Sea Witch Rising. Sarah Henning

sound.

      I’m conscious of my lungs working, drinking in thin breaths of murk. As I work to test my faculties, the voice continues. “If you’d listened to me, I would’ve told you that what you need isn’t in those books. That magic is for the witches above—the sea people are magic. You can’t solve a problem like this with only land magic, you have to know the magic in the sea.”

      Oh, Anna. Always with the suggestions.

      “I’ve been here just as long as you,” I say, my voice sallow in my ears—nearly as dead as the rest of me. “I know what you know.”

      “But you don’t,” she responds back with all the energy I don’t have. “You forget that I was Annemette for four years, squid.”

      “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that.”

      Her time as Annemette is the reason both of us are here, in the dark. Her “father” all but confirmed that when he nearly killed me in my home. If I had the energy right now, I’d shut her up yet again.

      I wedge one tentacle into the sand, trying to leverage myself up and around from where I landed. The pewter grind of it coats my skin in a gray rash, embedded so deep it may never come out. The tentacle gains traction, and I’m able to add two others to fortify it and push until I’m on my side. I sit up too fast, my head spinning as I screw my eyes shut and fall back onto the sea floor with a soft whomp.

      “I know a spell that might help,” Anna offers, clearly peeved I didn’t jump at her hint of knowledge before.

      “What is that?” I say, as I try once again to sit up. I’m more successful this time, but my head still spins horribly, my ears clouded with bells.

       “Festa.”

      If it wouldn’t hurt, I’d nod. This was a spell Tante Hansa used when she’d gained the nickname Healer of Kings. It’s not anything new, and I’m unsure whether it will repair the depletion I feel down to my core. Especially if I, the depleted one, am the witch commanding the magic for strength. It’s not a spell I’ve ever tried on myself; it’s only something I’ve seen used on others.

      “Go on, then,” I tell Anna. “Use that magic on me. Spell me. I gave you that voice; go ahead and use it.”

      She laughs, no mirth in it. “You gave me a voice, but you took my magic when you murdered me. Or have you forgotten that?” She says it like she’s razzing me, but there’s more pain in there than she wants to admit, and she’s trying very hard to inflict hurt while I’m already down.

      “No, you took your own magic when you murdered King Asger for a chance to be human,” I remind her, very close to bringing up the elephant in the room between us—Nik. Neither of us has mentioned his name since I restored her voice, and I know when we do, it’ll be even uglier than this. “All I did was make sure you couldn’t murder again.”

      There’s a gasp as that barb does the job. I wonder if this will be our future, wounding each other in little ways until all that’s left is to bleed out.

      It’s silent again, and as an olive branch, I try the spell, closing my eyes and digging deep for reserves of magic that are dead or sleeping.

      “Festa.” The spell is meant to revive strength, though as the word echoes through my lair, I feel nothing of the sort. There isn’t much to exchange—not much strength to get when there’s barely any magic within me to give.

      Still, improbably, there’s a twitch somewhere deep inside. Like a seedling poking through the earth, weak and reaching for the sun. Easy to snap. Easy to crush. Barely anything at all.

      “Festa.” I repeat.

      Another twitch.

       “Festa.”

      And then, Anna joins in, her voice subdued. “Festa,” we say together as a prickle of relief touches my heart.

      We repeat it five times more, and finally I have the strength to get off the sea floor. I dust myself off. Pick at some shrimp my polypi have caught and rained from their branches. The sustenance helps, but again, I must rest. I coil my tentacles below me.

      “Thank you,” I say reluctantly.

      “You’re welcome.” She laughs a little, more to herself than to me. “I need you alive—you die, and the sea king’ll vaporize this whole place and those of us literally rooted to it.”

      The sarcasm sits all wrong in the little mermaid’s tone, though I still recognize this Anna from our childhood, playing it off with humor because she was hurt.

      I swallow a few more shrimp and gather the energy to say more, knowing that it will be a while before I can cast another spell. But then yet again there’s someone who’s come from the clear blue into my sunspot cove. The weak magic within me throbs a warning I might have noticed if I hadn’t been concentrating so hard when the sea king arrived.

      It’s not him, though. There’s no excess power slipping into my waters. Perhaps another brave soul who needs my help. I stack my spell books gently by my cauldron and arrange myself into the powerful creature anyone who visits expects me to be, hoping I don’t look as drained as I am.

      It is indeed a mermaid who appears, swimming feverishly, determination folding her beautiful face into a frown. She looks very much like Alia, though her hair has the colors of autumn strung through a base of curled blond. Her eyes are a honeyed amber unusual here in this kingdom of shades of blue.

      “Send her away. Even if the knife is made, you don’t have the—” Anna starts in a moment before I whisper “létta” yet again, and she cuts off. This makes me smile just a little bit—I probably couldn’t make a pot boil right now, but I can do that.

      The mermaid sees me and doesn’t waste a beat, diving right in.

      “Witch!” she spits with rage. “My sister will fail. That boy won’t fall in love with her in four days—he’s to be married. Married! And in fewer days than she has left!”

      Now that’s a surprise—he’s so young. But the fire in the girl’s eyes sparks with truth.

      “Give me the antidote,” she demands. “I’ll pay whatever the cost. Take my tongue, my eyes, my ears, hell, have my tail and fashion it for your own. Whatever the cost, I’ll give it to you.”

      I don’t reply, and the girl looks me up and down from the other side of my cauldron, her eyes glowing behind thick lashes. The fury within her is eager to escape through more than just words.

      “One day is already gone. How can you just sit there like that? She has three days left to live!”

      The girl raises a hand as if to topple my cauldron, that anger begging for release.

      “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I say, calm in the face of her fury. This only serves to make her angrier, but she removes her hand—she’s a smart one.

      When she speaks again, her voice cracks, the mermaid’s ire shattering into a new wave.

      “Bring my sister back. You stole her from me. From all of us. You knew hers was a fool’s ask—a death sentence—and yet you did it anyway.” Her teeth are bared, and somehow that makes her look younger—she’s close in age to the mermaid who came here. The sea king’s most recent brood. “Do you know what the sea king will do when he finds out what you’ve done? What my father will do? Why start this again? You know the danger. Why?”

      I level the girl with my gaze, and I know what she sees—young face, dark hair threaded through with silver, I’m as pewter-toned as the rest of my world. To her, I must look every bit of my reputation. This thing she’s been taught to fear—a freak of nature, tethered to my cove by her powerful father because of the things that I’m able to do. She came in here with fire and verve, angry at being left behind. Angry at what Alia’s bargain may bring. But she