Chapter 2: The Mother’s Heart

The Opal Palace was built in the shape of the Holy Triquetra, representative of Atargatis herself—each of the three wings were in the shape of an ichthys fish conjoined in an infinite path. A ring of indoor and outdoor terraces and gardens replicated the circle that bound the symbol in unity.

At the core of the structure was the Mother’s Heart, a vast tricorn-shaped marble chamber tiled in rock crystal that was founded in the bedrock below sea level. The room housed the Heartstone—the gift of Atargatis and power source for everything on the island, the most important of which was the barrier that protected Sirenia from unwanted eyes.

Access to the chamber was well guarded at the upper levels. But once you got past the entry point to the staircase that led you down six storeys—where one could access the pool of water that perpetually filled the bottom of the chamber—not so much.

Calandra had sneaked down to the chamber so many times that getting past the guards at the top of the stairs with two extra people hardly even required her to be creative. So far, no one had discovered her solo nighttime forays into the depths of the palace. It was only when she was with Tanni that trouble seemed to find her. Or rather, she found it, and dragged Tanni into it with her. No wonder Tanni hadn’t wanted to come.

By the time Calandra, Tanni, and Osaze reached the antechamber that opened into the Mother’s Heart, Calandra was seriously beginning to regret her impetuous decision to sneak out of bed tonight.

All she’d wanted was a swim to clear her head and help her forget the unsettling undine man in her dream. But now she had a major problem, and his hand was growing sweaty in her own. She could think of no quieter place to solve it than the tunnels that serviced the base of the Mother’s Heart chamber—not even the servants went there unless they were assigned to clean the Mother’s Pool. The few people allowed to go there rarely felt that admiring the beauty of the Stone without a glass barrier in the way was worth the effort of the multiple flights of stairs required to enter the chamber. It was one of Calandra’s favourite escapes.

Tanni leaned against the wall of the small room and caught her breath. Her normally placid expression was pinched in frustration and flushed with exertion. She looked at their male companion, who bore the expression of someone determined not to panic—or perhaps determined not to throw up.

“I hope whatever you wanted to talk about was worth this, Calandra kor’Delphine.”

Calandra gave her friend a sharp look. “I’m not the one who Released a taps.”

“Well, I’m not the one who dragged me out of bed in the middle of the night,” Tanni snapped back, crossing her arms.

Calandra bit her lip on her retort and glanced at Osaze, who stood looking around the small chamber, clenching and unclenching his fists. Releasing a human without authorization was a capital crime for adults. She wondered what their punishment would be.

“I know. I, uh, I . . . oh, the whole thing seems so stupid now. All I’ve done is make it worse. This isn’t going to solve anything.”

When she saw the distress on Calandra’s face, Tanni stepped forward, uncrossing her arms.

“Solve what, Cali? What are you talking about?” Her expression softened. “Did you have another nightmare?”

Calandra dipped her chin. Tanni was the only one she’d told about the nightmares. Her friend understood the fear as well as Calandra did. She thought about telling Tanni about the man, but decided that now was not the time. The man hadn’t been part of the nightmare—he’d helped it go away.

“Yes, but that’s not what this is about.”

Tanni’s brow furrowed. “What, then?”

Calandra took a deep breath, then beckoned for her friend to follow her. She led the way to the small arch that connected the access chamber to the Mother’s Heart. Warm, moist air met them as they stepped onto the small platform suspended about a storey above the water below. The thousands of crystals lining the walls of the tricorn chamber gathered the silvery light coming in through the glass ceiling and amplified it, reflecting it in a symphony of luminescence. On a sunny day, the sun’s rays would set the entire column on fire. On Summer Solstice, when the sun stood directly above the chamber, the light became an entity you could almost feel.

Suspended by golden spokes at about three-quarters of the chamber’s impressive height and encased in a transparent crystal orb several fingers thick was the pulsing Heartstone, an enormous spherical fire opal. Over half the surface of the crystal was marred with cracks and blackened areas, and the light of the opal within was subdued, like a fire that has burned to red-hot coals. It was still fairly bright, but only a shadow in comparison with its former glory.

Tanni stepped up beside her and drew in a soft gasp, the light of the Heartstone reflecting in her dark green eyes.

“The Stone—it’s getting worse.”

There was a painting in the Great Hall of how it used to look, blinding at any time of the day. Now, her people’s most enduring symbol of hope and longevity was scarred and broken from millennia of use.

“Aunt Adonia means for me to heal it.”

She turned back to the stone and blinked at it, overwhelmed by the enormity of the task.

“What?” Tanni’s voice was filled with disbelief. “Our strongest stone healers and panaceas for three thousand years have not been able to heal this, and she expects you can?”

Calandra nodded. “She thinks I might be strong enough to heal the stone on my own, or at least lead the circle that finally does it. She intends to bond a consort to me as soon as I come of age.”

Tanni shook her head. “With all due respect to the queen, I think she’s cracked. I mean, I know you’re powerful, but no one is that powerful. Not even after being bonded.”

Calandra faced Tanni. “Thea thinks I am.”

“Oh.” Tanni bit her lip at the mention of the Academy’s headmistress. “But aren’t they worried you might bear a child?”

The unspoken question hung between them, as always when the subject of her inevitable bonding came up. Aren’t they worried you’ll go Mad like your mother did?

No one was exactly sure what caused the Madness, but most of the healers who succumbed had two things in common—they were extremely powerful, usually panaceas like Calandra, able to work with stones, plants, and animals. And they had often recently had children.

That didn’t explain the case of Lydia, a siren who had gone Mad over a millennia ago and had drowned half of the island’s humans before being confined to the Abyss. Sirens affected by the Madness were extremely rare, though. Calandra had never heard of another.

It also didn’t explain Thea, a powerful panacea with three adult daughters and full possession of her wits. But she was the exception, not the rule.

Calandra shrugged. She knew that Tanni was as worried about her potential future as she was. But every healer designated to heal the Heartstone had to be bonded. She didn’t know why.

“Perhaps Adonia isn’t crazy, just desperate.”

She glanced at Osaze, who had slumped against the far wall and was watching them intently with fever-bright eyes, his jaw clenched. She leaned closer to Tanni and dropped her voice.

“A ship got through the barrier last week.”

Tanni gaped.

“I heard about it this morning,” Calandra whispered. “The barrier has been having outages. It was only a small one, a fishing vessel, no women, so they Redeemed the men and put them up for auction down in Haven.”

“That’s why Adonia announced the blackout on lightstones,” said Tanni, realization dawning on her face.

Calandra nodded. Over the last several years, there had been bans on more and more devices that drew power from the Heartstone. The latest measure meant a return to oil lamps for everyone in the trades, except for those who did the bulk of their work at night, like bakers and sweepers. Even people in the palace and other government positions were restricted to the use of a few hours per evening, and then only for official tasks. Some devices, like quartz datastone readers, created their own power. But the lightstones drew from power generated by the Heartstone.

Tanni regarded the subdued fire of the Heartstone.

“Do you think you can do it?”

Calandra twisted her braid around her hand, then released it. The void sucked at her insides again, and her throat tightened. She closed her eyes and took a breath, then opened them. “I honestly don’t know. Not right now, certainly. But in five years and with the added strength of the consort bond?” She shrugged. “Maybe. I’ve already done things that even Thea has been surprised at. Like healing the breathing stones.”

She’d been particularly proud of that one. It was rare for a stone healer—or any healer—to have much dexterity with air, so over time the stock of masks they used to convey humans long distances underwater had become depleted as the stones had worn out and were unable to retain oxygen. But Calandra had figured out how to heal them when she was only nine. Thea, her mentor and a panacea in her own right, had been stunned. And very proud.

Calandra looked up at the Heartstone. Perhaps the adults were right—perhaps she could do what so many before her had failed to do. But why wait until she was eighteen, bonded, and had a crazy-making baby on the way? She’d watched the annual Healing Ceremony that summer, though it had had little effect. Her powers were already stronger than any other living undine’s. How much difference could the consort bond make when she already outstripped so many others’ powers? And how different could it be from healing the breathing stones or imprinting a datastone?

But if she failed . . .

She shoved aside the darkness that furled at the corners of her mind. Before she could think too hard about what she had decided to do, she stripped off her sarong, tossed it behind her, and dove into the pool below. As she fell, she initiated the transformation to ichthys state. By the time she hit the water, her legs had already merged into a blue-green scale-covered tail with a large fin where her feet had been, and her skin was covered in slick, viscous gel. Gills that opened on her neck allowed her to dive deep beneath the surface with no fear of running out of oxygen.

She stilled herself in an upright position several spans below the surface. Closing her eyes, she pulled the water toward her. Instead of swimming to the surface, she used the water to raise her up, higher and higher, until she burst into the air on a rising column of liquid. As she passed the antechamber, she saw Tanni and Osaze both standing on the ledge with wide eyes and jaws hanging open. She rose through the vast, luminescent space until she was hovering directly below the glowing orb that housed the Heartstone, then used the water to hold her there.

From this close, the sphere filled her entire field of vision, and probably would have blinded her if it had not been so broken. She laid a hand on the crystal casing and closed her eyes, then gently extended an energy line through the broken Tear pendant, up her arm, through her hand, and into the quartz crystal. Finally, her emotions touched the opaline Heartstone.

In an instant, she was suspended in a warm, dark ocean, but not an empty one. The water was suffused with a red ember glow all around her, but more than that, there was a presence. It felt like it was speaking to her, surrounding her spirit with acceptance, and joy, and love. It was the most blissful thing she had ever experienced. She wanted to stay in that place forever. But something wasn’t right. She reached toward the pain.

Abruptly, the darkness was obliterated by colour and light and sadness. So much sadness. A confusing cacophony of images filled with humans, undines, and creatures she’d only read about in the stones flooded through her mind in a rushing, senseless torrent that left her weeping in jagged gasps. The tower of water collapsed and she plummeted with it until she was swallowed by the Mother’s Pool below. Her mind drifted through consciousness, much as her body did through the water.

In moments, Tanni was beside her, shaking her to her senses and pulling her back toward the surface. Calandra followed her friend’s flashing golden-orange tail until they reached the ladder that would let them climb back to the antechamber. They both resumed podia state and clambered, dripping, onto the ledge. Conscious of Osaze’s wide eyes, they wrapped their sarongs around their naked hips before settling onto the floor.

Calandra felt strangely energized. She could sense every place where her body touched cold marble, the hemp bodice pressing against her ribs, the sharp salt smell in the air. Far off up the tunnel, distant voices seemed amplified in her ears. She could even sense a vibrational hum from the Heartstone itself. She looked around in wonder.

Tanni watched her with a furrowed brow. “What happened?”

Calandra stared at the triquetra on the marble floor, considering. The triquetra symbolized many things to her people. The elements. Healing. Eternity. Atargatis, the First Mother.

“I—I’m not certain. There was too much there. It was like the stone was . . . alive.”

“Don’t stone healers treat every stone as if it were alive?”

“Yes, but this was different. It was more alive, like it had its own spirit somehow.” She closed her eyes, the memory of how it felt to touch the Heartstone still filling her. “A spirit more powerful than what I can manage. Aunt Adonia’s right. I’m not powerful enough yet.”

A strange tingle hummed throughout her body, residual power activating every cell. She should have felt defeated at her failure, but instead she felt as though she could do anything. “But I think I might be able to, uh, help Osaze.”

They turned to Osaze, who sat up straight at their scrutiny.

“Wait.” His nostrils flared and he frowned. “What are you going to do?”

Chapter 3: Bonded

Osaze looked between them with fear in his eyes, then turned back to Calandra.

“Redeemed. That’s what the queen did to me before, right? Is that what you mean by ‘help’?” He clutched Calandra’s arm. “Please don’t do it again, Calandra. I—I think I would rather die than have that happen again.”

As soon as Osaze touched her, a wave of desperation and fear crashed through her. She put her hands to her ears as though she could physically block out the sudden onslaught of emotion. Is it happening already? Is this the Madness?

When Osaze’s hand fell from her arm, the emotions subsided. She slowly lowered her hands, staring at the boy. Those feelings . . . they had all come from him? Why had she felt them so strongly? Did it have something to do with the Heartstone?

“It’s okay, Osaze. It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

He shook his head and buried it in his hands. “That would be better. It’s worse than anything you can imagine.”

Calandra stared at him, stricken. As a rule, undines treated every living thing with respect. She had always been told that Redemption meant saving the men from themselves, cleansing them of impurities they could not purge on their own. But how could it be right to do something to these men that they hated so much?

Calandra’s natural instinct was to reassure Osaze as she would any other frightened creature. Humming a lullaby and projecting calm, she took his hand and looked into his eyes.

This time, she was prepared for the emotions, though it took her a moment to organize and funnel their intensity into her opal Tear pendant. That wasn’t what actually happened, but it was the mind trick she used to reduce the flow so she could remain herself while she touched him. After a few minutes, Osaze’s pulse slowed against her thumb and his panic receded.

Tanni shook her head. “I’m still amazed every time I watch you do that.”

Calandra smirked at the praise. “You’ll get it eventually. It only requires spirit to work.”

Tanni snorted. “Maybe. Is that what you meant by ‘help’?”

Calandra glanced at her friend, then back at Osaze.

“No. But I’ve changed my mind about that. I don’t think I could Redeem him, even if I could figure out the Song. Not now.”

She squeezed his hand, and he gave her a small, grateful smile.

How she’d missed his smile.

Tanni pressed her lips together in disapproval, regarding him with distaste and a trace of fear.

“If you don’t, he will be found out. We could be exiled or worse, and he’ll only be Redeemed again anyway. Assuming he hasn’t done something that would earn him the death sentence by that point.”

Osaze frowned at Tanni. “Like what?”

Tanni glared at him. “Like disobeying an order. Or neglecting your duties. Or being aggressive. Or showing any emotion whatsoever. Under Redemption, those would be impossible, so anyone who does them is considered a threat and an aberration. Which is why the best thing would be to Redeem you again, immediately. Anything else would risk your life and our freedom. Besides, men are dangerous.” She paused, her expression softening to uncertainty. “Aren’t you?”

Osaze frowned. “I don’t feel dangerous. I’ve never wanted to hurt anyone. Why would anyone think I’m dangerous?” His eyes widened. “Did I do something I don’t remember?”

Calandra shook her head. “I don’t think so. It’s the way we’ve done things since forever. You grew up here, you should remember that. But anyway, we still don’t know how. And we’re not doing it, so that’s that.”

Tanni frowned at Calandra, then stared up at the domed ceiling of the antechamber. “There’s got to be a solution. There’s just got to be. Think, Tanni.”

Tanni was talking to herself. She must be distraught.

To be fair, Tanni had gotten them both out of plenty of fixes, but she had rarely gotten them in one. Calandra could understand her friend’s panic over her mistake. After all, if anyone found out that it was Tanni who had Released Osaze, her promising career as a siren could be over. Calandra couldn’t let that happen.

Frustrated, she studied the floor, staring at the Holy Triquetra set in the tiles.

Dark stone against light. Two different minerals, bonded in unity.

“Wait.” She looked up at her companions. “I overheard Thea use a song once that I think might help.”

Tanni and Osaze both turned to her in interest. “What does it do?”

“I’m not sure exactly, but I think it might create some kind of bond that compels service without trapping the mind. Sort of like an imitation sklavia bond.”

Tanni’s nose wrinkled. “What use would something like that ever be?”

“I think I heard Thea call it the pisti bond?”

“The loyalty bond? Huh. Never heard of it.”

“It is what happens naturally between a physic and animals or people they heal. But unlike the healing bond, it will not fade over time.”

“Like the consort bond. That never fades either.” Tanni frowned. “Why don’t you try it on me before you try it on him? The sklavia bond wouldn’t work on me since I’m a girl, but this one might. And if something goes wrong, it will be much easier to explain that than if something happens to Osaze. You could say you were just practising.”

“Are you sure? What if I make a mistake?”

Tanni cocked her head and smiled. “I trust you. And if you can figure out how to do it, you could probably figure out how to undo it.” She glanced at Osaze and then at the floor. “Unlike me.”

Calandra squeezed Tanni’s hand. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. It was an accident.”

Tanni nodded, but her expression didn’t change.

Calandra smiled at her friend, tight-lipped, then turned to the boy. Beads of sweat had pearled on his skin, and she knew it wasn’t all because of the heat and humidity in this room.

“If I can make the pisti bond work with Tanni, will you let me try it on you? It would mean you would be compelled by loyalty to serve me, which might help us fool others, but you would retain control of your emotions and will in all other areas. It would also mean much more work for you. There would be no room for mistakes, Osaze. And if what we have done is ever discovered, we could be punished severely for it, possibly even executed.”

Osaze played with his fingers while he considered, then met Calandra’s gaze.

“Calandra, you have always been a friend to me. Even without some strange ‘mermaid magic,’ as my mother calls it, I would do anything you asked me to. If acting the slave prevents me from becoming one in actuality, I will do as you wish. There will never have been a more perfect liar than me.”

Calandra frowned. There were a lot of things to unwrap in Osaze’s words, but the gist was that he agreed to her terms. She could think about the rest later.

After she’d come to her senses.

Pushing down her misgivings at what she was about to do, she wrapped her hand around the broken Tear at her neck. Her mother had left it for her when she’d gone Mad and fled Sirenia many years ago. With its unique shielding ability, Calandra thought of it as her talisman—she had yet to find another stone like it. But mostly she wore it to remember her mother by—and to remind herself of the cost of failure. She had powers stronger than any healer since the great Nadia kor’Hera. And if she did not find a way to stop the Madness, she could sink Sirenia, as Nadia had sunk Atlantis before her.

The void of her nightmare curled at the edges of her mind like smoke. If she failed, instead of saving her people, she could condemn them all to oblivion—and the thousands of humans now living on lands to the north, west, and south of their island. But she still wasn’t powerful enough.

Which was why she had to learn everything, try everything. Including this.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to Tanni. She took both of her friend’s hands and looked into her eyes.

“I think it requires that we both give love while the bond is being formed.”

At Tanni’s solemn nod, Calandra closed her eyes. Acting partially on instinct and partially on the remembered snippet she’d heard, she reached out with spirit and poured all her love for her friend through their physical connection, then sang two wordless lines of music.

The two threads of spirit—hers and the one Tanni had spun—wove together and interconnected, overlaying and melting until they joined into one. Then the unified line returned to both of their bodies, fading but not breaking.

Calandra opened her eyes in wonder. In the corner of her mind, she had a new awareness—emotions that were not hers, though they did seem similar at the moment. “You . . .”

“I can feel you,” Tanni whispered, staring at Calandra with round eyes. “I can feel you in my head.”

They stared at each other in shock. Slowly, as the realization of what had happened washed over her, Calandra smiled. Where the cold void had whispered only moments ago was now a soft, warm presence, like an echo of how it felt to touch the Heartstone. She was no longer alone.

“I don’t think that was what I meant to do. But I’m glad of it.” She released her friend’s hands and they threw their arms around each other.

“Me, too. Now we will never be apart.”

Tanni sat back on her haunches and glanced at Osaze. “But I don’t think that will help him. Even though I can sense you in here”—she touched her temple—“I certainly don’t feel any extra compulsion to serve you. If you shared that with Osaze, would you be able to help him control his emotions that way? Do you think that would be enough to help him stay safe?”

Calandra frowned uncertainly. “I—I don’t know.” She looked at Osaze, whose brow was furrowed in worry. “I’m sorry, Osaze. I failed. I created a bond, but not one that would help you play your part.” Tears pricked her eyes. “I don’t know how to help you.”

Osaze took several long deep breaths while he regarded Calandra.

She struggled to maintain control for his sake, but a few tears slid down her cheeks anyway. She could see only one other solution to his dilemma.

“The only other option is to help you escape.”

Osaze shook his head. “No.”

Calandra and Tanni both blinked at him in surprise.

“No,” he repeated. “My mother is here in the palace. She still works as a governess at the Academy, no?”

Tanni nodded confirmation. Urbi had worked in the palace since she had been brought to Sirenia almost thirteen years ago.

Osaze continued. “It is my duty to stay with her. I am her only family. Besides that, where would I go? I have spent my whole life on this island, but I know only those in the palace. My father was lost to me in Africa even before my mother and I were brought here. There is no way to escape the island completely, not for humans like me—and I will not let you risk yourself trying to help me. No. This is the agreement I will make with you, Calandra.”

He took her hand in his and placed his other hand on top. His hands were warm and surprisingly dry.

“Take me to someone who will Redeem me again.” He took a breath, jaw clenched, then soldiered on. “When you have learned how to do what it was you thought you could do, find me. Free me. Give me the chance to give you my heart without giving up my mind.”

Calandra wept freely now. Even Tanni, who rarely displayed such sentiment, wiped at her eyes.

“If you’re sure.”

Osaze squeezed her hand. “Hey,” he said gently, ducking his head to meet her gaze.

She looked at him in confusion. There were tears in the corners of his eyes, but his expression was full of concern. For her.

“It’ll be all right,” he said. “I trust you. You promise to do this, don’t you?”

Calandra blinked in shock. An Unredeemed male was supposed to be angry and violent. But Osaze, rather than fight against a fate he abhorred, comforted her instead.

She pulled her friend to her in a hug. “I promise.”

Calandra tried to send Tanni back to her dormitory so she could face Thea alone, but Tanni refused.

“As soon as Osaze is Redeemed again, he will answer every question they ask. I don’t want it to look like I was trying to hide anything and escape the consequences.” She glanced around the antechamber. “Nor do I want them to ask too many questions.”

She gave Calandra a meaningful stare, and Calandra swallowed.

“Good point.”

They found Thea in the Archive, surrounded by drawers and shelves full of datastones of every type of crystal, poring over an unfamiliar script embossed on the surface of a large stone reader on top of a cedar table. The Academy’s headmistress flicked her finger across the surface of the hexagonal rock crystal slab and the raised luminescent letters changed to new characters. Her curtain of straight silver hair obscured the back of her green floor-length healer’s tunic to her waist. Despite being the oldest person Calandra had ever met, there was still iron and vitality in her tall thin frame.

Calandra and Tanni stood at attention behind her with Osaze between them. Calandra held his hand.

Thea spoke without turning around. “What are you doing out of bed at this hour, cadet?”

She straightened, then turned around and inspected them, her hooded jade-green eyes widening only slightly when she saw three of them standing there. A panacea’s fire opal set in the centre of a golden triquetra dangled from a hair chain in the centre of her forehead.

The three teenagers bowed their heads slightly and touched their bunched fingertips to their foreheads in respectful salute. Thea’s gaze flicked to Calandra’s Tear and her and Osaze’s conjoined hands, then over each of them in turn.

“Calandra. Osaze. As well as Cadet kor’Zelia. What is the meaning of this?”

Calandra lifted her chin and looked directly into her mentor’s face—much younger-looking than her years—as she explained the night’s adventure up to the point of running into Osaze in the Grotto. Thea listened without interruption, occasionally glancing at the nervous Osaze, until Tanni spoke up and claimed responsibility for Releasing him.

Thea’s sharp green eyes snapped to Tanni’s face, then she stepped toward Osaze, looking the tall teenage boy in the eye. Restrained fear and determination coursed through Calandra from his touch, but Thea would sense it from him without that. The daskala nodded.

“How did you Release him, cadet? Please show me.”

Tanni’s eyes widened. “I—I don’t know, daskala, and that’s the truth. I was trying to copy something I read in one of my mother’s stones, a memory-erasing song.” She glanced at the floor and twisted her fingers together.

Thea tilted her head. “That is not a song for the inexperienced, either, and should be used with caution.”

Tanni nodded, not looking up. “I know. I’m sorry, daskala.”

Thea placed her finger on Osaze’s forehead and sang a short trill of notes. His eyes glazed and the boiling cauldron of emotions he’d been containing went as still as water in a bowl.

“Now, cadet, please try again.”

Calandra let go of Osaze’s hand and hers felt cold—but not as cold as her heart at his blankness. She blinked back moisture and watched Tanni.

Tanni put her finger on Osaze’s forehead and tried several times to do what she’d done in the garden, but nothing happened.

Thea waved dismissively to indicate that Tanni should stop. “Give me your hand, cadet.”

Tanni held out her hand

Thea took it, then looked in Tanni’s eyes. “Do you remember how you Released young Osaze here, or don’t you?”

Tanni bit her lip, then shook her head. “I don’t. I swear it. And even if I did, I wouldn’t do it again.”

Thea kept Tanni’s gaze and hand for several more moments. Calandra thought she seemed a touch disappointed, which made no sense.

“You speak truth.” Thea dropped Tanni’s hand and turned toward her work. “Neither of you are to speak of what happened tonight to anyone, ever. You are both to report to Daskala Lida for a strapping immediately. Calandra, you will be on scullery duty for three months. I will be speaking with Queen Adonia in the morning about posting guard outside your door at night to prevent further escapades. Cadet kor’Zelia, Daskala Lida will determine your penance, and tell her I said not to make it too light. And one more thing.”

She turned to look at them both. Calandra shifted on her feet, refusing to glance at her friend because she knew she’d have to look past Osaze’s stiff profile beside her.

“You two are no longer permitted to spend time together. If I hear or see so much as a whisper about you seeing each other outside of normal duties, Cadet kor’Zelia will be expelled. I’m sure neither of you want that to happen.”

Tears pricked Calandra’s sinuses. “For how long?”

Thea arched an eyebrow. “For as long as one of you is a student at the Academy. Understood?”

Calandra swallowed and nodded, her own grief matched by the turmoil of Tanni’s emotions in her mind. She wanted to yell and scream about the unfairness of it all. The thought of losing access to her closest friend was worse than seeing Osaze Redeemed again. How was she supposed to Release him again on her own? It would be five more years until the bonds were taught to her.

Tanni had matching tears in her eyes. At least they had their secret bond. At least they had that.

As they walked stiffly together toward Daskala Lida’s chambers to receive their punishment, Calandra said in a quiet voice, “Perhaps we did the wrong thing, telling her.”

Tanni shook her head, gaze downcast. “I think she did us a favour.”

Calandra frowned. It was the harshest punishment Thea had ever dealt her. “How can you say that?”

“Can you imagine the punishment Adonia would have doled out if she didn’t think Thea had dealt with this infraction severely enough? Unauthorized Release is a capital offence for adults. Sure, I did it by accident and I’m only fourteen. But it could have been so much worse.”

Calandra nodded thoughtfully, breathing deeply to keep her emotions in check. Now she understood. If Thea hadn’t dealt so harshly with them, Tanni would most likely have been expelled and had to return to Haven.

“I suppose I understand that.”

Tanni shook her head again. “I’m not sure you do. One thing I’ve already learned about the bonds is a sklavia bond can only be Released by the one who holds it. As far as I know, what I did tonight shouldn’t have even been possible.”

Calandra stared at her friend, wide-eyed. “Can you imagine what Adonia would do if she found out?”

Tanni raised her eyebrows. “Why do you think Thea told us not to tell anyone?”

Calandra stared straight ahead. Perhaps Thea had been kind, after all.

Daskala Lida gave them the hiding of their lives, not made lighter by them waking her up to do it, then told Tanni she would mete out the rest of her punishment in the morning. Tanni and Calandra parted ways with Tanni outside the Siren house mother’s door, neither of them wanting to test their new restriction and risk making it worse.

As Calandra made her way back to her bedchamber—wincing every time her sarong moved over her tender backside—she passed Osaze being accompanied back to the tapeinos cadet quarters by a siren. She tried to meet his eyes, but he ignored her with the unfocused stare of the Redeemed.

She lay in bed for hours, clutching her mother’s Tear next to her heart as silent tears slid down her face. Everything that had happened that night had been her fault. She had botched everything, just as she’d always feared she would. This time, Tanni and Osaze had paid the price. What would happen if she couldn’t learn to use her powers well enough or went Mad and failed at her ultimate duty—saving the Heartstone, and her people?

She thought of Osaze, his gentleness and earnestness, and the parting image of his unfocused eyes burned into her soul. She mourned the loss of Tanni. Even though her new awareness let her pinpoint Tanni inside the palace from where she lay, she’d never felt more alone. Eventually, she drifted off to sleep and found herself back in the cold abyss under the weight of her unmet duty, with Osaze’s name at the top of the list of those she must save.

And then he was there—the strange undine man. Smiling at her with his mouth, but not from his golden eyes. Something about him intimidated her, but she refused to let herself be intimidated by any male, especially one in her dreams. She squared her shoulders and frowned at him.

“You are wondering how to gain control of your powers,” he said without preamble.

She thought about ignoring him or denying it, but what was the point? This was nothing more than a dream, and the slippery logic of dreams fuzzed her will to keep her more rebellious thoughts to herself.

“You know, I shouldn’t even be talking to you. An Unredeemed male. I could get in big trouble.”

The corners of his mouth curved under his trim goatee.

“And who will report you?” He indicated the blackness around them. “Certainly not I. I exist only in your mind.”

She crossed her arms and cocked her head, studying him.

“Have you ever been Redeemed?”

His expression became stony. “Redemption is for humans.”

“Redemption is for men. To make them safe. It just happens that the only men are human.”

Thinking of Osaze’s dread, she wondered again at the morality of it. Uncrossing her arms, she shifted her gaze from Damon’s face to his bronze chest.

“And one of them is my friend.”

“All humans should be controlled,” he replied nonchalantly, drawing nearer. “They have not the patience nor discipline to control themselves. And I am not human, yet I am male.”

She looked up at him, eyes narrowed. “I can see that. What are you? I’ve never seen an undine with golden eyes.”

He smiled knowingly. “Not human. But I could be your friend.”

That same feeling of security and warmth from their first encounter enveloped her, as though he were projecting it from himself intentionally. She frowned, wanting to accept it and shake off her heavy heart, but not daring to trust him yet.

“What do you want from me?”

“I want to help you.”

Damon came near enough to touch her but didn’t, pausing before her with his arms to the sides in a placating gesture.

She wrapped her arms around herself and glared into the blackness beyond him. “Yeah, well, you can’t. Not unless you can tell me how to control powers that could sink an island and heal the Heartstone without going Mad.”

“Little lark,” he said, amusement dripping from his voice like honey from a spoon, “that is exactly what I intend to do. You have a difficult road ahead of you. You shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

Her gaze snapped toward his, and as soon as their eyes met, the light from his golden irises melted something inside her.

“You can help me heal the Heartstone?”

He leaned over her and the water between them warmed.

“If you let me keep visiting you, I’ll show you how to do things you never dreamed possible. I swear it.” He held up his hand with the palm toward her in an invitation to take it. “Do you agree?”

She stared at him, mesmerized by the swirling golden orbs.

“Who are you?”

“I,” he said, “am the one who is going to help you change history.”

Without once looking away from his face, she wove her fingers through his and golden sparks flowed between their hands. The abyss melted away and shifted until they were hovering in some underwater ruins, the sense of fear and oppression melting with it. Suddenly his plan, whatever it might be, seemed like an excellent idea.

“When do we begin?”

Chapter 4: The Waterboy

Five Years Later

Somewhere in western England

January 15, 1799

Zale Teague stared at the people on the other side of the glass, not really seeing them, focusing instead on keeping himself suspended more or less upright so they would have a good view. That’s why they were here, after all, to see the Waterboy—the half-man, half-fish merfreak. For a threepence, they could stare at him for a few minutes and talk about him for a lifetime.

Zale might be unusual to them, but after five years of staring through these glass walls, every face looked the same to him—every gaping jaw, every wondering stare, every frightened, delighted scream. Every mother hustling her small child out of the tent while craning her neck to stare at him in horrified fascination.

Through the cold safety provided by the glass, he’d seen it all. And he welcomed it. The repugnance, the obsession, the terror were no more than he deserved—but not because of his hideous deformity. The true abomination within this tank lay inside his soul.

He could call down lightning from the sky. Only a god or a demon could do that—and since his father had ended up dead, and his friend blinded, he knew which side he landed on.

He hadn’t intended to do those things. But intended or not, he’d done them, and learned the steep price of giving his emotions free rein. So now he climbed into a tank every afternoon and stayed there, hiding in plain sight, until the watchers cleared out and went home to their beds. Then Zale would join Eric and his family for supper at their tan, the Romani name for the low tents they called home.

Eric had been the one who’d found Zale, exhausted and half-dead, on the bank of a stream in Cornwall, miles from the home he’d fled in shame. Eric hadn’t blinked at Zale’s tail, hadn’t even commented when it melted back into the legs of a seemingly ordinary human boy.

Most importantly, Eric had never asked what demons haunted his past. He’d just fed him, clothed him, and offered him shelter with his family if Zale would be willing to earn his keep. And by “earn his keep,” Eric had meant “let people stare at him for money.”

At the time, Zale had only just realized the connection between his flares of distress and the frightening natural consequences—how the lightning always came when he called it, but not to do his bidding. It did as it wished, like the surf that pounded the cliffs of Penzance near his home.

He’d had no control of it. And his father had died.

Someone tapped at the glass. Zale blinked and focused on the face of a boy, about eleven or twelve, with a thatch of wheat-coloured hair and a slim build. When he realized he’d caught Zale’s attention, the boy’s face split into a crooked grin.

For a moment, it was like a spectre from his own past had come to torment him—a ghost of the person he’d been before. He met the boy’s eyes, which were brown to Zale’s vibrant green, and glimpsed the curious wonder of a child who has retained his innocence. It was like looking into a mirror through time.

The boy put up his hands, palms out, fingers extended—first both hands, then a single finger, and then he pointed at himself. Eleven.

Zale smiled and held up his slightly webbed fingers to indicate his own sixteen years. The boy jumped up and down, a grin splitting his face, then turned to two village women who stood behind him. The ragamuffin child jabbered at one of them excitedly, pointing at the tank.

Unlike Zale’s typical audience, the boy seemed to see him as more than a mere curiosity. Zale put his palm flat against the glass in acknowledgement. The woman, most likely the child’s mother, seemed only mildly interested in the boy’s chatter. She flicked her gaze at Zale, then crossed her arms and waved a dismissive hand at her son. The boy came back to stand in front of the tank and smiled at Zale, who smiled back. Then the boy drew a rather grotesque image of a merman monster with fangs in the condensation on the glass and proceeded to make faces at Zale.

Zale snapped out of the moment and closed his eyes. As long as he was in this tank, he’d never be more than a freak on display, less than human. And that was fine. It was what he wanted, wasn’t it? A chance to do penance for his evil deeds? To obliterate the painful memories beneath the emotional lashings he got day in and day out?

Then why did he never feel cleansed?

When he opened his eyes again, Eric’s grown daughter, Josefine, was shooing the two women and the boy out of the tent. Once the canvas flap closed behind them, Josefine turned to face him and made a chopping motion with one hand onto the other palm—the time’s-up gesture that signalled the end of the customers for the night—before ducking through the entrance herself.

Zale surfaced, pushing his shoulder-length blond hair out of his eyes. He hauled himself up onto the wooden bench along the top edge of one side of the tank. Within moments, his gills had flattened against his neck, his tail had melted into human legs, and his mucosal layer had reabsorbed into his skin. If someone saw him like this, they would have no clue that he was anything other than human—except for the iridescent green of his eyes, which he had been told shone softly in the dark.

He descended the stairs on the back of the tank and then dried himself with the soft cotton towel that he had left on a small table for that purpose earlier. He grabbed his breeches from the pile of clothes on the table and pulled them on, then became aware of someone’s presence in the room. Odd. He hadn’t heard anyone enter.

“I’ll join you for supper in a few moments, Eric,” he said without turning around as he pulled on his stockings.

A woman’s voice replied.

“I’m afraid supper will have to wait.”

Back erect, Zale swivelled toward the intruder, his shirt bunched over his hands.

The young woman glanced at his bare chest, raising her eyebrows and biting her lip on a smile. She crossed her arms and nodded appreciatively.

“Well, aren’t you all grown up now? After five years, I suppose that was to be expected.”

Zale gulped and stared. For a brief, breathless moment, he wondered if this was what drowning felt like. Everything about the apparition before him seemed dipped in sunlight. Bronze-tipped halo of dark-brown corkscrew curls pulled back with combs, radiant deep bronze skin, gold braid on her elegant tawny silk pelisse, and eyes that refracted light like melted gold. Her clothing and posture bespoke a lady, but her lack of chaperone and warm brown skin implied something else. A lady’s maid on an errand, perhaps? Zale wasn’t sure what to think. There was something familiar about her, but he couldn’t place it.

Under her frank appraisal, embarrassment that had long since ceased plaguing him when he was in the tank warmed his face. He hurriedly worked his shirt over his head. Then, with a stumbling flourish, he gave the young woman a deep, sloppy bow.

“The show is over for the night, uh, mistress.” Best to err on the side of caution. “You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

The girl—or was she a woman? It was difficult to tell—pulled herself up and met his gaze.

“I’m not here to see you perform, Zale Teague. I need to speak with you. It is a matter of some urgency.”

She had his attention now.

“How do you know my name?”

She took a step toward him. “I know a lot of things about you. That your father died in an accident at the Madron tin mine when you were ten. And that you ran away from home when you were eleven. It would seem that since then, you have taken up with the gypsies and have been exposing yourself for money for the pleasure of others.” She frowned in disapproval, but then cast a sorrowful glance at the tank. “Has it helped?”

Zale scowled and ignored her question. He snatched his brightly patched waistcoat from the table, continuing to dress with jerky movements.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?”

She took another step toward him and he tensed. She was very near him now. It had been a long time since he’d stood so close to a stranger.

Again, that look of sorrow filled her eyes.

“Oh, Zale. You truly do not know me? You once made me a lavender crown and we pretended that I was the Lady Marian, and you were Robin of Locksley on an adventure to save me. And Robbie was—”

“Little John.”

He searched her face in disbelief. He had known only one other person with eyes that colour—but except for those molten irises, this young woman looked nothing like the dark-haired, fair-skinned girl he had grown up with in Madron.

But who else would remember playing Robin Hood with him and Robbie Cox in the fields of Cornwall?

“Talwyn?” he offered, memory flooding him.

He could still picture Talwyn as he’d seen her last, standing on the bank of a stream calling his name, the metallic zing of electricity from the bolt of lightning he’d accidentally called to save her from the now-fleeing bullies still permeating the air. On that fateful day five years ago, life as he’d known it had ended. It was when he’d discovered what kind of monster he really was.

The girl smiled, revealing perfect, white teeth. “You do remember.”

He gaped. “How can that be? Talwyn was—well, she looked different than you. And she was not a lady.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “This face is only flesh. Like you, I am not all that I appear to be. And in this form, you may call me Abela.”

Zale shook his head, trying to still his whirling mind. “What do you mean? Who are you really?”

Abela drew an impatient breath. “I don’t have time to explain everything right now. Please trust me. I am the same girl you knew growing up in Madron. And I have been looking for you. It’s your mother. She has disappeared, and I believe she may be in trouble.”

Zale gulped. “My mother?”

A sudden breeze stirred the tent flap and the temperature in the room dropped several degrees.

Abela flicked her eyes toward the movement, then turned a hard stare toward Zale.

“She is like you, Zale. She is an undine—an ancient race of water people created as guardians of the deep. She was supposed to help you learn to control your powers. I can see that she did not. Perhaps you fled before she had the chance.”

“An un-what? What are you talking about?”

Abela sighed and crossed her arms.

“Zale, you are unique. And not in the way you think, not a . . . a freak to display. You are special. Your parents raised you in Cornwall to protect you. There are people who would kill you if they knew of you. Frankly, I’m surprised you have survived this long, Mr. Waterboy.” She quirked her lips. “Then again, I suppose it did take me five years to find you, and I knew who I was looking for. Thank Elyon that I found you first.”

That last bit didn’t seem to require a response, which was good, because Zale felt like a fish that had suddenly been thrown into the desert.

Abela frowned at him. “It would seem that you disappeared before your mother could tell you any of this. But I don’t have time to explain everything right now. She needs you. You might be her only hope.”

Zale’s normally mundane life had been sucked into a whirlpool of chaos.

“I—I don’t believe you. Who are you? How do you know of me and my mother? How did you find me?” An alarming thought gripped him, and the face of the brother of the boy he’d blinded glared at him in memory. “Did Gryffyn send you?”

The panic tickling the edges of Zale’s mind only made him more afraid. His control was slipping. He had to calm down. He had to. He’d spent years disengaging himself from emotions of any kind, and in moments, Abela—Talwyn—whatever-her-name-was—had revived every one, along with the danger they presented.

The dull roar of a rising wind outside echoed the swirling in his gut. He backed away from the strange young woman—could she really only be a year older than him?—and tripped on a stool, catching himself from falling by grabbing the table. Thunder boomed outside, and the water in the tank began to boil. When he pulled his hands from the wood, his blackened fingerprints were seared into it.

Abela rolled her eyes. “Oh, for the love of Elyon. Not again.”

From her reticule, she pulled out a thin silver cylinder that appeared to have a glowing red ember on one end of it and touched it to his forehead. Instead of burning him, the fire felt cold.

His thoughts fuzzed and her image began to blur.

Cold rhymes with gold. Like her eyes. Is that a miniature dragon?

Zale’s world went black.

Chapter 5: The Angel

“Zale, wake up. Zale!”

Zale awoke to Abela’s beautiful, worried face only inches above his own. She was kneeling beside him, patting his cheek and whispering in restrained urgency. When she saw that his eyes were open, she leaned back on her haunches with a relieved smile.

Zale sat up. “What happened to me?”

His head throbbed. He touched the back of it where a large goose egg had formed.

Abela looked sheepish. “I, uh, used the mindover. I only meant to calm you down. I must have done something wrong, because you passed out.”

She noticed him nursing the bump and her hands flew to her mouth.

“Oh, no! I’m sorry. That must have happened when you fell. Here, let me help.”

She looked around the room and spotted the washstand and basin near the back of the tent. With surprising grace, she dashed to grab the cloth on the stand, dampened it with the water from the pitcher, then came back and made to put it on the goose egg.

Zale flinched away. “What’s a ‘mindover’?”

Abela’s face scrunched. “Mindover? As in ‘mind over matter?’”

He stared at her blankly.

She shook her head. “Never mind. It’s something I’m not supposed to talk about. Or show you. Or use. Now may I? That looks rather nasty.”

She indicated his head with the cloth.

He gave a slight nod, then bent his neck so she could reach the injury more easily. The pressure was uncomfortable at first, but the cool water did make it feel better. She dabbed at the bump with gentle movements.

He was very aware of the warmth of her hands and the proximity of her body beneath the rustling silk of her long-sleeved pelisse and gown. She smelled like a wild wind whispering through heathered fields of adventures in far-off lands. Despite his travels with the band, he felt like a backward, unkempt country bumpkin.

Voices came from outside the tent as two men passed. “. . . strangest thing I’ve seen in my life. That wind came from nowhere, and went back there just as suddenly. It didn’t seem natural. What do you make of it, Sal?”

“All I know is that my wife’s best copper kettle was ruined when it was tossed against a tree, and my supper along with it. The canvas for our tan is probably somewhere in Wales. Thankfully, no one was hurt.”

“Aye. I hope Eric will know more about it. Or Josefine. She talks to spirits, so maybe she has some answers.”

“Perhaps you’re right . . .”

The men moved on. Abela dabbed at his head a few more times. He could tell she was looking at his face as much as the bump, though.

“I’m sorry,” Abela said at last. She sat, letting her hands drop to her lap. The cloth was now soiled with dirt from his head, but no blood. “This is all my fault.”

Zale frowned and gingerly touched the bump. “I’ll recover.”

“No, not only for that.” Abela avoided his gaze, looking like she was trying to gather her thoughts. “That day with Gryffyn and the others, when you saved me—”

Zale looked at her sharply. That had been Talwyn. Could this strange girl be telling the truth? Was she somehow also Talwyn, his childhood friend?

“—I was meant to be watching you. You were my responsibility, but I let myself get detained by that blackguard, Gryffyn Cox. By the time I had dealt with that situation, you were already gone. If only I’d done a proper job, you wouldn’t have had to live like this”—she indicated the tank—“and perhaps your mother wouldn’t have gone missing either. I’m glad I’ve finally found you, because now I can try to make it up to you. If you’ll let me. Are you able to stand yet?”

Zale shook his head in denial of her story, not as a response to her question—and instantly regretted it. He put his hand to his forehead to stop the world spinning, then squinted at her through the pain.

“Talwyn was only, what, twelve or thirteen at the time? Why would she—you—why would you feel responsible for what happened to me? And how could it be possible that you are Talwyn?”

“We don’t have time for this,” she muttered with a low, exasperated growl. Abela gave him a sideways look and sighed. “I can see that I will need to make time to convince you if you are to come with me.”

She stood, unfolding with the grace of a cat.

“You were on the way home from the market alone. I had gone into the woods near Chyandour Brook ahead of you, intending to check for danger and tell Berian if I found any.”

“Reverend Berian, the Methodist minister? How do you know him?”

Abela nodded. “I told you. I’m Talwyn. Or used to be.”

Zale set his jaw. She watched him, pacing in the limited space offered by the tent’s viewing area.

“Gryffyn, Willie Prouse, Jory, and Robbie surprised me. Robbie didn’t really seem to want to be there. He’d always looked up to his brother so much, and I think he’d convinced Gryffyn to let him come that day. You remember, right?”

She glanced at Zale. He said nothing, following her movements through narrowed eyes.

She continued pacing, laying the cloth on the washstand as she passed.

“Gryffyn decided to initiate Robbie into his little gang by trying to get him to take advantage of me. Robbie wouldn’t help the boys, but he didn’t help me either.”

She frowned at the ground.

Zale gritted his teeth. In his mind’s eye, he could see Robbie Cox standing near the path, fidgeting irresolutely while Gryffyn and his gang forced kisses on Talwyn. Could it be possible that one of them had spread the story so this stranger would eventually hear of it?

Abela’s voice sounded distant as she retold the tale, like she was reliving it in her mind, not the melodramatic tone of someone relaying a piece of gossip.

“Part of my job is to let situations play out so a person’s true character may be revealed, so I waited and went along with it. But Robbie never found his courage. Not that day.”

She put a hand on Zale’s arm and he met her gaze.

“Then you came along and stood up to them for me—just you against four nearly grown boys. By then, the situation had escalated beyond my control. What you did—calling lightning to hit that tree to make the wasps chase off the boys—I knew at that moment why you were the one who had been chosen. But then you disappeared.” She frowned. “Did you . . . run away?”

Zale’s mind reeled. She had described exactly what had happened. When he’d tried to save Talwyn from the gang of bullies, he had been overpowered and restrained. Gryffyn had been about to haul Talwyn off, threatening Zale’s life if he ever told anyone. At his most desperate to save her, the lightning had come, knocking down a large wasp’s nest from a nearby tree. The swarm had driven them all into the water.

It was the first time in his life that Zale had been immersed in water—there’d been no room for a tub in their small hut, and his mother had always warned him not to go swimming, citing a boy of his acquaintance who’d drowned when he was young as the reason. Zale had thrashed about in the brook, fearing the water had sealed his doom. Then his deformity had been revealed for the first time—to him and to everyone else present. The sight of his tail and gills had scared away the boys.

Not Talwyn. She had stared, but she hadn’t fled.

Zale did.

As he’d watched the burned and sightless Robbie Cox flailing on the stream bank, the weight of what he’d done fell on him, nearly crushing him. He realized with dawning horror that the lightning that had struck the explosives shed at his father’s workplace the previous year hadn’t been an act of God, as everyone had murmured with hushed tones and quickly averted eyes whenever he or his mother had approached. It had been his fault. It had to be—it had felt the same.

He wielded terrifying elemental powers that he couldn’t control. He was a monster and a freak, and he had done horrible things.

He’d originally meant to return home, but then he realized that he could just as easily kill his mother as he’d killed his father and injured Robbie. And knowing who he was and what he’d done, he couldn’t bear to face her, or anyone else who knew him, ever again. So he’d run back to the water to hide. In a way, he hadn’t left it since.

It seemed that hiding hadn’t been enough. His past had found him anyway.

“Talwyn?” Zale blinked at the girl before him as though seeing her for the first time. “Is it—can it really be you?”

She smiled in relief. “Yes. But my real name is Abela. Now come. We need to go.” She extended a hand toward him as if to take his. “Now. Before your keeper comes looking for you.”

“My—my keeper? What are you talking about?”

The sound of an approaching conversation came from outside.

Abela glanced toward the tent flap, then back at Zale.

“Please, Zale. Every moment we waste is another moment your mother is in danger. I’ll explain everything later. Right now, we need to go. But you must choose this. I can’t make you do it.”

Zale shook his head in bewilderment, and—blasted bump on the noggin—once again had to steady himself with a hand to his head.

So much was happening so fast. So much he didn’t understand.

“I left to keep my mother safe. If I go back, she’ll be in danger from me.”

Abela’s eyebrows rose. “What on earth are you talking about? Zale, if I’m right about what I think happened to your mother, you might be the only one who can save her. With the help of your sister.”

“My—my sister?”

He’d known his parents had had a daughter before he’d been born, but that they’d lost her. They barely spoke of her to him. How would Abela know about her?

Abela stood in front of him and took his hands, hauling him to his feet. Her fingers were soft and strong at once

“I know it’s a lot to take in. But Zale, it’s me. I baked you and your mother honeycakes after your father died. At Christmas, our families would share a meal together. You gave me a red ribbon when you were eight. I wore it every day until the Davis’s pig ate it.”

She started laughing at the memory, a bubbly giggle that was interrupted by a snort—a ridiculous laugh he’d heard a thousand times before.

Zale stared at her in wonder.

“Talwyn?”

Abela nodded, getting her mirth under control.

It had to be her, though he couldn’t see how. But if he could change into a water boy, could it be possible that Talwyn could change into Abela?

Now that his mind accepted her story, her urgency passed to him through her fingers.

“What has happened to my mother?”

“I’ll explain on the way. We must go immediately. Come.” She began tugging him toward the tent flap.

Zale resisted. “Wait. Let me grab my things and say goodbye to Eric and Gio and the rest.”

He couldn’t leave without telling his Romani family that he was going.

Abela shook her head. “You can’t. He won’t let you go. He—”

The tent flap opened, and in walked a powerfully built man in a leather waistcoat and breeches. His black hair would have brushed the top of the door had he not ducked to get through it. Eric.

When he saw Zale, Eric’s coal-black eyes lit up and his faced cracked in a jovial grin.

“There you are. I was beginning to think the wind had blown you away. Are you coming for supper or not, lad?”

Zale’s resolve faltered. He had come to love this man. But his mother still took first priority.

“Sorry, Eric. I was coming to find you. I have received word from . . .”

Zale turned to introduce Abela, only to discover she was no longer there. He glanced around and saw her squatting behind the wooden cart that the water tank sat on. It seemed unusually dark around her, though Zale could still see her easily. She put her finger to her lips to indicate that he shouldn’t mention her.

This girl kept getting stranger.

“From whom?” the big man frowned and began to follow Zale’s gaze.

Zale stepped toward Eric and clapped him on the shoulder, successfully distracting him.

“From . . . my mother. One of the customers today was an old friend of mine from home, and she . . . brought a letter.” Zale silently prayed that Eric wouldn’t ask to read it. “Apparently, my mother is ill, and I must go attend her. It seems that it is time for us to part ways at last.”

He swallowed the lump that had appeared in his throat.

Eric’s black brows drew together. “And you trust this friend? You’re sure she’s telling the truth?”

Over Eric’s shoulder, Zale caught the echo of Eric’s question on Abela’s shadowed face.

“Yes. I do. If I hurry, I should be able to catch the morning mail coach.”

Abela smiled at him warmly. Zale’s insides gurgled pleasantly.

“Your mother’s ill, is she?”

“So it would seem. The matter appears to be quite dire.”

“Interesting. Well, this is unfortunate.” Eric rubbed his stubbly chin, then, with a smooth motion, his hand closed on Zale’s arm in a vise-like grip. “I don’t think so.”

Zale looked between the hand on his arm and Eric’s face. “What do you mean?”

Eric snapped a thick, hinged bracelet made of a polished green stone with gold end caps onto Zale’s wrist. As soon as it touched Zale’s skin, the world darkened and got colder. Eric pushed the two sides together and they clicked, locking the bracelet into place.

Zale tugged at his arm, trying to pull it free, but Eric’s grip was unbreakable.

“What is this? What are you doing to me?”

“I’ve been told this bauble will negate any fireworks you might try to pull on me,” said Eric. “Unfortunately, you do not yet have my permission to leave.”

“Your permission? What are you talking about? Eric? Uncle Eric? Let me go.”

Zale pushed against Eric’s chest with his free hand.

Eric twisted Zale’s arm behind his back, then grabbed his other wrist and pulled both arms behind him, forcing them upward until Zale stopped struggling.

“See, the problem is that most of us think we are masters of our own destinies.”

Eric loosened his leather belt with one hand and lashed it around Zale’s wrists, then patted him on the shoulder as though it were a job well done.

“It is a clever illusion, no? But it couldn’t be further from the truth.” He pushed Zale toward the tent flap. “Especially for you. Son.”

This betrayal was more than Zale could process. Has the world gone mad?

“Where are we going?”

“You’ve gone and ruined the plan, Zale. If you’d only waited a few more months . . . The Master has plans for you, you know.” Eric sighed. “Now that you know the truth, I have to ask him what he wants me to do with you.”

He propelled Zale through the door and out into the night.

Zale didn’t know what Eric was on about, but he knew he didn’t like the sound of it.

“What are you talking about? What master?”

White light flared around them, coming from everywhere at once. Zale cringed at the intense radiance, and Eric used his free hand to shade his eyes.

An enormous tawny lioness bounded out of the brilliance from behind them, two feathered wings folded next to her sides. She batted at Eric with a powerful forepaw, knocking him to the ground. Then she turned eyes the colour of molten gold toward Zale, and, in Abela’s voice, said, “Hop on.”

Zale glanced at Eric, who was pushing himself unsteadily upright. Without thinking too hard about it, he did as the lioness commanded, clambering up on her shoulders—none-too-gracefully with his hands tied behind him. She loped into the night, darkness gathering around them like a cloud, though that didn’t affect her sure footing any. She didn’t stop until they were inside an empty barn in a nearby field.

“Get off, please,” she said, sounding winded.

Zale was only too happy to oblige. He scrambled off the beast’s shoulders, then turned around in time to see her transform into the girl from the tent.

Zale and Abela stared at each other in silence, then Abela sprang into action, loosening the belt from Zale’s hands and tossing it aside.

Finally, Zale found his voice.

“Who . . . what are you?”

“I am Abela of Bayithel. I am your Guardian. But we must go quickly, now. Your jailer won’t be far behind us.”

She withdrew a fine silver chain from around her neck, at the end of which hung an odd silver pendant. It was a series of nested rings, wheels within wheels, all spinning in multiple directions. At its centre was a tiny round gem that radiated a soft red-gold light. She cupped the pendant in one hand and extended the other hand toward Zale.

“Come here, please. This hasn’t had much time to charge, but we should be able to jump far enough to get out of immediate danger.”

Zale stared at her, trying to piece all the confusing events of the evening together.

“I did see a dragon. Kind of. It was you.”

Abela’s mouth turned up on one side.

“A dragon? That’s a new one. I do know a dragon, though not the one you’re probably thinking of.”

He blinked at her.

“Which one would I be thinking of?”

She gestured impatiently for him to take her extended hand.

“I don’t actually bite.”

The shouting from the direction of the Romani camp was getting louder. Zale glanced in that direction, pain pinching his heart. Pretty sure he would regret this later, Zale stepped forward and took the proffered hand.

Abela smiled at him and squeezed it. “I’m more like a sphinx. My people are called lumasi. Humans call us cherubim nowadays—though they often get a few things wrong.”

He squinted at her. “You’re an angel?”

She shrugged. “In a manner of speaking.”

“Guardian angel, huh?”

Events from their past and from this night started to click into place in his head. As outrageous as her claims were, his eyes and his heart confirmed their truth. Zale looked at their clasped hands uncertainly.

“You might want to guard yourself. I’m kind of a dangerous guy to have around.”

Abela regarded him steadily. “I’m willing to take my chances. Now let’s go save your mum, shall we?”

Zale pressed his lips together and nodded. “Where are we going?”

She smiled. “To see an old friend in Bristol.”

Abela blew on the pendant in her hand. The wheels began spinning, slowly at first, then faster and faster until they blurred into a single solid shape. The gemstone gave a brilliant flash of golden light.

The barn disappeared.

Eric burst into the barn in time to see his quarry wink out of existence. Behind him, his men fanned out into the building to check for people, but Eric knew it was pointless now. He scowled.

Josefine came to stand beside him, slapping the coil of rope in her hand against her long skirts, her dark eyes flashing.

“Where did they go?”

“Blinked. They could be anywhere in England.”

He kicked at some straw in frustration. Travel by chariot—the travelling device these creatures used—was untraceable, and limited only by the energy of the device and the skill of the user. With a powerful enough chariot, you could walk across the world in a single step. The lumasi woman couldn’t have had a very big one, but it had been big enough.

“The Master’s not going to be happy about this,” his daughter said with a worried expression.

Josefine was right. Eric considered not mentioning it to his superiors, but discarded the idea immediately. As dangerous as it would be to tell the Master, it would be more dangerous if he discovered it later on his own. The key was to control how the Master found out.

Eric spied his discarded belt and picked it up, then tugged both ends with a decisive snap.

“Pack up. We’re going to Bristol.”