Page 2 of Ballad of Sea and Sky

It was there, just past a bend in the cave, chipped and worn, with barnacles clinging to the stone. It would be difficult to save, I supposed, as I studied the cracked and crumbling statue, running my fingers across the carving of feathers sprouting from the back of the male figure.

A siren. I had never seen one, as they had been banished from the islands after the war, and none had dared attack the main island. But their ships were spotted frequently on the horizon as they patrolled the sea. They effectively blockaded the Isles, making it impossible to venture to the mainland, but I didn’t know any selkies who wished to leave the safety of the islands anyway.

Another way in which I was the exception.

I heard sometimes of siren raids, their warriors pillaging our smaller villages and islands for food or weapons or valuables. They were pirates at best, murderers at worst, and I knew I shouldn’t want to see one.

But the wings. The idea of flying through the air, no risk of drowning or my lungs betraying me in the water, soaring high above the world, was strangely appealing. Only Sereia knew of my fascination with the sirens, every book and fairy tale I could find on or by our historic foes hidden carefully in my rooms to make sure my parents wouldn’t discover my collection. The texts claimed they could control the wind and that their voices could warp the mind, which sounded like a dangerous power. No wonder our ancestors had gone to war with them.

I curved my hand up the carved stone wing, admiring how it emerged from the back of the male and swooped upwards. The wings must be wider than the male was tall, and I was so enraptured with the statue that I didn’t notice the tide beginning to come in until the water was pooling around my feet.

“Shit,” I cursed, taking one last look at the statue, admiring his aquiline nose and sweeping wings, before paddling into the frigid water. I shifted, taking a deep breath as I dove to get below the entrance of the caves. Reaching out with my magic, I willed the currents to assist me, practically flying through the water to return to the shore.

Sereia was going to be furious with me, if she hadn’t already gone to the guards.

My lungs were burning when I finally surfaced, still half a mile from the rocky shore where I had left Sereia. I could see her there, sealskin wrap clutched tightly around her as she looked across the water.

She wasn’t alone.

“Double shit,” I murmured, diving beneath the icy waves again and making for the shore.

Vitulus had the courtesy to turn his back when I emerged, letting me grab my own skins and shuck them on over my wet body. Selkies weren’t shy about nudity, most of us donning loose wraps or sealskins to make shifting more convenient, but the stoic captain was something of a prude when it came to me in particular.

“Seas below, Marina,” Sereia cried, throwing her arms around me as I shivered. My wet hair clung to me unpleasantly, and I regretted not coming out more prepared for the cold. “You were gone so long I was sure you drowned.”

“Here,” Vitulus said, turning and handing me his own sealskin cloak. He was wearing his characteristic leather armor; a short kilt displaying muscular brown legs, and simple leather sandals protecting his feet from the rocks. He’d be cold without the wrap, but I wasn’t too proud to accept it.

He frowned, eyebrows drawn together in disapproval as he took me in. “What were you thinking, Princess? You could have drowned.”

“But I didn’t,” I said lightly, taking the skin without thanking him and sliding on my own sandals.

Sereia frowned. She always disapproved of how I spoke to Vitulus, believing I should be more docile and submissive. As usual, I ignored her on this front.

Vitulus was one of those males, like my father, who believed he knew what was best for me. And every other female. Sereia wasn’t the only female to swoon over him, but I found him pompous and boring, and no expanse of chiseled chest and jaw and thighs could compensate for that.

He also seemed to think he was entitled to my answers, because he didn’t let it go.

“I’ll have to tell your father about this, Marina,” he said, his voice deep like the drums that were brought out for ceremonies and festivals. He stalked after me, his clan tattoos peeking out from beneath his sleeveless leather armor.

“Princess,” I corrected, keeping my tone steely as Sereia jogged to catch up to us. “We are not familiar, Captain Vitulus.”

“Apologies, Princess,” Vitulus said, his voice a sigh of short-tempered impatience. “Regardless, your father will have to be told.”

“So tell him,” I said, waving off this threat with more bravado than I felt.

Father would likely forbid me from leaving my rooms for the next several days. I may be fully grown, but I was his heir and therefore beholden to his rules. He would give me his lecture on responsibility and caution and duty, and sentence me toreflectiontime.

Of course, I wanted to do my duty by my people, and I understood his desire to keep me safe. We were in constant danger from the sirens, and we needed to be strong and wise to protect our people. But my father’s version of duty primarily meant not asking questions and not wavering from tradition, and I was clearly my mother’s daughter.

She had been wild and carefree in her youth, and she told me all sorts of stories about her adventures and explorations. All of them came to an end when she mated my father and became the Selkie Queen. My traumatic birth had destroyed the last of her wildness, making her cautious and fretful, and nothing like the girl from her stories. As I grew, the stories became less about her adventures and more about the importance of honor and duty and caution.

“Princess,” Vitulus scolded from behind me. “There are expectations. You cannot run off exploring without an escort.”

“Sereia was my escort,” I argued, glancing back at my friend who gave me an apologetic wince at the annoyance in my tone. I loved Sereia, and it wasn’t her fault that she coddled me. It was her job to serve and protect me, and it was convenient that we were also childhood friends. But I wished her view of protection was a little more in line with my own. “And if you are truly worried for me, Captain, you should teach me to defend myself.”

“Females shouldn’t wield weapons,” Vitulus responded, sounding honestly perplexed by the suggestion. “I will speak to your father about assigning a permanent guard to you if you are concerned.”

I sighed, praying to the seas for patience. In all of those secret books, the illustrations and descriptions of winged warriors, both male and female, had sparked my childhood curiosity. I had wanted to be a warrior, like the females in the books. Maybe then my lungs wouldn’t be such a weakness. My father had laughed outright at the idea.