The king stirs. “The time has gone for interceding.”
“Has it?” the queen says gently. “I remember well the dreams of our youth, my lord, and the promises we made over what sort of king and queen we would make. I remember naught of unjust punishment.”
“Unjust?” Arista stiffens. She turns to the king. “Sire, a human has stolen my daughter’s comb and therefore her only way to come home. No human can touch the Mer and go unpunished. You promised me my revenge. I would that you keep your promises.”
The court seems to stiffen. She’s directly challenging the king. He directs a nervous glance at his wife, but the queen merely waves a languid hand. “Yourrevenge, Arista?” she says gently. “Since when have your needs superseded mine? How is it that you believe your revenge has taken precedence over my lord’s will?”
Arista blanches slightly, and the king sits back, looking almost relieved. “Wisely put, my love,” he booms. “All revenge is at my bidding. Didn’t a human playwright say revenge is a dish best served cold?”
“But I would have that,” Arista persists, glaring. “I want the human community punished. It should be so.”
Her husband stirs and directs a warning look at her.
The queen gives a tinkly laugh. “Ah, Arista, even your husband has been drawn from his study of the deep.” She leans closer. “And who are you to say what should be so, eh, little one? Think not to command princes.”
Arista stares resentfully at her. “I want justice,” she says stubbornly.
The queen sits back, and I somehow know Arista just played right into her hands. “And so it should be,” she says thoughtfully. “What say you, husband? The dragon and his human should consult The Lady.”
“The Lady.” The whisper runs around the court. “Take them to see The Lady.”
The king nods slowly, looking almost relieved, and claps his hands. “My queen has spoken wisely, as usual. These are matters best judged by Her Beneath the Waves. Let the dragon and the human consult her.”
The court erupts into noise, and I lean closer to Sigurd. “Who are they talking about?”
“’Tis the king’s mother-in-law,” he whispers back, a frown on his face.
I relax. “Well, that’s not too bad, then. I’m usually very good with old ladies.”
“Let us hope so. For you know her as the Kraken.”
I gulp. “Oh dear.”
Chapter Eleven
The great golden doors close behind us, and immediately the noise of a hundred people stops and silence falls.
Sigurd turns to Marin. “You made an oath to me, Marin,” he hisses.
My eyes widen. For the first time since meeting Sigurd, he looks angry.
Marin grimaces. “I amsosorry, my friend.”
“As am I that Cary and I have somehow become pawns in the war between your mother and father.”
“I guaranteed your safety.”
“You cannot possibly do that where we are going, Marin.”
Sigurd shakes his head and steps off the path. I open my mouth to scream out a warning, but then stand gaping in shock. Nothing has happened to him—no lungs rupturing, no dramatic ascent to the surface. He stands as solidly as he does on land and just as rooted. He stays there for a second, his hands on his hips, staring out of a big window. It looks out on a huge, shipwrecked boat, the hull sticking up like a monster’s ribs.
“I did Morveren this favour out of a desire to help,” he finally says coldly. “I have to say that if this is how the Merare conducting their business now, then I will no longer be positioning myself to aid you in the future.”
Marin sighs and runs his hand through his hair. The dark strands drift like seaweed. “You have my sincere apologies, my friend. Things are strained at court at the moment, but I had no idea it would go that way.”
Sigurd turns around and stares at his friend. “If there are choices to be made between Cary and the Mer, you well know mine.”
Marin puts his hand on Sigurd’s arm. “I do, and I honour your choice.” He takes a deep breath. “And I would make the same choice.”
