occasionally flipped up to the surface for a breath, a solitary oarfish, a thin group of sculpin. the queen was holding court on the Ritual of the June Tide: one of the most important and solemn ordinances of the Sevarene Rites.
And she sorely wished she were anywhere else.
Kmgs and queens had to address crowds—that was part of the job. Most of the ceremonial aspects could be dealt with by just swimming someplace, looking regal, nodding seriously, occasion called for a speech...
...and you couldn't speak...
Annio was chosen to be the acting priest of the Ritual, so it will be he, and not Laiae, who draws from the Well of Hades.
She said this with her hands, carefully spelling out the priests' names alphabetically m the old runes.
Sebastian and Flounder and Threll, the little seahorse messenger, were placed around the outside edges of the crowd, interpreting what she said aloud. They and Ariel's sisters were the only ones who had bothered to learn the ancient, signed version of the mer language—but only the fish and crab and seahorse volunteered to translate.
Primarily the occupants were mer, for
and smiling at babies. But when the
None of them shouted loud enough—not the way her father had—so not everyone could hear if only one of them spoke for her.
(The one time they had tried to use a conch to amplify' Flounder's voice had just been a disaster. He had sounded ridiculous.)
In a perfect world, her sisters would be the ones domg it. Those who grew up with her and had similar voices could speak more easily for her—and smce they were princesses themselves, everyone was more likely to listen.
But it was too much like work.
And the one thing her sisters tended to avoid—more than the advances of unwanted suitors—was work.
And so Ariel signed, and the interpreters interpreted, and various parts of the crowds listened to different voices trying to speak for her, and their attention was on the interpreters, and their questions were directed to them, and it was all a mess.
"Which Annio? The elder?"
"Was ray child m the running, my darling Ferestia?"
"But at what hour?"
Her only recourse when everyone started talking at once was to blow loudly on the golden conch she wore around her neck as a symbol of office. She felt more like a silly ship's captain than a queen.
I will send out tablets with the details, posted in the usual public locations, she signed wearily. That is all.
After her helpers spoke and everyone thought about it for a moment—it was like waiting for the thunder after lightning, watchmg the meaning of her words sink in seconds later—the crowd made murmurs both negative and positive, and began to disperse.
Ariel sat back in her throne, leaning tiredly on one elbow, unconsciously assuming the exact position her father always had at the end of an exhausting day. Threll darted from one lingering mer to the next, making sure everyone understood and felt like she or he had been heard. He was a good little messenger, and had proven surprisingly useful in his new role. Flounder was in the back, having a low conversation with a fish she didn't recognize.
Sebastian came scuttling over to her, kicking himself up through the water to sit on her armrest.
"Ah, the Saga at the end of the Rites will be outstanding this year," he declared, parading back and forth in front of Ariel, claws gesticulating m the air. "So much talent. So much enthusiasm! Nothing could make it better. The sardines are in sync, the trumpet fish are terrific. Everything is perfect. Well, there is one thmg that could make it better, of course...if only you had your lovely voice."
Ariel raised an eyebrow at Sebastian. Even if she had her voice, she doubted very much if she could have said anything that would have successfully interrupted his monologue. She shifted uncomfortably in her throne. The little crab didn't notice. Although he could expertly mterpret her signs, read her lips, and decipher her moods—it was only when he was paying strict attention.
"Ahh, what a loss that was for de world...." He put a claw on her shoulder and finally noticed her scowl. "Er, of course, in return, we received the best, most excellent queen in de world."
The best, most excellent queen m the world tapped her trident, idly considering turning him mto a sea cucumber for a few minutes to think about what he had said.
But he was only echoing something Ariel thought about all the time, herself: whether or not she was