“Fine,” I relent. “But only this, and then we’re even.”
“And you will hold yourself well before our nobles.” Fenny smooths a few strands of hair into the wrap that’s fastened by the spiny shell. “Ilryth tells us you are quite capable, when motivated.”
“I have all the motivation I need. I might even surprise you,” I inform her. I might not particularly enjoy stuffy affairs, and will always take a warm ale at the Tilted Table with exceptional company over the finest wine in a crystal chalice when everyone around me is scheming and plotting. But… “I’ve been to my share of fancy parties with the nobility of where I come from.”
“Good. But I do not think human sensibilities translate to the sirens.”
“Try me,” I challenge.
Over the next hour, I am given a very different, and very condensed, education on the sirens than I have received so far. Fenny teaches me of siren compliments and taboos. Of etiquette and the dance of politics and nobility. My mind swirls with new information that I am determined to remember. I will not make a fool of myself. And I will surpass Fenny’s expectations of me. Anger and frustration are strong motivators.
The most surprising thing I learn is that the sirens have very different definitions of “appropriate attire” for a formal event than humans do. I imagine most people would be utterly scandalized by the options that are floated by me. At least, as a sailor, I am familiar with men and women who work in all manner of dress…and undress. The job is hard enough, might as well be comfortable while doing it.
My one insistence was that I still wear my strapped corset—much to Lucia and Fenny’s mutual dismay. At first they wanted my bosom to be free, covered by some layers of chiffon that would hide nothing. Then they wanted to apply shells over the peaks of my breasts held together with strands of pearls and silver beads. A bold statement that I didn’t inherently dislike. But I might as well be naked in that instance, as it wouldn’t stay on for more than a second.
While I might not be too particular about modesty, I also don’t want to give up my ability to be clothed, as the second I release my corset it will disappear like my shirt. Ilikemy corset. It’s the one perfect piece of clothing I ever had tailored and was the hardest to make. I’m not ready to part with it just yet. Especially not when I have the trench ahead of me.
Our compromise was that I would wear a necklace of their choosing, which ended up being a similar style to Lucia’s, with cascading arcs of pearls and beads wrapping my shoulders, arms, and torso down to my waist.
My undershorts they also left, mostly because they didn’t quite know what to do instead of them as they didn’t have any other options for two human legs. Over top the shorts, from my waist to my thighs, they repurposed the fabric formerly intended for my breasts to cover my lower half and make it somewhat more “presentable” than my shorts alone.
“Here, I have one last thing for you.” Fenny swims over, fishing a necklace from the satchel around her hip. It’s a simple thing, corded with leather rather than glass, stone, or pearl. There’s only one shell at the base of the necklace—a small conch etched with symbols that mirror the ones inked upon my skin. They’ve been filled with silver, giving the piece an almost mysterious glow in the shifting light under the sea. “It’s something given to children when they’re first learning their words and speech. It helps them focus so that only the thoughts they wish to be said escape them. I should have given it to you sooner, but it took me a bit to hunt down.”
I stand, a bit stunned, as Fenny ties it around my neck above the other loops of pearls. The woman always seemed a bit brisk toward me. I didn’t expect a display of affection, however minor. But she clearly went out of her way to get this for me.
“This way you won’t embarrass yourself or the duke.”
Maybe I gave too much credit. Still, I say, “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Don’t let us down.” Fenny drifts away, giving me one final look. “I think she’s sufficient.”
“Ooh,sufficient,” I say with mock excitement. Fenny ignores the sarcastic remark.
“Do you think they will find her presentable?” Lucia asks uncertainly.
“I do.” But Fenny doesn’t sound entirely convinced. “Now, follow me, if you please.”
I make every effort to, but they’ve bound my legs so tightly together that it’s awkward to move. My options are bending and kicking from the knees down, or moving my whole body in a wormlike motion similar to the sirens. They, however, have no problem achieving both speed and grace swimming in this manner. Meanwhile I look and feel like a fumbling buffoon. This is going to go exceptionally; I can already tell.
Lucia slows and wraps a length of fabric previously pooled over her hips around her arm before linking it with mine. “I can help you.” I suspect the words are for me alone, as Fenny doesn’t glance back.
“Thank you.” I focus my reply.
“You’re welcome.” She smiles and we swim together. It’s awkward, but a little easier than trying to do it on my own.
I keep my focus on Lucia as my thoughts wander back to the night of the wraith’s attack. “How is it that this touch is all right?”
She seems startled by the question and then purses her lips in thought. Shifts her grip. “There’s the fabric for one. And for two, it’s…”
“What?” I press.
“Different.”
“How so?”
Lucia gives me a look that almost seems to say,you should know. But the thought doesn’t entirely manifest. Instead, she forces a smile. “It’s much more practical. Necessary. It’s not a touch that could bind you here to this realm. And the lack of skin-to-skin contact is important.”
Comforting me after I had just had nightmares forcefully played at the forefront of my mind wasn’t “necessary?”I think bitterly. It’s a forceful thought and I glance over at Lucia. No reaction. Then at Fenny. She doesn’t slow or even glance back.
