Chapter Text
Tis much when sceptres are in children's hands,
But more when envy breeds unkind division:
There comes the ruin, there begins confusion
2002, Duchy of Ships
The ocean stretches out before me. I lose myself in its vastness, feeling small as the Summerland sea bucks against me, beautiful and dangerous. The waves crash against my little rowing boat, throwing it to and fro. The sea stole my oars ages ago, so now all I can do is cling to the bench of the boat and cry.
“Mama!” I call again, but my voice is tiny against the wind, and I know she isn’t coming for me.
I cry harder, digging my nails into the wood, and the sea only gets harsher. A massive wave catches the boat and everything lurches, the world turning upside down. I plunge into freezing cold water and kick and splash without thinking, fighting to keep above the surface. There’s rocks nearby and I’ve never been so glad that I’m a strong swimmer as I power towards them.
I cling to the first big rock I reach, but it’s slippery and my hands are wet. It won’t be long before another wave drags me away. I’m going to drown. I’m the daughter of a Siren, but my daddy was human so I’m going to drown.
It isn’t fair. I want to cry. I want to waste my last breath calling for Mama.
Instead, I cling tighter to the rocks and sing.
The rest of me is a bedraggled mess, but my voice is soft and sweet and sorrowful. I don’t know what the song is called or what any of the words mean, but Mama called it an elegy, a song of mourning.
I put everything I have left into the song. Mama always said my singing was missing things. Magic, of course, because I only have a little, but emotion too. She says you have to feel something, to make others feel it too. I understand what she means better now, because my life depends on someone hearing my song and it has all my terror and sadness.
I sing until all my magic is gone. My voice cracks and breaks, and when I try to push on, my voice comes out quiet and human, nothing that would be heard at sea.
I slump against the rock, tired in a way I’ve never been before. My grip loosens. It would be so easy to let go. I could sleep.
Something erupts from the water beside me. For a moment, all I see is a twisting, scaled shape and think it a sea serpent, but before I cry out in fear, I see the whole of her. She’s similar to a Merrow, humanoid from the waist-up, but with two tails instead of one.
Her skin is white like the belly of a shark and her eyes are different shades that blend together into drowning blue. Her opalescent tail shines through the water and her hair glitters in the twilight, rainbow reflections hiding in the dark of her hair. She’s beautiful and scary at the same time. Like Mama.
“Help me,” I whisper. “Please.”
“I didn’t answer your call just to watch you drown, kid,” she says, and her voice is kind. She snaps her fingers and I gasp as something scratches across my neck. I want to itch it, it’s like something’s stuck there.
“They’re gills,” she explains. “You won't need air. I’m going to take you to my ship, okay?” She waits for me to nod. “Hold your breath.”
I do as she tells me, taking a deep breath and holding it.
Her strong arms wrap around me and pull me with her as she dives into the water. As she promised, the things on my neck pulse instead and my lungs don’t burn for air. Everything goes by in blur until we break through the surface again. There’s a rope ladder in front of me, attached to something big made of wood.
“Climb up,” says the lady. “I’ll catch you if you slip.”
She hasn’t lied to me yet, so I grab onto the rope and climb up.
I don’t slip, but as I scramble over the edge I feel a wave of dizziness and stagger forwards. The lady, already behind me, steadies me with a hand on my shoulder.
I blink as I take in the realm in front of me. There’s a labyrinth of docks and hulls and bridges, all built up around old ships with their sails tied down, not in any shape to drop anchor. In the near-distance, a lighthouse looms against a deep purple sky.
“This isn’t a ship,” I say, shivering in my wet clothes.
“No,” agrees the lady. “It’s the Duchy of Ships.” She snaps her fingers again and my clothes turn warm and dry in an instant.
I stare at her in amazement. “You’re really magic.”
She laughs. “It has been said. What’s your name, little changeling?”
“Aila Calder.” I swallow, realising I’m forgetting my manners. “Tha—”
“—No need,” she says, waving it off.
I blink. “But don’t I owe you a life-debt?”
“Not unless I acknowledge it,” she shrugs. “I saved you because I don’t like people drowning near my waters, not because I want to be paid for it.”
“That’s really nice of you,” I say uncertainly. Mama says no one is nice for no reason.
“How did you end up in the water?” she asks. “Did anyone else fall in?”
“My boat fell over. It was just me on it.”
“Where’s your parents?”
I fall silent. She wants to take me back, but there’s nowhere to take me back to, nowhere that wants me. The helplessness surges back and I nearly burst into tears. I bite them back furiously, not wanting to be a baby in front of my rescuer.
The lady crouches down to put herself on level with me and waits for me to speak, her expression solemn.
“We had to leave our Duchy,” I say finally, a quiver in my voice. “Mama found a new one, but they didn't want me. So she put me on the boat. She said someone would take me as a foundling.”
The lady stares at me. “She put you on a boat by yourself and pushed you out to sea?”
I nod miserably.
She scowls. “Not all mothers are worthy of the title.”
“Are all daughters?” I ask.
She looks at me for a moment, unblinking. “You didn’t fail her,” she says firmly. “She failed you. I’m sorry.”
But if I had only been born pureblooded, then her new Duchy might have let me stay. I would have been as pretty as my mama, my songs as beautiful, my hair as golden. She would have loved me enough to keep me with her, no matter what anyone said.
I bite my lip. “Do… Do you take foundlings?”
“We do,” she says. “I’m Captain Pete. I’m in charge around here. The Duchy of Ships is a place of open air and deeps below, it belongs to air-breathers and sea-dwellers alike. Changelings are welcome here, as are humans touched by Faerie, and any who find no peace on land. You may stay for as long as you wish to, Aila Calder, descendant of Raidne.”
“On my own?” I ask. It’s more generous an offer than I have any right to expect, but there’s so many things I haven’t learnt how to do. “I’m not very good at cooking yet.”
Captain Pete looks amused. “No. I’ll find a family who’ll take you. Maybe the Atwaters or the Gleesons.”
I frown. “Why would anyone take me in when they don’t know me?”
“Because they like raising kids?” she suggests. “The Duchy will cover your essentials. They’ll just need to do the raising part.”
I stare at her. “Why would the Duchy pay for me?”
“Because no one should starve?” Pete sounds surprised. “I don’t think that’s a rare philosophy, but a family with no obligation to me fed and raised me, so it’s more personal a cause to me, I guess.”
It helps, to think that this strong and extremely magical lady was once a little kid who needed the kindness of strangers. Maybe one day I can be like her.
“I promise you, someone here will want to take care of you,” she says gently. “I promise that you won’t go hungry here.”
Secretly, I hope that maybe no one here will want me, and she'll take me in herself to keep the promise. She’s like how I wish my mama was; beautiful and scary and kind. “Okay,” I nod, managing a shy smile. “I’d very much like to stay.”
“Great,” she says and starts down a bridge. “Follow me.”
I hurry after her. “Where are we going?”
“First?” She grins. “To the bakery. Do you like cake?”