I pushed back from the table.
“Ersel,” Mama hissed from the other end of the long ice bench. Her face was beluga-white, and she clutched the edge of the table. “What are you doing? Don’t you dare—”
I might never get another chance like this. Before my mother or the king’s remaining guards could stop me, I dove through the archway and out of the hall. Swimming as fast I could, I darted down the network of tunnels and ice caves that wound like sea worm burrows through the glacier’s heart. My tail pumped so hard I thought my gills might burst. Only after I reached my own chamber, right at the edge of the fortress, did I chance a look over my shoulder. Nobody followed. I wasn’t really surprised. The King’s Guard were already few in number, and one still-untested mermaid wasn’t worth chasing.
Gulping seawater to calm my breathing, I looked out into the ocean. Mama always cursed our luck. We’d drawn one of the most exposed caves in the year’s selection, but I loved how my room opened straight into the grayscale winter sea. From my resting shelf, I could watch the seals dive for fish and hear the belugas trill. I could have chosen to live in the pre-grading caves near the glacier’s heart, amongst the other merfolk my own age, but I’d never seen eye to eye with them.
Venturing out through my cave’s mouth, I pressed my body against the outer wall of the glacier and swam toward the ocean’s surface. The water was dark and calm; the sunlight was blocked by a black shadow protruding from the ice. The ship groaned as water burst through the holes in its wooden bottom. My breath caught in my chest, and I forgot my fear as pure excitement took over. Humans. At last, I was going to see live humans.
With a final kick, I reached the hull of the ship. Barnacles and half-frozen algae clung to its weathered bottom. I ran my hands over the wood, memorizing the foreign texture. The dark titan swayed as waves beat against it; its movement was steady and eerily gentle, almost as if the ship breathed.
A boulder of ice the size of an orca broke off the side of the ice mountain and tumbled onto the ship’s deck. Above me, the hull creaked and moaned. Dozens of voices began shouting. In words I couldn’t understand, the strange accents blurred, growing louder and more desperate. I dodged to the side as another chunk of ice plunged into the sea and treaded water to stay level with the ship. The quiet breathing ceased, and the titan began sinking into the ocean.
Men dove into the sea. They flailed in the water like underweight sea lions; their arms thrashed as they fought their way back to the surface. I swam closer and touched the bare ankle of the closest sailor. His skin was strangely warm against my scales. His legs moved strangely, kicking at odds rather than smoothly and in tandem. At my touch, he looked down, squinting against the cold and salt. His mouth was so red; his cheeks were so flushed and golden. The sailor screamed, and a cloud of air bubbled upward.
I grabbed him around the waist. There were so many things I wanted to ask him about my treasures. No one had seen me rescue him. I could drag this sailor to the safety of the landmass beyond the ice shelf. I could save him. He kicked and struggled against me; one foot collided with my stomach. I winced at the pain and grunted as I continued to tug the sailor toward the surface.
Then someone else took hold of me, dragging me backward by the arm into the deep. I wasn’t strong enough to resist. The sailor fought, desperate to keep swimming toward the surface. He slipped from my grasp and struggled in the frigid open water.
“What were you thinking?” Havamal demanded. “You shouldn’t be here. And touching that human? What if it has a disease? What if it attacked you?”
Fighting against him like an animal, I twisted in his grip. Talking to him had been a mistake; allowing myself to reach for him had been worse. That slip had made him confident with me again, and I didn’t like it. I didn’t want his comfort or his protection—not anymore. I clawed and punched to get free while Havamal swore. He had no right to take my chance from me.
Behind us, the sailor convulsed. He kicked frantically in a last effort to reach the air above, but then the color bled from his angular face, and he stopped fighting. How had he run out of air so soon? The only other sky-breathers I knew were the whales, and they could last twenty minutes or more under water. Would the human have made it to the surface if I’d helped him? I shivered, suddenly cold.
Havamal’s grip on my arm relaxed as the human gave a final twitch. “Get back to the hall before the king catches you.”
I nodded slowly, and he let me go. But as soon as I was free, I punched him in the stomach. He doubled over in pain.
“I just wanted to speak with him,” I hissed. “I just wanted to ask him a few questions.”
“And where would you have taken him to have your little chat?” Havamal wheezed. A trail of bubbles seeped from his mouth as he tried to regain his breath. Then he straightened and a ghost smile played at his lips, even though I could still see the pain in his eyes. “You think the king wouldn’t find out? That’s right. You’d just haul around a fully grown human under his nose, and he’d be none the wiser.”
His voice dripped with sarcasm, and, in that moment, I hated him even more.
“Would you tell him?” I accused.
“Of course not.” He sighed, rubbing at his abdomen, suddenly looking tired. Some of the rage bled out of me. “I’d never. Now please go back to the hall before someone else finds you.”
I nodded, though I had no intention of going back to the hall. By now, everyone would be talking about me and about how I’d made a bizarre spectacle of myself yet again. I’d hide in my ice cave until the rest of them forgot I existed.
Havamal squeezed my hand. I tried to ignore the way my chest tightened at his touch. Whatever we’d had was over. I had to keep reminding myself of that. He’d betrayed me the moment he joined the King’s Guard. Now he was defending the ruler who wanted to take away everything we’d once planned together. But he flashed me a tiny smile and the loneliness sang inside me, an echo of that secret song we’d once shared. Then he swam upward, through the rain of sinking bodies, toward the amber sun.
*