One Salt Sea: An October Daye Novel

“Milady?” asked one of the archers.

Dianda murmured, “I’m letting go of you now. Try not to sink.” Then her arms were unwinding themselves from around my waist and she was swimming toward the dock, her flukes brushing my hip as she passed me. Those fins weren’t just for show; a Merrow moving at full speed can overtake practically anything else in the ocean. In the water, in her native form, Dianda was the one in control.

Speaking of native forms . . . when she let me go, I bobbed a few inches lower in the water before recovering my equilibrium, and I realized, without any real surprise, that I couldn’t feel my legs. Oh, I felt something, but I didn’t have the necessary frame of reference to know exactly what it was. I raised my hand and spread my fingers. Thin webs connected them to the first knuckle, turned translucent by the harbor lights.

“Yeah,” I said, to myself as much to anyone else. “That’s about what I thought.”

“Send half your men up the hill looking for the men who were shooting at us, and stand the rest down, Aine,” said Dianda. The tallest of the female Selkies nodded and turned, gesturing toward Leavenworth. Half the archers turned and ran into the night, while the other half lowered their bows. That was a relief, anyway.

Dianda sounded wearier than I expected. I dropped my hand, studying her. I didn’t see any blood. The gills lining her neck were open, revealing the pearly fringe inside. I sighed, relieved to see that our emergency trip down the hill hadn’t been enough to get her hurt.

She must have heard me. She looked back over her shoulder, smiling thinly. “In case you were wondering, I am uninjured.”

“Good.” I looked down at the water. It was dark enough that I couldn’t see what it might be hiding. That wasn’t particularly reassuring. “Not to be alarmist or anything, but do you know where my feet are?”

Dianda’s smile broadened, becoming genuinely amused. “You mean you don’t know?”

“Not as such, no. The Luidaeg didn’t tell me exactly what her charm would do, just that it would give me five hours to visit your Duchy without drowning.”

“Take a look.” She grabbed the edge of the dock, flukes flashing just below the surface of the water as she pulled herself into a static position.

In for a penny, in for a pound. It wasn’t like I could change my mind at this point, even if I wanted to. Taking a breath I was starting to suspect I didn’t actually need, I stopped trying to stay above water, and went under.

It was easier to see than I expected, my eyes sorting through the darkness of the waves the way they would normally sort through the darkness of the world above. I could even see colors—green clots of kelp, mossy barnacles clinging to the pilings, the jewel-tone sweep of Dianda’s tail. And beneath me, in the space where my legs should have been, the crimson-and-copper scales covering my own tail. It wasn’t a surprise. That didn’t stop my heart from dropping into my stomach, and for a brief, terrible moment, I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to swallow my panic.

Well, at least you can’t drown, I thought dizzily.

That struck me as funny for some reason. I swallowed my laughter, since I wasn’t sure what would happen if I sucked in a lungful of water; the effort helped me get the panic back under control. I tipped farther forward, trying to get a good look at myself. The combination of buoyancy and the unfamiliar length of my body turned the motion into a somersault, fins flashing past my face just before I broke the surface.

Dianda watched me expectantly, waiting for my reaction. The Selkie archers were doing much the same. At least they’d lowered their bows when given the command to stand down. I pushed the hair out of my eyes, tucking it behind my ears. My pointed ears—I guess there’s no point in wearing a human disguise if you’re going to run around being a fish from the waist down.

“Well,” I said, “that’s different.”