Chapter 41:

  The morning dawned bright. Ael awoke next to her beloved, fully clothed once again. Nereida was still sound asleep, snoring into the pillow, a bit of drool dripping down her chin. It was not gmorous, just sweet. She would be a happy woman to wake up like this for the rest of her life. She decided to let her beloved rest, given the hard day she had had yesterday. Nereida’s short hair was sticking up at odd angles, and Ael had to curb the impulse to smooth it. She had learned much yesterday, the most upsetting thing was how much Nereida feared she would turn away. The siren did not understand that losing her hair to an enemy wasn’t Nereida’s failing, not her fault. It was the Admiral’s fault. She had failed to protect the person who mattered most to her. Ael was the failure. That Nereida would stay with her, despite being failed so spectacurly, was beyond anything Ael could have hoped for.

  She got dressed, her jacket still rumpled from their activities the night before. Ael hoped no one noticed. It was not a conversation she wanted to have with anyone. What she and her beloved did when the bar was thrown was only their business. She realized the bar was, in fact, still lowered. Ael removed the bar, and stepped out into the early morning light.

  The morning was cool and crisp, a thick mist covering the ocean and severely limiting visibility. They had slowed, and someone had ordered the sails closed. It was for the best, if they could not see, if they hit shallows there would be no warning. With the dawn shift change, the deck was nearly silent. Ael walked to the mast, pced her hand on the familiar hard surface, feeling for the dents, checking for new ones. The ship had been in no danger during their st exchange with the demons, but still, Ael worried. Her ship was her life, and perhaps the only thing that approached how precious she found Nereida to be.

  “Two new souls,” she told the ship softly. “But it was nearly at the cost of Nereida. They took her hair. I… I… I wasn’t enough.” It was a hard admission, but she knew the ship understood. Sometimes the ship wasn’t enough either. Sometimes storms got the better of the ship. “I’m going to propose to her,” she added in the barest whisper. She knew the ship would keep her secret. “When the full moon returns. It’s fast, so fast, but I… dragons’ beards I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be with. Even if it means losing you. I hope you understand.” The ship’s only answer was to creek in the gentle wind, as waves caressed her, carrying her forward.

  The mist did not lift as the sun climbed, and Ael ordered them to slow more. The crew became anxious, the thick mist weighing heavily on their minds. She heard the whispers: was it natural, or had they angered a siren. Others protested, they had their own siren, she was bound to the ship, the Admiral had assured them. Those whispers quieted when they saw her, their hands suddenly too busy to allow them to talk.

  Epelda found her as she skulked about the misty deck.

  “Admiral?” she signed, a worried look on her face. “Should I clear this?”

  “Do you have the strength to, daughter?” Ael signed back. Epelda smiled at the st word, slightly teary-eyed but clearly still so pleased.

  “I do. I won’t be able to make us run after though, and there’s no real wind. It’s as if the wind is sleeping.”

  “Clear it before the crew thinks the mist is full of the souls Nereida killed,” Ael leaned in to whisper. She couldn’t sign it, had too many missing words. Epelda’s eyes went wide, understanding. She started toward the crow’s nest, but stopped abruptly, as if a thought had struck her.

  “Did Water-Mama take that man’s tongue because of me?” Her hands shook, a guilty, sad expression on her face.

  “She did it for herself, daughter,” Ael signed slowly. “She wants to make the ones who hurt you pay… and she can’t. She is “tying” out.” Epelda giggled.

  “Lashing,” she signed, still giggling. “Not “tying”.” The adolescent smiled, her fears assuaged for the moment. “I will be back when I can… mom.” She snuck the st sign in so fast Ael was not sure she had seen it, before she bounded away and toward the rigging. Her heart blossomed, feeling a strange bit of contentment despite the wet, awful fog that just would not leave.

  The sweet, high sound of Epelda’s voice began echoing through the fog, a gentle but insistent breeze following the sound. The breeze danced about the deck, pyfully bullying the fog away, causing it to swirl. But no matter how much fog the wind pushed, new fog swirled up from the ocean to repce it. After twenty minutes, Epelda returned, winded and red in the face, her sky blue eyes full of frustration.

  “It’s too thick,” she signed, her movements sharp and angry. “I can’t make a dent. It is all I could see from up there.”

  “We need to wait for the weather to change, then,” the Admiral replied, touching Epelda’s shoulder. “It is that time of year, spring is a hard travel time. But the fog will fade, likely by tomorrow.”

  The Admiral began to call out orders, getting the crew ready for the wait.

  “The fog should disperse by noon,” she assured the few who were in visual range. “If we are unlucky, it may st until tomorrow. It is only sea fog. It is not some plot by the demons, it is not the fault of a siren, it is not something any one of us did. The air and the sea are having a disagreement, but there is nothing mortals have done or could do to bring it or break it up.”

  But the fog did not disperse by noon. The ship sat, drifting in the waves, unable to see enough to move forward. It was almost torturous, being at the mercy of elements. Even the children were unhappy with the fog, Alejo calling it “creepy” and Egaz refusing to stay on deck to do his daily py. The mood was tense everywhere on the ship, and Ael had a nagging feeling in her gut that they were sitting ducks, that if they didn’t move, and soon, something terrible would befall them. She was exhausted at the thought. Since Nereida and her family had come aboard, it felt as if they had no rest, no chance to simply sail as they were meant to. A traitorous part of her mind whispered it was because she brought sirens aboard her ship. She silenced the thought as best she could. Sirens were no less human than the fire-touched Samanders or the gnomes and sylphs.

  She met with her officers, expressed her concerns, her feeling of doubt and worry that they were simply sitting ducks. But the officers saw it differently. They saw the danger to the ship as being greatest from the fog.

  “We don’t know what is in the water here. We could hit shallows, or run afoul of all sorts of things. Best to stay here until the fog lifts, until we are not blind.”

  The decision was made by majority, and Ael upheld it. But she could not shake the feeling that it was wrong, that they needed to flee. She spent the night in Nereida’s arms, listening to the boys snore, as she poured out her worry. Nereida soothed her chastely, kissing her cheek and pying with Ael’s hair but not initiating anything else. They boys were back, and there were a few conversations she was not prepared to have with them. Ael leaned into the gentle touch in her hair, enjoying it. It was intimate but not demanding; a comforting thing. She let Nereida practice braiding it, but the woman was no better than a twelve year old child. She had no patience for weaving hair into anything but the simplest braids.

  The next day dawned bright and clear, the air cooler, but the mist was gone. Ael felt a great relief, and, once they were able to determine how far they had drifted, she adjusted course. The nagging feeling of impending doom did not abate, despite clear skies. The wind was slight, and they crawled along far slower than the Admiral would have liked. But there was part of Ael that was very pleased. The longer the voyage took, the more time she had with Nereida before they had to deal with politics again. It could be just them and their little family, the children learning the way of the sea… their birthright, now. She took time out of her day to teach the boys knots, and start teaching them the basics of navigation. Both had sharp minds, and knew their letters and numbers.

  Family dinner had become something of a tradition as well, and Ael made sure to not have Epelda on duty near dinner hour. She had no desire to fight with her beloved again. The boys signed with great, excited gestures, Epelda understanding them always despite the occasional wrong sign that she quietly corrected. So while family dinners passed with no words spoken, they were lively, full of ughter and love.

  Four perfect days passed in much the same way. Some nights, she and Nereida would quietly explore each other, but mostly they were content to simply be with each other, whispering stories about their lives when they were young, about friends and, from Nereida, the court dramas that had unfolded in the years before she left. She learned Nereida judged the other nobles harshly when they were stupid or unobservant. She judged her father harshly for not believing her until the false servants had attacked. She admitted that the truth of what happened was she had summoned a bde of ice into the chest of the man who would have killed her father, her friend burning the other one alive.

  “Father was afraid of me, after that. He knew I’d kill to protect the ones I love.” She buried her face in Ael’s chest as she spoke, making her words hard to understand. “And he feared one day I’d love my brothers more than I loved him, and would… I think that’s why he never wanted me to have children.”

  “He’s a fool,” Ael soothed.

  “No… he was right. I did kill a man I had once loved.”

  “That miserable bastard of a husband doesn’t count.” She lifted Nereida’s chin, so that she could gently, softly, kiss her lips before she continued. “He signed his own death warrant by betraying you.” Nereida made a soft noise of agreement, and Ael settled into the pillows. “Let go of your thoughts of miserable old men,” Ael encouraged. Nereida nodded into her, stifling a yawn.

  “Make me,” Nereida whispered pyfully.

  And so Ael did.