The Unkindest Tide (October Daye #13) - Seanan McGuire Page 0,117
see my people pacing me on the dock above than to potentially get myself lost somewhere under the Duchy and be stuck there when the Luidaeg’s spell wore off.
Another wave slapped me, as if in response to my comment. I spat out saltwater and glared at the ocean, which was generally unimpressed.
“I hate water, I hate waves, I hate fish, I hate everything about this.” I spat again for good measure, trying to get the salt out of my mouth. It didn’t work. Everything tasted like brine, and probably would until the next time I ended up with a mouthful of blood.
I would have preferred that at the moment, and that alone was a terrible statement about my situation.
Quentin and Tybalt didn’t look any happier than I felt. Tybalt kept casting sharp looks in my direction, and had twice caught Quentin before he could throw himself over the side. I understood why Quentin wanted to—the Luidaeg had enchanted us at the same time; if I was safe in the water, so was he—and was still thankful Tybalt was stopping him. The spell was due to wear off at any time. I could drown and recover from it. Quentin couldn’t. For him, dead was dead, and I did not want to try explaining that to his parents.
As if in answer to my thoughts, the water grew colder around me, like it wanted me to remember that this was not my natural environment. My gills stung in my throat, feeling less like a part of my anatomy and more like an injury that was somehow refusing to heal. I swam faster, conscious of the need not to outpace my guides, but equally conscious of the fact that if I reverted to my normal shape while I was submerged, I could be in a whole new world of trouble.
Please, Maeve, I don’t ask for much, but I’ve heard your daughter call on you: please, let me reach the nets, I thought.
Ships began appearing in the water up ahead, some large and stately, ready to take on cargos of both material and passengers, others small and swift and low to the water. I could pull myself into one of those smaller ships, if I really needed to. I might, depending on what happened next. I could see the nets René had mentioned now, long systems of ropes and pulleys helping the individual fishermen bring their catches up to the level of the dock itself. Taking a deep breath, I ducked under the water and swam as fast as I could toward my goal.
I was almost there when the spell wore off.
It began with a tingling at the tips of my flukes, spreading through my scales until, with a wrenching, shuddering sensation that was distressingly akin to being sliced in half, my tail split in two, transforming back into legs. I kept kicking, less effectively now. My gills sealed over and my lungs began burning, alerting me in no uncertain terms to the fact that they desperately wanted air. I kept swimming. It was all I could do.
The Selkie skin draped over my arm seemed to sing even louder now, promising hope, promising harbor, promising—most importantly of all—freedom from the threat of drowning. All I had to do was put it on and the burning would stop. All I had to do was put it on and the water would welcome me as a friend and confidant, as a part of its greater self, and all my troubles would go away.
That’s not true, I thought fiercely, still swimming. The water was colder now that I had a less maritime metabolism. It was biting into my skin, seeming to burrow all the way down into my bones. It was getting harder to keep thrashing. My troubles wouldn’t go away. I’d just wind up with all new troubles.
But oh, it was tempting. I wouldn’t have to remake the Roane and destroy Selkie culture for the Luidaeg’s sake: I wouldn’t be able to. She’d have to talk August around, and good luck with that, since Mom was currently protecting her older daughter like she’d never been willing to protect me. I could learn the things that Selkies knew. People would stop asking me to be a hero, because I wouldn’t be Oberon’s anymore. Gillian and I would be the same. For the first time in her life, she’d have a mother who was actually exactly like she was, a mother who wouldn’t keep disappearing.