. I’m an omnivoxa.”