Adrael merely nodded and left them.
Tallora trembled, filled with a sudden, overwhelming rage. “You would grant me the dignity of a gender, now?”
“I’d happily grant you the dignity of a name, if you would share it.”
Lip trembling, Tallora glared, struggling to control her breathing. Anger pulsed with every beat of her heart as reality descended—she would die here.
“No? Perhaps you’ll change your mind after a few more days of starvation—”
“You absolute bitch!” Furious tears welled in Tallora’s eyes, but by Staella’s Grace she would not cry. “How sick are you, to entertain yourself with my suffering?”
Dauriel’s silver eyes turned to steel. “Take care how you speak to me—”
“Or what? You’ll starve me more? You don’t want me dead; you want me compliant.”
“I can make your life hell.”
“And that would be different than this?” Tallora gestured about her orb of water, to the caged creatures beyond. “I am a person. I have a soul. I am a worshipper of the very goddess you’re descended from, yet you treat me like an animal—” The word broke her. Tallora gasped, all her will spent fighting her betraying tears. She drove her nails into her palms, desperate to hide her weakness.
Dauriel watched, her captivating gaze utterly stoic, stinging Tallora’s pride. “I’m certain Staella herself will come down to save you, assuming she cares. Now, your name?”
“Make my life hell,” Tallora spat. “It’s where you’ll go, upon your death.”
“And Staella will let you weep upon her breast? A pity for you that our goddesses are aligned. Perhaps we’ll live out eternity together.” Dauriel stepped back, hands held up in a grand gesture. “Make yourself comfortable. My mother will surely bring my brother here to see you as well. He’s the heir apparent, so you’d best make nice. He’ll decide your fate upon her death.”
She left Tallora alone. Tallora barely withheld a scream, longing to shout obscenities at her hated conqueror. Instead, she swam around her new prison, body reeling from hunger, from her absolute refusal to relieve herself, lack of sleep . . . Perhaps she’d die of infection. She’d add that to her prayers.
She looked up at the sky—the Sun Goddess’ grace shone upon her prison, but by nightfall, a different illumination would invigorate her soul. Perhaps to see her own goddess’ light would give credence to her prayers.
Or perhaps her goddess did not care. She feared her own loss of faith.
Tallora pushed upon her cage, finding it as strong as the last.
* * *
At sunset, the royal family came—Empress Vahla, her husband, the hated Dauriel, and a young boy, no older than five.
Not what Tallora expected in an heir. The Solviraes held no care to male or female heirs—why, then, would Dauriel not inherit the key to her prison?
Curious, Tallora swam to the edge of her confines, the child’s gaze pure. “Momma, why is she naked?”
“Darling, beasts do not wear clothing. It isn’t expected of it.”
With some demure, Tallora wrapped her arms around her breasts, recalling how exposed she truly was. “Below the sea, there’s no need for clothing—too much of a nuisance if your cloak were to be snagged on coral or tangled with fish. We only decorate ourselves for special occasions.”
The empress looked faint, her expression awed and furious all at once. “And so it does speak.”
The boy smiled, oblivious to his mother’s aggrieve. “What’s your name?”
Thinking quickly, Tallora grinned and held a finger to her lips. “My name is as secret as the mysteries of the Goddess Neoma herself.” She spared a glance for Dauriel, her own malicious intent hopefully conveyed despite the perpetual urge to pass out. “If I speak it aloud, the moon’s light will strike me dead.” She returned her attention to the small boy, noting his wide-eyed wonder. “But won’t you tell me yours?”
“Eniah.”
“A lovely name for a prince.” With every word she spoke, the boy grew more enthralled by her presence. Perhaps she was the most exotic thing he’d seen in his young life, but whatever the cause, he ate straight from her hand. She realized, with absolute glee, that perhaps her true ally came in a small package. “Eniah, I hope you and I shall be friends.”
“Yes, please—”
“A pity—darling, it’s your bedtime,” the empress said as she grasped his arm. Ire stirred beneath her tempestuous smile. “Perhaps we’ll all come to visit her tomorrow, hmm? We’ll bring her breakfast.” The empress turned her fury onto Tallora, who elected simply to smile and wave, still hiding behind her arms. “Assuming she behaves.”
“But, Momma, where will she sleep?” Eniah asked, and Tallora might’ve been endeared to his childish mind were she not so bitter.
Empress Vahla spouted some nonsense about ‘mermaid magic,’ all while the empress’ consort groveled to appease his wife, his incessant whining echoing through the menagerie until the door slammed behind them. Dauriel remained, arms crossed, stance tall and regal. She had cleaned herself of the salty spray of the sea, her hair impeccably braided, her clothing a rich ensemble of black leather and cloth, trousers loose but her doublet well-fitted. Her powerful aura spoke of an assurance running deeper than even her title and inheritance—this woman knew herself, she knew her worth, perhaps built it from sand and thus earned every piece of it.
Tallora glared, unwilling to bend.
“You’re charming, when you try to be.”
“Oh, fuck off.” Tallora swam to the top of her bubble, showing only her back to the princess.
But Dauriel, unfortunately, elected to not fuck off. “My mother has placed you under my care and protection. I caught you, and now it’s my responsibility to tame you.”
Truthful or not, Tallora knew it was bait. She knew it, and she took it anyway. “Tame me? The wild beast with her naked body and refusal to worship you? It won’t be easy, I assure you.”
“Khastra said I should try being nice. You attract more flies with honey, or some shit. She’s right.”
“Basic decency? What a novel idea. Is that what this is? You kidnapped me for some sick game?”
“I’m not that petty,” Dauriel replied, and it took every ounce of Tallora’s self-control to not scream. “It’s not about you. It’s about what you represent to the world. And if all goes according to plan, the world will be better for it.”
“What kind of cryptic nonsense is that?” But when Dauriel said nothing, Tallora returned her gaze to the sky, refusing to grant the princess her attention. “Leave me alone.”
“Listen—”
“You want to be nice? Perhaps try listening to what I say. Leave me alone!”
Tallora screamed it to the sky, swallowing the rest of her furious words. When she heard nothing, she looked back. The princess had gone.
She waited, giving the sky her full attention, watching as the first smattering of stars appeared amidst the waning sunlight. “Goddess Staella,” she whispered, anger seeping away, “you’re a patron of mercy. Of kindness. Of love.”