human disguises couldn’t stop me from breathing in the taste of their Selkie heritage: Dianda’s previously absent guard.
“Where were you guys a few minutes ago?” I muttered.
“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
“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
“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.
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.”
Dianda raised her eyebrows. “You’re fairly calm.”
“I don’t think I have a choice just now.” I felt better for knowing what was going on, even if the Luidaeg and I were going to have stern words later about her turning me halfway back into a fish without more in the way of an explicit warning. “I’m sorry about the whole, um, riding thing. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Dianda waved a hand. “I saw them shooting at us. Still, if you ever do something like that again without telling me first, I’m not calling off my archers.”
“Noted.” I gave the circle of Selkies another look. I didn’t recognize any of them, but a few looked similar enough to Connor that they might have been family. “So now what?”
“Now I take you to see my Duchy. If you can find my sons and prove the land Courts didn’t do this, maybe I’ll call off the war. No promises. And if I find out you’ve played me . . .”
“If I were playing you, I’d have toes right now.” Footsteps came pounding down the dock. One of the Selkies turned, starting to raise her bow, and stopped, lowering it again. I allowed myself a small smile. “I think I hear my knights in shining armor.”
“Make that singular,” she said, relaxing. “One of them is mine.”
The footsteps were joined by a second set, and the sound of panting. “You need to work out more,” said Quentin, as the top of his head came into view.
“Hey, guys.” I waved, turning to face them.
Connor staggered to a stop, bracing his hands on his knees as he struggled to breathe. “Hello, Your Grace,” he wheezed, toward Dianda, before looking anxiously in my direction. He knows how much I hate water. “Toby —”
“Hello, Connor.” Dianda twisted her tail around one of the dock supports like a sea horse, letting it anchor her as she leaned back in the water. It made sense; given the way the water moved, Merrow had to have a way to keep from drifting. I never really thought about it before, and now I was taking notes. “I take it you’re both unhurt?”
“Yes, Your Grace.” His worried eyes didn’t leave my face. “We came when we heard the shouting, but —”
“You couldn’t have helped,” I said, swimming over to join Dianda. Quentin stepped up next to him and gasped. My fins must have shown through the water. So much for breaking the news gently. “Hey, Quentin. How was the fish?”
He swallowed hard, composing himself before he said, “You’re in the water.”
“Yes. Gravity made sure of that.”
“And you have . . .”
“Fins. You can blame the Luidaeg for that part.” Movie mermaids are always slapping their tails against the water to make a point, or just to show off how much of the special effects budget went into designing them. I would have done it, but I couldn’t think of how to start without con-cussing myself on the dock in the process. “I’m going to visit Saltmist now. Since I’m pretty sure I’d be a little awkward on land at the moment.”
Connor’s eyes went wide as he finally caught up with current events. “Wait . . . you mean you . . . ?”
“I am going to need an uncountable number of cups of coffee when this is over,” I replied, and turned to Quentin. “Call Danny. Tell him you need a ride back to the apartment. I’d take you with me, but I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t work.”
“I understand,” he said. “Do I need to stay at the apartment?”
“Not if you find something better to do—visit the Luidaeg, go help Walther, whatever. Just make sure someone knows where you are, so I can find you when I get back. And make sure Danny comes inside—May has a job for him.”
“Okay.” Quentin took a step back, looking anxious. “Please don’t get killed?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“This is lovely, but my children are still missing.” Dianda pushed away from the dock, flukes unfurling in a swirl of green and purple. “Connor, come on. I’ll need you to help show our guest around the knowe.”
“Um. Right,” said Connor, and dove, fully clothed, off the dock.
That made me think of something I hadn’t thought of until that moment: “Hey, what the hell happened to my
