I sigh and turn to face the bow. So much ocean, but in the distance, too far to make out, there is land. There is the isle of Midas. There is home.
I look down to my crew. Two hundred sailors and warriors who see my quest as honorable and brave. They don’t think of me like those at court, who hear my name and imagine a young prince who needs to get exploration out of his system. These men and women heard my name and pledged their undying allegiance.
“Okay, you ragtag group of siren gizzards,” I call down to them, “turn the lady left.”
My crew roars their approval. In Midas, I make sure they’re pampered with as much drink and food as they like. Full bellies and beds with silken sheets. Far more luxury than they’re used to sleeping on in the Saad, or on the hay-filled beds of inns we find on passing lands.
“My family will want to see how we’ve fared,” I tell them. “We’re going home.”
A thunder of stamping feet. They applaud in triumph at the announcement. I grin and decide to keep the cheer on my face. I will not falter. It’s a key part of my image: never upset or angry or deterred. Always in charge of my own life and destiny.
The ship turns hard starboard, swinging in a broad circle as my crew scurries around the deck, anxious for the return to Midas. They’re not all natives; some are from neighboring kingdoms like Armonía or Adékaros. Countries they grew bored of, or those that were thrown into mayhem after the death of their princes. They’re from everywhere and their homes are nowhere, but they call Midas so because I do. Even if it is a lie for them and for me. My crew is my family and though I could never say it – perhaps, don’t need to say it – the Saad is my true home.
Where we’re going now is just another pit stop.
4
Elian
IN MIDAS, THE OCEAN glitters gold. At least, that’s the illusion. Really it’s as blue as any sea, but the light does things. Unexplainable things. The light can lie.
The castle towers above the land, built into the largest pyramid. It’s crafted from pure gold, so that each stone and brick is a gleaming expanse of sunlight. The statues scatter on the horizon, and the houses in the lower towns are all painted the same. Streets and cobbles glow yellow, so that when the sun hits the ocean, it glitters in an unmistakable reflection. It’s only ever during the darkest parts of night that the true blue of the Midasan Sea can be seen.
As the Midasan prince, my blood is supposed to be made of that same gold. Every land in the hundred kingdoms has its own myths and fables for their royals: The gods carved the Págos family from snow and ice. Each generation gifted with hair like milk and lips as blue as skies. The Eidyllion royals are the descendants of the Love God, and so any they touch will find their soul mate. And the Midasan monarchs are crafted from gold itself.
Legend says my entire family bleeds nothing but treasure. Of course, I’ve bled a lot in my time. Sirens lose all serenity when they turn from hunter to prey and pieces of their nails become embedded in my arms. My blood has been spilled more often than any prince’s, and I can attest to the fact that it has never been gold.
This, my crew knows. They’ve been the ones to clean my wounds and stitch my skin back together. Yet they entertain the legend, laughing and nodding dubiously whenever people speak of golden blood. They would never betray the secret of my ordinariness.
“Of course,” Madrid will say to any who ask. “The cap’s made from the purest parts of the sun. Seeing him bleed is like looking into the eyes of the gods.”
Kye will always lean in then and lower his voice in the way only someone who knows all of my secrets could. “After a woman is with him, she cries tears of nothing but liquid metal for a week. Half for missing his touch so terrible, and the other half to buy back her pride.”
“Yeah,” Torik always adds. “And he shits rainbows too.”
I linger on the forecastle of the Saad, anchored in the Midasan docks. I’m unsettled at the idea of having my feet on solid ground after so many weeks. It’s always the way. Stranger still is the thought that I’ll need to leave the truest parts of myself on the Saad before I head to the pyramid and my family. It’s been nearly a year since I’ve been back, and though I’ve missed them, it doesn’t seem like long enough.
Kye stands beside me. The rest of the crew has begun the walk, like an army marching for the palace, but he rarely leaves my side unless asked. Boatswain, best friend, and bodyguard. He would never admit that last part, though my father offered him enough money for the position. Of course, at the time, Kye had already been on my crew for long enough to know better than to try to save me, and my friend long enough to be willing to try anyway.
Still, he took the gold. He took most things just because he could. It came with the territory of being a diplomat’s son. If Kye was going to disappoint his father by joining me on a siren scavenger hunt rather than spending a life in politics and cross-kingdom negotiations, then he wasn’t going to do it by halves. He was going to throw everything he had into it. After all, the threat of disinheritance had already been carried out.
Around me, everything shimmers. Buildings and pavements and even the docks. In the sky, hundreds of tiny gold lanterns float to the heavens, celebrating my homecoming. My father’s adviser is from the land of fortune-tellers and prophets, and so he always knows when I’m due to return. Each time the skies dance with flaming lanterns, bejeweled beside stars.
I inhale the familiar smell of my homeland. Midas always seems to smell of fruit. So many different kinds all at once. Butter pears and clingstone peaches, their honey-stuck flesh mingling with the sweet brandy of apricots. And under it all is the fading smell of licorice, which is coming from the Saad and, most likely, me.
“Elian.” Kye slings an arm over my shoulder. “We should get going if we want anything to eat tonight. You know that lot won’t leave any chow for us if we give them half a chance.”
I laugh, but it sounds more like a sigh.
I take off my hat. I’ve already changed out of my sea attire and into the one respectable outfit I keep aboard my ship. A cream shirt, with buttons rather than string, and midnight-blue trousers held up by a golden belt. Not quite fit for a prince, but nothing of the pirate in it either. I’ve even removed my family crest from the thin chain around my neck and placed it on my thumb.
“Right.” I hook my hat over the ship wheel. “Best get it over with.”
“It won’t be so bad.” Kye hitches his collar. “You might find yourself enjoying the bowing. Might even abandon ship and leave us all stranded in the land of gold.” He reaches over and messes up my hair. “Wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” he says. “I quite like gold.”