Like spinach. Sort of. It would do.
She wouldn’t give the witch the satisfaction of a disappointed expression and instead turned toward Chairre. The morning above them was bright. Masts of ships with their sun-draught sails collapsed shot skyward toward cumulus clouds beyond the harbor. Yemi poked her head above the water’s surface to hear the wind and gulls and creaking wood, the buzz of commerce on the docks.
Nothing disrupted. No siege, no protest, no sign whatsoever that she’d been overthrown.
The sound of someone’s laughter seemed at her expense, and she ducked beneath the waves again. Ursla was watching when she looked back. The witch smiled and had opened her mouth to speak when Yemi growled in irritation and took off across the harbor.
“Believe it or not,” Ursla said, easily catching up to her, “I’ve been where you are now. I know what it is to be exalted. Beloved. And then shelved.”
“Is that why you helped Dahlia to my throne? You wanted a kindred spirit?” Yemi asked, not masking her bitterness.
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Your priest, the tall one, brought the girl to me, and I’m nothing if not a nurturer. She has agreed to be the queen who will return her people to the worship of the sea,” Ursla said.
“And to you,” Yemi said.
“Naturally.”
“But you’d be betraying that deal by helping me.” Ursla’s endgame still wasn’t evident. Figuring it out had taken a back seat to getting to Abyssa.
“She isn’t blood,” Ursla assured her. “Whatever power there is to be gained from meddling with Men is a pebble to the mountain of what can be done through one of my own. But you and your mother weren’t what I’d call receptive when I came to you. That night when you nearly cracked your pretender’s head open on the palace floor, I saw a ferocity, a strength in you that she doesn’t possess. I saw myself. And so I think that when you see what your world comes to once it’s left you behind, you’ll find it in the same ruin as mine when this world left me. And when you do, you will make whatever deal you must with whatever devil you can if it means not becoming a ruin yourself.”
Yemi smirked. “Either way, we’re both here because you’re lonely.”
“Maybe, little fish. Maybe. But I could have chosen better company.” Ursla swam in front of her to look her directly in the eye. “A word of advice: If you ever want to understand anything truly worth understanding, you have to start thinking much, much bigger than these petty little revenge fantasies.”
The shadows of boats overhead gave way to a string of floating wreaths Yemi trailed back to the pier.
Prayer wreaths?she thought. They should have been coming from the landing south of the Rock.
“Wait,” she said and moved to the surface.
Dahlia had come down from the Rock to hold ceremonies among the general public. She shouted her warbled prayer from behind an ornate harpy eagle mask as Lord Cerro wafted smoke over blessed flowers and fruit the rest of the Kept placed in the bay. The train of offerings was longer than Yemi had ever seen it.
This is what it’s like to be a ghost,she thought. She was lost to the world and watching through some ethereal screen as it went on without her. The sadness she felt was tempered by the opportunity she saw to swim up and drag Dahlia underwater by her ankles. The heavy mask would do the rest of the work to drown her. Perhaps she could launchher spear from this distance. Was it still harpooning if the target was on land?
No.
Her mother popped into her head. Just a flicker, some memory from a dinner, long enough for Yemi to think.
Be smart. Kill Dahlia now, and she’s a martyr. Dorian and Cerro would carry the torch for her.
She had to destroy them all.
Ursla hovered near her, looking on with a self-satisfied smirk.
“This pleases you, does it?” Yemi said, still trying to shake her thoughts of murder. “Flowers and fruit.”
“It’s a start,” Ursla said with a shrug. “You’re welcome to do better.”
Yemi took off again toward the south, leaving the witch to catch up. She stopped beyond the Fanged Coast, squinting up at the top of the Rock to see her mother’s monument still standing among the gardens. Drop-blossom petals streamed past it and into the sea. Knowing she was this close to her parents and feeling this peace was one of the main reasons she needed so badly to get back home. “How much farther?”
“Not much if you’re done gazing wistfully at things,” said Ursla.
“Then let’s get on with it.”
