Date: 2016-04-23 01:56:28+00:00
Description: The mountain peaks are freezing. She is colder still. The Sea Princess is determined to drive the he'e from the mer capital. Namaka's people have lost battle after battle, never able to stand up to the might of the octopus god-king's army and magical powers. To win the war, Namaka turns to the brutal nanaue--weresharks feared by mer and he'e alike. But the nanaue live on the island of the Snow Princess, Poliahu, a sorceress quick to anger. If Namaka is to succeed in recruiting the weresharks, she must first deal with this new Princess and her powers of mist and cold. Poliahu doesn't care about
Publisher: Incandescent Phoenix Books
Rights: Copyright 2017 Matt Larkin. All rights reserved.

The Snow Princess

The Worldsea Era: Book Three

Matt Larkin

Contents

Read More

Day 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Day 2

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Day 3

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Day 4

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Day 5

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Day 6

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Day 7

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Read More

Did You Like This?

About the Author

MATT LARKIN

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, businesses, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.

THE SNOW PRINCESS

Copyright © 2016 Matt Larkin

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Edited by Brenda Pierson

Cover by Juhi Larkin

Published by Incandescent Phoenix Books
incandescentphoenix.com

For Kiran. Never give up, Princess.

Read More

If you like the Worldsea Era, sign up to hear as soon as new books come out:

http://www.incandescentphoenix.com/join-the-worldsea-era/

Thanks for reading,

Matt Larkin

Day I

Four months after The Burning Princess

1

A blanket of mist had settled across the island, stretching almost to the mountain peaks. Almost, but not quite. From where she sat, nestled in the snows atop Mount Kamakou, Poliahu could look down at that blanket and imagine walking across the sky, gazing upon the inhabitants of her island like she were a true goddess of the snows. Though her mountain proved nearly inaccessible to ordinary humans, some still braved the slopes in supplication. They sought the blessings of their Princess or hoped to bed her and draw forth her mana. Half those who tried the journey gave up or died—and she had been known to send out a fresh cloud of mist or a snow flurry to add an extra challenge—but she did generally accede to the requests of those who made the climb.

Twice a year, the village men held a contest to see who could reach her first. It was a chance to prove their merit and worthiness, to forge a new destiny and become more than a mere fisherman or hunter or craftsman. From her embrace arose kahunas and chiefs. Of course, some of those died on the way back down the mountain, but she didn’t interfere. A moment of passion, a brief diversion from her true work—all she could afford grant supplicants. Even if it was for their benefit, the people of the Friendly Isle could not begin to fathom the breadth of her true calling, of the secrets and forgotten lore she worked to uncover on the mountain peak.

Other Princesses walked among their people, traveled from village to village, giving men access to their mana. Poliahu had more important things to consider.

She always knew when people climbed her mountain. She could feel their presence distorting her mists, crunching her snows beneath their feet, their hot breath carried upon the wind until she could smell it. As now, a pair tried to scale the slope. Their steps faltering, uncertain because of the almost sheer drops beneath them. On the lower slopes, lush greenery covered the mountainside, a rainforest often engulfed by mist. Up here, above that cloud, snows that never melted capped the mountains. Poliahu made certain of it.

Though she could feel human presences disrupting the mountain, it wasn’t the same as being able to see those making the climb. There was no real way for her to tell one person from another. The size of the footprints indicated this pair was likely a man and a woman. A month ago—or was it two?—a mother had climbed the mountain, begging Poliahu to save her child from some illness that had begun to spread across the Friendly Isle. She’d had no immediate way to help the woman. Poliahu hated sending those who made the climb away with nothing. Anyone who made such extreme effort to see her deserved a reward for it. So she’d asked Waiau to investigate. The goddess had returned, reporting that a foreign sickness had spread across the island. In fact, it had swept through nearly all of Sawaiki over the past few months.

Often enough in the past month, Poliahu had turned her studies to searching for a cure. Broad as her disciplines had grown, however, healing was not her strongest area, nor did even the goddesses have the power to affect so many at once.

Now, she frowned. What did these people want? Like the mother seeking a cure for her child, many supplicants sought blessings she could not grant, much as she might want to. Oh, if they brought the appropriate materials and were willing to pay a price, she might cast a curse or such on the beseecher’s rival. One woman had come seeking the means to conceive a child, and Poliahu had given her a draught for it. She had warned the woman it would cost her years off her life—that the Art had a price. The woman had barely hesitated before downing the potion.

She cupped her hands to her mouth and blew out a whisper on icy breath. “Lilinoe.”

At first, no response came to her. Poliahu sat, idly tracing patterns in the snow. She need not actually touch the ground—snow, ice, mist, all she could reshape with her smallest whim. Over her years on the mountain she had grown skilled enough to form any pattern she desired.

A howl of wind swept over the mountain, the snows growing colder than cold, announcing the presence of the snow goddess she had summoned. None of the snow goddesses liked to manifest in sunlight. They were weaker then—as, in truth, was Poliahu. The burning fire in the sky limited her powers, though not as much as it did the three goddesses who had raised her. It took extreme effort to show themselves in such bright light, and the sisters did not do so often.

The spirit was garbed all in white, skirt and kihei both blending into the mountain. All three snow goddesses and Poliahu herself wore the same. Even without her garments matching the mountain, Lilinoe would have been hard to spot. Her form was translucent, the morning sunlight piercing clean through her. Her hair, too, was white, and whipping in the breeze as though she had corporeal form. Like any spirit, Lilinoe had no substance on Earth. In order to truly interact with the world, she’d need a human vessel, and, in lieu of taking one, she existed as a kind of specter, never wholly in the Mortal Realm.

“Who are these people?” Poliahu asked.

Lilinoe frowned, a sight that would have sent an ordinary person screaming about Nightmarchers and running to the nearest kahuna for protection.

The spirit’s form flickered, vanishing for the space of several dozen heartbeats before reforming. “Your parents return.”

Now it was Poliahu’s turn to scowl. Those people had given birth to her, yes, but they were not her parents. When she was nine and the kahuna identified her as a Princess, they had handed her over. After prodding and tests, when the man had determined she was a Snow Princess, he’d sent her to the three sisters—the snow goddesses Lilinoe, Waiau, and Kahoupokane. Sent Poliahu for training. Which was just a way of saying they didn’t know what to do with a girl with such powers in their midst. She’d spent twenty years atop this mountain, learning all the goddesses knew. Her parents had had no time for her then and she had nothing to say to them now. Oh, they had tried this climb before, a few years ago. In weakness, they had given up. And Poliahu had found her true home on this mountain, her true family among the sisters.

Poliahu climbed to her feet and cupped her hands to her face again. This time she blew out a stream of icy wind that swept around the mountain in a spiral, growing ever faster. It blew away the mist, yes, but it also crystallized the air, forming an icy gale that blasted along the slopes. The old man and woman would turn back again, of course, afraid of her as always. Poliahu didn’t even bother staying to sense their failure.

Instead she returned to her ice cave, a hollow she had dug through the peak to become her refuge. It smelled of the cleanness of ice, a scent one found only on mountaintops. Rather than allow the cave to become a mere tunnel through ice, she had formed the ceiling into ring after ring of arches, all engraved with designs more intricate than the finest woodcarver could have managed. Floral patterns that stretched a hundred paces wide, constantly intersecting and blending seamlessly with designs of ki’i faces. Triangles and geometric shapes that reminded her of the waves over the sea. A carving of a sea turtle the size of a communal hut—she’d been so proud of that particular one she’d rendered an ice sculpture of the creature as a centerpiece of the great hall the tunnel led to.

Poliahu paused to smile at her work. The sea turtle sculpture stretched fifteen paces around, a massive work of art. With her Gift she had infused the ice walls with light, letting her appreciate every detail. At night, she dimmed those lights and then, in half darkness, the three sisters would gather and regale her with tales of prior generations and times now lost.

Several other rooms broke off the great hall. All of them were filled with her designs, her notes scrawled along the walls. The snow goddesses had taught her ancient arts not known even to kahuna, secrets like how to make shapes stand for words. She had used this writing to record her thoughts, etching them into ice walls with a simple motion of a finger. If she were to stretch out all she had recorded here it might reach for leagues, far enough to cross to the Valley Isle, even. The markings would mean nothing to anyone else, of course. Only she and the three sisters could recognize them as anything more than decorations. Even were someone to find her sanctuary, there was little threat of them uncovering the depths of her Art.

That was probably well for both her and any such person. The sorcery she delved into had a dark side, a danger to it that could swallow the uninitiated whole. The Ghost World, and the powers one could draw from it, they were deeper and stranger than even the kahuna imagined. And without the proper care, without extreme caution, one could become lost to it. A misdrawn Glyph, a misspoken name, and the Earth might fall prey to entities older than even the snow sisters. Older, and far more hostile. The truth was, even she did not know what lurked in the fathomless depths of realities beyond her own. Did not know in detail, but knew enough to fear. A fragile veil separated the Earth from beings as far beyond mankind as humans were beyond insects.

But spirits had their uses to a sorceress who could learn to master them. One had to know which spirits to call and which were too powerful to ever invoke. If done properly, she could wield powers beyond any other Princess.

She ran her hand along the ice wall as she drifted into the chamber housing her latest work. She had formed a miniature banyan tree of ice, its branches stretching throughout this chamber, brushing the ceiling as though holding it up. As with all her work, she had spared no detail on the tree, etching every piece of bark individually, every leaf with loving care. The tree, however, was merely a place to house her true masterpieces. Four ‘io—bulky hawks perhaps as tall as her head—perched on its branches. She had spent days carving every feather, every perfection and imperfection of the ice birds into semblances of life. They had to be flawless or this would never work.

Hands to her face, she took in the entirety of the glorious room.

“You are ready?” Lilinoe asked.

She hadn’t heard the Mist spirit approach—of course, given the ethereal creature made no sound. But she wasn’t surprised. They had all been waiting for this. The sisters had selected both the spirit and its—well, vessel was probably the wrong word, but she could think of no other—with extreme care. Poliahu had argued against trying to divide a spirit’s consciousness among multiple birds, but Lilinoe had assured her it would work. The Mist spirits believed that long ago, before the Worldsea flooded the land, sorcerers had accomplished such things. Imbued spirits into corporeal forms without a living host. It was, they said, one of the greatest achievements of the Art possible. If she could perform such a feat, then her sorcery would rival that of the greatest powers on Earth. Waiau had once told her the first Snow Princess, nearly two thousand years ago, had also accomplished a similar achievement. That was why the sisters remained so convinced Poliahu could repeat it.

She made no answer to Lilinoe, instead sweeping her arms outward in a wide arc, erasing all writing from the walls of this chamber. All her notes on the tree and the birds and the ritual vanished in a shower of ice crystals that fused into the walls instants after they broke away. The cavern was left bare, save for the Spirit Glyphs engraved around the chamber in a circle. Circles were the embodiment of power, whole and complete, interlocking upon themselves. The most perfect form in the universe.

With a wave of her hand, Poliahu sent ice growing over the chamber entrance, sealing it and ensuring the circle remained undisturbed. Over the newly formed surface she traced a finger, carving out a final Glyph to ward against the spirit she intended to summon. Finally, she carved the name of the spirit itself upon the ceiling.

She fell into a chant, evoking ancient powers to come to her, invoking others to protect her from the Ghost World. The chant built in rhythm and urgency, echoing off the ice walls. The snow sisters’ voices joined her own, beseeching, cajoling, and demanding the universe and its greater denizens bend to her will. That was what it came down to in the end—a contest of wills. If she were strong enough, she could bind anything. If not … well, then the price would be that much greater.

Coldness built in her gut and spread over her muscles like a creeping tide, sapping them of strength, making her knees wobble. This was the only time she even felt the cold, as her mana burned away to pierce the veil between the human world and the Ghost World. It was not a barrier through which anything could easily pass—for which humanity was profoundly fortunate. Pulling something through took its toll.

It was trying to take hold of her.

A glorious rush filled her even as her own strength depleted, a giddiness not unlike the moment before orgasm, stretching from an instant to a near eternity that left her panting. She collapsed onto the icy floor, her lips continuing the evocation as much from rote practice as conscious thought. Her body and soul ached for release and to give in to the alien presence seeking to fill her up.

The chamber grew darker, her infused light dimming as the air turned stale. The mountain, or at least this cavern, rumbled in the presence of this entity, trembling as it pushed itself through the barrier blocking it from the Earth. Indeed, the air rippled, like something was actually trying to push through it, the faintest outline of a giant face visible for an instant. Just long enough to realize the being she’d seen was humanoid, perhaps, but far from human.

“Come to me,” she found herself saying. It was so close now it would hear her words spoken in any language. “Come to me and serve.”

A presence settled over her mind, caressing her body and whispering things that were not true words, only intent. Begging and cajoling her into surrender, into letting it have her body. To falter for the barest instant would have granted the spirit access, let it ride her as a host.

Poliahu grimaced against the spirit’s will. “Serve me.”

It did not take well to the command. Invisible, intangible claws latched onto her mind, rending and tearing. The pain shot through her body and soul and some indecipherable bit of herself was yanked out. Blood pooled at the corners of her eyes, stinging them, blurring her vision.

A fresh surge of elation built in her abdomen as she felt the spirit pushed out, driven into the birds. The ceiling above cracked with a cacophonous roar, the Spirit Glyph split down the middle. A piece of the ceiling tumbled free, crashing into the tree and smashing one of her beautiful branches.

And then the icy feeling in her body gave way to searing pain on her inner thigh. Despite knowing it would happen, she shrieked, clutching at the wound. The Glyph had branded itself into her thigh. It was one of many such brands. She had no time to dwell on her latest Glyph, however, as the creaking of ice grinding on ice now echoed through the chamber.

One of her hawks turned its head, ever so slowly. They all had. All stared at her now, dragging talons of ice along the tree’s bark in an obvious threat. They couldn’t hurt her. It could not hurt her. She had bound the spirit and now bore its mark. Remember that. Remember she was safe, so long as her will remained strong. If she allowed it to frighten her, to make her believe it had the power … well, then it would have the power.

Poliahu shook herself and rose, not taking her eyes off her creations. The hawks’ eyes were still mere ice and yet, somehow, they now reflected something more than the faint light of the cave. Something lurked behind them. A presence, by her will divided into four bodies.

Servants, spies, messengers—they could be whatever she wished them. She had created something the world had not seen in an age.

Something glorious.

* * *

In one chamber of her ice cave lay a pool, unfrozen despite the cold, though only because Poliahu kept it so. At first, when she had discovered the great hollow boring into the mountain she had wondered at it. Perhaps, in ages past, this mountain had been volcanic, and the pit a crater. Filling it with snow had taken little effort, but forcing that snow to melt and remain liquid had been one of her early great accomplishments.

The waters in the pool were so still they reflected the icicles in the cavern above, like a mirror so perfect one might think stalagmites lurked beneath the surface. After doffing her clothes Poliahu slipped into the waters, sending endless ripples through the pool. Her whole body, her soul even, ached from her sorcery. Ached from it, and ached for more, a desperate need begging her to try something else. The sisters had often cautioned against overuse of the Art. They warned her she could become seduced by it, dependent on it even as it ate away her mind and body and weakened her soul. The ever-present threat was always becoming possessed by a spirit. They constantly sought after some way to walk upon the Earth, to work their wills on the mortal world. And the weaker her soul became, the easier it would be for that to happen.

Every time she bound a spirit to her, she too was bound to it. The Glyphs branded across her body were constant reminders of that. On occasion, one of her lovers would ask about them and she would always claim they were birthmarks. Compared to other prices, the brands cost her little. In her casting today, the spirit had siphoned something from her mind. A memory, or several. The nature of such a price meant she knew she had lost something, but she’d never know what. Perhaps it didn’t matter. Memories of her life, of her past, they were fleeting distractions from her purpose.

The birds had been a huge accomplishment. It was by far enough for one day. She needed to back away from the Art, at least for a little while.

With a deep breath she dove beneath the surface, kicking downward. Always trying to reach the bottom and never succeeding. On and on she pushed until her lungs felt ready to explode, until, in rising panic, she began clawing her way back to the surface. She burst into the air, gasping, coughing. Foolish to try this with her body already weak but … she’d always wanted to touch the bottom. To prove she could do so.

When she was a child they’d lived on the sea and she’d tried to see how deep she could dive. Her father, a fisherman, had been a master diver. She’d thought he would teach her the tricks, help her become as good as him. That was before. Before the kahuna told her parents she was the reincarnation of the Snow Princess. Suddenly, diving didn’t matter. Home, fishing, stories, and laughter became luxuries. No. All too quick they had cast her aside, carrying her halfway up the mountain to the sisters, who waited for her in eager expectation. They too had sensed her mana, felt her latent power washing over the wind and seeping into the mist.

Her father. He had said … something about diving. Had he taken her to the sea, tried to teach her? She couldn’t remember.

Her breath came out as a cloud of mist fogging the chamber around the pool.

Damn it. Why was she even thinking of them at all? Why had those people—they were no longer her parents, that much was clear—even tried to climb Mount Kamakou? Maybe they too now came as supplicants, wanting her to work some spell for long life or prosperity or great sex. A couple had come to her for that once. She’d explained it would cost them some of their own mana, permanently drain away part of their life. And still the lust-ridden fools had begged her to do it. Those who understood nothing of the Art were quick to think it a solution to their problems, rarely able to grasp that the price would almost always exceed whatever they sought to correct.

She shook her head, but still the question of what her mother and father had wanted plagued her. She’d be damned if she was going to let them up here, though. The thought of them, of all people, defiling her sacred mountain tasted bitter beyond words. Mumbling under her breath, she let her form flicker, passing the barest of fractions from the Mortal Realm, and becoming mist. Moving like a gust of wind she flew from the pool into the chamber with the ice birds, reforming before them.

She frowned, then, almost doubting her resolve. She didn’t care. She shouldn’t care. They had abandoned her, walked away while she had stood on the frozen slope, begging them not to leave her. Screaming for them, until her throat turned raw, until her tears froze solid on her cheeks. Until all strength had fled from her legs and she had fallen into a sleep that should have meant her death. The sisters had not let her perish, of course, had carried her to safety on a bed of mist.

Even back then supplicants had come, though not for her. They had come to pay homage to the snow goddesses. And those pilgrims left sacrifices of food, animals, clothing, sometimes even human victims. Those last offerings the sisters froze to death, feasting on the fear and pain and the soul of the victim. It was their way. In exchange for the offerings, they constrained the cold to the mountains, ensured volcanic activity never threatened the Friendly Isle, and protected villages from the nanaue. Poliahu supposed it was a fair enough trade, as long as one wasn’t the sacrifice.

The birds watched her with unblinking, opalescent eyes. There was nothing to see behind those eyes, of course, but still. It felt like the spirit glared at her through four pairs of eyes, trying to sear her with its impotent rage. It was time for a test, and this was as good as any. That was the only reason she would even bother.

“There’s a couple on the mountain, probably climbing down by now. Go find them, see what they do, and tell me.” The birds couldn’t speak, of course, but the spirit could communicate images and emotions, if she opened herself to it.

The birds watched her a moment more, then took flight, their passage shedding ice shavings over her head as she watched them go.

There. Her curiosity would soon be sated. She had better things to do anyway. She stopped to retrieve her clothes.

Sometimes, she used her swimming to clear her head. Often, she formed sleds of ice to race down the slopes. The rush helped her regain her focus. Brief distractions before she returned to her real priorities—her studies, always.

She entered another chamber in her sanctuary. This one contained her observations and recovered lore relating to astrology. She should study up for tonight, after all. There would be a minor celestial convergence and, if she was careful, she might glean further secrets of the universe from it, maybe even find a way to stop the plague. That hope was small, but there was a solution out there, somewhere. She knew there was.

2

The ocean was thick with the blood of dead mer and the frenzy of sharks feasting on their former masters. Once, this tiny coral reef had been replete with brilliantly colored fish, eels, sea turtles, and half a hundred mer seeking solace. The third enclave to fall this week, and once again Namaka had arrived too late. Frustration and grief warred for dominance on Ake’s face as she swam beside him, searching for survivors of the latest he’e purge.

The octopuses were always three steps ahead, always knew wherever she and Ake might plan a strike, always uncovered the hiding spots of the Hiyoya refugees. For all her power, she was left helpless. Helpless to change the course of a war that had, for all intents and purposes, been lost the day Hiyoya fell. Though no one spoke of it, all had probably begun to suspect—any hope for mer in these seas would now come from Mu, the enemies of Hiyoya. So many of Namaka’s people had fled to the rival kingdom for safe haven. But the cold, relentless efficiency with which the he’e had exterminated the Hiyoyans left her little doubt of the result once they turned their attentions to Mu. Even the mighty kingdom would fall before the machinations of such implacable foes.

Kanaloa was, she had learned to her dismay, a master of divination. With such mastery of the Art, perhaps enhanced by the Urchin, the he’e always seemed to know where the mer would strike. Where they hid, what they planned. Latmikaik and the other sorcerers among the mer had begun warding against such things, but it seemed too little, too late.

And if no one else would give voice to their fears, it fell to her, their princess. “We can’t win like this.”

Ake dispatched a unit of mer to scout the coral caves for any survivors before turning a weary gaze on her, then motioned her away from the bloody battle site. She swam after him, following to cleaner, deeper waters.

He spun on her. “You can’t talk like that in front of the troops.”

“They know the truth as well as we do.”

“I did not say they were fools, Princess. I said you cannot speak such in their presence. They need to believe their leaders have confidence. If we falter, our forces will break.”

Namaka pointed back at the bloody waters. “We have faltered.” The ancient merman was hard to read. She knew he never really trusted her, never accepted that Namaka and Nyi Rara had fused. In his mind allowing the host free reign, even symbiotically, represented a reckless indulgence. She could tell that much, though he’d had the good grace not to be so blunt in his point. And yet, despite his misgivings, sometimes she felt she was earning his respect, if not trust. For months they had fought side by side, taking on the he’e. They lost more often than they won, but her power had turned the tide of more than one engagement. That had to count for something.

And Nyi Rara felt something for him. Now, fused with the Water spirit, Namaka's emotions had become a jumble of her own and the mer’s. Her memories of her mer half were shadowy, blurred like a half-remembered dream. But once, she had considered the merman general for a mate.

“What exactly do you suggest we do?” she asked. “Shall we throw ourselves upon the mercy of Mu?”

There. Someone had said it. The glory days of Hiyoya had passed, its golden age caught in the maelstrom of history, spiraling toward oblivion. And everyone knew that. She’d come back from her people on Sawaiki, come back to the Hiyoya army in a desperate hope to save the kingdom. And she had failed. They had no weapon with which to fight the god-king Kanaloa. She had thought to engage him herself, but since the he’e had outwitted them at every turn, Ake had declared that move too reckless, premature.

She folded her arms over her breasts rather than say any of it. Ake knew it all anyway. And for all her power she was still … afraid. Afraid of the monstrous he’e that now dwelt in Hiyoya. Afraid, perhaps, that Kanaloa’s bid to control the entire Earth represented an inevitability.

“You don’t really think the queen will acquiesce to such a plan?” he asked.

Namaka’s frown only deepened. Queen Latmikaik would probably sooner let Hiyoya disappear into legend than surrender her throne to Mu. Given the rival kingdom would like as not banish her from Earth, exile her spirit back to the World of Water, Namaka understood. The queen probably thought she had nothing to gain and everything to lose. And the deaths of thousands of mer hosts were setbacks to her, at most. She wouldn’t care about the human lives lost except insofar as the inconvenience it posed. Maybe that was why the he’e were winning. They had more to lose than the mer—as a mortal race native to Earth, their deaths were permanent. Namaka had no idea what happened to a he’e soul when one died, but they certainly didn’t return to possess new bodies like a mer did.

She could feel his eyes locked on her face, awaiting her next words. A misspoken response could stink of treason. “I have to think of what is best for the people of Hiyoya.” Not quite a direct challenge to her aunt’s authority, but close.

Ake ground his sharklike teeth. “I do not like where this is going, Nyi Rara.”

Namaka shrugged. She didn’t like anything about the entire situation. It was vile, brutal, and thick with political undercurrents her human half would have wanted to avoid. That half of her still wanted to delight in the sunlight, surf the waves, and make memories worth holding onto. She indulged it on occasion, over Ake’s objections. She headed back to the Valley Isle every few weeks, visited her mother, her people. And took a different lover in a different village each trip. Having finally embraced the duty kapu placed on a Princess, she found it rather enjoyable, after all. And it had allowed Uncle Kamalo to begin training a few apprentice kahunas to replace those who had fallen.

The merman sighed. “What do you want to do?”

That question had run round and round in her mind for days, for weeks. “Even if we convinced my aunt to beseech aid from Mu, and even if they granted it, are we certain we can drive Kanaloa from Hiyoya?”

His only answer was a grimace. Kanaloa was as large—or larger—than the taniwha, and she had killed that only through consuming Mo-O’s heart and then teaming with Pasikole. Both were gone now. Unlike the sea dragon, the god-king was smarter than any of them and commanded the Art. As Ake had once pointed out, they would probably only get once chance against him.

“I need to go home, at least for a little while.” She held up a hand to forestall his objection. “My human home, Ake. What do you think would happen to those people if we withdrew from these waters? How long before they became slaves of the he’e?” If Pasikole and Inemes spoke the truth, many people already lived enslaved and didn’t even know it. The foreigners were long gone now, but sometimes Namaka missed them. A fleeting and juvenile emotion she quickly squashed. The diseases they had brought had killed more than half the population of the Valley Isle. And though the illness had seemed to finally run its course on that island, they had now spread across all of Sawaiki, ravaging every village, tearing apart every family in her old world. Mothers were separated from children, fathers from daughters, husbands from wives.

All because the he’e had sent Pasikole to Sawaiki, sent him to kidnap Namaka.

No. She couldn’t afford to dwell on that. She had to stay focused on the he’e. That was something real, something she could actually try to fix.

“I’m going,” she said. “When I get back, you and I have to convince the queen we cannot win this.”

“Then go quickly. With every passing day …”

With every passing day their numbers grew fewer and fewer, and they could not easily renew them. Even if they had hosts waiting—and the accord with the people of Sawaiki did not allow that—a discorporated spirit was weakened and needed time to regain strength before it could possess a new host.

Time grew short for Hiyoya.

* * *

Shooting streams of water out behind her allowed her to swim at great speed, and she covered the distance back to the Valley Isle in under an hour. She made land some time before noon, resuming her human legs and hurrying back to her village. The Waters of Life had spared her mother from the disease, but many others were less fortunate. The village’s population had fallen to a fraction of what it had been in her childhood. So many people she had known her entire life were gone now, taken from her by disease, the taniwha, or Namaka’s own Gift when it had raged out of control.

Walking among the survivors shamed her, but she needed this reminder. The reminder of the price of failure, of what she still had to fight for.

She paid her mother a brief visit. The woman now had more vigor than she’d had in years. Energy she needed, as she took more and more village work upon herself. Everyone worked harder now, trying to fulfill roles that had belonged to those who were lost. Part of her wanted to linger at her mother’s side, but times had grown too desperate for that.

So she instead trod the path to the temple. Uncle Kamalo was there, as she hoped, instructing three new kahuna in mysteries and rituals, the most important of which involved sending the dead. Rumors of Nightmarchers—the restless dead—now abounded across the isles. Too many had died for the kahunas to send all to their proper rest. For some, it was too late. Others, the kahuna still sought out, trying to bring to peace in the hopes they would leave the Earth behind. The only thing worse than losing the dead was having them remain.

She sunk down on the sand nearby, not wanting to interrupt. How odd, to think she had slept with all three of those men. In so doing, she had shared her mana and through it, they had become kahunas who could send away the dead. Once, she had refused to take a lover, refused to accept someone who didn’t want her for something more than the power she represented. Looking back, she could no longer imagine why. It felt so removed, foolish even, like another person’s life. She could not be certain whether because Namaka herself had changed, or because of Nyi Rara’s older, different perspective. Not that it mattered, since the two had become one and the same.

Maybe she would choose another man from this village. Kamalo had his hands full training this lot, though. She had probably better choose another settlement where another kahuna could train an apprentice.

Eventually he noticed her and waved away his new disciples. The old man leaned more heavily than ever on his walking stick as he made his way toward her. Namaka hopped up and closed the distance, saving him the trouble.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” he mumbled. “Always nice to see you, though.”

Namaka swept her still-wet hair from her face. Now that she was here, the words stuck in her throat. “I … We’re running out of options.”

“Hiyoya.” Kamalo stared off at the sea for a time. “The mer kingdom has not exactly been a friend to Sawaiki.”

No, he was right. Once every ten years they forced the village to make a human sacrifice. Now, of course, she knew the victims were not eaten, but drowned and taken as hosts for mer spirits. The sacrifices were spread out over different villages around all of Sawaiki, ensuring a steady supply of vessels. Or what would have been steady, had so many mer not lost hosts in the fighting with first Mu and now the he’e. Nor could anywhere in Sawaiki afford the sacrifices any longer, not with their dwindling populations. Assuming a village ever could have afforded such things. Her mer half knew it as a necessity, but still, it unsettled her gut.

“The he’e will be worse.”

“Will they?”

“They may not demand human sacrifices. But they will bend the kahunas and chiefs to their will, take from our people their freedom, and do it so subtly we may not even realize as it happens.”

“Hmmm. And is this Namaka or Nyi Rara speaking?”

“Both.” She thought it was both of them. The part of her that was Nyi Rara cared most about Hiyoya, of course. But still she loved her human people.

Kamalo sighed, then motioned for her to sit, probably eager to take the weight off his legs. She joined him on the sand and watched the sea beside him. It called to her still, like a song humming through her soul, begging her to return to its embrace. She loved Hiyoya. It was at once both new and exotic and a familiar home, a place where she belonged. And its beautiful halls, its grottos and streets, they now housed invaders intent on taking that from her, from all her people.

“It must be hard, being two people.”

Namaka smirked, but said nothing. The kahuna might have grown old, but his observations remained far too keen.

“The mer and the he’e are not the only powers in the ocean, you know.”

That caught her attention. “What do you mean?”

“There’s the nanaue.”

She scoffed. “Weresharks? They’re savage beasts, murderers.”

“They are not so different from Kamapua’a.”

The reminder of her adopted brother sent a ripple of jealousy through her. Kam had decided to stay on the Big Island, still pursuing Pele, no doubt. And that meant Namaka had not seen him on any of her trips home, had not talked away the night or spilled her fears, or even listened to his stupid jokes.

“Do you know how my boys died?” Kamalo asked after a moment.

Namaka shook her head. Her mother had told her Kamalo had had two sons who had died before he came to the Valley Isle. The kahuna himself never spoke of it.

The man laid his stick across his lap, idly running his fingers along it. “There was a chief on the Friendly Isle. My sons snuck into his tent and beat on his drum.” To touch the possession of the chief without his express permission was a deadly tabu. Namaka could already see where this story would lead. “The chief came home and learned what they had done. He sent his men to hunt them down and made a sacrifice of them, an offering to the gods. That was his right.

“It was not, however, something I could accept. I was younger then, and foolish, though not so foolish as to challenge the man directly. He was the greatest chief on the Friendly Isle, after all. So I went to all the other kahuna. I begged one after another to join me in striking down the chief.” He shook his head sadly. “No one would. For kahuna to challenge a chief like that would violate another tabu. Besides, he made the boys offerings to the spirits. The spirits alone could judge whether the sacrifice was worthy. So finally I heard of the great shark spirit on the far side of the island. It was said to lair in the Cave of the Eel.

“I walked for leagues, carrying this big pig over my shoulders as an offering.” He chuckled. “I was stronger then. I knew the shark god was near, though not exactly where this cave lay. And I searched and searched until I was stopped by a pair of dragons. At first they laughed at me, said the shark king was going to swallow me and the pig whole. And then one of them, the female, told me to leave. Warned me that place was death to humans. I didn’t care. Not about my life, not so long as I had my revenge. To me, that was life. And I told her as much. This was the first time I met Mo-O-Inanea.”

“Wait, really?” The dragon who had raised Namaka and Kam, who had become a nursemaid to them, had once been a servant to a shark god? And on the Friendly Isle, no less. If the ancient earth dragon had swum across the sea to reach the Valley Isle, that was a sight she would have liked to have seen. Namaka was about to say so, when Kamalo held up his hand.

“Yes, yes. Years later she came here for me, to help me teach you. Even left her fellow dragon, Waka, who I think never forgave me for it. That’s another story. I told Mo-O how I had wandered all over the island seeking anyone to help me and that the shark god was my last hope. And she, in turn, told me I was lucky he was not there. He’d gone out fishing but, Mo-O assured me, had he been at home, he’d have eaten me without bothering to hear my tale. So they had to prepare the shark king—Kauhuhu was his name—for my presence. They hid me under a pile of taro peelings. Probably the most disgusting thing I’ve endured in my long life.”

Namaka couldn’t really imagine her great uncle hiding anywhere, much less under leftovers from making poi. The mental image brought a smile to her face and a scowl to his.

“Yes, Fish Girl, I—”

“Oh, do not call me that.” She let Kam get away with it—or rather failed to stop him. She was not about to let the pet name spread.

“Then don’t mock a kahuna. Not even in your own mind.” He winked at her. “So the shark god came back, and he was a man, or at least in human form. A nanaue. And he declared almost immediately that he smelled a human. He began digging through the cave, but he didn’t find me. At least not until that damn pig started squealing. That nanaue moved so fast I couldn’t even think, tore through the pile of taro and hefted me by the throat with one hand. If you think Kamapua’a is strong, you should see a wereshark. And this one looked like he planned to drag me into the water and eat me on the spot.

“So—as best I could with my windpipe squeezed—I begged him to hear my prayer first, then eat me after. I think he was more shocked I was ready to die than anything, and he dropped me. So I told him my story and then I offered him the pig. And Kauhuhu took pity on me and agreed to bring me my revenge. He sent me back to the chief who had wronged me, bade me trick the man into coming near the shore. I did so, and the chief came, along with his great warriors. He was no fool and he wasn’t about to put himself in the hands of a kahuna whose sons he’d killed.

“He did not count on a small army of weresharks, however. They feasted upon the chief and all his warriors. And Kauhuhu and his people spared me. So … Yes. The nanaue are savage, deadly spirits. But inside, they are also men. And you of all people should understand how a person can have more than one nature.”

Namaka folded her hands before her face and leaned on them, arms on her knees. “You think I should go to the weresharks for aid against Kanaloa?” The plan seemed reckless. And yet she grown desperate enough to try even the most reckless plan.

“I don’t know, niece. In another lifetime, Kauhuhu helped me get the only thing I wanted in the world. Maybe he could do the same for you.”

“An army of weresharks, huh?” At what cost? Namaka was fairly certain she could defeat this Kauhuhu if she had to, but that earned her nothing. Nor would the mer likely accept help from the nanaue. But. They had no other plan. She had to try.

* * *

The swim to the Friendly Isle took long enough to give her time to think. Last time she had trespassed on another island her violation of the tabu had enraged the local Princess enough that Pele had attacked her. By now, her reputation had probably spread across all of Sawaiki. Maybe others blamed her for the sickness destroying their way of life, thought it a curse sent by the aumakuas, as Pele had first believed. So if the other Princesses did blame her, as Pele had, and if she wanted to avoid conflict, she had two real options.

She could sneak around the island and hope its Princess didn’t notice her presence. Since she didn’t know exactly where to find Kauhuhu and his people, that might prove difficult.

Or she could present herself directly to the other Princess and ask permission for her quest. Neither option really appealed. Namaka was a Princess of both the Valley Isle and of Hiyoya. She shouldn’t have to ask permission for anything. But, more than anything, she wanted to avoid making more enemies. If she tried to sneak around and failed, she would almost certainly earn the ire of another Princess. If she was honest with herself, she’d be more than irked if she found one sneaking around the Valley Isle.

And that left a direct confrontation. She would go, present herself, and ask nicely. And if that didn’t work … well, at least she would know her enemy.

The Friendly Isle, Mo-O had told her long ago, currently lay under the governance of a Snow Princess. Since snow was only found on mountaintops, this Princess would most likely dwell there. It was also a damn inconvenient spot to reach, especially for a mermaid.

Namaka stepped onto the shore and stared beyond it to the slopes rising at impossibly steep angles all across this island. She would not enjoy this. She blew out a long breath before starting the ascent. The dense jungles covering the lower mountains made her going slow, but at least she had hand-holds on the tree trunks, vines, and low branches. More than once she twisted her ankle, cut her feet on rocks.

Finally, she pressed higher and higher and the trees began to give way to frost that chilled her and left her immediately wishing for a kihei or sandals or any kind of clothes, just for the warmth. She had spent so much time in mer form she had grown accustomed to going without clothes even on land. And, in that form, she was resistant to deep colds, but that tolerance only partially carried over to her human guise. The snow crunching beneath her aching feet might not have been life-threatening to her, but it was damn cold nevertheless.

Her breath misted the air before her and the angle of ascent grew so steep she dropped to a crawl, pulling herself upward by the rocks and sheer force of will. The Snow Princess had better be on this mountain.

3

Someone else was climbing her mountain.

Based on the person’s slight size, it had to be a woman or a child. Two sets of visitors in one day, and this one seemed primed to actually make it. This girl was a fool. She had begun the climb in the afternoon which meant she’d never make it to the summit before nightfall, much less find her way back down.

Poliahu sat in front of a flattened shelf of ice. She could blow an icy breath out, maybe send a snow flurry to forestall the suicidal intruder. But really, what was the point? The woman would make it, or not, and die either way. She had set enough of a challenge before herself that she didn’t need Poliahu to make it worse.

Instead, Poliahu watched the pile of snow she’d gathered on the ice shelf. Idly she twirled a finger, shaping the snow into a pile of poi and atop it, a fish. If not for the pale white color, it could have been the same meal her parents had served her a thousand nights back when … well, none of that mattered. She liked poi, and if it looked like poi, she could almost imagine it tasted like poi. It was only snow, of course, but her nature allowed her to sustain herself on it—after all, there was little real food up here—and she had been eating snow so long she’d forgotten the difference. More or less.

The fish, ahi poke, ran with succulent juices she had trained herself to almost forget was just snow melting in her mouth, and even left the pleasant aftertaste of raw seafood behind. As a child she’d always had fresh fish or sea snails in the evening. Now was no different. On special occasions, her father had brought her … well, he’d brought her something she wanted. She shook her head. She couldn’t remember what. It didn’t matter.

When her meal was finished Poliahu stood and stretched, then headed back to the chamber with the banyan and the hawks. The one she had sent out had long since returned and filled her with impressions, sensations. Her parents had turned back—of course they had—and headed down the mountain. They were weak, cowards, and whatever they wanted of her was never, ever worth them facing the hardships of the cold.

Well, the cold was their daughter. Ice and mist and frozen peaks that were anathema to the weak were instead a source of eldritch power to her kind. A Snow Princess always claimed a mountain as home.

It was well they had turned back. Poliahu did not turn away those who made the climb, but she wasn’t going to be beholden to her parents. Nor, however, did she want them to die on the slopes.

Despite the weariness that had slowed her steps since her sorcery in the morning, she longed to try something else. If she could animate birds, what else could she infuse with a spirit? A rock? Trees? Maybe she could make the mist itself live. None of that would cure the plague, though. The birds could bring reports from around the island. Maybe she would even send them across the sea to the neighboring isles, to search for answers there.

And still something niggled in the back of her mind. That girl was still climbing her mountain, displacing snow, sucking in frost. She approached on hands and knees, though whether in supplication or desperation, Poliahu couldn’t say for certain. Either way, perhaps she had best meet the determined intruder. Better that than let the trespasser accidentally stumble upon this sanctuary. She permitted no other mortal soul in these halls, did not even want anyone knowing this place existed. To allow that would somehow diminish the solace her refuge offered her.

With a last glance at her beautiful banyan tree and ever-watching hawks, she turned her form to mist. A chill wind carried her swirling up, over the peak, and then back down the mountain in wide circles that allowed her a proper view of the approaching woman. She was young, barely adult even, and naked. What fool climbed a mountain without protection? Poliahu couldn’t imagine how this tiny thing remained alive, much less still moving, making slow but ceaseless progress toward a sanctuary not meant for her eyes.

Poliahu circled low, settling near the ground behind the girl. Her presence should have been indecipherable from any other mist, but the girl—panting with effort—paused, looked around as if she sensed something. Interesting. There was so much mana coursing through this woman Poliahu could practically taste it. It hummed, vibrated in a way only those trained in the Art might detect. Kahuna claimed they alone could sense such things, but the snow sisters had taught Poliahu how to feel it. Power was power. And power radiated from the interloper in waves. So. Another Princess. One obviously looking for Poliahu.

To the best of her knowledge, nothing like that had happened in centuries. This Princess—whichever one she was—should have been back on her own island, protecting it. Legend claimed a Princess’s power was greatest in her own land, and kapu clearly demanded they protect their own people. Moreover, to violate such a tabu was to anger the local spirits. And yet here was this one, on her island, climbing her mountain.

For a short time Poliahu followed, watching the intruder. Given her affinity for the Art, she might be able to propitiate the local spirits. She had to know what this was about and sometimes the best way to learn was the direct approach. She allowed her form to solidify then settled back into a snow drift.

The girl spun at the sound of crunching snow behind her, eyes widening.

“Well, Princess?” Poliahu asked.

“You know who I am?”

Poliahu shrugged. “Who? No. But I know what you are. And you certainly don’t belong on the Friendly Isle.”

“Then maybe you should rename it.”

She snorted. “Presumptuous of you, isn’t it?”

“Forgive me. I’m Namaka, Princess of the Valley Isle.”

“Poliahu.” She said nothing else. Let this Namaka state her own business. Poliahu owed the woman nothing. Indeed, she might still decide to freeze her to death. Namaka was not of the Friendly Isle, and thus not due Poliahu’s protection or service. She was trespassing, violating a primal tabu. Just because Poliahu could bring the local spirits to heel didn’t mean she appreciated the need for it.

Still, killing the other Princess seemed harsh. She was so young—Namaka must be the youngest of all the Princesses. The final of this generation. That would probably make her a Princess of Sea. Poliahu was fairly certain all the other titles had been claimed.

Namaka’s posture remained at ease. She behaved … older than she looked. Finally, she must have figured out Poliahu intended to say nothing else, and the Sea Princess spoke. “I’m looking for a nanaue king. I know one lives on your island.”

Well, that was different. Working hard to keep her expression from giving away her curiosity, she shrugged. “Sharks don’t climb mountains.” The nanaue were confined to the Friendly Isle thanks to Hiyoya, and to the uninhabited areas of rocky coast thanks to Poliahu herself and the snow sisters. She’d had to descend the mountain and freeze three of them to death a few years ago, when they had raided a village. A supplicant had climbed the mountain to tell her, and she had gone with him to exact justice. Since then they had stuck to the wilds, not bothering Poliahu’s people.

“No. I didn’t expect to find him up here. I came to … ask your permission to search your island for this being.” From the look on her face, asking permission for anything must have tasted like rotten oysters.

But then, Poliahu would have felt the same way. In truth, she could hardly imagine making such an effort as Namaka had made to avoid offending her. The other Princess didn’t seem to fear her, so was it just respect? Either way, she had no reason to cast aside such a gesture, nor in truth, any care about weresharks. And there was something off about Namaka. Now that she spoke to the girl, she had no doubt, though she couldn’t quite say what it was … Arrogance, yes, or at least extreme self-confidence. More composure than a Princess her age should have possessed. And something behind her eyes was deeper, almost like staring into the Ghost World. Aumakuas! That was it.

“You’re possessed.” The words left her mouth before she even realized she intended to say them. And had such a thing ever happened before? A Princess under the control of a spirit. Maybe she should end the girl here and now. What havoc could a denizen of the Ghost World wreak upon Earth while holding such a body in its thrall? All of Sawaiki might thank her for sparing them such a threat. Even as she thought it, ice crystals began to form around her fingers.

Namaka shook her head, though. Of course she would deny it. “I’m a mermaid, yes. But not possessed. More like what happens with a shifter.”

Poliahu didn’t dismiss the ice shards from her hand, but she kept them at her side. A symbiotic relationship between host and spirit. Shifters were Moon spirits. They alone tended to make such arrangements, perhaps because they were too weak to completely enthrall a human host save when the moon was full. There were stories, of course, of ancient sorcerers attempting what Namaka claimed to have done. To invite in another entity, benefit from its power while retaining control. The claim was so outlandish, however, it was hard to credence it. Especially coming from so young a host. On the other hand, it was almost too ridiculous to be a lie. She had to admit, the woman seemed in control. And if Poliahu killed Namaka now, her curiosity about the woman’s condition would never be sated.

Finally she nodded, the ice slipping from her fingers in a shower of frost. “You have my permission, then. Go and find this nanaue.” Weren’t mermaids and weresharks generally hostile to one another? Well, neither one was really her concern. Her job was to protect her human people. “One warning, Princess. If you harm a single person on my island you will earn my wrath. Trust me when I tell you—you do not want that.”

Namaka bowed her head in acknowledgment. Poliahu almost—almost—wanted to invite the girl in to her sanctuary. What would it be like to learn the secrets of a mermaid? Or even to understand the Gift of another Princess? Still, she couldn’t trust the girl, much less the spirit inside her, a being that might be able to understand her notes. No, Poliahu had to keep herself apart. It was the only way to protect her work.

The spirit inside Namaka explained how she had survived the cold. It might even allow her to make it back down the mountain despite the settling darkness. Or maybe not. Oddly, she didn’t want to see the other Princess die here today. Namaka’s presence was disruptive, true, but she carried no obvious ill intent. Moreover, she represented an unknown, a mystery to be solved.

Poliahu spread her hands wide, shaping snow and ice beside her. In an instant, Namaka had her own hands up as if to ward against danger. Poliahu ignored her, forming the ice into a dome five paces high, with a person-sized opening in one side. She could not really be content with sloppy work, though. Steeping her fingers, she shaped a roof like that of any village hut. Her twitching fingers shaved off ice until the top perfectly resembled the grass roofs used far below the mountains.

The effort left her slightly unsteady on her feet, but she most certainly didn’t want Namaka seeing that. Instead, she pointed to the dwelling. “I suggest you wait for dawn to head back down. Even if you don’t freeze to death in the climb, you’re likely to break your neck in the dark.”

Namaka stared at the hut a moment before answering. “Mahalo.”

Maybe the other Princess suspected a trap, but still she climbed inside. Shielded from the wind and elements, the girl could at least enjoy a measure of warmth. Poliahu nodded, then resumed her mist form, intent on flying back to her own refuge. After all, she’d learned a few things worth recording.

4

In the crater of Mount Kilauea a bubble of lava burst, spraying its deadly shower onto the nearby rocks. Deadly to most people, at least. Pele paid it no mind from where she sat far above it, keeping her focus on the campfire burning between herself and Fire-Keeper. The kahuna she had called her father appeared to have endless patience. It was not something they had in common.

“I don’t see anything except fire.”

“You will,” he said. “Keep looking. Don’t look so hard with your eyes. Let your mind relax, the flames draw you in. Patterns of light and darkness, weaving in an infinitely complex dance that reflects the strands of the universe. All patterns are one pattern, a great system connecting all creation in a logic beyond human imagining. You don’t have to see it all—you couldn’t even if you wanted to—but a mere glimpse of true reality might prove beneficial.”

She sighed, not allowing herself to look away. She had asked for this, asked to begin to understand the things kahuna understood. Recent events had forced her to realize just how little she knew about the real world, and the worlds beyond the Earth. “Why does fire show this pattern?”

“Fire is pure and you are connected to it. It makes an ideal medium, but any sufficiently intricate system might serve to spark the Sight in those prone to it. Some watch the tides, some the stars, others see patterns in the flights of birds. We look into fire. What do you see?”

Somewhere down the slope she could hear Kamapua’a tromping around, probably kicking rocks. The wereboar avoided the crater—considering he sweat oceans this close to the lava—but he never went too far. Right now though, she just stared harder at the flame. Not letting herself blink.

“You’re trying too hard,” Fire-Keeper said a moment later. “Your conscious mind is refusing to let go. Remember the meditative state you use to draw strength from fire? To achieve that you needed to let go, let yourself fall into eternity.”

It had saved her life. She still hated meditating.

But if she wasn’t going to try, then this whole lesson was a waste of time. Slowly, one breath at a time, she let her thoughts fade into the background. She gave over not blinking or even thinking about blinking. And through the flicker and spark of the campfire she fell. At such a profound sense of vertigo she had to fight the instinct to pull back, to right herself. No, she had to let the weightless, timeless sensation consume her.

Images flashed in the fire, broken pictures that made so little sense she … no. That was Namaka. She climbed upon a mountain somewhere. Cold. She was freezing and seeking out … another Princess. A Snow Princess.

Pele fell backward, smacking her head on the ground. Her chest had seized up and she couldn’t suck down a breath. Her mind reeled like she tumbled end over end. She opened her mouth over and over, trying to breathe, but her eyesight began to turn red, then fade from view.

A gasp.

And her lungs began to function again, sucking in salvation. She coughed, choking for a long time before she could open her eyes. She was on her back and Fire-Keeper had a hand on her forehead, though he didn’t seem concerned, so much as intent on reassuring her.

She did not sit up. “Could I have died from that?”

“It has been known to happen.”

“That might have been nice to know beforehand.”

“Would it have changed anything, save made you more afraid to let go?”

She snorted and allowed him to pull her back up into a sitting position. Then, fumbling for words, she recounted her vision.

When she had finished Fire-Keeper sat back, legs folded beneath him, hands on knees, as if waiting for her to say more.

Pele sighed. The Snow Princess ruled the Friendly Isle, she knew that much. And for some reason Namaka had gone there, once again venturing onto the island of another Princess. A year ago it would have been unthinkable. But now, somehow, Namaka was changing everything. Bringing Princesses together for the first time in … maybe the first time since Kū had walked Sawaiki and sired them. He had fathered them all in another lifetime. And though they were reborn again and again to different parents, they remained connected to one another.

Most especially herself and Hiiaka, who were both children of … well, both sired by Ku-Aha-Ilo, grandson of Kū. And since they had both become Princesses, they had been separated for years upon years. Each bound to their own island, never meant to cross paths again. Or so she had thought, until she’d met Namaka. The Sea Princess broke all the rules. She’d left her island, become a mermaid, and somehow remained in control of her body. And she represented a shift in thinking, an alteration of kapu itself.

For the first time, Pele saw no reason she couldn’t go and find Hiiaka on the Pineapple Isle, see her sister again at long last.

Except. What was Namaka doing on the Friendly Isle? She had come to the Big Isle trying to cure the disease. Perhaps that was still her mission. Either way, if she had visited another island, she had a purpose.

All the Princesses of Sawaiki were the children of Kū. Seven sisters, born again and again, but forever separated. Until Namaka. The last, seventh Princess of this generation. Everywhere Namaka went, destruction followed. Destruction, and change. Pele had thought Namaka cursed, that the illness was born from the other Princess’s violations of kapu. Fire-Keeper had taught her otherwise, had shown her the sickness came from foreigners. That did not mean the spirits of one island welcomed a Princess from another. Always, with her, there was change, death. She had wrought a change in Pele, too, who had spent the past months reflecting on the connections between Princesses, and on her great-grandfather Kū.

If Namaka was on the Friendly Isle, she had a purpose, most likely a dire one. Perhaps she had discovered another means to combat the sickness, perhaps it was something else. Either way, Pele had to know, had to catch the other Princess. Everywhere Namaka went, she brought chaos. And the fire … it spoke to Pele of Namaka’s bitter determination.

“I have to go after her.”

“Of course you do,” Fire-Keeper said.

Pele frowned. Was it possible he had known what she would see? Had he looked into the fire already, shared her vision? She pushed the thought from her mind. It didn’t matter, not really. She climbed to her feet then began the long trek down the volcano.

She had not gone far when Kam was at her side.

“You missed me, huh?”

Pele ignored that question. “You can sail an outrigger?”

“Pfff. Mighty Kam can sail anything. Anything with sails, anyway. Never tried to sail a rock or tree. I can surf too.”

“Good. We need to reach the Friendly Isle, quick as possible. Your adopted sister is in trouble.”

The wereboar grunted and redoubled his pace down the mountain. Pele could never decide if his presence was a bigger annoyance or amusement. But she couldn’t sail, so for once he would prove useful.

Day II

5

With the first rays of dawn, she’d felt Namaka begin to descend the mountain. For a time Poliahu watched the other woman go, but soon she had pushed her from her mind. Much as the Sea Princess intrigued her, there were more important things to consider. Instead, she descended to where she’d built the hut. She could return it to snow with a wave of her hand, but she hated to destroy her work. Besides, it might well serve as a focal point for her latest venture.

The idea of infusing trees with a soul was too tempting to pass up. And so, she began shaping tree after tree on the slopes around the hut. Each one different from the last, but all lovingly detailed. Lehuas, koas, and banyans. First a dozen, then more and more of them, until this small section of mountain was as dense with ice trees as the slope below was with real ones. She had poured so much detail into the tree in her sanctuary she wished she had a way to move it out here. It was, after all, a masterpiece of craftsmanship.

Instead, she had to content herself with etching as much detail into the ice forest as she could manage. Frozen leaves, flowers, roots, vines. All she attended with care, pausing only to form some snow into a morning snack of poi. While she ate, she went over and over her plan in her mind. This would be harder than the hawks. The scale was much bigger and besides, she had no dome in which to carve the Glyphs. Unless she were to encase this little forest in a dome. That would represent a profound effort, one likely to leave her spent and useless for at least a day, but it might be worth it.

If she could bind a spirit to all these trees, it might be made to sing for her. Legend spoke of trees dancing with mana, infused with the power of life. How glorious Mount Kamakou might become if it were home to a singing, dancing forest. And at the forest’s heart, a shelter for those who made it up so far in supplication. A reward for tenacity.

Predicting the price she would pay was always difficult. The hawks had cost her a few memories, a bit of her childhood it seemed. That was about the smallest price she ever paid. Worse were the times when pieces of her soul were torn out. That was the truest food for spirits, and not something easily, if ever, regained.

So intent was she on her work, Waiau’s presence caught her by surprise when the spirit manifested in the shade of one of the new trees. Though the shadows no doubt offered some protection, it was still odd to see the Mist spirit willingly appear in daylight.

Now, her attention drawn from the forest, Poliahu realized someone else was climbing her mountain. A man this time. By Milu’s frozen underworld, how many visitors was she going to get? This many people usually only dared climb her slopes during the biannual challenge for her love. And … no. No, it wasn’t time for that. Not yet. It did have a tendency to sneak up on her, but if that had been today there would have been a dozen men climbing toward her. They would race each other, some might fight, even kill one another for the chance to know her embrace and siphon off the barest hint of her mana. On occasion, she even watched—in mist form, of course—curious about the spectacle.

Today, though, she had neither curiosity nor time for distractions. She needed to finish this forest today. Then tomorrow she could focus on forming the dome. Really, that was the only way. She could cast her invocations on the open mountain, but for something of this scale, she’d need a massive circle. So massive she couldn’t be certain the wind wouldn’t somehow disrupt it. She didn’t want to find some angry being slithering inside her body like an eel because a stray gust had blown a bit of snow over a flourish in a single Glyph.

Or … one day, maybe, she’d actually try to accomplish a feat like Namaka had, and bind one inside her own body.

Maybe that would even be her next pursuit. But it would need very careful research. She should probably consult Lilinoe before even considering such a course. It was so easy to be drawn from one project to another. She had to make a conscious effort to retain focus. There were always more things to accomplish, more things to learn. Splitting souls, curing plagues, binding a spirit in symbiosis. Her mind raced with possibilities. Maybe, in binding such a spirit, she might even draw enough power to aid the sick.

Waiau finally hissed at her, drawing her attention back to the spirit.

“Sorry, I was … lost in thought.”

“Obviously.”

“You’re here about the man climbing up?”

“Why waste your time with these trees?”

That took her aback. “Lilinoe encouraged me to split a spirit’s soul—”

“You already accomplished that.”

Poliahu frowned, tapping her foot. So what? The Mist spirits had been no help in searching for a cure to the sickness. Did they want her to pursue some other project now?

“Meet the man,” Waiau said.

She met all her supplicants—those who reached her—but the snow sisters rarely seemed to care, sometimes even urged her to ignore them, though she never did. “Why him?”

“There is … power in him. Opportunity.”

Poliahu pursed her lips. “All right. I will. Happy?”

The spirit gave no answer save the hint of a smile as her form flickered away.

Poliahu rubbed her eyes. If this man was so worthy, let him come find her new hut. She needed the time to think, to decide her next move. Hearing Waiau call her singing forest a waste of time left a bitter taste in her mouth. She’d thought soul splitting was what the snow sisters wanted her to master. A few days ago, it had seemed so important to them. They had some deeper plan, they must, but she was missing pieces of the puzzle. As always, they would reveal their intent to her only in their own time.

For the moment, her guardians seemed to think she needed to meet her latest supplicant, for whatever reason.

* * *

She was putting the last flourish on the upper branches of a koa tree—just because Waiau didn’t care about the forest didn’t mean Poliahu wanted to leave it unfinished—when the man reached her. As he panted, she could feel his hot breath on the chilly air. Poliahu drifted in his direction, watching as he stood, hands on knees, trying to catch his breath. He bore a crown of bright red feathers on his head, like the mark of a great chief, and he wore a cloak of feathers as well. He had a strange familiarity about him, though Poliahu couldn’t place him.

“Who are you?” she asked, drifting closer.

He started at her approach, then drew himself up proudly. “Do you not recognize me, Princess?”

She shrugged.

“It’s Aiwohikipua, now. Chief thanks to you.”

She snapped her fingers in sudden recognition, the gesture sending a cascade of snowflakes swirling around her. Yes. What was it, a year ago? Aiwo had been the one to win the race. He’d actually been a quite pleasing lover, now that she thought of it, though she had given him no further consideration once he’d left. Nor could she ever remember one of her lovers returning.

Waiau had said the man had power. Of course he did—he’d gotten it from her. Did the spirit not recognize him either?

“Yes, right,” she said. “Fine. What is it you want now?”

“Why, you, of course.”

She snorted. “You can’t absorb more mana from me. It doesn’t work like that.”

“Oh, I know. You’ve already made me a great chief. I didn’t come for your power—I came for your beauty.”

Poliahu laughed, then turned away. He couldn’t be serious. A man courted a Princess for one reason only. And once that mana had been shared, they had no further reason for contact. Still, it was flattering. She turned back to face him, smiling.

“Look, you came all this way. So if you want to make love again, that’s fine with me.” She should still have enough time to finish the forest before sunset, or she could work a little after if she had to. She couldn’t believe Waiau’s plan for Aiwo involved Poliahu finding a little recreation with him, but neither did she see any reason not to.

“I truly do, but not only once. Yours is the greatest beauty in all my lands and you were by far the most skilled lover I have ever known. I would make you mine.”

Poliahu couldn’t quite form a response to that. He was quite a flatterer, but his words seemed so sincere it made her flush. What more did he hope to gain from her? A chief in his position could take any lover he wished and no doubt kept a small army of them in his house. Did he think adding a Princess to that collection would earn him more renown? Or was it even possible he was serious, that he truly found her more desirable than his other lovers?

She waved the thought away. “You want me to come and stay with you? I’m not going to be one more girl for you to show off to your people. I am a Princess, the daughter of a god.” His desire might have been flattering, but his presumption was not. She took a step toward him, close enough to press a finger to his chest and suffuse it with icy cold.

Aiwo groaned in discomfort but didn’t pull away.

“You know I could freeze your heart solid inside your chest?”

“And you’d still be lusting after me.”

There might have been the smallest truth in that. But she was not about to be a third or fourth woman to him or any other chief. She folded her arms across her chest. “You are so devoted? Prove it. Cast aside your other women.”

The chief rocked back on his heels, jaw working for a moment, before his shoulders slumped. “That’s truly what you want?”

“If you want me to consider coming with you.”

“Fine. I will. But you must come with me. Think of how glorious a child born of our union might be.”

She shuddered. She always took precautions against children. Her sorcery made that easy enough. Kapu demanded a child born to a Princess be sacrificed. And the chief had to know that.

The look on her face must have made her thoughts plain. “Exceptions can be made under extraordinary circumstances. It has happened before.”

Kāne, he was serious. He truly wanted her so badly he’d cast aside his other women, even risk the wrath of kahuna. Such lives were not meant for Princesses … such devotions … The only love she was ever meant for was physical love. Poliahu looked away, glancing around at her ice forest. Aiwo wanted a child with her. It was tabu. Not to bear the child, of course. Such things happened with most Princesses. Many took herbs to avoid pregnancy, but still, it happened. But to let the child live … it would grow up kupua. Powerful, uncontrollable—at least uncontrollable by the standards of chiefs and kahunas. But she knew more than any kahuna, more of the Art, and of the lore of the Ghost World. And with the sisters guiding her … Was that why Waiau had suggested she meet Aiwo? Maybe the Mist spirit had known what the chief intended—known, and wanted to see her bear a child.

And why not? She was young still. Now that she considered it, so much could be learned from it. A child born of a Princess would be special, have an enormous amount to teach her. That must have been the snow sisters’ next plan for her. It might have been nice had they let her in on it before she stood face to face with the man they expected to father her children. Well, if they wanted her to do this, that was her reason for agreeing. It wasn’t because of the man … it wasn’t because she needed anyone else. She was fine on her own.

She had the sisters and her work. That was all that mattered.

Her hand was still on his chest. Now she leaned in close, the memory of their prior encounter arousing her. Yes. She would go down to the village with him, see how sincere he was. Before that …

With one hand she tossed aside her kihei, then pushed Aiwo down into the snow.

6

After the mountain chill, returning to the warm waters around Sawaiki was a moment of bliss for Namaka. It so soothed her she merely floated on her back, drinking in sunlight, pushing herself around with the occasional beat of her tail. The sun’s warmth on her face, its reflection off the glistening sea, they were reminders of her true self.

But if the sea was peace, was home, it was so only at the moment. Not so many leagues from here, the he’e continued their ineffable conquest of all mer. Perhaps the days of the great mer kingdoms were coming to an end. Though she—most especially the part of her that was Nyi Rara—liked to believe Hiyoya was eternal, she knew better. There had been a time before Hiyoya. A time, long before she was born, when the Earth held far more land. Perhaps one day the Worldsea itself would ebb like the tide, returning the Earth to its former state. Or, no. Not former, but a new Earth. Time was change.

She was not, however, going to let Hiyoya become a mere memory. Not while she drew breath. If the he’e wanted to drive all mer from the Earth, they had to go through her. They knew that. Anticipated her every move, more often than not avoided any direct confrontation with her. She had to hope, however, that they had not planned for her to find new allies. Assuming, of course, she could even convince the nanaue to join her cause.

After a moment more in the sun, she flipped around and dove beneath the waters, swimming down until she nearly brushed the seafloor. Kamalo had said Kauhuhu lived in a cave along the sea. The so-called Cave of the Eel. That meant, if she circled the island, followed its every nook, sooner or later she ought to find it. And fortunately, the Friendly Isle was a fraction the size of the Valley Isle.

She swam quickly, though she didn’t use water jets to speed her journey. She needed to search with care more than anything.

It was funny, she had never really considered that Kamalo and Mo-O-Inanea had … pasts. That they had known each other, had adventures, faced dangers all before Namaka was born. The dragon had sheltered the kahuna from the wereshark king. Why? What had Mo-O seen in Kamalo back then? She’d probably never know the answers to these questions. That alone opened fresh wounds for her.

Mo-O had always been there for her, always guided and protected her, and Namaka had never once stopped to ask the dragon why. Her nursemaid had lived for centuries. How many experiences, how many loves and losses and pains had the dragon been through? However many it was, Namaka could no longer get an answer. As a child, she’d been so engrossed in the experience of her own life, she failed to appreciate the lives that had gone before her. Her father’s life, Mo-O’s life. When this was over, she had to make more of a point of knowing her mother and Kamalo, too.

Namaka paused to take in a pair of sea turtles swimming nearby. Some said a sea turtle might carry the soul of an aumakua about, watching over his descendants on the islands. To spot one was said to be good fortune, and no sea turtle could be killed without permission from a chief. She hoped it boded well for her mission here.

She didn’t know why dragons would serve a nanaue, but the king must hold extraordinary power to attract such followers. She was reasonably certain she could defend herself if she had to, but still, care was in order here. Before anything though, she still had to find Kauhuhu.

* * *

A rock outcropping jutted over the ocean, numerous large stalactites descending from it like the teeth of a dragon. Or an eel. The rocks pushed so far out to sea one could only reach this cave by swimming. Fortunately, that was not a problem for Namaka. Still, she entered the shadowed cave with caution. If this was the lair of Kauhuhu the nanaue king, he would likely not be friendly toward a mermaid.

The half-submerged entrance wound a circuitous route that further reinforced her assumption this must be the Cave of the Eel. A handful of cracks in the rocks above let beams of sunlight in, providing the only real illumination. She made her way deeper with slow, steady beats of her tail. The waters grew shallower as she progressed until at last she required legs again. Beside the sea sat a pile of taro peelings like those Uncle Kamalo had described in his story. The pile stood nearly two paces high, taller than her.

This was it. This had to be the place.

Blowing out a long, low breath, she climbed onto the rock shelf, then froze.

Beyond the taro peelings, something moved in the shadows. Something large. Maybe the shark god was already stalking her.

Namaka edged around the pile, hand extended back toward the waters in case she needed to defend herself. The sound of something sharp dragging across stone echoed through the cavern. With agonizing slowness the creature moved into the light. First, a forked tongue tasting the air. Then a head with reptilian eyes, narrowed, focused on her like it could see to the core of her soul.

It was a monitor, an earth dragon like Mo-O, but bigger. Much bigger, since she couldn’t even see the rest of the dragon, hidden behind the taro peels.

“You should not be here.” The creature’s voice rumbled like an earthquake, pregnant with warnings of impending violence and the inherent threat of an ancient being intruded upon.

“I need help.” She could not afford to let the dragon drive her away. Indeed, she forced herself to take a step toward it. She had fought a taniwha. She could stand up to an earth dragon. “Are you Waka?”

A brief snarl reverberated through the cave with such force it sent the peelings atop the pile tumbling down the sides. “How do you know my name?”

“I’m … I was a student of Mo-O-Inanea.”

The dragon surged forward with such speed she had no time to react. Its tail slammed into her legs, sending her toppling over. She hit her shoulder hard on the rock floor, sending an arc of pain down her spine and blurring her vision. Before she even knew what had happened, Waka had a clawed foot pressing down on her chest.

“You. She left because of you. Died, because of you.”

“You know?”

The reptilian face leaned in so close she could smell its putrid breath. Its tongue brushed dangerously close to her eye. “I felt her die.”

“I never wanted … that …” The dragon was putting so much pressure on her chest she could barely breathe. Instinct, fear demanded she lance him with the sea. But dead, he could be no help to her. “I loved her.”

“What do you know of love, mermaid? We were together for centuries. Mates, companions! We—”

A massive surge in the water exploded upward, drenching them both. In the chaos, the dragon released her and scampered backward. Namaka hadn’t called the wave, but it gave her the chance to roll to her feet, gasping for breath.

As the wave broke away it left a man in its wake, massive and covered in tattoos. He rose from a crouch, eyes locked on her face.

“You must be—”

With unearthly speed he flung himself forward and wrapped a meaty hand around her neck. Instinct took over and she reached for the sea. Before she could summon its aid, the wereshark flung her upward. She collided with the ceiling, the side of her head cracking against stone, then plummeted to hit the floor almost as hard.

Unable to form a thought, she lay there groaning, trying to catch a breath.

From the corner of her eye she saw the man walking forward, changing as he did so. Muscles bulged out, gray scales breaking through them. A dorsal fin erupted from his back. Worse still, his jaw seemed to unhinge, becoming impossibly wide while teeth the size of knives jutted from his gums. The creature’s eyes grew black as night.

He should not have been able to assume animal shape during the daylight. Nor had she ever heard of a nanaue with this monstrous, half human form. The thing still had hands—albeit ones ending in clawed fingers. It was like … like Kam, breaking all the rules about shifters.

The change completed, he surged forward, jaws wide. Aumakuas, he wanted to eat her. A twist of her hand summoned a column of water that struck Kauhuhu in midair, flinging him against the cave wall.

“Now,” she said, stumbling to her feet. “If you would just listen to me for—”

The wereshark recovered almost instantly, flinging himself forward in a blur. She sent another stream of water surging at him but he anticipated this one, leaping aside and then lunging again. Namaka hurled herself to the ground and rolled under the shark, sending fresh jolts of pain lancing through her bruised body.

“Stop it! I just want to talk!”

Her answer was a rock flying at her face faster than she could even summon water to deflect it. She tried to dodge but it clipped her shoulder, wrenching it out of its socket and sending her spinning end over end through the air. She landed near the water, staggered, wanting more than anything to weep with the pain.

She pulled a spiral of water around her arm—the only thing she could think to do—even as the wereshark yanked her to her feet again. His massive maw descended toward her throat like he intended to literally bite her head off. Namaka screamed, the sound broken by her split lip and bruised ribs. She jerked her hand forward, sending a lance of water piercing the wereshark’s torso. Or trying.

Kauhuhu dropped her and stumbled backward, a bloody welt appearing in a spot where her attack should have driven a hole clean through him. He looked down at the wound for a moment, then up at her. Though no emotion could be read in his empty eyes, rage radiated off him like water vapor.

She had fallen to her knees when he dropped her and now spun and dove into the water, forming her tail. With her shoulder dislocated she couldn’t swim straight, couldn’t see straight through the haze of pain, but she dashed through the tunnel. More than once, she collided with the wall.

And then there was the entrance, back to open sea. A clawed hand closed around her tail, yanking her back into the cave with such force she actually breached the surface and flew for an instant before hitting the waters again. The moment she did, the shark was in her face, trying to bite it off.

Namaka sent an unfocused blast of water surging outward in all directions. It succeeded in pushing Kauhuhu backward, though not half as far as she’d expected it to. Again she dove deep, this time shooting a jet of water from her good hand to speed her flight. Without being able to use one arm, the maneuver threw her off balance and flung her into the seabed.

Ignoring the scratches that caused she propelled herself again, this time upward. Her course was erratic, painful, nauseating. But it was fast.

In one direction and then another she hurled herself away from the island and out to sea. The ocean rushed past her in a blur, and still she dared not slow, dared not stop calling upon the jets.

* * *

In her mind, her meeting with Kauhuhu had gone a little differently. After hours of stumbling around in the sea she had been fortunate enough to find a merman who helped set her shoulder. And that hurt. Her mermaid body was more resilient than a human’s—a human would likely have been dead—but still she had taken a rather extreme beating.

And how had Kauhuhu even survived her attack, much less kept coming after her? He was so fast. Kāne, he was fast. It gave her no time to form an attack, to direct her Gift.

Now she sat on the seafloor some distance from the Cave of the Eel, rubbing her shoulder. How in the name of all the aumakuas had Kamalo ever gotten help from that thing? It was monstrous. More monstrous than she’d imagined a nanaue could be. Maybe that was how he got to be their king. Kamalo had sent her to this island as a last, desperate ploy to find aid against the he’e. And having so powerful an ally might make all the difference. But she had no clue how to reach the man inside the monster. He was consumed with rage and violence and hunger.

Still, he tolerated the dragon’s presence. Waka had been with Kauhuhu since Uncle Kamalo was a young man, always serving the wereshark. And Kamalo himself had first won the support of the dragons. Only then had the shark king allowed him to speak.

She was fairly certain the wereshark was still out hunting her. At least, she had seen no one come or go from the cave.

Maybe, if she could get the chance to speak to Waka alone … and if not, Kauhuhu would probably kill her this time.

The alternative, however, was to go back to her people empty-handed. To tell them there was no hope against the he’e. That she couldn’t defeat Kanaloa, the god-king, because she hadn’t even been able to stand up to a wereshark. Not really much of an option.

Still, it took every drop of willpower she could muster to make herself swim off the seafloor and back toward the cave. She tried to keep quiet, but there wasn’t much chance the wereshark wouldn’t notice her if he were in.

This time, though, she never left the water. It was her element and the place she was safest. And, truth be told, a shiver of fear ran through her at the thought of treading upon that cave floor again.

“Waka,” she called out, treading water some distance from the land. “Waka, please.”

The dragon slunk forward from some unseen depth of the cave, coming to stand at the water’s edge and stare at her. “You have a death wish, Princess.”

“No. I have a wish to live, and to help others do the same. Sometimes … sometimes I blame myself for Mo-O’s death. I loved her, I did. But she chose her fate, chose to sacrifice herself to try to protect people. To save lives. The Valley Isle was under attack by a taniwha.”

“I know this.”

“And do you know it was the he’e that sent it against us? The very enemy I still fight, even now. The enemy I need Kauhuhu’s aid against. I didn’t ask Mo-O-Inanea to sacrifice herself, I wasn’t even there. But because of her sacrifice we defeated the he’e’s attack. And still they took over Hiyoya. When they are finished with the mer kingdoms, Sawaiki is next. You have to know that.”

The dragon grumbled, but didn’t speak. Nor, fortunately, did he turn away or try to summon the wereshark. That was an encouraging sign, at least.

Namaka extended a hand in pleading. “All I’m asking is for you to get Kauhuhu to speak with me like he spoke with Kamalo. To give me a chance to make my case.”

“And if your case does not convince the shark king, he will kill you. He is beset by a hunger that can never be sated.”

Namaka swam a little closer. “Why? How is he so powerful? How can he even shapeshift in the daytime?”

“You came here not knowing that?” The dragon chuckled, its laugh dry and grating on her ears. “He is the Progenitor of the wereshark line on Earth. First, most powerful. A god by most standards.”

A god sounded like exactly the kind of ally they needed to fight the god-king of the he’e. “Please. If you want to avenge Mo-O, help me destroy the reason she sacrificed herself. Help me stop the he’e.”

The dragon flicked its tongue about before finally answering. “Kauhuhu is ancient, but still he traces his bloodline among the peoples of Sawaiki. Some mortals, he has been known to watch over.”

“He has human relatives?”

“You of all people should understand that, mermaid.”

The realization hit her then—a shifter was a person possessed by a Moon spirit. Most were born that way, born to other shifters or kupua, or, if Kam was to be believed, a Princess. But it was still possible that, long ago, a man might have been possessed later in life. A man with human parents and human siblings. Maybe even human children from before he was taken.

“Who?” she asked.

“The nearest is a village chief, Aiwohikupua. Return with him or his blessing, and Kauhuhu may at least listen to you before killing you.”

Well that was a great comfort. It was, however, better than nothing. “Mahalo.”

“Be gone, mermaid. Leave me to my solitude.”

7

In the evening, at the foot of the mountain, Poliahu followed Aiwo along a circuitous trail worn by years of supplicants coming to see her. A single hut sat in a clearing alongside this path, a great bonfire burning before it. The sight of such flame left her feeling flush, weak, and part of her wanted to recoil from it as Aiwo approached. He, of course, probably welcomed the warmth. Unlike her snow sisters, Poliahu didn’t think the flame would actually harm her, but after so many years shunning it, she didn’t want to find out.

She pulled up short, and since Aiwo held her hand, pulled him to a stop as well.

He turned back to her. “What happened?”

Well. Telling him she was afraid of fire would have made her look weak and foolish. “What is this place?”

“A man lives here. He trades supplies to those coming up to see you. Food, warm kiheis, that sort of thing.”

As if Aiwo had announced him, the man slipped out of his hut. He had a great round belly that made him look like a walking snowball, an appearance accentuated by his near white hair and beard and jovial smile.

“Aloha! Welcome, welcome. Come in and see what I have in store for you.” He beckoned toward the hut with a grin. “Going to meet the Princess, huh? Well, miss, you’re going to want a warmer kihei than that. Plus, I’ve got some dried fish wrapped in poi. Believe me, you’ll work up an appetite long before you find our glorious ruler. Oh, and don’t forget to take a charm or two—blessed by kahunas, I assure you.”

Poliahu allowed the chuckling Aiwo to lead her closer, not quite able to hide her smile. In the darkness, the chief didn’t need to fear his shadow falling on others. She had heard some great chiefs only came out at night because of that.

“I’m not going to see the Princess,” she said.

The jolly old man raised an eyebrow. “There’s nothing else up that path, miss.”

“She is the Princess, trader,” Aiwo said.

At that the old man paused, mouth open, whatever spiel he’d planned forgotten. It took him only a moment to recover, though. “Your Highness!” He dropped to his knees in obeisance, an effort that clearly pained him as his bones creaked.

“N-no,” she said. “Come on. Stand up.” Making her people climb the mountain to see her was a fitting test of their dedication to a goal. Seeing them grovel was pointless and left her feeling self-conscious.

The man rose with a slight struggle, then beamed again. “I beg you, Princess, partake of my hospitality. I have a fish already in the imu. Come in, come in.”

She glanced at Aiwo, who nodded, and followed the trader into his hut. There waited two women, and five children between them, the oldest of whom was probably twenty. All fell to their knees at her entrance. Which meant they’d been listening to the conversation. Poliahu hesitated on the threshold. She wasn’t used to seeing this many people together in one place. Of course, if she let one household bother her, she’d be in trouble when she reached Aiwo’s village.

Poliahu motioned for the family to rise and they did so, then set about preparing the meal. Her instincts told her to duck back outside, slip off into the jungle and embrace the mist. Doing so would have offended her hosts, of course. Still, she longed to walk the night alone, consult with Lilinoe or lose herself in her work. Would her experiment with Aiwo even be worth the trouble? She had to trust the snow sisters had a reason for their plans. They always did.

Before she came to any decision, the smiling trader was calling her back to where steaming fish was served with a side of poi. Unlike her usual fair, this was hot and colored. Poliahu dipped a finger in the poi. It burned and she immediately stuck her finger in her mouth. The flavor was much the same mild taste as she remembered, but she had forgotten how chewy the real thing was. Forgotten, because she had not eaten such real food since her parents had abandoned her.

“I-it’s wonderful. Mahalo.” Her voice sounded ready to break and she found herself rising, unable to look at their faces. Even Aiwo she waved away, and stumbled outside into the bracing night air. What did it matter if she offended these people? She had to escape. What in Lua-O-Milu was wrong with her? She was getting so emotional over some smashed taro root and a fish she hadn’t even tasted. Damn it.

Off the mountain, everything was too damn hot. She always hated coming down here. How had she forgotten? The chill outside at least allowed her to breathe, finally, as though her lungs had only been half full inside.

It sounded like someone was coming after her. Without even pausing to think, she turned herself to mist and flew among the trees, not stopping until she had covered so great a distance no one from the trader’s hut could find her. And there, when she had resumed human form, she collapsed upon a tree root.

“Lilinoe,” she called. “Lili?”

A welcome chill formed in the air before the Mist spirit materialized before her, a mask of concern widening her spectral face. “What happened, child?”

“I …” Poliahu shook herself. There was no way she could really explain. “We should practice the Art. There’s more for me to learn.”

“There always is.” The spirit’s voice held no judgment, but no warmth either.

That in itself was a comfort, a hint of normality in this too-hot forest. Poliahu immediately began to draw a Spirit Glyph in the dirt. She’d evoke a spirit, send it scouting ahead to warn her of danger. It was only a necessary precaution. Then she could sleep secure, knowing all was well, all was safe.

Mere prudence.

“You do not trust this man? He has promised to send away his other mates. Do not forget that. Do not let him forget it.”

No, she wouldn’t. It was a condition of her acquiescence. Pride demanded it. Still, this whole endeavor sat uneasy on her mind. “Why do you want me to have a child?”

“The kupua would be strong, powerful. Even while still inside you. In pregnancy you will be even more flush with mana, more alive than ever.”

Poliahu stared open-mouthed at the Mist spirit. Lilinoe wanted her pregnant to give her more power. She must intend for Poliahu to cast a spell of extraordinary difficulty. Doing so would no doubt expose her unborn child to dangers from the Ghost World.

Poliahu swallowed. “If I asked you what your plan was, would you tell me?”

“We want to help you uncover all that was lost so long ago.”

The secrets of forgotten ages? The truths the Art could reveal. No cause could be more worthy.

And with Aiwo, with her child with him, she would further that cause in a way no one else on Sawaiki ever could. She sighed. She was going to have to go back to that hut.

Day III

8

The morning was still young when Aiwo led her back to his village. Numerous huts decorated the settlement and the village had to be abuzz with fifty people or more. So many faces Poliahu could never hope to tell them apart. There were fishermen and farmers, a kahuna that eyed her like he knew her, warriors …

Aiwo, of course, lived in the biggest hut, located right in the middle of the village. A low stone wall surrounded it, though with five children playing atop that wall she didn’t imagine it kept anyone out. The hut itself stretched probably fifteen paces or more, all of it covered by a well-maintained roof of dried grass. Aiwo had done well for himself here. No doubt the mana she had shared with him had subtly drawn villagers to flock to his side, many probably unaware they were being influenced by his power.

“Would you wait out here?” he asked as they approached the wall.

Poliahu raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

A definite reluctance slowed his steps as Aiwo trod inside the hut. Poliahu turned to watch the children. One—a naked girl maybe six years old—stood upright on the wall, running along it while the other children whooped, applauding her balance. Hadn’t she done something similar before the kahuna named her Princess? Her memories from back then sometimes seemed like dreams, forgotten or banished by the light of day. Maybe it had only been a dream—running and playing and laughing was not her life. Her real life was up on Kamakou, searching out the forgotten secrets of the Art, learning truths lost ages ago.

A woman shouted inside the hut, followed by a chorus of insults slung by several voices. Poliahu turned back as a trio of women stormed out of the hut. Immediately the lead woman—she was perhaps a few years Poliahu’s senior—caught her eye, and as she did so, her face seemed to change. The rage she wore gave way to a look of such vile hatred it turned Poliahu’s stomach. Similar expressions darkened the other two’s faces. The youngest girl was probably not yet twenty.

Rather than cringe as the women stormed past her—a Princess could not cringe before them—she threw her kihei over her shoulder and stood proudly. She had demanded Aiwo cast aside his other women and it was the first thing he’d done on returning home. And that meant Poliahu had effectively deprived these people of their home, cast them down from the highest status in the village to … what? She didn’t know where they would go. Perhaps shame and anger would drive them to a neighboring settlement. Damn, she hoped so. She’d hate seeing them look at her like that every day she spent here. Her intent hadn’t been to harm them—she hadn’t even considered their feelings—but how could a Princess be one more girl in a chief’s entourage? She was a font of mana, the greatest source of power on all the Friendly Isle, and consequently, deserving of more honor than even a chief. Even Lilinoe had told her to enforce these terms, and she had reminded Aiwo again this morning.

Why then, did she feel like some Nightmarcher, stalking a place she didn’t belong, carrying nothing but suffering in her wake?

Some of the children on the wall scampered off after the women—their mothers?—questioning and pleading. Aiwo would certainly welcome his children in his hut, but she had just split up those childrens’ parents. It wasn’t her fault, not really. She had an image to preserve, a dignity her position required.

Aiwo appeared in the doorway a moment later, his face drawn for an instant before he looked on hers. Then a smile crooked his lips, though it did not quite reach his eyes. He took her by the hand and led her inside. A handful of other people dwelled within, all now watching her with suspicion, though each averted his or her eyes if she met their gaze. They knew who she was. He introduced her to each. The old woman with flecks of gray in her hair—his mother. A young man who seemed unable to decide if he hated her or lusted after her—Aiwo’s brother. A pair of children, the oldest was maybe three.

Damn it all. She never should have placed that demand on Aiwo. She wanted to tell him to call the others back, reunite the family. But doing so would make her look a fool, and a fickle one at that. Besides which, her original reason remained. If she allowed herself to be just one more woman doting on this man she effectively dishonored the role kapu had placed on her shoulders. The snow sisters had taught her better than that.

After introducing her Aiwo led her back outside, then clapped his hands loudly. In moments the village had gathered at his summons, murmurs and muttering carried on the wind as all stared at her. “Princess Poliahu of the Snow has graced our village with her presence,” he proclaimed. “Thus we must do her fitting honor. Fire the imu and prepare a luau for this evening! Hunters, bring us a boar!” He gave other orders besides, directing the villagers this way and that, sending them scurrying about like snowflakes whipped in a gale.

“I’m going to need most of the day to arrange things,” he said. “You should make yourself comfortable.”

That seemed unlikely. But still she nodded, allowed him to slip off to whatever it was he intended to do. It was to honor her, after all. That was what she wanted. Wasn’t it? Was that not the reason she’d broken his household?

As the villagers went about their preparations, so many cast glances her way, eyes seeming luminous with unspoken judgments. All she could do was walk, head held high, unwilling to let any of them see her writhe beneath their gazes. And so she drifted, farther and farther from the village, until she entered the jungles.

A little rain flew in with the breeze, darkening the sky and granting her reprieve from the blaring sun. She slunk down against a tree and moaned. As if in answer, the mist congealed around her, three vague shapes lingering in its depths. All three sisters were here, together. That alone was odd—they tended to gather only on special occasions.

Lilinoe was the oldest and most powerful. The middle sister, Waiau, was the easiest to get favors from. And then there was Kahoupokane. The youngest sister was almost never around, always out exploring the other mountains, drifting through valleys on wings of mist. That they had all come to her now, followed her, must mean they feared for her. Of course they did. Here, away from the mountain her power was weaker and, worse, she was removed from all she knew.

“This was a mistake,” she said.

Lilinoe spread her hands. “Run away?” She made it sound like a question, though Poliahu knew it for a taunt.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Calm your mind,” Waiau said.

Easier said than done. This place was too hot, too crowded, and too thick with the judgment of those who could not begin to understand the secrets she had learned, the things she knew. These people were supplicants who came to beg her favor and now she was being judged and scorned by them. By those who, days ago, might have risked life and limb just to stand in her presence and seek her help. Beg her to use her Art to aid them.

“Why let these small beings disturb you?” Kahoupokane asked. She stood the farthest from Poliahu, as though she were about to drift away on the slightest breeze. Indeed, she probably was. “You need only remain a few days. Long enough for the time to be right to conceive.”

Only a few days? So they didn’t intend she stay with Aiwo. Maybe that was for the best. She could let his other women return once she was gone. If that was the case, she wished she could have merely allowed him to stay up on the mountain with her in the first place. But. She had nothing to feed the man there. Coming here had been necessary.

Waiau was right—they all were. She had let herself grow worked up beyond all need. The people came to her for aid. And if she needed to calm her mind now, what better way than her Art? She rose and nodded. Yes, she would receive her supplicants here. Give them the chance to voice their woes and, if possible, work her sorcery to help them. Besides reminding the fickle villagers of who and what she was, it would allow her ample distraction, a place to focus her attentions.

The perfect solution.

* * *

When Poliahu had explained her plan to the village kahuna, the man offered her his own private hut for her use. Speaking to him now, he seemed familiar enough she had to ask.

“Are you one of mine?”

The man was a few years older than her, but young enough. He nodded. “Yes, Princess. I came to you a decade ago. It was late in the afternoon and a chill breeze threatened to freeze my ass off.”

Poliahu smiled and nodded, pretending to remember him. After so many years, the men she’d known all blended together. They visited her, shared a moment and were gone. Names, even faces, no longer made any impression. Or maybe those were other memories stolen from her. Moments of passion were prime targets for that. She remembered her first time, maybe her first few. After that … it was a blur. She’d remembered Aiwo, but only after he reminded her.

“Tell the villagers I will see them. But … one at a time.” No sense letting herself get overwhelmed. Too many people at once set her heart racing uncomfortably.

The kahuna nodded, his face warmer now, as though pleased she had remembered him. Probably all men wanted to think themselves memorable. All women, too, for that matter. In the end, though, the transitory experiences of a passing moment were of little consequence. Moments that added up to nothing. The sum of her life would be the discoveries she made, the lore she uncovered. And, perhaps one day, she might find an apprentice to whom she could pass on that knowledge. Or … maybe even this child she planned to conceive with Aiwo. The child would be kupua, like her, and well poised to learn the Art. Indeed, it seemed such a perfect solution she had to wonder why she had never thought of it before. The tabu that prevented a Princess from keeping her children seemed a foolish one, a rule imposed by kahuna who fearfully guarded their own power.

For a time she sat alone in the hut, legs folded beneath her. Slowly, she began to slip into a trance, one that might awaken her vision to the Ghost World. Not that she had any pressing need to see it, but—despite the danger of opening herself up to that realm—she liked to remain in practice.

Her meditation was interrupted by a man slipping inside the hut, then prostrating himself before her. He lay with his face in the dirt but she immediately bade him rise. She appreciated his respect, but obsequiousness did neither of them any good.

“What is it you seek?”

The man glanced back at the doorway, bringing a slight smile to her face. One good thing about meeting her visitors on the mountain—no one feared eavesdropping.

“There is a man who took something of mine. A warrior from another village claimed my canoe as his own, even the haul of fish I was bringing home.”

Poliahu folded her arms. If this man asked her for a canoe she’d freeze his balls off. The other advantage to receiving petitioners atop a mountain, one they might die climbing—people did not come to her for petty reasons. “And? What is it you want from me?”

“To see him punished. The honorless thief shamed me and deprived our village of food. Instead of going out to fish, I spend my days carving a new canoe while this warrior profits from his theft.”

A slow frown settled over her face. The fisherman helped provide food for this village. A moment ago she’d considered the loss of a canoe a petty concern. But to this man it was the source of his contribution, his reason for being in the village. To him, the insult was no different than she’d felt about sharing Aiwo with three other women. Worse, perhaps, because she had cared only for herself, while he could legitimately claim others were harmed by this.

The problem, however, was that she could not really punish a nameless warrior from another village. Curses, most such spells really, required something personal from the subject. An object to which a sympathetic connection could be made, creating a trail for whatever spirit she invoked to follow.

She stared deep into this man’s eyes. For her to help him, for him to get his revenge, he was going to have to take a risk. “I can curse the thief, even bring about his death. But only if you bring me something of his. And not just anything—it needs to be connected to him. A lock of his hair, a treasured possession, a drop of his blood. Something of value to him.”

The fisherman’s face fell. Yes. To get his revenge, he would have to find his way to the other village and steal something from that warrior. If he could do that, he could probably kill the man himself. But then, sorcery was never an easy answer. It did not exist to make life easier. It existed, perhaps, to defy fate. And that was saying nothing of the price the poor man would pay for this. Nothing was free. A spirit would take its payment out of her, too, but at least some part of the price would come from the fisherman. Cast a spell on behalf of another, and the burden of payment fell to them, after all. Part of her almost hoped he would give over his need for revenge. Realize that, whatever honor he had lost with his canoe, he stood to lose something more valuable now.

“I will get what you need,” he said.

Poliahu nodded solemnly, only allowing herself to sigh when he had left. Maybe she should have tried to talk him out of it. She was not the kahuna, though, and it was not her place to try to save his soul. One could rarely predict the price of sorcery, either. Perhaps he would pay with pieces of his soul, with years off his life, with his memories, or perhaps with something even more precious to him. She had once helped a mother save her dying lover. The cost had turned out to be the couple’s only child, who had withered away and died within a week.

You could spit in the face of destiny—but it would spit back.

No sooner had the man left than a young woman rushed in, her hair in a state of disarray, her face dripping with sweat.

“What do you seek?” Poliahu asked even as the woman threw herself to ground before her.

“Princess, my sister … please!” Face buried in the dirt, the woman spoke so fast Poliahu could make little sense of it, other than that her sister was apparently in labor.

Poliahu lifted the woman’s chin to look in her eyes. “I am not a midwife.”

“We have a midwife. She says the labor is unnatural, dangerous, baby is facing the wrong way, too long. Too long labor and, and, and … You have to do something. There was so much blood!”

That didn’t sound good. The woman’s hysterics made it hard to be certain what was happening. Poliahu needed to see this for herself. Grabbing her by the elbows, Poliahu pulled her supplicant to her feet. “Take me there.”

The young woman did so, guiding Poliahu by the hand past several houses toward a women’s communal hut. Poliahu wouldn’t have needed the guide. The screams erupting from inside left little doubt this was place. She rushed inside to find a pair of women kneeling beside one on her back, legs bent at the knees. The ground between the pregnant woman’s legs was damp with blood.

One of the others sat holding her hand, but turned at Poliahu’s approach. “You did this to her.”

“Me?” Poliahu moved to kneel by the woman’s side. She seemed familiar, but … Oh aumakuas. This was the woman who had come to her, unable to conceive. That must have been six, seven months ago. Or was it more? She was certainly full term now. Poliahu had evoked a spirit of fertility, allowed the woman pregnancy when nothing would have otherwise blossomed in her womb. It had cost the prospective mother years off her lifespan, but she had paid the price gladly.

And now that pregnancy was killing her. Poliahu had used the Art to bring life where none was meant to be. She’d thought the price the mother would pay would be a few years. Except, maybe it was going to be all of her remaining years. She thought she’d cast everything so perfectly. Maybe she did. Maybe her mistake was not during her spell, but in trying to use the Art at all to solve such a crisis. And now she had a choice. Watch her victim die … or use the Art again to try to undo what she had done. And, if she chose the latter, she risked making things even worse than they already were.

But still, it was hardly a choice at all. She would not sit here and do nothing while this woman died. This was one of her people, one seeking her help. What purpose did the Art serve if it could not be used to aid her people in such times?

She stood and turned to the sister. “I’m going to need everyone but you and the midwife away from here. Do not let outsiders approach. No one must interfere with what will happen next.”

* * *

“What’s her name?” Poliahu asked the midwife.

“Kaikilani.” The other woman’s voice shook, and not just from exhaustion. She feared her Princess.

Poliahu shook her head, pushing the meaningless servant from her mind. What did she care what that woman thought? Instead, she knelt beside Kaikilani and placed a hand on the laboring woman’s forehead.

She had tried to help this woman. Instead, the pale, shivering form before her looked at her with cloudy eyes on the verge of death.

Despite wracking her brain, Poliahu could not be certain how to help Kaikilani. The baby was clearly in distress, and facing the wrong way. If she could use a spirit to give the child strength, to turn it, maybe baby and mother could both survive the labor. As things stood now, both were doomed.

Working her Art here felt wrong, though, alien. Something about the isolation and remoteness of her mountain made it seem the place for sorcery. Here, with the sister and the midwife looking on, it felt like she was violating some tabu to even consider calling a spirit. But she had to.

Decision made, she rose from Kaikilani’s side.

There was no ice here, no easy way for her to carve Glyphs. That left no real choice but to draw them in the dirt floor. And without her notes, she’d be drawing Glyphs from memory. She was toying with disaster.

Kaikilani screamed again.

“Both of you, stay with her,” Poliahu snapped at the midwife and sister. “And do not move.”

She stalked behind the woman and began to trace her finger along the dirt between her and the wall. The ground was harder than she’d have liked, beaten down by many footsteps, so that her efforts made little impression, and unlike ice or snow, she could not simply carve it with a thought. Instead, she formed an icicle and gripped it tightly like a dagger, using it to cut the design. Glyphs were generally flowing works of art, featuring numerous flourishes and intricacies, each of which had to be made with precise care. A single mistake and you could wind up calling the wrong spirit or having your circle fail entirely.

But this Glyph she knew well. “Waiau,” she whispered. “Waiau, come to me.”

She didn’t wait for a response, instead moving around the woman. If she were to trace a circle ten paces around Kaikilani she’d have the right amount of space for each Glyph. Ten paces? No, fuck. Nine. Ten paces would make it too wide, she might need an extra Glyph. Normally, she’d have spent an afternoon making such calculations. Now she was having to figure the circle size in her head, in a moment, while distracted by the sound of a screaming woman and her weeping sister. Nine paces. She was fairly certain it was nine.

She would use a Moon spirit to give the baby strength, force it to turn itself. Moon spirits were excellent for increasing strength and resilience. It was what made shifters so physically daunting, after all.

Mist seeped in through the doorway, drifting around the corners of the communal house and sectioning off all but the circle of women. Poliahu whispered to the mist, explaining her plan to Waiau. The Mist spirit hissed at her, perhaps indignant at being made part of the circle without her permission. But still, in the midst of her vapors she opened a circle nine paces wide, marking the boundary clearly.

Already, Poliahu was carving another Glyph. “Check this one.”

“Wrong.” The voice that answered came from in front of her, but not from any one location as a person’s would have. “You are missing a dot above the third flourish on the right.”

Damn. Waiau was correct. One little dot. Poliahu carved it and moved on to the next spot. The fevered cries of the other women urged her to hurry, but she couldn’t afford to do that. None of them could afford for her to hurry. Even Kaikilani would be better off dying than risking Poliahu making a mistake here.

Another Glyph, another. So many spirits to invoke, to evoke, all so she could call one to turn the baby. Call one, and give it the power to perform a physical act on Earth. Let it into the baby, but only for a moment. Unfortunately, it meant calling them all, giving them power here on Earth, if only for an instant. She’d be using her will to pull the spirits through the veil, and once here, they could do as they wished unless her circle was strong enough to hold them.

“You plan to summon a Dark spirit?” Waiau asked.

“What? No!” Poliahu looked down at her carving. Lua-O-Milu! Waiau was right again. She’d let the women distract her. Dark Spirits might have their uses, were often ideal for visiting curses upon one’s enemies, but proved less suited for protection in a circle. If Waiau hadn’t caught the misplaced line, she’d likely have summoned a Nightmarcher.

She drew more Glyphs, completing the circle and trying, desperately trying not to look at the dying woman. She should not have used the Art to let Kaikilani conceive. Had it been arrogance on her part, or mere negligence? She’d known there would be a price, but had failed to guess how complete that price would be.

“Predict the price?”

Waiau was often adept at making such guesses. The spirit was silent for a moment, mist the swirling around the room as she inspected each Glyph. “The rotting of the womb, perhaps.”

That would mean Kaikilani would never be able to have another child. But, if she died, that would be a forgone conclusion in any event. Under the circumstances Poliahu really had no choice, nor was the woman herself in any position to make a decision on the matter. She would have to pay this price, or die.

“Then let us do it.” Poliahu rose, paced around the circle, and began to chant, invoking the spirits she had carved Glyphs for. The more spirits a sorceress knew the names and Glyphs for, the more potential uses she could bend sorcery to, and the more powerful her spells could become. But then, such things also came with increased risk. The more you called, the stronger your will had to be, the more minds you had to contend with.

Her chest trembled, felt apt to rupture with the power she invoked. The language of sorcery vibrated in her skull. Lilinoe had once supposed that language represented the fundamental structure of the universe, that reality was, in a sense, sound. And sorcery used that sound, along with spirits, to rewrite the principles governing reality.

“Poliahu?” Aiwo asked. “You’re missing the luau.”

She spun on him. He had come through the entrance, clearly having ignored the woman she’d posted outside to keep out intruders. And he had trod over a Glyph. His foot had smudged a line.

“Get out!” Poliahu shrieked at him.

Eyes wide, the man ducked outside.

Oh, aumakuas. What had that ghostfucker done? Poliahu continued her chant, heart threatening to climb out her throat as raw, bile-inducing panic seized her. She raced over to the marred Glyph and fell to her knees, desperately clawing at it, trying to redraw the damaged flourish.

The tight ground resisted her attempts. They were all going to be ravaged by spirits. Everyone in this house, maybe in the whole damn village. Aiwo might have just turned his home into Lua-O-Milu.

A force hit her like a wave, bowling her over and leaving her lying on her back. She had pulled it to Earth, given it power over her. It slammed the backs of her hands to the ground and slowly drew her arms and legs apart. Despite the fear and pain, Poliahu managed to keep chanting. She could afford to think of nothing else. Welts rose on her palms and then burst. From there, twin gashes began to spread downward, tracing the length of her arms, up to the inside of her elbows.

She screamed, fighting to continue chanting through the pain. The cuts spread farther, slicing open her upper arms, her armpits. A thousand invisible crawling nothings crept over her legs, biting her shins and thighs and knees and nethers. Those bites left no visible wounds, but it felt like beetles boring through her skin, gnawing their way up her legs and into her gut.

A dozen alien, angry presences poisoned the air and beat across her soul. Those spirits she had called to control the one she needed, some had turned against her. She flung her will at them, not daring let any escape out into the village. In spreading herself so thin, her concentration against the others faltered. A spirit slipped from her mind’s grasp like a slimy fish popping through her fingers. The moment she lost it, her mind reeled and she retched, her own vomit caking her face when she couldn’t roll over.

It was here. She had tried to let it dip into the baby, turn it. But now that spirit had slunk all the way inside. The child was possessed. Most likely, she had just created a new shifter. But even so, through her connection to the spirit, she felt it turn the baby—turn itself now, really.

Slowly, the other spirits receded back into the Ghost World as her spell ended. The power that had pulled them to Earth expended. Except, whatever force held her down still bored into her, perhaps trying to take her body as well. Before it could do so, she felt Waiau coalesce near her, chasing the spirit away. Finally released, Poliahu rolled over and spit, coughing out blood and phlegm, and panting. Her eyes watered at the agony. Pain wracked her sides, her whole body. Everything hurt. Kaikilani and her baby had paid the brunt of this price, but because of Aiwo, Poliahu had not exactly gotten off easy. She lay there several moments, trying to catch her breathe. Finally, she wiped her face and rose to her knees. All she wanted to do curl up into a ball and sleep.

The sister was watching her in obvious horror, probably having had no idea such terrors would result from her request. Now she knew. And the truth was, they were all damn lucky. The baby was possessed, and Poliahu had been tortured, but things could have gone much, much worse.

9

Aiwohikupua’s village was not so hard to find. The Friendly Isle was much smaller than the Valley Isle, and by evening Namaka had stopped at enough villages to be certain. The sun was low on the horizon and the sound of drums greeted her arrival. Water still streamed from her hair as she walked among the settlement. Candlenut torch poles lined the village, welcoming the setting sun. This was a luau. With any luck, that would put the chief in a good mood.

A line of hula dancers, male and female both, had gathered before what obviously was the chief’s dwelling. Only temples were larger or more important than a chief’s hut, and this one was large enough to comfortably house fifteen people or more. Namaka’s father had built his own dwelling much more modestly, more in line with those of the rest of the village.

Namaka made a wide circuit around the dancers, careful not to distract them from their holy duty. She missed it, though only now, seeing them dance, did she really realize how much so. The dance honored the gods and now Namaka herself—by some standards—might almost be considered a goddess. She housed a mermaid princess inside her, after all, in addition to her human side being kupua already. Such idle thoughts served nothing. That was a life she had left far, far behind to embrace a new destiny. War and politics and desperation. Those were the steps of her new dance. Instead of honoring gods, she found herself struggling to fight against one.

What would her father say to hear such things from his daughter? She, the girl who had shirked her role as Princess, refused to take lovers, spent her time surfing and doing hula. And now? Now she was warrior and priest, and a princess to two failing civilizations. Well, she had taken it upon her shoulders not to let either of them fall.

A woman placed a lei of pink plumerias around her neck, the flowers smelling like jasmine, heady and wonderful. She had missed this—simple celebrations, music, laughter. All her days seemed filled with battle and death now.

A man wearing a crown of red feathers sat upon a raised platform, his position carefully calculated to ensure his shadow not fall upon any of the villagers. That would mean death to the public, of course. A Princess was beyond such prohibitions. She strode toward the chief with such assuredness no guards bothered to interpose themselves. The chief’s furrowed brow smoothed as she approached. Namaka ascended the platform to stand before him, the audacity of which was enough to bring him to his feet.

“Do you desire me so desperately?” he asked.

“All desire is desperate. It is born of needs of the body, the mind, or the soul.”

He chuckled, then openly looked her body up and down. “Well said. I always aim to satisfy the needs of my people.”

“Sadly, I’m not one of your subjects. There is something I need, though.”

“I’m certain I will be glad to grant whatever such a pretty girl desires.”

“Glad to hear it. I need a token of your blessing to prove myself to the nanaue king.”

The chief’s mouth froze in a half grin and he shook his head once, as if uncertain he had heard correctly. “That is … not a need I expected from you.”

Face plastered with the coyest smile she could manage, Namaka inclined her head. “You are Chief Aiwohikupua, are you not?”

“I am. Who is it that asks for such an odd boon?”

“Namaka, Princess of Sea.”

The chief rocked back, then laughed. “I think you might be on the wrong island, Princess.”

“I’m where I want to be.”

He rose then, moving toward her with a slow gait, as if to threaten her with his shadow. But the sun was already setting and shadows were everywhere, so even were she not a Princess she’d have little to fear. Namaka held her ground and folded her arms in front of her chest. “What does the Princess of Sea have to offer in exchange for my token?”

“Oh. Well, the gratitude of the Valley Isle. And Hiyoya. Did I mention I come speaking for Queen Latmikaik of Hiyoya as well?”

That might have been stretching the truth, just a little. Her aunt probably had no idea she was even here, and wouldn’t have deigned to seek help from the nanaue if she had known. But as a princess of Hiyoya, she was entitled to take a few liberties.

The chief moved until he stood close enough to whisper in her ear. “Does that mean I will be offered treasures from somewhere deep … down below?”

She allowed her cheek to brush his. “Perhaps you’d like a pearl?”

“Sounds like a worthy treasure for a chief.”

She laid a hand on his chest. “Then I shall bring you one next time I visit Hiyoya.” At that she pulled away, trying her best to maintain the coy smile and not bust into a laugh.

The chief shook his head sadly. “Someone has been teasing me, I think. And I was so looking forward to shining your pearl.”

Now she couldn’t hold back the snort. He was handsome enough, and his affections were tempting … what did it truly matter? If he siphoned some mana off her, it wasn’t like there was any tabu against sharing with a man from another island. If this was the easiest way to earn his favor, it was hardly an ordeal. She quirked her head to the side, toward the jungle, then strolled off. She didn’t need to look back to see he would follow.

10

A chill sweat drenched Poliahu, plastering her hair to her face. Kaikilani had grown worse still, her breathing shallow. The sweat on her had grown cold too, and Poliahu had no idea whether cooling would do any good. This should have worked. As badly as her spell had been disrupted, still the Moon spirit had turned the baby, given it fresh strength. And yet, the mother’s strength was now giving out.

Kaikilani’s screams had given way to whimpers. Despite all the sorcery Poliahu had worked, the woman was going to die.

“I can see the crown,” the midwife repeated for the third time. This time, her voice held more pleading than excitement. As if to say they were so close. So close. Kaikilani could not give up now.

But Poliahu could see it on the pregnant woman’s face. She had given up, or at least given out. Her energy was spent.

“Not now,” Poliahu mumbled. Not after all this. “You cannot give up.”

She placed a hand on Kaikilani’s forehead. The woman shut her eyes.

Damn it, she was not going to let this happen. If only she had some way to … to give. That was her final option, wasn’t it?

“Watch her,” she said, then pulled slightly aside and sat on the floor.

Kaikilani needed a little more strength. Just a little more power, more mana. Poliahu was overflowing with mana, but there was no easy way to transfer it to the other woman. The usual means, sex or the consumption of her flesh, were not exactly practical. That left her only indirect, dangerous routes.

She pulled aside her skirt to examine Lilinoe’s Glyph on her thigh. She had to get this exactly right, and the Mist spirit was going to need more than a simple call. She would need a catalyst for something like this. She shook her head.

“I need a sacrifice.”

“What?”

“Find the chief! I need a sacrifice, a living being, now!”

Kaikilani’s sister dashed outside toward the luau, eyes wide. She had probably never seen anyone save a chief or kahuna offer a sacrifice. Probably didn’t want to see it. But some things were necessary.

Palm open, Poliahu formed a razor-sharp icicle in her hand. Her hands and arms were still wet with blood from the last spirit’s attack. This time, though, she would be calling a spirit that didn’t intend her particular harm. She blew out a long breath, steeling herself against the pain that must surely come next. She began to trace Lilinoe’s Glyph into her flesh. The wound immediately blossomed with her blood and the pain made her want to look away. Of course, she couldn’t cut so precise a mark without seeing her work.

“Lilinoe,” she chanted, over and over, intermixing the spirit’s name with entreaties.

At first nothing happened. Then mist began to drift in through the hut’s open doorway, suffusing the house and pooling in the corners. She was here, though she had not shown herself. Poliahu need not look into the Ghost World to sense the spirit’s presence.

“I need to transfer some of my mana into this woman.”

The voice, when it answered, was slow, thick, and seemed to come from all around the house. “Death draws near.”

The midwife flung herself into the dirt, covering her head and muttering prayers to the aumakuas.

While it was unlikely the woman’s ancestors could or would have interfered with Lilinoe, Poliahu had no inclination to take that chance. “Shut up!” She looked into the mist. “I know death is here. I’ll give it a different offering.”

Where in Lua-O-Milu was Kaikilani’s damn sister?

Poliahu had only just risen when the woman returned, along with a warrior shoving a man before him. The victim was bound with a harsh rope that had clearly been tied with great haste.

“We couldn’t find Chief Aiwohikupua,” she said. “But the warriors offered this slave.”

Couldn’t find him? He had just been here, disrupting her last spell.

“Can you save her?” the warrior asked.

Was he the father? It didn’t really matter. “Maybe. Now get out.”

The slave looked around the room, eyes wide, and began begging, pleading to her, the aumakuas, anyone who would listen. The moment the warrior released him he made a break for the door.

The warrior grabbed the slave and threw him down.

“Fine,” Poliahu said. “You can stay. Bring the sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice? Please, Princess, no!”

“Shut him up.”

The warrior dragged her victim to Kaikilani’s side then punched him in the face until his cries became whimpers mirroring those of the midwife.

Poliahu knelt beside him. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” She looked to the warrior. “You’d better hold him steady.”

When the man did so, she hefted the icicle and began to carve Lilinoe’s Glyph on the slave’s chest. The poor victim wailed in agony and thrashed against the warrior’s grip.

“I offer this man’s life in exchange for Kaikilani’s life,” she chanted as she worked. “Death for death.” Then she began to chant in the language of sorcery, her words echoing in the house and reverberating through her skull. It rent memories and joys and mortal perceptions—she felt them go, evaporating like fog in sunlight. A sorceress could so easily lose the bits of herself that made her human, lose the conceptions of right and wrong, and then forget she had even lost them. Sometimes, Poliahu wondered if that had already happened to her.

Slowly, in rhythm to her chant, the mist began to seep up into human form. Lilinoe, or her silhouette, a projection on Earth, reached one hand to Kaikilani’s abdomen and placed the other on the slave’s wound. The midwife screamed and the slave thrashed beneath the warrior’s arms.

“Now,” Lilinoe whispered.

Poliahu plunged her icicle into the slave’s heart.

As he gasped his last, Kaikilani sucked in a sudden deep breath. Death for death. One life, traded for another. And now Lilinoe reached a hand toward Poliahu. She took it. The spirit had no substance—it was like holding mist that was just a hair thicker than it ought to have been. A chill formed in Poliahu’s gut, spread to her nethers and seeped into her limbs as warmth was drawn from her. Sheer force of will kept her sitting up for a heartbeat. Two. Three.

She fell over, the spirit’s grasp on her broken. The draining of so much mana left her shivering like any mortal human exposed to extraordinary cold. Shivering and afraid.

A fresh cry suffused with sudden, borrowed strength erupted from Kaikilani.

When at last Poliahu looked up the midwife was holding the baby in her arms. It was wailing. Alive, vibrant. A stark contrast to the pale midwife, her eyes frozen in horror. And the slave’s lifeless body lying within reach of Poliahu’s fingertips. The warrior, too, looked shaken, almost beyond human reach.

Poliahu moaned, feeling weak. She needed to replenish her mana. She was so drained she might well be able to siphon mana off a man herself, provided he was rich in it. A chief or kahuna. And why the fuck had that girl not been able to find Aiwo? He should have been presiding over the luau.

Fighting through dizziness, she pulled herself into a sitting position.

“You are betrayed …” Lilinoe whispered.

Betrayed? She wanted to ask what the spirit meant, but her mentor faded back into the mist, perhaps drained herself from the effort.

Poliahu staggered to her feet. Who had betrayed her? Lilinoe knew something. Finally, she stumbled out from the door.

Outside, the hula had finished and fire dancers were tossing flaming batons. Even cold as she was, she instinctively averted her eyes from the punishing flames. Only then did she spot Aiwo returning from the jungle. Returning with Namaka in tow. The chief turned to the other Princess and offered her his feather crown. Namaka took it, winked at him, then began to walk away.

Betrayed.

Poliahu leaned against the hut’s wall, unable to quite believe what she had just seen. Aiwohikupua had been missing because he was too busy fucking another Princess. The man had thrown this luau to … it was supposed to be in Poliahu’s honor. He’d even sent away his other women. But the moment some other Princess strutted before him, he was busy pumping her with his banana.

While she was busy saving the life of one of Aiwo’s people, he was shaming her.

“Will you let it stand?” Lilinoe’s voice was a mere whisper on the wind. Poliahu didn’t bother to answer. Some affronts could not be forgiven. Aiwohikupua had broken his promise to her and in so doing, dishonored her role as Princess of this island.

The chief headed into his hut and Poliahu followed, her steps sluggish. Ice crystals formed on her hands of their own volition, spawned by her cold rage. She flexed her fingers to flick them off without stopping. Indeed, her anger lent her strength, sped her pace. As she reached the hut, Aiwo was already headed back out.

Poliahu put a hand on his chest and guided him back inside. “Take me, my love,” she said.

He immediately flushed, but smiled. “Shouldn’t we get back to the luau, Princess?”

“What’s the matter, chief?” She grabbed his balls with her other hand and squeezed ever so gently. “Need time before you can get it up again?”

His face fell. “Poliahu—”

“What? One Princess not enough? Wanted to be the only man on Sawaiki who slept with two? Why stop there? Go for all seven!” Now she squeezed a little harder and he gasped.

“Ugh. Aumakuas, girl. Did you plan to take no more lovers? To stop sharing your mana across the island?”

“Shut up!” She poured cold through her hands, freezing his chest and crotch both.

Aiwo screamed and collapsed. Those cries would bring warriors charging in here any moment. Poliahu dropped with her knees on his chest and let her pain surge into him. All of that awful chill. She had come here because of him, had left her mountain and her studies for this man, all so she could bear his child. And while she was busy helping his people he betrayed her. He’d sent away his common women, but just couldn’t turn from another Princess’s embrace.

His skin grew brittle, turned blue. His screams slowly died as ice crystals formed on his eyes. Lying ghostfucker got what he deserved.

“He was not the only one who broke a trust …” Lilinoe was still with her. Still nearby, ensuring Poliahu acted in accordance with justice. And the spirit was right. Two had been involved in this betrayal.

With a final glance back at her dead lover, Poliahu let her form become mist. She flew out, carried on the breeze a short distance toward the beach until she spied Namaka. The Princess, feather crown dropped over her shoulder, had paused to enjoy the feast. Poliahu’s feast. So fucking her man was not enough. The Sea Princess also had to add to the insult and eat her food.

Poliahu solidified behind the Princess and yanked out one of her hairs.

Namaka shrieked and spun around. “What in the name of Kāne is wrong with you?”

Poliahu silenced her with a glare, then returned to mist, skirting the village’s edge and forming once again out in the jungle. The bitch thought she could come to her island and do whatever she wanted. That show of courtesy on the mountain had been a mere show, a mockery of sentiment.

Well, Poliahu would show this Princess who she had offended. Namaka would taste the cold, would drink it in so deep no fire would ever warm her again. And when she could take no more, then the burning would begin. Poliahu reserved such curses for the vilest of betrayers. And now, it seemed apt.

She began to carve Lilinoe’s Glyph into a tree.

11

The village seemed to have been deep in the throes of a luau, but it was no celebration Pele and Kam wandered into. The flame visions had led Pele here, assured her this was where Namaka was. They had not, however, prepared her for the funeral now underway. The air was thick with the mourning chant. Only a mighty loss would have drawn so many into the chant, and since the kahuna was there, leading the ceremony, she had to assume it was a chief who had died.

“Maybe the poor shitter choked on a mouthful of boar,” Kamapua’a said.

Pele ignored him and made her way through the crowd. There, on the outskirts … Yes. Namaka. The Sea Princess stood, arms folded, staring at the roasting body. The highest ranking of the villagers would receive a piece of their chief, a chance to consume his flesh and return his mana to the people. But why was Namaka here? Had she known the man?

“Fish Girl!” Kam shouted, clearly having spotted her. His outburst drew hostile stares from near everyone in the gathering.

Pele would have scolded him if the look on Namaka’s face hadn’t been worth it. Besides, it wasn’t like she was the one with no sense of propriety. Actually, she suspected Kam had a sense of propriety, too. He just enjoyed people’s reactions when he violated that sense.

Namaka took two steps toward them, then her mouth opened and worked like a fish out of water. She hugged herself, shivered, clear confusion wracking her features. And then she dropped to the ground.

Pele ran to Namaka’s side but was easily outpaced by Kam, who had swept his adopted sister up in his arms long before Pele reached them.

“Bring her away from the crowd,” Pele said.

Kam did so, laying Namaka upon the sand on the beach. “What’s wrong, Fish Girl? You need a swim? Shit, Pele. She’s cold as a snowball.”

Indeed, Namaka’s teeth were chattering. Though the night was cool, it was hardly cold. Pele knelt beside her, placing the back of her hand on the girl’s forehead.

“P-Poli …” Namaka managed through her shivers.

“Quiet,” Pele said. She ought to be able to warm Namaka, though she’d never tried to produce heat without intent to burn. She pressed her hands together, trying to concentrate on calling up warmth without actually lighting her hands on fire. She blew on her fingers until they glowed only slightly, then held up one hand toward Kam. “How hot are my palms?”

“Well I’m fond of your entire body, but yeah, those are nice palms.”

“Kam, if you don’t cooperate I will slap you so hard your head catches fire. Touch my palms and tell me if they’re going to burn Namaka.”

The wereboar grunted, perhaps finally catching her mood, and held her hand for a moment. “Should be all right.”

Hoping he was correct, she placed both palms on Namaka’s chest. The Sea Princess immediately grabbed her hands with her own—they were icy enough to actually be painful—and held on like her life depended on it. Pele glanced at Kam. Nothing she had ever seen or heard of could have caused something like this. After a few moments, the chills lessened and Namaka’s hands grew warmer.

Still, she clutched onto Pele.

“What happened to you?” Pele asked.

“I-I’m not sure. Poliahu was apparently involved with Chief Aiwohikupua. She killed him, froze him to death.”

“Was that who you just slept with?” Kam asked.

Pele raised an eyebrow and Namaka glared. “Poliahu is the Snow Princess. Before she left she looked at me like I was some kind of monster. She was a totally different person from the woman I met on the mountain.”

“And she did this to you?” Pele asked.

“I don’t know. She didn’t touch me the way she did to the chief. Well, except she yanked out one of my hairs.” Namaka swallowed. “My hair …”

“What is it?”

“As a mer I’m familiar with—” She gasped suddenly, wracked by further chills.

Pele grabbed her to seep more warmth into her chest, but Namaka wasn’t cold. If anything she felt flushed with heat, feverish. She shuddered, moaning in discomfort. Pele stared at the other woman, uncertain what to do. Though she may have drawn heat—energy—from fire or lava, she had no idea how to draw it from Namaka. And even if she could, her control was not nearly so precise as that. A little too much stolen and Namaka would be a corpse.

Kam knelt beside Namaka and placed a hand on her head. “Shit. She needs water. I’m gonna dunk her in the ocean.” With that he lifted Namaka and ran perhaps twenty paces to where the tide had receded, then sat in the waters.

Pele followed, trying to make sense of all this. If Fire-Keeper were here, he’d know what was going on. The kahuna always had some idea, some insight. And here she was, on another island she’d never been to, facing … whatever was ravaging the other Princess. Was this something Poliahu had done to Namaka? If so, how and why?

Maybe Kam was right. If Namaka had slept with the chief here, and Poliahu had desired the man, perhaps some petty jealousy had driven the woman to it. Most people were fairly open to these kinds of things, but Pele had heard of jealousy making a person act oddly.

“Namaka. What does the mermaid part of you know?” she asked once Kam lifted her face out of the water.

Namaka rubbed seawater against the gills on her neck. Pele hadn’t even noticed the gills before. They were … disgusting. “My hair is a part of me,” the Sea Princess said at last. “If Poliahu were intent on working a curse, she could use that to build a connection.”

A curse? Pele scowled. Since when did a Princess delve into the dark arts? Why, with all their power, would one ever study the kahuna’s most forbidden knowledge? No. The why of it didn’t matter. Poliahu had crossed a line, attacked a Princess with sorcery. Besides which, Namaka was surely here for a reason. Pele was going to have to show Poliahu the error of her ways. Of course … if Namaka was Pele’s sister by virtue of being a reincarnated daughter of Kū, that meant Poliahu was as well. The thought left her trembling. She didn’t want to kill any more members of her family. Destroying Ku-Aha-Ilo had been necessary, just even. It should not, however, set a precedent for her.

Pele wasn’t certain she liked Namaka, but she didn’t want the Sea Princess to die. They had been through too much together to allow that.

Namaka grabbed her hand. “Pele, listen to me. I don’t know when or if I’m going to get better. There’s something that—”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Shit yeah, Fish Girl. Listen to Fire Tits.”

“Kam, call me that again and I’ll burn off your balls. Namaka, trust me. I’m going to make her break this curse.”

Namaka shook her head, or tried, though another fit of shivers took hold of her. Kam carried her back to the shore, and Pele once again sent warmth coursing through the other Princess.

“I don’t know how much time I have to explain,” Namaka said when she at last managed to sit up. “So I need you to listen to me. The he’e have overthrown Hiyoya.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad to me. No more sacrifices to the mer.”

“She’s got a point,” Kam said.

“You don’t understand. The he’e are so much worse than the mer. They’re taking over the entire sea. They’ll take it from our people, work behind the scenes until every chief, every kahuna, and in the end, every Princess falls under their thrall. The sacrifices you make to Hiyoya are nothing compared to the price of freedom for our entire civilization. Their king, Kanaloa, is ancient and powerful as a god. And if I cannot stop him, you must do so, Pele. Take the feather crown and go to the Cave of the Eel. Seek out the nanaue king and beg his aid.”

Kanaloa, God of the Deep. The sheer scope of Namaka’s words, and her request, left Pele speechless. It was all too much. God-kings and octopus people were so removed from her reality … how could she begin to make this her problem? She wasn’t certain she owed Namaka that much loyalty.

More importantly, though, there was the chance Namaka was right. What little Pele knew of the he’e were tales of mystery, fear, and yes, respect. The creatures were old, some said as old as the Worldsea. And if Namaka spoke truth, if they worked schemes to subvert the chiefs and kahunas of Sawaiki, then more than one island was in danger. She had dared to hope Namaka was here searching for a cure for the illness. But this was a whole other problem, one Pele had not even imagined.

“The he’e sent that taniwha after us,” Namaka said. Well, damn. If they were capable of that, they were capable of anything. “Please believe me.”

Pele sighed. “I do believe you. But I can’t fight an enemy under the ocean, Namaka. What I can do, what I will do, is go up that mountain and force the Snow Princess to undo what she’s done to you. Then you can play hero and save us from the he’e.”

12

What a fool she had been. Mount Kamakou was and always would be her home. She had let the distractions of a moment draw her away from the work of a lifetime. Corrupted by her passions. Well, Poliahu would not make that mistake again. After working so much sorcery, she lacked the strength to fly to the summit in mist form. Instead, she walked ever closer to the mountain on aching legs.

If she was lucky, that trader might offer her a meal again, and perhaps a place to sleep. And then she would be done with those who dwelled in the lowlands. She would ascend Kamakou and remain there, where she belonged.

As she trudged toward the trader’s hut she spotted the bonfire out front, its smoke a beacon leading her to it. Only when she drew closer did she realize it was not a bonfire—it was a pyre. The women and children she had met before now stood around the burning body of what she could only assume had been the jolly old trader.

Her feet almost gave out beneath her and she had to pause to lean against a tree. It seemed impossible the smiling old man could be there, burning. Last night he’d been vibrant, laughing. Happy. And a day later he was nothing? His family burning his ashes and weeping into each other’s shoulders.

Was this another part of the price she had paid? She had cursed Namaka, and that power had come from somewhere. Maybe Lilinoe had taken life from the old man Poliahu had liked. Just to sate her rage. That was … wasn’t that wrong? It seemed like it, but such things were harder to be certain of.

She did not dare intrude upon the solemn event, instead waited until one of the women noticed her. They sang the mourning chant for the dead, then the woman broke away and approached Poliahu. Her face was wet with tears, her eyes red, even in the evening’s darkness.

“What happened?”

“His heart just gave out.” She shook her head. “Sorry you had to see such lamentations, Princess. Is there some service I can offer you?”

She held up a hand, surprised to see it was shaking. “Nothing.” She needed nothing here. There was nothing for her. It was not her place, not her reality, not where life would flicker and fade in an instant. It was madness. And she’d been wrong. She couldn’t stay here, not even long enough to dine. Not for another breath.

Without another word she turned away and began to walk the path to the mountain. It didn’t matter how tired she was. She would walk all night if need be. But she had to get back to her sanctuary. She had to be away from this place, from all of it.

It was not her place.

Day IV

13

Namaka woke before dawn, shivering and drenched in sweat. She lay in the women’s hut where the villagers had welcomed her graciously enough. None blamed her for Aiwohikupua’s death—or, if they did so, they did not voice it in front of her. In her fever dreams she remembered her encounter with the chief, wondered if she had come here with the intent to seduce him. It had been innocent, just a means to an end. She’d had no way of knowing Poliahu had some claim on the chief. So she told herself none of this was her fault, slim comfort though that offered while she froze and burned.

It was almost unbelievable fortune that Pele had come here, and apparently for her sake. How had the Flame Princess known where to find her? Maybe that didn’t matter. But she had thought Pele hated her, or at least barely tolerated her. People called the sea mercurial, but Namaka had no idea what went on in Pele’s head from one moment to the next. All she could do now was be grateful anyone was going to help her with her mission. Maybe she should have pleaded her case to the other Princesses in the first place. She had not considered any of them caring or being willing to so directly help.

But Pele had insisted on going after Poliahu, hunting down the Snow Princess in her own domain. The Flame Princess never learned. She’d tried something similar with Namaka and nearly died for it. And sadly, Namaka was in no shape to help her. Perhaps Pele could succeed, but she didn’t have time to wait around to see if that happened. And if she couldn’t help Pele, and the Flame Princess wasn’t going to go to Kauhuhu for her, then she had to get on with it.

That was the intent, at least. Pulling herself to her knees left her wobbly, panting, and she had to pause to catch her breath before standing. Almost immediately she wavered, having to support herself against the wall. Deep breaths. She could do this. She just had to get down to the ocean. Her mermaid form would be stronger, able to rely on the sea itself to support her weight. She grabbed the feather crown and looped it over her shoulder. Her steps came slow, faltering, but she took one after another, making her way from the hut and through the village.

A dozen paces, maybe.

And then Kam was at her side, sweeping her up in his arms. “Where you going, Fish Girl?”

Namaka allowed herself a breath of relief to be off her feet. “I can’t stay here and just hope Pele succeeds.”

“Psht. You can trust her. She’s great at lighting shit on fire.”

“She’s climbing a snow-capped mountain to try to browbeat a Snow Princess—one who is apparently a witch on top of everything else. How do you imagine that’s going to go?”

Kam chewed his cheek a moment. “Aww, shit.”

“Pele doesn’t know, and would never admit, when she is overmatched. She needs your help more than I do.”

“Aw. Shit. Come on, Fish Girl. You could have told me that last night.”

She snorted. She’d barely been lucid. Last night was, in some respects, as much a blur as her fever dreams. “Can you take me to the beach, Kam? Once I’m in the water I’ll be stronger.”

“Yeah, all right.” He set off in a brisk trot, not pausing until he stood up to his knees in the ocean. The effort didn’t even wind the wereboar.

Under normal circumstances, she would have supernatural stamina herself. Did that mean, had she been a mere human, Poliahu’s curse would have reduced her to utter helplessness? Maybe it would have even killed her. That thought was enough to start an eel swimming in her intestines. The Snow Princess dealt death casually. And that meant, if Pele irritated or threatened her, she might well kill the Flame Princess.

“Put me down,” she said. “Go. Help Pele.”

Kam dropped her in the water. She splashed down, banged her ass on the sand, and glared at him.

“You said put you down.” Damn that fool grin of his.

Namaka let her legs fuse back into a tail. Immediately she felt stronger. Still cold, freezing, but her limbs had power enough to propel her. “Just go. Quickly.” With that, she flipped around and dove beneath the sea.

Kam might well run all the way up the mountain, but Namaka could only swim at a fraction of her normal speed. She stopped to rest often, letting the current carry her. The Cave of the Eel had seemed close by when she was strong. The whole Friendly Isle was perhaps twelve leagues across at its widest point. She should have been able to swim that distance in an hour or two.

Instead, this looked like it was going to take her all day. Already the sun had risen and lit the waters in shimmering radiance.

The truth was, she had to pray the Flame Princess succeeded, and not only for Pele’s sake. Like this, Namaka was crippled. If Pele failed, Namaka’s hopes of saving Hiyoya would likely drown.

14

The icy winds, the darkness, and the difficult climb had left Pele no choice but to stop for the night. She had perched herself on a frozen ledge less than a pace wide, leaning against the chill of a snow wall. Sleep had been impossible. She had made it too far up the mountain to turn back. So she had waited for dawn, her attempts to warm herself with fires from her hands growing more difficult with each passing hour.

Finally the sun rose and she resumed her trek. For hours more she climbed. Exhaustion was a word, a point of reference she had left behind some time ago. No. Don’t look up, don’t look down. Just keep climbing. Keep picturing Namaka’s clammy form, suffering because of the Snow Princess.

At last she crested a slope that, if not level, was at least a shallow enough incline to allow her to collapse on the snow. Eyes shut, she faced the sun and let it warm her face. The nipping breeze up here made even that comfort a pointless effort. Namaka had better appreciate this.

“Who are you?”

Pele opened her eyes to see a woman about her own age staring at her. That had to be Poliahu, garbed in a white kihei, face glittering in sunlight with exotic beauty. No wonder that chief had lusted after her. This Princess had an almost ethereal quality, like something not quite of the Earth.

With a grunt Pele rolled over and rose to her feet, pulling her cloak closer around herself. “A friend of Namaka’s.”

“The Sea Princess.” Poliahu scowled so deeply Pele could have sworn the wind intensified, carrying with it a fresh chill. “I trusted her and she betrayed me.”

“Over what, a man? I doubt she had any idea she was hurting you.”

Poliahu waved the comment away. “What do you want? I make it a practice to receive supplicants who manage the climb.”

Supplicants! Who did this bitch think she was? Pele clenched her fists, trying not to let them, or her hair, ignite with her rising ire. “Fine. I made it. Break the curse you put on Namaka.”

Poliahu folded her arms for a moment and cocked her head to the side. “Tell you what. If you can defeat me, I’ll do as you ask.”

Now Pele took a step forward. The other Princess didn’t seem to know who she was. “You want to fight me?”

“Fight you? No.” She shook her head, then extended a hand out toward a strange forest of ice trees. Almost instantly ice began to flow off the mountainside, moving like water but upward, shaping itself. It formed into a sled, glistening and glittering in the sunlight. A second sled rose immediately after that. “Familiar with this?”

Pele frowned. “Yes.” She had tried sledding once, years ago. Had convinced Fire-Keeper to take her to the snow-capped peaks back on the Big Island. He had carved a sled for her with his own hands. They had spent all day on the snows.

Poliahu pointed down the mountain to a section that leveled off into a plateau. “Race me down there and win, and I’ll save your friend. Provided you manage not to fall off that cliff.”

There was a huge drop off one side of the mountain, one that would be hard to avoid at high speeds. But Pele sure as Lua-O-Milu was not going to let this Princess intimidate her.

“Fine. I’ll race.” She scowled at the sled. It was long enough for her to kneel on it and still have its front jut forward. In fact, it looked as though its bottom was lined with blades of ice. It would no doubt be fast, though those blades looked sharp enough to slice a person’s fingers off.

She glanced at Poliahu as they walked over to the sleds. The Snow Princess smirked. Bitch was so full of herself. Well, fine, Pele would put her in her place if that’s what it took. She knelt one knee on the sled and almost immediately recoiled from the touch. The surface was so cold it actually stung. And if she used her power to warm her limbs, she risked melting the sled. Shaking her head, she grabbed the handholds and braced herself.

Yes. Namaka would be hearing about this.

“Ready?” Poliahu asked with her mocking coyness.

Pele blew out a breath, trying to forestall her temper. Poliahu was her reincarnated sister as well. She had to keep telling herself that. It would help her resist the urge to melt the bitch’s face. She nodded, then used one leg to kick the sled forward. At first, it started slow. It had been years since she had tried this, and her attempts to get it moving only nudged it forward.

Poliahu laughed from behind her.

Finally, Pele flung her full weight forward and the sled pitched over the slope, its angle dragging her onward. In a heartbeat the wind was whipping her hair out behind her, streaking against her cheeks with its icy blast. Her kihei tugged at her shoulders, flying in the motion.

As she descended the slope, trees began rapidly approaching. When Fire-Keeper had tried to teach her this she had grown frustrated, given up. That had been a mistake. She lurched to the left, trying to edge around a tree. Her motion sent the sled much farther off course than she expected and left her flying wide, heading toward the precipice.

And instant later Poliahu zipped past her on her own sled. The Snow Princess moved with absolute control, as if her sled responded to her every whim. Of course it did! The cheating bitch had made herself a better sled. Pele yanked her sled back, trying to draw a narrower course down the slope.

She had to win this. She wasn’t going to lose to Poliahu. Not today.

As best she might, she followed as the Snow Princess darted between trees, zigging and zagging with ease. Pele could feel her hair trying to ignite, starting to simmer as her frustration mounted. And to allow that would give herself away. She twisted her sled, trying to cut the path even more narrowly, make up lost ground.

And then a blade of her sled caught a tree root. Without even time to think Pele was flying in midair for a gut-wrenching instant before she crashed in the snow. Her momentum carried her another ten paces down the slope, tumbling at odd angles before she finally slammed into a snow drift.

There she lay, gasping, trying not to retch as the world spun around her. It took a moment to even be certain nothing was broken. And several more to recognize the sound she was hearing was the damn Snow Princess’s laughter. Again, from below the slope.

Groaning, Pele rolled over and rose to her knees. Immediately, she pitched forward back into the snow. Everything was whirling around her. She sat on hands and knees for several breaths before struggling to her feet. She should have just burned the damn woman and been done with it. These fool games were a waste of time.

Her clenched fists sizzled, releasing trails of steam she barely managed to extinguish.

Pele stormed toward the Snow Princess. “That was hardly a fair race. You gave me an inferior sled. You knew I wouldn’t win with that piece of junk! Or you cheated and used the snows to throw you forward.” Heat had begun to bubble out of her fingertips, build behind her eyes.

“What? I never cheat. And both sleds were the same. I’ll prove it to you. Take mine. You lived through this attempt, I’ll give you another chance to kill yourself. But when I win again, you grant me a boon of my choosing.”

The Snow Princess stared at her with such feigned innocence Pele considered burning her to death right there. How dare this woman mock her? She was the Princess of Flame. And this snow bitch was about to find out just who she was antagonizing.

Pele took another step toward Poliahu, to stand a mere breath away. “I accept.”

15

The amount of mana coursing through this woman meant she was another Princess. A third Princess on Poliahu’s island. The first intruder was intriguing enough, but to have a second come—and claiming to be friends with Namaka—that went beyond mere curiosity. Something was going on, the likes of which Sawaiki had not seen since the days when Kū himself walked the Earth. Whatever it was, she was going to find out. She tried not to sneer, nor to reveal that she knew what this woman was. She had given that away freely to Namaka. She wouldn’t repeat that mistake.

They trekked back up the slope, dragging their sleds behind them. The other woman said nothing.

A sled race was as good a means to test this Princess’s limits as any. Let her push herself in a contest she could never win. Who was the other Princess, really? What power did she hold? Poliahu had to discover it. She could not afford to make the mistake of trusting this one as she had blindly trusted Namaka, allowed her to roam freely across the Friendly Isle. Trust was for fools.

Maybe she should have killed the Sea Princess. Lilinoe had urged her to do so, to end the curse. The spirit had been disappointed with Poliahu’s failure to conceive a child, but agreed slaying Aiwo was only just.

It took maybe half an hour to return to her place near the summit. By then, Poliahu’s muscles ached. She wasn’t used to dragging a sled around. She could have simply dissolved the thing and formed a new one at the top, but then her guest might have accused her of switching them again somehow.

So now this other Princess carried Poliahu’s own sled, for all the good it was likely to do her. No, the woman clearly had too much pride to admit Poliahu was simply better than her. Indeed, it was the epitome of arrogance to think anyone could defeat a Snow Princess in such a contest. Given the price she had paid in mind, body, and soul for her recent sorcery, Poliahu dared not cast further, not now. But she could destroy this Princess with her Gift alone. Maybe she still would do so, whatever the outcome of this race.

Smirking, Poliahu hefted her sled. “Ready?”

“Do it.”

Poliahu ran forward a few steps then threw herself onto the sled, kneeling to speed its flight. It skated across snow, rapidly building momentum. She spared a glance over her shoulder to see the other woman lagging behind, glaring at her, eyes burning like red hot coals. What in Lua-O-Milu? Was the Princess possessed?

The next instant, the other Princess punched her fist into the ground. The mountain rumbled at her assault as if she had somehow damaged the stone itself. And it kept shaking, trembling in agony. A crack raced out ahead of the other woman, a spreading crevice that split so deep it swallowed snow from both sides. The crevice sped toward Poliahu, now billowing out a curtain of steam.

She jerked her sled to the side, out of its path, sending herself dangerously close to the precipice. Even as she turned back, the crevice had arced around in front of her. Her sled was racing too fast for her to stop it in time. She was going to crash right through that scorching curtain—and it had to be two or three paces thick at this point.

All she could think of to protect herself was enveloping her form and sled in a thick cloud of mist and snow flurries. She summoned it from all around her, forming more and more of the barrier even as the sled leapt the crevice, flying through the air. The mist and snow evaporated faster than she could reform it, allowing steam to scald her flesh even as the sled crashed down on the far side of the gap.

Poliahu realized she was screaming in pain, and still her sled wasn’t slowing. Indeed, the other Princess’s own had just raced past her. So. A Flame Princess. And if she couldn’t win a fair race, she planned to cheat.

Well, no one beat Poliahu on her own mountain.

She summoned a ripple of snow, using it to fling her sled forward with ever-increasing speed. When the Flame Princess looked backward her face fell as she realized how fast Poliahu was gaining on her. First, Poliahu was going to thrash her in this race. Then she would freeze the woman to death for her temerity.

The Flame Princess waved her hand and the mountain shook again, breaking apart. A river of lava—lava!—surged forward in front of Poliahu’s sled. The molten earth was quickly turning her beautiful mountain into a wasteland of slush, steam, and toxic vapors.

And she could not stop herself from crashing into it. Instead, she poured mana into the snow beneath her sled, using it to fling herself upward. Her sled flew through the air once again as snow plummeted below her, cooling the lava, though destroying itself in the process.

Her teeth slammed together as the sled touched down with such force it almost threw her free. But it kept its momentum, and she was still gaining on the Flame Princess. A fountain of lava exploded in front of her like a geyser, spilling its molten death all around her.

Poliahu jerked her sled to the side, trying to avoid it like she would a tree. Except this tree rained fire on her. Spots of it struck the sled, sizzling and melting through the ice almost instantly. Another fountain blossomed in front of her, and against she darted around it, so close she felt its heat would burn her skin right off.

She glanced back only to see her kihei, streaming in the breeze, was on fire. Aumakuas! She tore free its clasp and let the cloak fly away in the wind.

Poliahu extended a hand behind herself, using snow to speed her way once again. Her sled launched past the Flame Princess’s and Poliahu cast a withering gaze at the woman who had declared war on her home. Well, maybe it was time the Flame Princess learned just what the mountain could do to defend itself.

She eased her power out of the snow behind her and instead reached up to the mountain shelf above. Already the snows were loosened, trembling from the torment the other Princess had wrought. Poliahu jumped off her sled and drew both hands in toward her chest, calling the snows to her.

High above a curtain of snow rose, accompanied by a cacophony fit to rival any eruption the Flame Princess had wrought.

And then the avalanche began.

Poliahu called more and more of the snow, endless tons of it to cleanse and bury the interloper. She allowed her form to become mist and flew past the Flame Princess, relishing the look of horror on the other woman’s face as she saw her end.

And then the avalanche crashed into the woman and carried her right off the precipice.

16

The cascade of ice and snow pitched over the cliff’s edge like a waterfall passing over Kam’s head as he climbed. Stray rocks and ice chips pummeled him until he lost his grip on the mountain and skittered downward. The skin on his knees ripped open before he caught himself, one hand grasping an icy rock. He was spun around, staring at white oblivion rushing before him.

A glowing ember in the midst of the snow plummeted past him.

The sound of the mountain passing overhead was like the roar of the taniwha, except unending. A constant, deafening, all-consuming current that swallowed even the sound of his own screams.

“Stupid shit-shitting shitters!” Not being able to hear the sound of his own voice only made the terror worse.

Even as the avalanche finally ebbed, giving way to a few final tumbling pebbles, a fresh pit opened in his stomach. That ember had to have been Pele. Stupid Lava Girl had gotten herself thrown off a mountain. Shit, even Kam knew better than to do that.

And if she had lost consciousness in the fall, she wouldn’t be able to melt the snow around her. It would suffocate her.

Well, pig shit.

He looked down. The falling snows had filled in the base of the cliff so that the drop was maybe forty paces. If he landed on rock, a fall from that height might kill even a mighty wereboar. But his woman needed him.

He spun around, back toward the cliff, and braced himself with both feet. Then he kicked off it, propelling himself as far away from the rocks as his legs—mighty legs!—could carry him. For a moment he was flying. It kinda felt like falling.

He hit the snow with such impact he was buried five paces deep. Snow scraped his arms and legs and chest as he pitched downward. No rocks though. That was a blessing. He rubbed his nose. Shit was it cold down here.

He bucked and thrashed, managing to dislodge his legs while pouring a fresh helping of snow on his head. Yeah, there was no going straight up outta this hole. But maybe he could burrow like a worm. Grumbling, he dug his way upward at an angle. It was hard being a worm. Way harder than swimming. And colder. Worms must be cold little shitters.

He dug until at last he breached the surface, then hefted himself up. No time to waste.

“Pele!” He climbed to his feet and trudged around the snow. He stomped across the seemingly endless stretch of white. “It’s time to get hot for me, Princess.”

No answer.

“Aloha! Fire Tits! Come light me up!”

There was no way. She couldn’t be dead. That was simply not allowed.

He raced across the slope, stopping occasionally to rummage through the snow. Shitting shit shits. She had to be here somewhere.

Running on, his foot slipped on ice and he spun around to land face first on a thick chunk of it.

“Ow.”

What was an ice block doing in the middle of the snowfield? And inside it, a shadow. A woman.

“Pele …?” Kam pushed himself up on his arms to allow sunlight to reflect on the ice.

She was trapped in ice. Did the Snow Princess do that on purpose? Or maybe Pele had melted the snow but it had refrozen around her. It was shitting cold up here, after all.

Kam punched the ice block. The impact sent a shock coursing up his wrist and into his elbow. It split open his knuckles, but the ice cracked too. He pounded it again and again, his blood smearing the ice until he could no longer clearly make her out inside it. This was not happening. This was not happening. This was not happening.

Kamapua’a roared, slamming both fists against the ice over and over. Shards of it embedded in his palms, his forearms. They flew free until he managed to break away a chunk of it the size of his torso. He tossed the chunk aside and kept digging, pounding, smashing. His body responded to his growing rage, muscles seeming to bulge despite the sun overhead. The rules said he couldn’t shape shift in sunlight. Kam hated shitting rules anyway.

And then, impossibly, blessed radiance began to glow beneath the ice. The glow intensified and all at once the entire block evaporated in a cloud of steam that sent Kam tumbling down atop Pele.

In an instant he had rolled over to look into her eyes. They stared up at the sky, not even seeing him. Her breath was faint, uneven. Kam wrapped bloody arms around her and pulled her close, hoping to share his body heat with her.

“Stupid Lava Girl. Gotta start a shitting avalanche. You should learn hula. It’s a way better use of your time than mass destruction. Or surfing, commune with the … well, you probably don’t commune with the ocean. Shit, even lava surfing would be better than burying yourself alive.” He shook her a little, but she had shut her eyes. “Pele?”

She gave no answer. But he could hear her heartbeat, too faint for his liking. The Flame Princess was out cold. And he couldn’t leave her here alone, which meant he had no way to easily persuade Poliahu to help Namaka himself. A shame, since he was mighty good with words. They should have let him try in the first place.

Oh well. For now, all he could do was try to keep Pele warm and safe.

Namaka was on her own.

17

The waters around the Cave of the Eel were aflame with the setting sun as Namaka returned, swimming back into the cave that had almost cost her her life when she was at full strength. Now she flitted back and forth between chills and fevers so quickly her mind felt addled. All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and weep.

Instead, she climbed onto the rock surface and tossed the soaked feather crown before her. She opened her mouth to call for the wereshark king, but he was already there, had already swept the crown up in his hand. His speed was uncanny, horrifying. He had crossed from the dark depths of the cave to stand before her in two bounds.

“I brought this favor from your descendant.”

Now, he lifted the crown to his face and sniffed, as though it might carry some scent. Having spent half a day in the ocean, she doubted any of Aiwohikupua’s fragrance lingered on the crown.

The nanaue shut his eyes a moment before lowering his hand to his side. He cracked his neck, the sound echoing too loudly off the cave walls, then stalked closer, towering over Namaka. Even in human form, his eyes seemed nearly black.

“You are brave, mermaid.” His breath stank of decaying fish, his voice a baritone that seemed to vibrate in her torso. “Few ever escape this cave. Fewer still come back for more.”

“I come as a representative of Hiyoya.”

The man leaned in closer, lowering his face to meet her gaze. “Why should I care about a dying mer kingdom?”

“You know what’s happened?”

“I know you destroy yourselves in pointless wars with your own kind. Mu, Hiyoya—it makes no difference to my people.”

Even with him leaning down, she had to crane her neck to see his eyes. Combined with a fresh chill, she could barely stop herself from shaking. More than likely the wereshark could smell fear—and she was afraid. Weak as she’d grown, she could not fight or even outrun Kauhuhu now.

“It’s not Mu we fight at the moment. The he’e have taken our city and hunt us. I come to ask your aid in reclaiming our homeland.”

Kauhuhu flicked a bulbous tongue over teeth that looked a bit too sharp. If that was supposed to intimidate her, he must have forgotten she had shark teeth when she wanted them too. She even debated letting them descend. He spoke before she could decide on the matter. “You mer think you rule the world. Always telling us where we can and cannot swim, hunt, breed. Your queen demanded we limit ourselves to the Friendly Isle. Maybe when Hiyoya is gone, we will swim a little freer.”

“You cannot possibly believe the he’e will not seek to master you as well.”

“Mortals.”

“Conniving, murdering monsters bent on controlling everything below and above the sea.”

Kauhuhu placed a meaty hand on her shoulder. It was so large it engulfed the top of her arm. Namaka had to the fight the urge to squirm in his grasp. It would have been pointless—she couldn’t overpower him—and would have made her look weak.

Instead she gritted her teeth. They both knew Kauhuhu was in control here.

“What would you give me in exchange for my aid?”

“What do you want?” Her voice sounded so tiny next to his. She hated it.

They called him a god, but he was not a god. He had a Progenitor spirit in him. Which kind of meant he was a god.

“Formal grant of rights from Hiyoya to all the waters of Sawaiki. Access to all the islands.”

“That’s preposterous.” Her aunt had contained the nanaue here for good reason. Sure, one or two might slip away and visit other islands. But for the most part, Hiyoya had spared humanity the ravages of the weresharks. Latmikaik had done so for her own reasons, Namaka had no doubt. She didn’t want her people having to contend with the nanaue. It had also allowed her to enforce the sacrifices people made to Hiyoya, as if that were some even exchange. “I can … I can add one island to your domain.”

“Four.”

If Hiyoya was destroyed, the nanaue could do as they pleased in any event. At least until the he’e enslaved them. That thought alone—the weresharks as a directed force of terror and destruction—was enough to make her consider almost any deal to prevent it. “Two. Two islands.”

His grip on her shoulder tightened. “Which two?”

That was the question. None of them were really hers to give. She claimed to speak for Hiyoya, though she did so without the queen’s blessing. Still, if she saved the kingdom, Latmikaik would be forced to uphold the deal. And as for humanity … as the Princess of the Valley Isle she was its theoretical ruler. She could make that call for them. And for them alone.

“The Valley Isle.” The words burned her throat, even as Kauhuhu smiled his wicked grin. “The Valley Isle and … the Lost Isle.”

At that he squeezed her shoulder until she yelped. “Do not insult me. What would we want with a barren land where no people live and no crops grow? It is infested with Nightmarchers and nothing else.”

There was the Forbidden Isle, far to the north. But she didn’t know whether the nanaue would accept something so separated from his other realms, nor could she afford to offend him again. He already seemed ready to rip off her shoulder. That left the Big Island, the Gathering Place, and the Pineapple Isle. Given that the first two had populations many times that of the latter, her choice was obvious.

“The Pineapple Isle.”

“As a representative of Hiyoya and … a Princess, you formally grant me rights to the islands and waters of the Valley Isle and the Pineapple Isle?”

Aumakuas forgive her. “Yes.”

“Then it is done. And the nanaue will feast on octopus.”

Day V

18

The ice trees sang, not with an infused spirit, but from the howling wind rushing past their branches, like the mountain itself called out a mourning chant. Kamakou mourning the loss of pieces of itself, pieces Poliahu had pitched down from the summit to defeat the Flame Princess. And still the intruder who had dared bring forbidden flame onto these slopes lived, helped by some man. Both should have perished. Perhaps it didn’t matter. Surely the Flame Princess had learned her lesson and would never dare tread toward the summit again.

It should have been Poliahu’s day to research binding the spirit to the trees. Instead, she found herself staring at the forest, unable to cast from her mind the niggling sensation of a man walking on her mountain, tending to a woman that ought to have been sent to Milu.

Not even the haunting, wondrous melody of the trees could force the sensation down, away from her consciousness. She blew out a breath of frustration and made her way back into the sanctuary. She simply needed to try harder to focus. That should have been easy for her. She, unlike the Flame Princess, had discipline, had trained her mind and body every day since she was a child. It had made her an absolute master of her domain. The other Princess was powerful, but her power exploded all around her in conflagrations of chaos.

A fog permeated the sanctuary, gathering in the corners, hidden away from the sunlight. No wind should have made it into the ice cave, and still, whispers were carried on a breeze that ruffled her hair. She cocked her head, trying to catch what the sisters said to one another. For them to speak like this, voices nearly breaking into the Physical Realm—at least to those who knew how to listen—it meant they were in distress, or else intended for her to hear.

They did not speak exactly the way a person might, not quite in sentences. More like thoughts congealing into shared impressions, concepts unburdened from the limitations of human syntax and grammar. It was how she imagined the wind would speak, were it given mind and purpose. The thought brought a smile to her face. Why would the wind not speak? She conversed with spirits of ice, mist, and snow. Perhaps a Storm Princess might speak to spirits of the sky, were she properly trained in the Art. From all she had seen of other Princesses, though, few received adequate training even in their innate powers, much less in the intricacies of forgotten lore.

Though the sisters did not so often converse with one another thusly, Poliahu could still garner the gist of their intent. It was no surprise when Lilinoe’s voice ushered from the corners, soft and sibilant.

“You leave an enemy behind you.”

“The Flame Princess is defeated. Even if she survives the trek back down the mountain, she’s not coming back. She’s seen what I can do. Her training is nothing compared to mine.”

“Because we trained you, sister.”

Sister? They always called her ‘child.’ They referred only to each other as sisters. Did that mean she had so graduated in their eyes that her accomplishments had brought her to their level? “You trained me well.”

“Already you have transcended the limitations of your mortal form. You stand on the threshold of greatness.”

“What does that mean?”

“Mysteries and mysticisms begin to unfurl,” Waiau said.

That cleared things right up. But they seemed to believe she was now ready for a new phase of her training. Transcendent, Lilinoe had called her. She rather liked the sound of that. “So tell me what to do.”

None spoke and the silence grew so thick Poliahu considered trying to meditate her consciousness into the Ghost World, just to see if they were speaking beyond the realm of her mundane perceptions. She began to relax her eyes, trying to focus on nothingness, when Kahoupokane finally spoke.

“You will be left vulnerable. You cannot afford … risk.”

“What risk?”

“The return of an enemy.”

The realization of their intent struck like a crash of thunder. One pursuit they always denied her, always warned against trying, was a Spirit Walk. Her consciousness, her soul, would leave her body and travel the Ghost World, exploring the greater mysteries. And if she did so, her body would be left on Earth, defenseless. If the Flame Princess did return, did seek revenge, Poliahu would have no way to know it, much less defend herself. What would happen if her corporeal form died while she was Spirit Walking? Most likely her untethered soul would become a ghost itself, perhaps haunting this mountain forever.

The sisters were right. If she were going to attempt such a divine feat she could afford no added risk—the Ghost World carried far enough of that to begin with. She had to finish what she had started with the Flame Princess.

She could not disappoint the snow sisters again.

Poliahu could go down there, fight the woman and her man herself. But it shouldn’t be necessary. No, she had a better way to deal with them and test out her creation in the process. She drifted to the chamber that housed the ice hawks.

They watched her, as ever, with malevolence buried beneath unblinking eyes. She rubbed the spirit’s Glyph on her thigh. Were it not bound to her, it would surely tear her to pieces for what she had done to it. She would not let her guard down, would not let the spirit turn on her, but she could give it a direction to vent its rage.

“Go down and find the Flame Princess on my mountain. Kill her …”

“Her man …” Lilinoe whispered, the sound barely audible and yet seeming to come from all around.

The man who had saved the Princess. He was innocent, had not done Poliahu any harm. But … But he might come for revenge if she killed his mistress. Lilinoe was right. She had no choice, really.

“Kill the man as well. Go.”

The hawks took flight.

19

Pain. Pain and a profound chill that had settled so deep inside her chest no thought of warmth could halt her shivering. Pele opened her eyes to find herself wrapped in a kihei larger than her own. Kamapua’a. He sat nearby, bare-chested, rubbing his arms for warmth.

“Aloha, Lava Girl. Had me worried there.”

A wave of nausea seized her when she tried to speak. Every muscle in her body felt like it had been smashed repeatedly against a mountainside. That was, she supposed, not so very different from what had happened.

“Fire.” Her throat hurt when she spoke.

She needed a flame to draw strength from, repair some of the damage Poliahu had done to her.

“Uh. Got nothing to burn.”

She groaned. No trees this high up, no foliage. Not even a dry spot to build a proper fire. Anything would do, she supposed. Anything was better than nothing.

Panting with the effort, she pulled off Kam’s kihei and laid it flat before her. Aumakuas, she was going to be sick. Her mana was probably the only thing keeping her going, so summoning enough of it to ignite her hands set the whole mountain spinning beneath her. She retched on the cloak even as she pressed her burning hands on it.

“Sure,” Kam said. “Yeah, I’m done with that. Go ahead.”

It did not immediately catch fire. Made from tapa, a kihei didn’t burn easy. But she had nothing else. The stench as her flames ignited her own bile was so noxious she would have been sick again, had her stomach not already been empty. At last the cloak too caught fire, smoldering. It would not last long.

Desperation made finding the meditative trance needed to do this all the harder. Pele kept her hands pressed into the flame, opening herself to it as it reached its peak. Fire-Keeper had taught her this, but it was always a challenge. A feat to draw energy from the fire, rather than pour it back in. Nor was this an efficient use of her power, given she’d had to light this fire in the first place. But when she emptied her mind, strength began to flow from the flame into her. It flickered and winked out, and with it, she let herself shut her eyes once again.

The flame’s energy seeped into her battered muscles, suffused the numerous tiny fractures along her bones, sealing them. She was a long, long way from full strength. For that, she’d need to soak in a volcano for a few hours at least. But maybe it would be enough that she could make it off this damn mountain. Could do so, if she didn’t still have unfinished business with Poliahu.

The Snow Princess had obviously been taunting her, challenging her to a contest rigged against Pele. Damn the bitch. Pele had to get her to break that curse on Namaka. She had to do so, by force or any other means necessary. If only this mountain had been a volcano she might have drawn on. Calling up the lava here had taken a lot out of her.

“Uh, Princess?”

Pele didn’t open her eyes. “What is it?”

“There’s birds circling us.”

“Birds are everywhere. Let me rest.”

“These look like they’re made of ice.”

Now she opened her eyes and immediately sat up. The wereboar was right. Three, no, four ‘io hawks flew overhead, their icy forms glittering in the sunlight. As if in response to her rising, they screeched. Not a series of cries, but rather a single synchronized call coming from four voices. Birds of prey were not flocking birds, and yet they acted as one.

Their dive, when it came, was so fast she barely had time to scream.

Kam threw himself over her, knocking her down. By the time she crawled out from under him, he was drenched in blood. Talon marks marred his chest and back and arms. A long red streak ran from his temple to his lip, passing within a hair’s breadth of one eye. The wereboar pushed himself up, panting with a palpable fury she had never seen in him.

Pele crawled to her feet even as the hawks circled back for another dive. She had no fire to call on save that which she could produce from her own inner heat. But seeing Kam so bloodied in her defense was like if Poliahu had wounded Pele herself. That, in itself, was a surprise, a twisting in her gut. What did not surprise her was that her hair and hands were already aflame.

A hawk swept down at her while the others went for Kam. Panting, Pele tossed the flame from one hand to another, building an arc between them. The effort left her swaying on her feet, dizzy and nauseated. The ice hawk crashed through her fire stream and slammed into her chest, bowling her over. Her flames had melted the points off its talons and the tips off its wings, leaving the thing flapping around on the ground nearby.

Kam roared so loudly it echoed off the mountain. If anything, his form seemed to have grown larger, and despite the sun blaring above tusks had risen from his lower lip. He held one bird with a wing in each hand. With his roar, he jerked his arms apart, rending the bird in a shower of ice shards. The other two had torn further gouges in her protector.

She was going to kill the bitch who had done this. Screaming wordlessly back at the birds, she launched a stream of fire at one. They were too fast, ducking and weaving her attack like the throw of a clumsy child. The ‘io she’d attacked dove for her. Rather than try to aim at it, she ducked into a ball and engulfed her entire body in flame, pouring mana into it, sending the conflagration surging higher and higher. The bird was nothing but hot water when it struck her and even that evaporated an instant later.

She rose to find Kam screaming at the last bird, which had flown away.

“Kam!” Pele shouted, stumbling to his side. A hundred wounds, a few deep, covered the oversized man. And she swore his rage had somehow added to his height, to his bulging muscles.

He turned to her, face framed by tusks as long as her hand, panting. His shoulders heaved, then slumped, and he fell forward to the ground. He shook himself and before her eyes his muscles did indeed shrink back into themselves. How had he done such a thing? Shifting beneath the sunlight should have been impossible for a Moon spirit.

As she drew near he surged upward, wrapping her in his arms. His embrace was impossibly strong, but she made no effort to stop him when he kissed her. He had saved them both, saved her twice in two days and she couldn’t quite form any other thought except kissing him back. An instant later, she was lying on her back in the snow and Kam was tossing her skirt aside.

Some dim part of her mind wanted to warn him off, tell him he would only get burned. But she couldn’t say it. He was inside her, pumping with an animal frenzy so primal all she could do was hold on, intoxicated by his passion, giving in to her own. Acrid smoke stung her nostrils. Her hands were searing the flesh from his back and still he didn’t even slow.

His release came almost immediately following her own. She felt her mana—weakened though it was—flow into him and more, his slammed into her like the eruption of a volcano. A torrent of images she could never hope to make sense of flooded her mind and suffused her soul. The moon, giant and all-consuming, generations of shifters trailing down from him. From the thing inside him. He claimed to be a child of a Princess. Like Ku-Aha-Ilo had been. Something straddling the world of men and the world of gods. And he was more than any ordinary shifter.

She crawled out from under him, though he made a weak effort to pull her into his embrace. Instead, she gasped at the smoke rising from twin handprints burned into his back. His flesh was not merely red, but blackened, charred and ruined.

“Fool boar.” She lacked the strength to pour conviction into her accusation. Kam had been enslaved by his passion to such a degree he had ignored his own safety.

“Shit,” he mumbled. “That was the best I ever … shitting wow! Let’s try again, huh? Just need to catch my breath and then we’ll go.”

He was insane. The boar spirit had driven him to fits of lust that would undo him. And he was serious—he would gladly take her over and over until his body was left a withered, smoking husk. To let him do that was wrong on so many levels, much as part of her wanted to let him. No. Kam was a danger to himself, and a fool besides.

“Go.” The longer he was here, the more chance she’d give in, let him touch her again.

“What?”

“Go! Aumakuas, you’re a madman. Go help your sister and leave me to handle the Snow Princess.”

“Please. I’m not leaving you, Fire Tits. What would you do without me? Besides, Namaka is under the shitting sea. I’m a good swimmer but I don’t breathe water.”

Suddenly she couldn’t stand to look at him. Couldn’t bear to see the lingering tendrils of smoke rising from his back or the blood seeping from the innumerable wounds he’d sustained protecting her. “Then stay here. Do whatever you want. But do not follow me up the mountain. I will speak to Poliahu alone.”

“Uh … Looked like she beat you senseless last time.”

Pele spun on her heel, not able to face him any longer. And the worst of it was, the energy he had poured into her had strengthened her, restored her own fires. Already she could feel her powers returning, her body restoring itself. Her vitality, her strength, at his expense.

It was unbearable.

* * *

The wereboar was right about one thing—it had been a mistake to attack Poliahu. This was the Snow Princess’s place, her element, and that gave her a natural advantage. Pele should not have lost her temper, no matter how damned provoking Poliahu was. And if a threat of violence was not sufficient to entice cooperation, maybe she needed to try a different approach.

Unfortunately, getting back to the summit meant a long trek on a steep slope. It was damn cold. The only alternative would have been to try to scale the sheer cliff Poliahu had thrown her off. And Pele didn’t have the strength to attempt something like that, not now.

So instead she’d walked for hours, miserable and alone, and sore from Kam’s urgent lovemaking. The only thing worse than forcing Kamapua’a away would have been if she had let him come along. The wereboar was self-destructive, deranged … and devoted.

Damn it. His persistence and passion almost, almost made her smile. Except to give in to it was to bring the foolish wereboar nothing but pain.

She had more important things to think about at the moment. She had to focus on the Snow Princess and Namaka. The Sea Princess didn’t deserve the curse in the first place, even if she wasn’t enmeshed in her struggle against the he’e. And since Kam had said she had gone on with her plan in spite of her condition, Namaka was probably going to die if Pele didn’t fix this.

A long time she hiked before a shape seemed to materialize before her, as if stepping out of the clouds encircling the summit. It was Poliahu, her form and motions like that of some ancient goddess looking down upon a trespasser. Pele frowned at the thought—it was beneath her, belittling of her own status. She was the Princess of Flame, the purest of the forces of creation. Fire would overcome snow, even if only through reason, through words.

“I couldn’t believe it when I realized you were coming back.” Another of those ice hawks soared overhead. Perhaps it seethed with hatred for what Pele had done to its kin, but it made no sound. “Do you really want a rematch?”

Pele had to suppress her initial retort and the spark of flame that would have come with it. Yes, Poliahu was arrogant and clearly intent to provoke her once again. But that was not why she had come, however much the Snow Princess might deserve it. “I don’t want to fight you at all.”

“Wise words. You’d lose. You should have spent a lot more time training.”

The bitch really, really wanted to get her face burned off, didn’t she? But maybe she would be able to see what Pele had finally seen about Namaka, about all of them. For it was true of Poliahu and Hiiaka and every other Princess across Sawaiki. “Do you know who I am? I’m Pele, Princess of Flame and ruler of the Big Island. And as a fellow Princess, we are sisters.”

“What in the icy wastes of Lua-O-Milu are you talking about?”

“The first Princess were all daughters of Kū,” Pele said. Poliahu shrugged that away. Of course she knew. “And we carry their reborn souls. Me, you, Namaka. We are family.”

A darkness, an anger just below the surface, settled over Poliahu’s face. Her response bore the mark of someone trying too hard to hold in her emotions. “Family is a small, human convention. It is beneath the likes of us. And were it not, I have my own sisters here in the snows.” Ice crystals formed in the woman’s hand, but she did not move to attack. Still, the threat was clear enough.

Pele had stumbled upon something there, something she couldn’t quite see. Maybe all those years with Fire-Keeper had lent her perceptiveness beyond the ordinary. Or maybe Poliahu wasn’t near as good at hiding things as she thought she was. “I tried to tell myself that sort of thing, once … The man who sired me was a monster, a demon in human form.”

“You have no idea what a demon truly is.” She spoke with such absolute authority Pele almost had to wonder if she was right. This Princess who dabbled in dark arts might know far more of the denizens of the Ghost World.

“Perhaps not. But he was vile, a blight on Sawaiki. And in the end, I had to kill him. That’s when I realized my real father was not the one whose blood I carried, but the one who raised me. So sure, I understand what you’re trying to say about whatever sisters you might have up here. Sometimes the family we choose matters more than the one we’re born to.

“But I realized something else, too. Once I began to understand Namaka was my sister. Sometimes, I don’t like her. Maybe most of the time.”

Poliahu cocked her head to the side, as if unable to decide what she thought of that.

Pele shrugged. “But she is my sister and she is yours. And Namaka’s friend, in the past few months he’s told me more about her. Namaka couldn’t control her powers very well. She was sent to learn about them, lost so many years of time with him in the name of her training. But it didn’t stop her from accidentally killing her own father. I don’t think she can ever forgive herself for that. Maybe she could only truly see how precious that time was when it was stolen from her.”

Poliahu frowned, then shook her head. “Training is essential to our kind. Your friend—sister, whatever—was a fool if she shirked that. Went among her people without it. She should have been sent farther …” The Snow Princess was looking at something beyond Pele.

“She was young, frightened. But what I’m trying to explain … you cursed her without even knowing her. Without knowing who she was, the kind of person she is. Even after your curse, she’s out there right now, fighting to protect the people of Sawaiki and of Hiyoya both. Do you know, do you care that the seas are being overtaken by the he’e? Up here, so far away from civilization, it might be easy to ignore such a danger. But while you roil over some imagined wrong she did you with a man she had no way of knowing you cared for … while you remain here, she’s out there fighting to protect your people.”

Poliahu turned back to Pele now, eyes lit with cold fire. “I can protect my own people from he’e, mer, and other Princesses alike. Now get off my mountain before I offer you a final demonstration.”

Pele sighed. For a moment she had dared to hope she was getting through to this woman. But Poliahu had spent too long alone, too long separated from human contact and the care of others. It had frozen her heart. Perhaps beyond any thawing. Shaking her head, Pele turned and began back down the slope.

Had she failed? Or was her task impossible from its inception? Maybe no words could have ever gotten through to Poliahu. And even if Pele had been willing to kill another Princess, a woman she had just claimed as sister, that wouldn’t have truly helped Namaka. Perhaps all Pele could do now was go to the Sea Princess and try to help. Take up the quest as her own, try to save Sawaiki.

20

Shattered Sail was the last bastion of Hiyoya’s defenses, a final refuge hidden among a graveyard of sunken ships. A forest of masts and the half-rotted hulls of a hundred vessels decorated the cliffs and seafloor around Shattered Sail. The fortress itself was built from white stone, though it was so rarely occupied as to be almost completely overgrown with algae. Actually, that probably helped conceal it. Most likely, Namaka’s people holed up inside were praying the he’e wouldn’t find the fortress.

They would, of course. The he’e would find it, or their god-king would uncover it with his sorcery or other divination. To Namaka, wracked by chills and fever and swimming at a fraction of her normal speed, the people of Hiyoya looked pathetic. She couldn’t even imagine what Kauhuhu thought of them. Or rather she could imagine—they must look like prey. The wereshark, however, made no move against any of her people. He merely swam by her side in shark form, nearly five paces long. The creature was ferocious, vicious, violent—but perhaps it was a beast of its word.

His people, a school of perhaps fifty hammerheads, tiger sharks, and reef sharks, waited above Shattered Sail, circling as if waiting for the final kill. It was a macabre thought, but under the circumstances Namaka thought morbidity an appropriate response. She was staring at the end of a civilization.

She—or Nyi Rara—had seen this place only once, over a century ago. It had housed a mere trio of watchmen back then. Now, as she swam past the four sentries watching the entrance arch, the place was thick with the remnants of Hiyoya. A hundred mer at least, all solemn. Waiting for their soldiers to save them and somewhere, deep down, probably knowing it was too late.

All watched with visible anxiety as the shark swam in their midst. Mer could overmaster most natural sea animals, coax or enslave them as the need arose. Weresharks, however, were spirits. Humans housing a Moon spirit and thus immune to the powers mer would have over ordinary sharks. For that reason alone most mer would have hated them.

“What is this?” Ake demanded as she neared the central hall.

The general’s eyes showed clear lines of weariness. His host was probably approaching the breaking point and, for all she knew, even the spirit within might be as well.

Namaka tried to answer but the chill shook her then and she collapsed against the wall. Even the interior was thick with slime, the top layer of which broke away as her shoulder brushed it.

“Nyi Rara?” Ake was at her side in a moment, pulling her up.

She hugged herself until the worst of the chill subsided, then waved him away. “A human sorceress cast some kind of curse on me.” Part of her had dared hope Pele might actually succeed in getting Poliahu to revoke that curse. She should have known it was a vain hope. And if that Snow Princess had killed Pele … Namaka forced the thought from her mind. One battle at a time.

“A human sorceress? Are you certain it wasn’t a he’e?”

“Yes.”

“You have to tell your aunt. She might be able to break the spell.”

Namaka nodded. At this point she’d turn almost anywhere for relief. If only Hinaopuhalakoa’s host had not been killed by the he’e. The Keeper of the Urchin was the best versed in the Art and might have known how to break such a curse. Of course, Ake didn’t need to be reminded of losing his big sister.

“You didn’t answer my question, though. What is that thing doing here?”

Kauhuhu turned abruptly at the insult, making a close pass that forced Ake against the algae-covered wall. It should have been obvious, she supposed, but the wereshark could not speak in shark form and could not assume human shape underwater without drowning. That didn’t mean he couldn’t hear.

“The Shark King is our last hope, Ake. Where is my aunt?”

The merman glowered, then cocked his head toward the great hall. It was framed by massive arches and flying buttresses that stretched along a path of open windows. These buttresses connected to other towers probably originally intended to house soldiers. Now, Namaka suspected, they were filled with refugees.

She swam through the central arch to find, even in such dire straits, her aunt had managed to turn this abandoned hall into a throne room. She sat upon a clamshell as big as a small hut, watching Namaka with eyes seething disdain so palpable all the other courtiers fled to the corners of the room.

“Queen Latmikaik.” She offered a tail twirl before drawing near the throne.

The queen did not speak until Namaka was five paces away, and yet when she did, she made no effort to keep her voice from carrying to the onlookers. “You dare reveal our sacred refuge to this abomination?”

Kauhuhu, for his part, merely swam back and forth around the great hall. Probably delighting in intimidating each of the courtiers. From what Namaka had seen, he very likely could have closed the distance to Latmikaik and bitten her head off before she had time to scream. Not doing so showed admirable restraint.

“King Kauhuhu has pledged to help us overthrow Kanaloa.”

“King, is it? Animals have kings? There is only one royal family in this ocean, niece, and you bring shame after shame upon it.”

Namaka frowned, not certain what to say to that. Latmikaik must have found out she and Nyi Rara had joined in symbiosis. That alone probably earned her the queen’s ire. Still, this was not the response she had expected.

“You were given the mightiest vessel in the Worldsea for your use. And what have you done with it? Spent your days gallivanting around with humans, walking the isles. Why has Mu not been brought to heel with the power you now wield? Why are we at the mercy of the he’e?”

“We were outmaneuvered at every turn.”

“And who was it that proposed alliance with the sickening cephalopods?”

Namaka inclined her head. She had indeed made the mistake of trusting Ambassador Punga. In her desperation to find a way to stop Mu, she had advised a course that had led them here. She might have protested she had only advised the course—the queen herself had accepted it. Trying to shift the blame, however, would most likely have only further agitated her aunt. The spirit’s pride was offended. And for a spirit as old as Latmikaik, there were few things worse than having her image tarnished.

“The nanaue offer us the chance to turn the tide and retake our home.”

“And how do I know this won’t be a repeat of your bargain with the he’e?”

The thought had occurred to her. But Kauhuhu was not a subtle being. She didn’t see him planning treachery ahead of time and he did seem content with the deal she’d offered him. They were, after all, lush prizes to his people. “I’ve offered to amend the prohibition on the nanaue. They will be granted access to the Valley Isle and the Pineapple Isle.”

A few of the courtiers murmured at that, and Latmikaik leaned forward. This would be the deciding moment. If Latmikaik contradicted her now, refused to honor the terms she had given Kauhuhu, the weresharks would become an enemy on a third front. The slow narrowing of the queen’s eyes told Namaka the woman understood that well enough. Namaka had forced her hand and the queen would not soon forget that.

“And so they will,” Latmikaik said at last. “It is only fitting if they aid us in exterminating the vermin polluting our city.”

Vermin. Namaka could barely stop herself from snorting. Kanaloa alone was probably a greater threat than all the remaining soldiers of Hiyoya could oust. “There is one other issue. I would speak to you in private, aunt.”

Latmikaik’s smirk was almost worse than her glower. Perhaps she would refuse Namaka merely to spite her. It wouldn’t come as a surprise … and it would force Namaka to admit her condition publicly. That would undoubtedly further weaken morale. Still, if Latmikaik could break the curse, Namaka had no choice but to turn to her. Trying to go to war in her condition was beyond foolish.

The queen did not refuse, however. She beckoned for Namaka to follow into her private chamber.

* * *

The queen’s chamber in Shattered Sail was a pale reflection of her grotto back in Hiyoya. Undecorated—though she had shaved away the algae—and unfurnished save a bed of kelp and a luminous stone in the center of the room. That stone radiated a dim green light that reminded Namaka of some sights from the World of Water.

“You stink of black magic.”

“That’s why I need to see you. You have more extensive knowledge of the Art than any of our people left on Earth. Can you break the curse the human sorceress placed on me?”

Latmikaik snorted now, idly flicking at the barnacles that grew along her face. “Break your curse? Child, I am half-tempted to banish you from the Earth altogether. Perhaps a few centuries trapped in our reality will serve to teach you wisdom. And the host … well, my host is wearing out, after all.”

The words, spoken not in outburst, but calmly, sounded all the more horrible. To have her two halves torn apart—Nyi Rara exorcised and cast away from the Physical Realm and Namaka, enslaved to the cruel, twisted creature the queen had become. She would wither away for centuries, going mad in her own mind. Probably the same thing that had happened to Latmikaik’s current host.

And if the queen set her mind to do it, Namaka had no doubt she could. It meant she had to choose her next words with care—or they might be the last words she spoke of her own free will. She was about to remind Latmikaik the courtiers—and General Ake—would not thank her for this course. But perhaps reminding the queen that the princess was better liked than herself would not be wise. Instead, she bowed her head and twirled her tail in submission.

“You could do that, aunt. But here, on Earth, I am already versed in use of the host’s body and her Gift. Besides which, the people cannot afford to have their queen go into battle with Kanaloa. What would happen if you were to fall? This body is powerful, yes, and young. But it is not alone a match for the he’e god-king, and less so while beset by this curse. I can barely keep the body functioning as it is.”

The queen ran her fingers through the water, sending ripples spiraling around the room without even seeming to realize she was doing it. After a thick silence in which Latmikaik stared off at nothing, she finally turned back to Namaka. “So be it. But, Nyi Rara, do not test my patience any further. And if you fail to drive out the he’e, your time in this world is over.”

Namaka swallowed, the gesture reflexive and useless given she drew air in through her gills. “And the curse?”

Her aunt scowled, but nodded, perhaps seeing the wisdom in not letting her go into battle hampered. She raised a hand to either side of Namaka’s head, then closed her eyes. She remained like that for so long Namaka grew restless and had to fight the urge to speak, to ask anything about what was happening. She didn’t feel a damn thing. Nothing except a fever burning through her that made it hard to remain upright, much less hold still.

The queen’s eyes fluttered, a slight but definite strain marking her features. Finally she opened her eyes and shook her head.

“Whatever was done to you is beyond human mastery of the Art.”

Poliahu had done this to her. Where had the Snow Princess learned secrets beyond human understanding?

“You can’t undo it?”

The queen scowled. “I did not say I can’t. But I need to research the curse before I can break it. To find the appropriate counter, I need my research materials. And those, dear niece, are in Hiyoya.”

Damn it. Of course they were. Nyi Rara didn’t know enough about the intricacies of the Art to know exactly what her aunt wanted. She had a collection of engraved tablets, orbs made of crystal, and stones gathered from across the Earth. Some, she suspected, were more for show than anything else.

But her aunt wanted Hiyoya back and she had to know the best chance for that was if Namaka was at full strength. If she said she needed those materials, it was probably the truth. And that meant Namaka was going to have to face Kanaloa and the he’e without being free from this burden.

Her only remaining hope, then, was that Kauhuhu and the nanaue would be able to make up the difference.

* * *

Kauhuhu contributed very little to the strategy meeting, merely swam about the chamber where Namaka and Ake argued about how to take back Hiyoya.

The general had arranged a collection of seashells to represent the major buildings of the city, using a conch as the royal palace. What had once been their home was now the location of their greatest enemy.

“Do we have any estimate of their numbers?” Namaka asked.

Ake frowned. “Not a good one. No scout we sent close enough ever made it back. Besides which, their natural camouflage means they are nearly impossible to detect until they move. We suspect several hundred he’e remain in the city, but that’s only a guess.”

Namaka looked to Kauhuhu. The massive shark dominated the chamber, probably felt constrained being forced to swim in such tight circles.

Chills still shook Namaka. Pele must have failed. She had allowed herself to hope the other Princess might accomplish what she had set out to do, but that had been a foolish hope. And with Kauhuhu here, it wasn’t like they could delay the attack. Before assuming his shark form, the king had assured her Hiyoya was deep enough to block the sunlight, allowing his people to attack even in daylight. Nevertheless, he recommended launching the initial attack at night, when they would be strongest. And that meant leaving in few hours, at most.

Ake was staring at her with obvious concern, his brow furrowed and lips pursed.

Namaka shook her head. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right. I can’t fight Kanaloa like this. I’ll go to the front, do what I can … but I think we have to rely on your mer soldiers to draw out the he’e. And the nanaue will have to be the ones to strike at the god-king.” Even as she spoke, the chills were abating. That meant any moment she’d become flush with fever, barely able to swim straight. If, by some miracle, she survived this assault, she was going to kill Poliahu and feed her to the nanaue.

Kauhuhu made another sharp turn, but whether in response to her plan or mere impatience, she couldn’t say.

The general, of course, was frowning. Probably unhappy with the thought they relied on the nanaue to actually defeat their foe. Finally, he pointed to the shells representing the western side of Hiyoya. “The he’e are too clever to all be drawn out by any ploy. But if we make a two-pronged assault there—” he pointed next to the southern side of the city near the academy of music “—and here, we can at least force them to divide their defenses. Then the nanaue sweep in from the south.”

“They’ll know we’re coming. All of those waters are controlled by the he’e now.”

“Yes. We’ll have to cut through their outer defenses first.” He pointed to Red Coral Reef on his makeshift map. “We know they have an outpost here. We have to take it out on our way to Hiyoya.”

“We do that and they’ll definitely know we’re coming.”

“We can’t rely on surprise, save the hope Kanaloa won’t have anticipated Kauhuhu and his people joining us. We might, however, be able to count on his arrogance. He does, after all, call himself a god.”

Namaka snorted, blowing bubbles. “Are you certain he’s not?”

“I’m not certain you are not. What is a god, anyway? An immortal? A being with powers beyond human comprehension? Everyone in this chamber fits that description. There are, of course, the elder spirits …”

“I thought you were an elder, old mer.”

Now Ake smiled. “Only in comparison to someone like you.”

At that Kauhuhu swam directly between them, driving Namaka back toward the wall. The shark king darted out of the chamber, down the hall.

Namaka shrugged. “I guess this meeting is over.” Before Ake could answer a sudden wave of heat hit her, forced her to settle on the floor, tail tucked beneath her. She cradled her head in her hands. Her eyes were burning in her skull, felt like they would burst into flame even beneath the sea.

The general sunk down beside her, comforting hand on her shoulder. He said nothing and she was grateful for it. Perhaps two thousand years had taught him the value of silence. What could he have possible said to comfort her more than his simple presence? Her own body was betraying her because of Poliahu’s mad, jealous rage.

The room seemed to spin around her, and she found herself swimming amongst memories blending between Namaka and Nyi Rara. Her first surfing lessons with her father. Exploring sunken wrecks a hundred and fifty years ago … Ake had been there then, too. Giving the princess of Hiyoya just enough space to find trouble without actually letting her face it alone.

And the Urchin.

The Urchin had shown Nyi Rara this blending, this possibility. Namaka and Nyi Rara becoming one being, one person. Joining two worlds for the betterment of both. Beautiful, but costly. Neither one would ever quite live the life they might have dreamed of.

She grabbed Ake’s hand on her shoulder, pulled him closer. Once she had thought he would be hers. Had believed she could win his heart and find in him a mate, a father for her children … how long ago was that? The delirium made it harder and harder to separate the memories of her two lives.

“I’m not going to let this happen to you,” he said. “Stay here, rest.”

“Don’t go …”

“I have to.” The general extricated his hand from hers, stroked her hair, and then swam off.

Namaka slunk down and laid her face upon the sand.

Who was she to fight a war? To believe she could save anyone? She could not even save herself.

* * *

“Niece.”

The sound of Queen Latmikaik’s voice jolted Namaka awake. She hadn’t even planned to sleep. At once she forced herself up, trying to ignore the chills, and twirled her tail in respect. “Aunt.”

The older mermaid stared down at her. Now that Namaka had seen the World of Water, seen the true form of mermaids, it was obvious how far along Latmikaik’s transformation had gone. Her eyes had taken on nearly the same opalescence found in mer in their native realm. But there, in that world, the fish features were glorious. Here, she had distorted and warped the natural beauty of her human host. Destroyed the woman from within.

But then, Ake and every other mer she cared about in this world was the same. It was the way of things.

After a moment the queen’s harsh gaze softened. “We do not always see eye to eye, do we, niece?”

Uncertain what to say to that, Namaka merely inclined her head.

“Hmm. General Ake came to me, made an impassioned case that I should help you. I told him as I had told you—I cannot break the curse without my supplies in Hiyoya. You should be honored he so values you.”

“I am.” Ake was a good man, despite his misgivings about her human side. His perspective was clouded by his centuries as a mer, making him unable to see humans as meaningful beings save as hosts. And yet … he had kindness in him, and strength.

“As your luck would have it, I had begun working on something when you first asked.” She raised her hand, and only then did Namaka realize she held a vial in it. Ceramic, and thus clearly human work, and probably not from Sawaiki.

“What is it?”

“An alchemical blend—a potion. It won’t cure you, but it may help limit the symptoms you currently suffer from, at least for a short time.”

The clear sense of something unspoken hung in the waters between them. “But?”

“But potions tend to have side effects.”

“What side effects?”

The queen shrugged as though she couldn’t be bothered to guess, or even care. “Anything created with the Art is unpredictable by its very nature, never the same for any two people. And I have had no time to test such a brew. Perhaps it will rot your flesh and turn you into a loathsome hag. Perhaps it will steal your voice or drive you to solipsistic delusions. Only you can decide if such risks are worth it.”

So she had to gamble that these side effects would not be worse than the ravages she already suffered. She took the vial from her aunt and offered another tail twirl in thanks.

“Now go. The sun is setting. Win me back my city.” With that, the queen turned and left the chamber.

Namaka stared at the potion for a moment. What would it do to her? Latmikaik had already threatened to take her body and drive Nyi Rara back to the World of Water. Side effects were one thing, but what if this potion was not intended to help her at all? Would Latmikaik be so foolish as to take such a risk now, on the eve of battle? Namaka couldn’t believe her aunt would do that, and yet to drink this concoction was to place her trust in a woman who clearly did not return that trust.

Shivering, she rubbed her arms. Her aunt had survived for thousands of years. A spirit could sustain itself in the Spirit Realm for such eternities only by becoming an apex predator. By feasting on the souls of weaker spirits or by feeding off the life and mana of a human host. But to survive so long, one had to be clever, had to be willing to work in her own long-term best interest. And it seemed to Namaka that Latmikaik’s best interests lay in allowing her niece to reclaim Hiyoya from Kanaloa.

Under other circumstances she would not have been able to trust such a potion … but she could probably trust the queen to act in her own interests. Latmikaik had said the potion would not last long, but if it helped her through even one battle, that could make a difference in this war.

Vial in hand, she swam out to meet the last remnants of Hiyoya’s army.

* * *

Red Coral Reef, so named for the towering maze of vermilion coral, had been ceded to the he’e at Namaka’s behest. A gift promised to them to secure their aid against Mu. It was only appropriate then, she supposed, that she should be the one to take it back.

Soon, she would have to fight. Namaka uncorked the vial and drank it, swallowing a large mouthful of seawater in the process. It was thick, almost paste-like, and tasted at once sweet and bitter, burning her tongue and stinging her throat, leaving an aftertaste like someone had ground up fish eggs and kelp in her mouth.

She shook herself.

Had it done anything to her yet? She had no way to know how fast the magic would work. If there was any change in her condition, it must have been subtle. Were the chills less now? Maybe. Or maybe that was only their natural ebb as they gave way to fever once again. Aumakuas, she hated Poliahu.

It made no difference. She had a task before her, and that alone was all that mattered.

It had been decided—by Ake—that the nanaue would get into position before this, leaving the mer to strike at Red Coral Reef. Leaving her to do it. She was, after all, their greatest weapon. And clearly expendable, since he had sent her out first, alone. She was always alone. And why not? Her aunt clearly distrusted her and Ake was her general after all. What girlish folly had led her to imagine a future with him she couldn’t imagine. Sooner or later, he would betray her.

Well, she would show them. She swam closer to the Reef. By now, the he’e would have seen her. Oh, they ought to know who she was, too. Always avoiding a confrontation with her. Well there was no way to avoid it now.

Her aunt’s potion had restored enough of her strength for her to make a point here. Namaka glanced back at Ake, swimming a hundred paces behind her at the head of his ragtag army of mer and overmastered sharks and dolphins. She had to keep an eye on him, after all. For all she knew Latmikaik had ordered the general to dispatch Namaka’s human host the moment she was done here. She wasn’t going to let that happen.

In the waters below she could feel the he’e, moving slowly, trying to remain concealed by matching their color and texture to that of the coral. Wasted effort. The sea was hers despite how it now overflowed with her enemies. The sea was hers.

She spread her arms wide, calling it to her. Currents stretched out around her, reaching for leagues, all stilling before her will as her mana poured into it.

“Come and get me, ghostfuckers.”

Namaka began to jerk her hands back and forth, twisting the water, pushing it all aside to expose Red Coral Reef to the shining moon high above. The seafloor stood bare for half a league and dozens upon dozens of he’e—those not swept into the swirling currents surrounding the Reef—were dropped onto the sand. The octopuses had no faces, but she would have liked to see the looks on them if they had.

“Nyi Rara! What are you doing?” Ake’s voice barely carried over the maelstrom she had created.

Now the traitor knew what she was capable of. Oh, he would pay for his betrayal. She sneered over her shoulder at the general, but he and his forces were struggling to escape the currents she commanded.

Let Kanaloa spy on this with his scrying. Let him know she was coming for him.

Screaming in fury, Namaka slapped her hands together. The waves followed her command, crashing back into the Reef with thousands of tons of force. The sheer weight of so much falling water obliterated the coral. The Reef imploded upon the he’e she’d left stranded, their forms torn to pieces by an ocean filled with jagged coral debris.

And then the waters rushed back out, spreading that debris over leagues—along with severed arms, gore, exploded fish, and more blood than she had ever seen in one place. From the corner of her eye she spotted a he’e propelling itself away, through the water, darting between the deadly mess she had created in the water.

With a wave of her hand she sent a fresh current arcing over the octopus, carrying with it a thousand shards of coral that sliced the monster to ribbons. Namaka spun, chest heaving with exhaustion, but determined to let no foe escape her.

Numerous mer were lagging back, nursing countless cuts along their faces, torsos, and tails from the edge of the blast. And Ake … the general sped toward her, his wrath no longer concealed as he left his forces behind. Arrogant enough to think he could fight her alone.

“What was that? We were supposed to drive out the he’e and press on, not destroy an entire habitat our people have cherished for near a millennium! To say nothing of the tens of thousands of fish you just put to waste.”

Namaka sneered at him. It was good he was frightened. Now he would know what a mistake he had made. Playing with her emotions, trying to seduce her—all for her aunt. “Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out?”

He pulled up short. “Figure what out? What’s gotten into you?”

“You’re working for her. For Latmikaik.”

“Of course I am. She’s the queen.”

Namaka swam closer, close enough to look right in the traitor’s eyes. “So you admit it. Good. It’s better that way. I will never let you take my host from me.”

“Take your—”

She cut him off with a blast of water that sent him colliding with the seafloor. She was on him in an instant, hand to his throat. “You’re all after me! I won’t let you! I won’t let this happen!”

Shaking himself, he grabbed her arms. He was strong. So she sent a fresh jet of water slapping into his face. His head banged against the sand, dazing him. Namaka used the opportunity to let her shark teeth descend, then sunk them into his neck where it met his shoulder.

He flung her off, but her teeth tore a wide chunk out of his flesh, filling the air with intoxicating blood. The general gurgled, clutching his hand to his neck in a vain attempt to staunch the blood flow. She had ripped out some of his gills. He was doomed.

He was dying.

A wave of dizziness seized her. That wave grew until she was shaking, trembling, trying to make her mind and body obey her.

“Ake?” Oh, aumakuas. Had she meant to kill him? He was plotting against her. Wasn’t he? He hated her. He was trying to destroy her.

The way he looked at her now, with extreme shock on his face … like she was the one who betrayed him. But she had been so certain he … that everyone was going to leave her. Other mer had swum over, surrounding them, trying to tend to the general.

His blood burned her throat, her tongue, her soul. Namaka fell stock still, unable to form a word.

“The he’e attacked me …” Ake mumbled, his words distorted by the blood filling his throat. “Follow Nyi Rara …”

What was he saying? He wanted his people to believe she hadn’t done this? Wanted them to follow her, to still defeat the he’e. Namaka shut her eyes a bare moment. Then a twist of her tail carried her to his side. What had she done? A moment ago she had been absolutely certain he meant to betray her. Why? He had never shown her anything to make her think such a thing. She cradled the general in her arms.

“I’m so sorry.”

“S-side—”

“Sssh, don’t speak.” For moment he lay trembling in her arms, and then he fell still.

Namaka shuddered, feeling a fresh chill. Actually, she hadn’t truly felt one since … since she had taken the potion. That was what Ake had tried to tell her. Side effects. Latmikaik had warned her there was no predicting what else the potion might do to her. Like extreme paranoia. And why not? Her own parents had given her up. Her dragon mentor had left her alone to fight the taniwha. Even Pasikole was gone. Everyone left her.

Or … was that the potion again? Her thoughts felt sluggish, alien, and filled with a rage she could not quench. Her aunt had done this to her. Had known what might happen and had given her the potion anyway. Truly, no good ever came from the Art. And the bitch queen had done this on purpose.

Namaka released Ake and offered him a final tail twirl.

“Your command, Princess?” a merman asked.

Namaka ground her teeth, then realized they were still those of a shark. She rescinded those. Her mouth tasted of blood. Ake’s blood. Blood of a good man, a mer she liked, one Nyi Rara had even desired. Dead because of her. Because of Latmikaik, the traitorous bitch!

Namaka shook her head, trying to clear it. “I’m sorry, Ake,” she mumbled under her breath. They had to act quickly, to make his death mean something. “The nanaue will already be in position. We have to take back the city. Follow General Ake’s plan. Honor his sacrifice.”

21

It was almost midnight. Why the sisters had insisted on meeting her now, out on the open slope of Kamakou, Poliahu could not say. But Lilinoe had come to her not so long after Pele had departed and instructed her to wait near the summit.

The moon was clear overhead, illuminating a fog bank circling the lower mountain below. Up here she could see over the fog, far out over the ocean where she imagined the tip of the Valley Isle would be. Namaka’s island. A sister, according to the Flame Princess. Of course, Pele was a fool who could not control her temper or her own Gift. She had nothing in common with a sorceress like Poliahu, a master of the Art.

From the fog drifted three shadows like specters, barely perceptible. The sisters. Their forms were only as opaque as mist itself as they made their way toward her. Poliahu watched, hardly daring to move. What was this all about? Perhaps they intended to chide her for letting Pele escape. Maybe Poliahu should have finished what she had started and frozen the other Princess’s heart as she had done to Aiwo. But the woman had claimed—foolish thought—they were sisters. Poliahu’s only sisters were the Mist spirits before her.

“Are you … tired?” Lilinoe’s voice was a whisper, as always.

“Tired? It’s the middle of the night and I hardly slept yesterday. To say nothing of my wounds.” She held up her arms to show off the gashes the spirit had torn in them. “Of course I’m tired.”

“Perhaps hungry?” Waiau asked.

Poliahu spread her hands, not concealing her annoyance. Yes, she was tired, a little hungry, and growing bored.

Lilinoe flittered closer until her face practically brushed Poliahu’s cheek. The spirit had no breath, but Poliahu could feel the temperature drop in such close proximity to a Mist spirit. All such spirits dwelt, in their natural state, in the World of Mist, the world of the goddess Milu. A frozen realm of ice and cold without warmth or life. It was a realm of the dead, and thus a realm of supreme knowledge and ultimate power—for those willing to pay the price.

“All limitations of a mortal form,” the Mist spirit whispered in her ear.

Lilinoe had said something similar this morning, hadn’t she? After her second encounter with Pele, Poliahu had been too preoccupied to give it much thought. But Lilinoe had said she had begun to transcend the limitations of her mortal form.

“What does that mean? Are you saying there’s a way I could obviate the need for sleep, for food?” Imagine what she could accomplish with that many more hours in her days. Instead of sleeping, she could dedicate every moment to perfecting her Art. She would become that much closer to reviving the lost arcana of the eras before the coming of the Worldsea. That much more likely to find a cure to the plague. A day ago, she’d thought having a child would allow a successor to complete her work. But what if she could finish it herself? “Would I be able to slow my aging?” Shifters aged slower, so it must be possible.

“Slow it?” Lilinoe said. “Slow it … or stop it?”

Stop aging. “Immortality.” Poliahu smiled. It was the elusive, unattainable secret all practitioners of the Art dreamed of. Legends spoke of ancient kings who had spent all the wealth of their nations in pursuit of such a treasure and not even come close. But Lilinoe seemed to be saying such a prize was real, that she knew the way to it.

“Yessss.”

“Live forever …” Kahoupokane said.

“Our sister,” Waiau added.

Sister, yes. These spirits were her sisters. She was no longer a child. And now they would help her attain immortality. All of her studies had brought her to this moment. That was why they had wanted her pregnant—the extra power for such a feat. But she had killed Aiwo before she could conceive. Now, Lili and the others must think her ready to try the spell even without that boost in mana.

A freezing wind tugged at her hair and for a moment, she missed the kihei Pele had burned. Not that she needed it for warmth, but she was well accustomed to wearing it, especially on a night like this. It made her seem more like the sisters who had raised her.

Poliahu hugged herself, realizing she was actually shaking with excitement. “You know sorcery for such an achievement?”

“You need a sacrifice.”

Of course she did. Such powerful uses of the Art had to draw energy from somewhere. Part of the price would always be a life. The spirits she would have to call would need to be appeased, fed. Though, to be honest, she wished they would have told her such a thing before she climbed all the way back up the mountain. Now she’d have to go down again and demand an offering from one of the villages. Probably not Aiwo’s village—she didn’t imagine they were pleased with her at the moment.

“Fine. In the morning, I’ll go find a criminal guilty of violating some tabu. We can do the ceremony tomorrow night.”

“No criminal,” Lilinoe said.

Poliahu frowned. Who else on Lua-O-Milu was she supposed to use?

“We require the blood of two Princesses,” Lilinoe said, answering her unspoken question.

Poliahu’s mouth fell open. Killing criminals was one thing. But the sisters wanted her to sacrifice Princesses? That sounded like a violation of the greatest tabu imaginable. “Namaka and Pele?” She had let them go.

“One of them …” Waiau said.

One?

“And you,” Kahoupokane added.

Lilinoe ran an icy finger over Poliahu’s temple. “Shed your mortal form … and become like us, sister.”

A chill settled over her heart and she trembled in the wind. They wanted her to kill herself. That’s why they had met up here, at midnight, on the summit. They had hoped she’d killed Pele this morning, but she didn’t. That chance was gone now. But she could tighten her curse’s grip on Namaka until the chills froze her blood and ended her life. And then—then they meant for her to cast her own body off the peak.

“You understand.”

Poliahu shivered despite herself. “That’s where you come from, isn’t it? You were all once human. You’re ghosts.” The Mist spirits were the dead of Lua-O-Milu, reborn as the snow sisters.

So intently had she been watching Lilinoe, she had not realized the other two sisters had departed. Only now, looking around, did she spot them, carving Spirit Glyphs into the snow. It must have taken an enormous expenditure of will for them to have even that much effect on the Physical Realm without human bodies or a human will giving them force. The sisters were strong, replete with mana. It was how they were able to show themselves to someone on Earth while they themselves were trapped in the Ghost World.

This was it. Tonight, she would become a true snow sister. Her body would die and her soul would fly free, live forever like one of them. As … a ghost. A Mist spirit. Except that wasn’t exactly living. She wouldn’t need sleep, and wouldn’t need human food. But the sisters still had to feed, sustain themselves on the souls of their victims. Poliahu had never begrudged them that, but she hadn’t considered doing it herself either. It was wrong … she thought it must be wrong. And yet, she couldn’t quite remember why.

Namaka’s life was in her hands. She had but to squeeze, and the mermaid Princess would be no more. Finish her and then kill herself and become a ghost. She would be free to practice the Art forever. All the time in the world.

But she would never touch another living person.

Never sleep, never dream.

“What do you wait for?” Lilinoe asked.

Immortality. Except not really. She wasn’t going to live forever, but rather, be dead forever. Assuming she could find enough victims to sustain herself. That and murder Namaka. The woman who had betrayed her. Betrayed her—that was what Lilinoe had said. Though Pele claimed Namaka had no idea what she was doing. It was no excuse. She had taken Aiwo from Poliahu. Killing him had been only just—he had shamed her. It was justice. Justice was right.

Poliahu formed a ball with her hands, imagining Namaka’s heart between them. Slowly she began to squeeze. Her curse connected her to the woman through a bond that knew no distance. And as she touched that bond, she felt the beat of the mermaid’s heart. Powerful, though fatigued. Pulsing against her hands. Poliahu began to close her fingers, feeling physical resistance against her grip. Warm, but rapidly losing that heat.

The first Princesses were all daughters of Kū.

That didn’t matter. So what if they had been sisters in another lifetime? In this lifetime Lilinoe, Waiau, and Kahoupokane were her sisters. Though she had told Pele family was a petty human convention, still she needed her sisters.

“Yes …” Waiau whispered. All of the sisters had begun circling her, chanting, evoking. Preparing a spell that would end in murder and suicide. End in immortality. Of a sort.

They intended her to make a Spirit Walk. To leave her body behind and never return to it. That was the real reason they had wanted her to kill Pele this morning. To use her as the sacrifice. But Namaka would do. Maybe that was why Lilinoe had sent her to Aiwo in the first place. She wanted Poliahu angry enough to kill another Princess. The Sea Princess, in trespassing here, had given the snow sisters the chance to elevate Poliahu.

Pele had said the reckless mermaid had killed her own father, had lost control of her powers. And had grieved it. Maybe Poliahu killing her was a kind of justice. After such a death, Poliahu might call the Sea Princess a criminal. Certainly killing one’s own blood was a tabu.

The first Princesses were all daughters of Kū.

But they were not blood. Not anymore. No more than she was blood of the snow sisters.

Why was her mind so foggy, so unclear?

Pele claimed Poliahu had cursed Namaka without even knowing her. Without knowing the person the young woman was. Did that matter? Did it matter that right now the mermaid was out there, fighting the he’e in an attempt to protect Sawaiki?

Finally, Poliahu dropped her hands, releasing the Sea Princess’s heart. Of course it mattered. Just like Pele was right—it mattered that Namaka had not intended to hurt Poliahu, had not even known about her and Aiwohikupua. Lilinoe had claimed they had both betrayed her, but only Aiwo had been conscious of that betrayal.

“Kill her.” Lilinoe’s voice was laced with a cold ire that threatened to explode into a blizzard.

“I can’t. I’ll find someone else. I …” She would have to choose another Princess. It must be the sisters needed a vast amount of mana to create the transformation. No matter what, even if Poliahu was willing to give up her own life, she would have to murder one of her other supposed sisters to achieve this. “This … this can wait.”

“Another failure … No child … no ascension … ” Kahoupokane said.

A fresh wind whipped Poliahu’s hair in front of her face.

“There is still a chance …” Waiau said.

“No.” Lilinoe’s voice held the authority. “This one is lost. We must start again in the next generation.” Her hand fell on Poliahu’s cheek, feeling almost solid. And it was cold, painfully cold, even to Poliahu. She shuddered, trying to pull back, but the spirit’s hand was stuck to her face like a remora. Horrible, icy chills wracked her, sending her to her knees. The spirit wasn’t chilling her, she was sucking out Poliahu’s warmth, and with it, her mana, her very life. Perhaps preparing to feast upon her soul.

“We were so close,” Waiau said. “The tetrad was near complete.”

“There is always another chance,” Kahoupokane said.

Poliahu wanted to laugh and weep at the same time. Despite her decision not to do the spell, she was going to die anyway. No matter what choice she had made up here, Lilinoe had had no intention of letting her come down this mountain.

The cold had already spread up her arms and legs, reaching toward her torso. Soon, her heart would freeze. And this would be over, finished like a bad dream.

It had to be a dream. Her sisters could not have so betrayed her. They had loved her, raised her. Had they not? She couldn’t even really remember her real parents—just fragments. Memories she had thought were easily traded. Had the sisters always intended this to be the end? It must have been the very reason they had taught her the Art, driven her to become stronger and stronger. Just so she would have the power to join them in their endless haunting of the snow mountains across Sawaiki.

She had spent twenty years training in the Art, becoming a master of it, giving away pieces of herself, for this. For this. She meant nothing to the snow sisters unless she was what they wanted her to be. All her practice with her Gift and with her sorcery—it amounted to nothing. Sorcery, the Art, had become her life. She had ignored everything else, cast aside love and family and memories, let the years slip by without a passing glance. And if that now meant nothing … The sum of her life was less than nothing.

Death was a just reward for wasted decades.

And yet, she did not want to die.

Poliahu screamed in agony, defiance, and frustration. And Lilinoe but laughed at her.

That icy, alien laughter should have frozen her with terror. Would have a normal person pissing herself and begging the aumakuas for protection. In Poliahu, however, it was only served to compound her anger. Was she a joke to the sisters? No. She was not going to die here, not give in to these spirits.

She gave over trying to fight her violent trembles or the creeping cold. Instead, she focused all her remaining mana into her Gift, flooding it to her limbs.

Kahoupokane started. “Watch that she doesn’t—”

Poliahu’s form broke apart and became mist. She flung herself into the wind and allowed it to carry her away. She could not hide from the sisters. But she could flee, retreat and hope her mana lasted long enough to get her to dawn, when their powers would be weaker.

At the moment, though, daylight seemed lifetimes away.

Day VI

22

The city was dark. This close, the soft green glow of the wisp lights should have greeted her. But the he’e were creatures adapted to darkness and had no doubt extinguished the lights throughout the city. The night gave the nanaue an advantage, but it granted one to the he’e, as well. Namaka would manage, of course. The moon cast just enough light for her to function.

There were enemies everywhere, of that she had no doubt.

She shivered against a fresh chill, not certain whether the potion’s effects were wearing off, or whether she was simply more aware of her suffering outside the heat of battle. She had been blind to it at Red Coral Reef, and because of that, had murdered Ake’s host. She couldn’t say whether it was better or worse that the merman had understood and even apparently forgiven her. It was a small comfort that the mer spirit yet lived, that he would take another host and she would see him again one day. Be forced to look into the eyes of the man whose throat she had torn out with her own teeth.

Lest petulance and grief weigh her down, she had better get on with this. She had chosen to join the smaller group of mer, the one attacking the western front. It was the most direct route from Red Coral Reef, and thus the most likely to be heavily guarded at this point. Besides which, the fewer other mer by her side, the fewer people she risked hurting if she snapped again.

Namaka motioned to one squad of mer. “Go house to house, hunt down every last he’e you can find.” She indicated another. “With me. We’ll take the kelp farms.” The open fields gave her more room to work her more aggressive uses of her Gift. And at the moment, she felt a powerful need to hurt something.

The way they looked at her, with such doubt. They knew. They knew what she had done. They must know. They were just waiting until her guard was down and they would kill her for her crimes.

Namaka shook her head. It could just be paranoia caused by the potion. It had to be that.

Summoning swirling currents around her hands, she dashed forward. The kelp farms were great fields of seaweed sheltered by the protective arm of Hiyoya’s reef. The lowest in mer society were assigned to cultivate the kelp. The seaweed was considered a supplement to the diet, but it also had other uses, including encouraging crops of fish near the city.

After ducking under a large coral overhang, Namaka entered the first of the farm grottos. The kelp had turned brown, withered with months of neglect. Or perhaps even been intentionally poisoned, snuffed out as useless to the he’e.

Her mer soldiers poured into the grotto after her, some gasping at the destruction of the once-beautiful fields. One cursed the he’e to the Abyss, invoking the forbidden realm beyond the farthest wastes of the Spirit Realm. Its very mention sent shudders among the others, silencing them.

Something disturbed the waters above and Namaka looked up to see a translucent form descending on them from the coral roof. Hundreds of stinging tentacles hung from a jellyfish the size of a small whale.

“Get out!” Namaka shouted at her forces.

Too late.

Already those tentacles had dropped among the mer, each firing countless near-invisible harpoons. Five of her people were clutching welts, screaming, flailing among the dead kelp. Some of her other warriors had fled at her command, lurking on the grotto’s threshold while brandishing weapons useless against such a foe.

Namaka darted among the kelp, grabbed one of the fallen, and then used water jets to fling them both free from the grotto. More screams echoed from the other kelp farms. Ghostfucking he’e had somehow lured giant jellyfish into the grottos, used them as traps. And she had swum right in, ordered her people into the farms. Latmikaik must have known! Her aunt had sent her here to die.

“Everyone retreat!” she shouted. She dropped the merman she’d saved and he collapsed, barely able to move after being injected with so much neurotoxin.

She had no easy way to kill a jellyfish short of slicing it to pieces. And doing so would still leave those stinging tentacles floating around. The one—the only—bright spot in this mess was it meant the farms were probably free of he’e. But she could not push forward with half her forces crippled. Instead, she darted in and out of grottos, using blades of water to slice away tentacles and allowing her to rescue mer after mer.

One, a mermaid she dropped off, died in her arms. Her face and torso had become a bloated, swollen mess that looked ready to burst apart if pricked by so much as a piece of coral. So warped was the poor victim Namaka couldn’t even recognize her.

Trust the he’e to find an even worse way to murder her people than strangling them with all those arms. She had to pray, for everyone’s sake, that the other force of mer was having more luck on the south side. Assuming they could be trusted at all. For all Namaka knew, they had fled, left her behind. Probably on Latmikaik’s orders.

* * *

High above the city of Hiyoya, an outrigger sailed round and round in circles as if it were caught in some maelstrom. As Namaka helped nurse her wounded mer and prepare them for another press, the boat kept niggling the back of her mind. What in the Worldsea was it even doing?

The others couldn’t feel it disrupting the water as she could. She could sense everything. This close she could even feel Kanaloa, his massive bulk worming its way through the palace. And, just beyond, a mer swimming rapidly in her direction.

Namaka patted the mermaid she attended on the shoulder. “You’re too weak. Go back to Shattered Sail and report to the queen.”

The mermaid grimaced, but nodded and swam slowly away. Namaka was barely functional herself. Her fever had returned with a vengeance, blurring her vision and making summoning her mana all the more difficult. She had expended so much energy at Red Coral Reef, and after, saving the mer from the kelp farms. Now it took all she had left to stay upright, stay strong in front of the others. If they saw her looking weak they might break completely. It was a small blessing that, with the return of the fevers, the sensations of distrust had ebbed. Mostly. She was still not certain Latmikaik had not known what would happen.

Namaka turned to meet the approaching merman. He had been with the other group on the south.

“Report,” she said.

“Where is General Ake?”

“His host died.” She managed to say it without shuddering. “Report to me.”

“We took the academy, but with heavy losses. The nanaue tried to press forward, but giant jellyfish formed a blockade around the city. All fronts have been stalled.”

Namaka ground her teeth. Nothing was going according to plan. Maybe if Poliahu had not cursed her, she might have had the strength to make a difference. But because of that curse, not only was she weakened, but she had killed Ake. The mer had lost their general on the night of the most important battle in this war. And Namaka—or Nyi Rara—was simply not versed in strategy. She could not think of any approach Kanaloa would not anticipate. If she pressed on she risked the deaths of every mer and nanaue she had left. But if she retreated now, that was as good as admitting the kingdom of Hiyoya lost forever. It would be the end, leaving them with only the final option to throw themselves upon Mu’s mercy. Given the long war, they could not even count on that.

“Go back, hold the academy as long as you can. Wait for my signal to attack.”

“Signal?”

“Trust me. If I send you a signal, you’ll know it.”

In blind rage and the grip of drug-induced paranoia she had destroyed Red Coral Reef. Even at full strength, she probably couldn’t perform such a feat against Hiyoya. But it spoke ill of their chances that she found herself even considering trying. Maybe it would be better to destroy the city than let the he’e hold it.

If she could find a way to get her strength back, though, she might be able to sweep away that jellyfish blockade. Kanaloa had pulled them from the grottos to stop the nanaue advance, but that also meant they were in fairly open water. She could attack them. Assuming she wasn’t delirious from fever. But she had no chance to abate her curse, and trying had cost too much already. Looking back, everything seemed hazy, and Namaka couldn’t be sure which thoughts or actions had truly been her own. No. She would not dare take such a remedy again.

And still that damn boat was circling overhead. Whatever they wanted, they were likely to get themselves killed if they remained here when the final battle began. And that would be soon. After motioning for the others to wait for her, she swam straight up until she burst through the surface beside the outrigger.

“Fish Girl!” Kam shouted. The wereboar and the Flame Princess were in the outrigger, both staring at her.

Her initial relief to find them alive was quickly snuffed out by the demands below her. “What are you two doing here?”

Kam grinned. “We’re here to kill a shitting god.”

“I couldn’t convince Poliahu to break the curse,” Pele said. Namaka only raised an eyebrow. She had known that much. “But I can’t let you face this by yourself.”

“And what are you going to do? Swim down there and join the fight?”

“Shit yes,” Kam said. “I’m gonna throttle that shitting shitter.”

Namaka ignored him and looked to Pele.

The Flame Princess sighed. “There are undersea volcanoes near here. I could ignite them, damage your enemies. I just … I can’t direct it very well without being able to see my target.”

“Well?” Pele asked. “Can you part the seas enough to give me a clear view?”

That was her plan? Let Namaka open the sea and expose Hiyoya so she could bury the city in volcanic ash? She might have pulled that off before, but the sea was deeper here, and she was exhausted. In her current state, pouring that much mana into the ocean … the part of her that was Nyi Rara suspected the consequence. The mermaid spirit might survive, but it would be forced back to the Ghost World. The human host, so completely drained, would wither away to nothing. Mana was, in the end, the energy of life. She could use it all in a single moment, give Pele the chance to accomplish her aim. Doing so would mean the end of Namaka and maybe of Nyi Rara as well. If Pele knew that, she might not agree to try. And Kam, poor, loving Kam, would likely cut out his heart this time if he thought it might save her.

Aumakuas, Namaka didn’t want to die. She should have had centuries more on this Earth thanks to Nyi Rara. But maybe destroying Hiyoya and Kanaloa with it was the only way to save Sawaiki and the rest of the world from being enslaved to the he’e. Her father, Mo-O, Pasikole, Ake, and so many others—they had given their lives in the hopes of changing the world. She could do no less.

At last she nodded. This was the only way left to her. “Try to spare as much of the city as you can. Turn the fires on the he’e and their jellyfish. Yes—I said jellyfish. We have nanaue down there, I think we can trust them to finish Kanaloa.” She sighed. “I need to get my strength back first. To rest, if only for a few hours.”

Pele looked up at the sky. “It’ll be dawn soon. My Gift is stronger in daylight. Why don’t you get in the boat and sleep? I’ll wake you.”

Namaka nodded. Sleep sounded wonderful. The chance to flee her pain for an hour or two. To dream one more time. First, though, she had to inform her people of the plan, make sure they would be clear of the destruction and ready to sweep in and finish things once it was done. Once she was gone.

23

Hour upon hour Poliahu had fled each convergence of the mists, each icy breeze. The sisters had chased her through the sky and up and down the mountain. Three times they had almost gotten their hands upon her. She was mist, but so were they. And now, prepared for her power as they were, she knew she’d not escape their grasp again. In the early hours of the morning, just before dawn, she’d flown out over the sea. Fleeing them and drawn, as if by some instinct, toward a boat sailing in circles over Hiyoya. A boat where her reincarnated sisters waited to wage a war.

Princesses like her, trying to save Sawaiki, while she followed her own selfish, pointless pursuits. Pele was right. Too right. Namaka had not deserved the curse Poliahu had visited upon her. Indeed, maybe even Aiwohikupua had not deserved what she had done to him. He had disrupted her spell, her attempt to save that girl Kaikilani. But he hadn’t done so on purpose. And she had screamed at him, cast him aside and ignored the luau he’d thrown for her. And he’d fled into Namaka’s arms. Poliahu and Aiwo had promised no real exclusivity to each other. Still, she could have left him alive. Could have, and probably should have.

She returned to the Friendly Isle before dawn, ever fleeing, her strength waning. At last the sun rose, stinging her misty eyes and scorching her form. Exhausted, she dropped back down on the slopes of Mount Kamakou. If she were smart, she would have fled all the way to another island. But the Friendly Isle was her home, she was its Princess, and she could not, would not allow herself to be driven from it. Not even by the snow sisters.

They would be here, she knew. Waiting for her, probably not showing themselves until nightfall. This time, though, she would be ready for them. Before that, she needed to regain her strength. And there was no better place for that than her home mountain.

She knelt in the snows and pushed her palms in deep, allowing the chill to suffuse her fingers and run up her limbs. Unlike the cold she had suffered when Lilinoe had drained her mana, this was a welcome cooling, one born from the power she drew from the snows themselves.

The ice and snow around her began to melt as she drew its power into herself. With the sudden rush of mana, her strength returned, washing away fatigue and even her growing hunger. They would know what she was doing, of course. Maybe they thought they had no reason to fear her. She could not directly affect them with her Gift. But their mistake had been in teaching her other uses of the Art, in teaching her so much of sorcery. Perhaps, as Lilinoe sometimes hinted, Poliahu understood only the tip of the iceberg when it came to the Art. Nevertheless, she knew enough to protect herself from the sisters.

Sisters.

Because of them, because of her, Namaka was going to war crippled. That was one mistake she could at least rectify. The spirit cursing the mermaid was bound to Poliahu, and that bond could be broken. Undoubtedly it would be angry, looking for a way to punish her in the future, but that was a problem for another day.

Her other mistakes … She could never reclaim her lost memories. They were stolen from her, traded for temporary power over destiny. It had seemed like such a fair trade.

Poliahu rose and stared at the Glyph branded into her waistline just above her right hip. This was going to hurt.

Conjured icicle in hand she cut into her flesh, marring the Glyph repeatedly. All she could do was grit her teeth against the pain of inflicting such wounds on her own body. It wasn’t the first time. Her mind snapped, the bond broken with such mental force she stumbled several steps backward. That must have done it. Namaka would be free.

Now it was time to look after her own wellbeing. Lilinoe had made it clear she intended to kill Poliahu and await the rise of the next Snow Princess. To try again to make her one of them. Except, the new one would also carry the same soul as Poliahu so, in a way, it would be her again. In fact, Waiau had claimed they had failed again. How many times had they tried this? Had they murdered her before? That would no longer surprise her. And still the people brought Snow Princesses to the sisters, blissfully unaware of the fate those spirits intended for their ruler.

Poliahu needed to do more than just protect herself in this lifetime. She needed to put a stop to this cycle. Because sooner or later the snow sisters would succeed. They had nearly done so last night. She had been ready to kill Namaka and let her own soul drift into the Ghost World forever. One more step and she would have plummeted into that abyss forever, all in pursuit of her Art. Maybe the sisters had known all along what would happen with Namaka and Aiwo, known or suspected, and wanted to position Poliahu such that she might be made to murder Namaka at the right time. Everything was a manipulation.

They had intentionally driven her to burn away her memories and morals, to sacrifice little bits of her soul. Until she would be so much less than human, she would sacrifice other Princesses without a second thought. And she almost had.

Far overhead, the ‘io soared. The last form of the spirit she had split into four parts. What had happened to the rest of its soul? Was it lost forever? And still, she could feel its anger as its own Glyph on her skin bound it to her service for as long as her will remained strong, perhaps for her entire life.

Poliahu frowned. That was the answer, after all. The only answer she could see.

In mist form she flew up into her sanctuary, and into the chamber of the banyan, where she had summoned the spirit into the hawks. There she resumed solid form and stared up at the Glyphs carved into the walls. All so carefully researched under the tutelage of the sisters. After so much study, she merely needed to refresh her memory. Once she was satisfied she could recreate the symbols, she strode back into the great hall where the mighty sea turtle sculpture waited.

After inspecting it, she began to replicate those same Glyphs on the walls of this chamber. She had carved most of them when she felt the presence entering the chamber, accompanied by a chill mist seeping around her in a circle.

“Back to your Art?” Lilinoe, her voice hinting at confusion.

“Yes.”

“We did not expect you to return.”

She had been counting on that, counting on the spirits not attacking her while the sun was up. Poliahu didn’t bother trying to look for the source of the voice, instead keeping her eyes on her work. “Because you tried to force me to cast a spell I didn’t want to? Don’t think I’m not grateful for all you have taught me of the Art. It is a calling.”

“It is an addiction. An obsession that, even aware of it, one cannot be freed from. To taste ultimate power is to be forever changed by it.”

“Mmmm.” Poliahu twirled her finger, putting the last flourish on another Glyph. “Is that what happened to you?”

The Mist spirit hissed at her.

“What I don’t understand, or what I thought I didn’t, was what Waiau said about a tetrad. A four part symbol.” One last Glyph to mark on the walls. “Then I realized—you had me split the spirit we put into the hawks into four parts. Why four? I had assumed it was random. But if you wanted to test my ability to split a soul, why not something easier, like two or even three? But no, you chose four hawks.”

“You are so close to understanding, to enlightenment. To divinity.”

Poliahu snorted. Last night she might have believed that. The other snow sisters were nearby, she was certain of it. “A tetrad. Four snow sisters. I would make the fourth. But why would you need another one? Just to swell your ranks? No. The more I thought about it, the more I realized there was a purpose to your experiments with dividing souls. And if you were once alive, once mortal, then … who were you? Maybe someone who had already tried that experiment and thus knew it could be done.”

“Now you know …”

“That you were a Snow Princess? I guess you just confirmed that.”

“I was the first Snow Princess, trained in the Art by Kū himself, before he was cast out of this world.”

Poliahu shivered. The first Snow Princess. An incarnation of her prior self. How much she must have seen, how much known and not yet shared with Poliahu. Of course, Poliahu could not have been reborn again and again unless Lilinoe’s own soul had been split. “So a tetrad. There were four pieces to your—to my soul.”

“Yes …”

“And mine was the last. First you must have gotten Waiau to cast the sorcery you tried to make me do last night, then Kahoupokane. And if I had …”

“We would finally be whole again. And now you know why you must go through with the spell. Joined, the tetrad will become more powerful than any other Princess on Sawaiki.”

It was a temptation. But if Lilinoe was the first, and she did as the Mist spirit bade, Poliahu would become at best a servant to this spirit. Perhaps, had she not seen the snow sisters for the inhuman monsters they had become, perhaps then she could have stomached such servitude. Not now, not knowing the price.

Poliahu carved the final Glyph on the wall, leaving only the mark for the spirit she intended to bind remaining. “What were you hoping to achieve in the first place, I wonder? Immortality like your father, right?”

“We are immortal.”

“No. You’re dead. When was the last time you tasted a meal? When did you last feel the touch of a human being? When was your last good fuck? What, two thousand years? Now that’s a dry spell. You take human bodies to experience what you once were. But I expect it’s not quite the same, is it? Besides, it doesn’t matter now.” She sighed and shook her head. “You never actually cared about my getting pregnant. You just wanted me there when Namaka arrived.”

Lilinoe drifted around the room without answer, which was, in itself, answer enough. “Why persist with the sea turtle?” the spirit asked after a moment.

“It will give me the means to help save Sawaiki and begin to make up for my mistake with Namaka.”

“You cannot fight Kanaloa.”

So she knew. She knew about the he’e god-king and his plot and had done nothing. Well, now she would help defeat the he’e. Poliahu began to carve the most important Glyph, this one upon the sea turtle’s forehead. Lilinoe watched in silence. At least until she recognized the mark of her own soul upon the turtle. Then she shrieked in hatred so vile it ought to have frozen Poliahu’s blood in her veins.

Already, though, Poliahu had begun chanting. She had done this before, with the hawks. Now, she needed not split one soul into four bodies. Rather, she needed instill three divided souls into one. A small change. With a finger she carved Waiau’s Glyph on the sea turtle’s flipper.

Lilinoe’s shriek was joined by the middle spirit’s, and a moment later by the youngest’s as well. They knew what she was doing. But she had already closed the circle, preventing the subject of her sorcery from acting against her directly. They could not physically attack her, and so, all at once the three of them flung their wills at her.

The power of it drove her to her knees, but still she continued to chant. The supreme irony of using spirits the snow sisters had taught her to summon to bind them was delicious, even as their assault caused blood vessels to burst in her mouth and nose and eyes. The copper taste of it filled her mouth, but she could not stop her invocation. Blood blurred her vision and ran down her face. She carved Kahoupokane’s Glyph on another flipper.

Supreme coldness like that which Lilinoe had visited upon her in the night seeped into her gut. This was why she had needed to draw so much mana from the mountain. Because now it burned within her, tearing open the tiniest of breaches between her world and the Ghost World.

Euphoria filled her as success neared. Lilinoe was right—it was an addiction. And Poliahu could no more let this go now than she had been able to in some past life as Lilinoe. Darkness settled in around the great hall. The sisters’ shrieks grew into wails of defiance and at last pain.

And then, all at once, it stopped. Her left thigh burned with unbelievable agony as three new Glyphs branded themselves onto her leg. The Glyphs of the shattered pieces of her own soul, now bound into a turtle of ice. And, if she was fortunate enough to live through her next endeavor, perhaps she truly would find a way to restore her tetrad soul to one. But she would do it in her own body, reunite herself as she was now, not as a pawn of her former self.

24

Pele stared into the early morning sun, trying to still her mind to the task at hand. The sun was a fire, perhaps, but not one she could see anything in. In moments like this, the instants just before such a terrible battle, she wished Fire-Keeper were by her side. If the kahuna were in this outrigger, though, there would be nothing he could do.

“Her fever broke,” Kam said. The wereboar sat beside his adopted sister. For the past two hours he had alternated washing her face with seawater or holding her in his arms while she shivered.

Her fitful sleep was a reminder of Pele’s failure with Poliahu. Words had never been her strongest talent. They should have woken her already, but Pele had insisted they give the Sea Princess a few more moments.

“It’s broken before. It’s only the chills coming on.”

“Shit, I thought so too. But that was a while back and no chills have come on.”

Namaka groaned, then rubbed her face. “You two talking about me?”

Kam helped her rise in the boat. “How’re you feeling, Fish Girl?”

Blinking against the sunlight, she looked around, as if confused. “Better? I don’t know. Something’s changed.”

Pele folded her arms, watching. Was it possible Poliahu had broken the curse after all? Or had Namaka’s mermaid nature allowed her to fight through it? Honestly Pele knew little of the Art, so she couldn’t begin to guess what had happened. But if they had an opportunity now, then they had to take it. “We should move. If we’re going to do this, it’s time.”

The mermaid opened her mouth, looked around again, and nodded. Something had changed with her. A fresh spark in her eyes, a slightly less resigned stoop to her shoulders. For a brief moment she stared into the deep. Could she see what was happening down there? Could she feel it?

Before Pele could ask, Namaka turned back to her. “You won’t have a lot of time. I’ll keep the outrigger as safe as I can, but I’m not going to lie—this is going to be rough waters. You both up to this?”

Kam snorted. “Part those seas and I’ll go punch that shitting he’e god in the face.”

With a roll of her eyes, the mermaid leapt over the side. Her legs fused into a tail as she hit the water, and then she disappeared beneath the surface.

A pit opened in Pele’s stomach. This had just become very real. And there was no turning back now. “I think we’d better hold on to something.”

“I’ll hold you anywhere you like, Fire Tits.”

“I told you not to call me—”

The outrigger bucked like it had been kicked and Kam gracefully fell on his ass. The only thing that kept Pele standing was her grip on the prow. They had gained speed, their boat racing through the waters. Or rather, being carried by waters that had begun to rapidly swirl.

A vortex opened off to the side, one that expanded with each passing breath. Five paces across. Ten paces. Twenty. The sea had become a roaring torrent flinging their tiny boat around like kindling. Pele screamed. Never had she felt so insignificant. A few months ago she had thought to smother Namaka in lava. Thought her own the greatest Gift of all the Princesses. But she had vastly underestimated the scale of the mermaid princess’s powers.

The maelstrom had spread to a thousand paces, at least. They were caught in its current, spinning round in an arc that threatened to swallow them. The wind swallowed her screams, tore her kihei from her shoulders, and almost yanked her from the outrigger. And still the maelstrom grew larger, larger. Exposing more and more of the benthic depths that were meant to be a mystery to mankind.

Pele wrapped both arms around the prow and held on for all she was worth. Stone and coral, sharks, thousands of fish, mer and he’e, all were caught in the maelstrom just like her boat. Farther and farther it spread until at last she was granted a clear view of the undersea city in all its magnificence. Hundreds of he’e and numerous giant jellyfish lay atop the exposed seafloor or spread out over stone buildings of grander craftsmanship than she had ever imagined. The tips of those buildings were covered in algae, a sight that only added to the feeling she was an unwelcome interloper here.

And at the center of it all, the structure that could only be the royal palace—by far the largest structure she had ever seen. And the site where that god-king must dwell. The god of the deep had not shown himself yet, however, and Namaka had already warned her she wouldn’t have much time.

Kam was shouting something, but Pele couldn’t make out his words over the roaring sea. The mermaid had asked her to turn her fires on the he’e and jellyfish, to trust the nanaue to deal with Kanaloa. If that was what she wanted …

Pele fed mana into the magma running beneath the seabed. It heeded her call, rumbling far below. She could feel it pulsing in her soul, though the sea already shook them so much there was little visible indication. But she needed her hands to direct the lava when it breached.

“Kam!”

He probably couldn’t hear her.

And yet, he looked to her.

“Kam, I need my hands free!”

She beckoned to him with one hand, then snatched it back around the prow when she nearly toppled out of the boat. It was listing to one side already. Kam must have understood, because he scrambled over and grasped the side of the boat with one hand while wrapping the other around her waist. If he lost his grip, she would fall a long, long way. But if she didn’t let go, didn’t trust him, this was all for nothing. She had to trust him. They had been through so much together, and, if only for a moment, she had given all she had to him.

She released her grip on the prow. Immediately she toppled forward, caught only by Kam’s impossible strength, hanging in open space. Fear choked her. There was no time to indulge it, however. Her hands and hair caught fire and drew up more and more magma. It built beneath the surface of the city. No volcano lay within the city itself, but today, Pele would make her own.

Screaming, she released the pent-up power. The seafloor between numerous buildings exploded in showers of ash, lava, and debris. Three geysers she summoned, calling their fires up, so high they reached her eye level. Did the he’e know fear?

“Burn in the inferno!” she spat at them.

Hands waving, she directing the falling streams of lava, scorching through jellyfish left and right. Another mighty stream she turned upon a building she saw he’e trying to sneak off to. It exploded, stone foundations buried under molten rock. Far below, more he’e were fleeing to the shelter of other buildings.

Namaka had asked her to spare the city, but this was all for nothing if she failed to defeat the invaders. And so she dropped two tons of lava over the house.

Kam was squeezing her waist even tighter, shouting something in her ear. She looked down to the outrigger. It was trembling, pulsating and warping at unnatural angles. What the …

The outrigger broke apart, shards of wood slashing her face and arms. A sensation she quickly forgot. Without the boat they fell into the vortex, flying through open air toward the volcanic wasteland she had created far below.

They were both going to die.

It was all she could think. The terror of it beat aside all other thought, made time seem to stand still.

And then a stream of water shot out of one side of the maelstrom, Namaka at its head. The waters carried the flying mermaid right at Pele and Kam. In an instant, Pele found herself caught in the mermaid’s arms and carried into the other side of the maelstrom.

Waters surged past her faster than she could see, tugging at her from all sides. An instant later they burst through the surface and she gasped, sucking in air, choking and coughing all at once. The current of the collapsing maelstrom threatened to yank her under save for Namaka’s arm under her own. The waters didn’t disturb the mermaid in the least.

Pele, however, felt dazed, her ears ringing and body exhausted. Dimly, she was aware of Namaka handing her off to Kam, who was now treading water and supporting the both of them.

And then Namaka disappeared back beneath the waves.

Leaving them alone, in the middle of the ocean, somewhere above the domain of a very angry god.

25

Riding a giant sea turtle made of ice down a mountainside was probably the most fun Poliahu had ever had. Given she had no real way to get the turtle back up the mountain, it would probably be a one-time activity. Now, hours later, she sped toward Hiyoya with all the speed her spirit-infused turtle could manage. Which, it turned out, was a lot. She stood on its shell, arms wide and hair streaming, as leagues passed them by.

There was, she supposed, a certain irony in riding the sea turtle to battle. Given that she had infused it with the snow sisters who were, in fact, pieces of her own soul, she was, in effect, riding herself to war. The souls infused in the turtle kept it from melting, even in the warm waters. That was good, because it took most of her concentration to maintain her hold on the sisters.

Her musing were interrupted by the cataclysmic elemental war being fought in the distance. A whirlpool at least half a league wide, at the center of which rose multiple geysers of lava.

“I think we found the place.”

She had not quite reached it when the whirlpool collapsed back onto itself. At the same time a spear of water carried three people into the air before crashing back to the sea. Poliahu directed the turtle toward those people. By the time she reached them Namaka had gone, leaving only Pele and her man, clinging to one another.

At her approach, Pele raised a flaming hand.

Poliahu raised her own hands in peace. “I thought about what you said.”

“You did break the curse.”

“I have to try to begin to make up for the mistakes I made. Where is Namaka? I owe her …” Well, an apology seemed a pretty pale offering, all things considered.

Pele glowered and cocked her head at the ocean. “Down there. Fighting for our lives and our freedom. Sadly, I don’t think there’s much else we can do for her.”

Poliahu had not come all this way to do nothing. She slid down the shell and jumped onto the ocean, freezing its surface in a disc as she landed. It started two paces around, but she rapidly expanded it, turning about as she poured cold outward. She needed a stable platform.

“Come on,” she said.

Pele and her man exchanged a glance, then he began to swim over to the ice disc she had created. When he reached it, his weight lifted the far side so high out of the water Poliahu was forced to expand the platform again to keep from pitching over the side. And then the man hefted himself onto it, followed by Pele.

“So … what did you do? Swim out here?”

“Shitting boat exploded,” her man said. He was dripping blood and, at his words, turned to yank a piece of kindling out of the back of his thigh. Poliahu grimaced at the sight.

“This Kanaloa must have used pretty powerful sorcery to pull that off.”

Pele rose, or tried, slipping on the ice and banging her knee. “He can do that? Namaka is down there alone, fighting him!”

“She’s not alone,” the man said. “She’s got the shitting weresharks with her. Shifters are mighty. Trust old Kamapua’a. Mighty.”

Poliahu nodded, then turned back to the turtle. There was a reason she had chosen a sea turtle to infuse the sisters into rather than more hawks or any such thing. “Go down there and help the mer. Kill any he’e you see.”

Immediately it strained against her will, trying to break free of her command. Her brands heated until they stung. Poliahu narrowed her eyes, focusing all her willpower on directing the sisters. They were bound to her now. They were, had always been, a part of her. And she was giving the orders from now on.

The struggle ended as suddenly as it had begun, and the ice turtle dove beneath the surface.

With it gone Poliahu settled in the middle of the ice disc, legs folded beneath her. She needed to concentrate on keeping the sisters driven to the task before them. It was, in the end, the best she could do for Namaka.

26

Namaka blasted another he’e with a lance of water. Mostly, though, the octopuses were engaged with the nanaue or her own mer soldiers. The entire city was engulfed in chaos—to say nothing of the catastrophic damage she and Pele had done to the streets and homes and farms. The waters rushing back in had cracked more buildings while washing away the numerous dead bodies and cooling the massive pools of lava Pele had dropped on Hiyoya.

And still, even as they fought their way through the city, Kanaloa had not shown himself. Did the god-king hide from her? Or was this some ploy?

In the distance she saw Kauhuhu and his people rip through more he’e in their frenzy. Namaka motioned to the shark king and he swam over. It was time they ended this. If Kanaloa wasn’t going to come out to fight them, they would have to pursue him into the royal palace themselves.

As she swam toward the palace, a massive form disrupted the waters behind her and she turned to see a giant sea turtle made of ice bite right through a he’e nearby. The turtle’s jaws must be sharp as blades, for they severed arms in a spray of gore without slowing the behemoth in the least. That gave her pause. What in the Worldsea was that thing and where had it come from? It had eaten a he’e whole. Was Poliahu helping her now? Why?

Even Kauhuhu turned to look at her.

Namaka shrugged. She had no answers for the nanaue.

The ice turtle joined the weresharks in assaulting the he’e. Where more than one wereshark had had the life squeezed out of him or her—reverting to human form in death—the three he’e clinging to the ice turtle had no effect on it whatsoever. Indeed, they quickly gave over any attempt to slow the thing and simply began retreating from it wherever it went. Making it a rather ideal diversion, actually.

Namaka dove deeper, toward the palace that had once been her home. In front, she paused to pick up a wisp light. The crystal orb was cracked, but she fed the tiniest morsel of mana into it and it sprang to light again. Heart pounding, she headed in.

* * *

The palace was the same, and yet different. The wisp lights had been ripped from their sconces, leaving the halls in perpetual gloom. The only illumination she had was where hints of sunlight broke through windows and the single wisp light she had recovered from outside. The walls themselves had been scored, marked with Glyphs probably intended as some kind of warding. Perhaps Latmikaik would have understood their purpose, but Namaka did not.

This place had once seemed a dream to Namaka, surreal and infused with a vibrancy that defied description. An oppressive, alien hatred now lurked here, turning that dream into a nightmare.

A disruption in the water alerted her to a he’e crawling on the ceiling. Kauhuhu must have smelled it, for even as the creature tried to drop on Namaka the shark king surged forward, his jaws snapping shut on the octopus. Namaka nodded her thanks and pushed onward. Thus far, that had been the only he’e they had seen. Perhaps the majority had gone outside to fight her army and Kauhuhu’s forces. Thanks to Pele’s efforts, the tide had turned and Namaka’s people actually had a chance against the he’e.

Assuming she and Kauhuhu could defeat the god-king.

Where was he? No one she knew had clearly seen the he’e king, but she had glimpsed one of his arms and would have guessed it at near twenty paces long. A creature of that size ought not be able to hide much of anywhere, but then, as a he’e, Kanaloa could no doubt squeeze through any opening large enough to permit his beak. The invertebrates were disgustingly adept at slipping through nooks and crannies, hiding anywhere. In any event, why would a creature the size of a taniwha hide? It was hard to believe he might actually fear her, despite all she had done. And yet, perhaps seeing her part the ocean and expose the city had made him reconsider his plans.

Idly, she wished Kauhuhu could speak underwater. Having anyone to talk to would make these empty halls more palatable, less oppressive. Not that the shark king had ever been much of a conversationalist. But he was better than nothing. The only sound she could hear now was the swish of their tails. She did not like the silence.

At last she entered into the throne room. It too stood empty, Latmikaik’s conch throne crushed into hundreds of shards that littered the floor. As she swam farther in, illuminating the chamber with the wisp light, she saw the back wall of the throne room had been pulverized, torn down to lead deeper into the palace. She paused, hesitating. Crushing the throne might have been a symbol of the end of Hiyoya, but why bring down the wall? There were other chambers back there, and eventually … the gorge. The gorge that led to the Urchin.

Kauhuhu darted away, seeking the edges of the chamber with such suddenness Namaka froze. Then she felt water move above her and swallowed, almost afraid to look up. Descending from the ceiling was a roiling mass of arms so large and textured so perfectly to match the stonework, she had not even noticed it disrupting the water. Had thought it merely part of the room. Any of those arms were easily a pace thick or more, twice her shoulder width. Their color and texture shifted as the monstrosity descended, becoming a sickly pinkish-red, save the suckers which were pale white.

At last the creature settled on the floor in front of her, raising a head the size of a chief’s hut. His eyes were unreadable pools of inky blackness and he had no face. Yet somehow she could feel hatred seething off this creature. The he’e were an ancient race, albeit a mortal one. But this creature, he—it—was something else. Something from a world long before this one, something now eager to reassert itself and claim dominance of the seas as it must have done in the days before the kingdoms of mer. All of that she could feel now, though the he’e had not spoken.

When it did its voice boomed through the hall, muffled and distorted by a mouth beneath its endless folds of muscle. “Eons of waiting and the passing of eras leads us two to such a meeting at long last.”

Namaka had not come here to bandy words with the god-king, and yet she could not bring herself to strike. Next to it she felt small, smaller than even the taniwha had made her feel. His presence extended beyond his enormous size, filling up the room and seeping into the chambers beyond with a will that seemed to press in on her skull. “Passing of eras?”

“Given sufficient imagination, one might envisage a being ruling the seas in the days when titans ruled the Earth. A presence even the sea titans heeded and paid homage to. But the world was transmogrified, shattered beyond recognition by the cosmogonies of titans, leaving our imagined majesty in the deepest of dreams, as age upon age passed like the blink of an eye. And in this dream, mortals, humans thought to master the Art. So we imagine, the sleeper must have whispered to them, let slip hints of prodigious secrets they could not begin to comprehend. Gave them the fires with which they might burn down their world. Until again the Earth was changed, and the seas rose, drowning the imposters. And the sleeper woke.”

Namaka fought to still the trembling in her chest and the pounding upon her temples. The god-king was assaulting her will, trying to cow her. Maybe he could do so, dominate a person as mer might dominate sea life. But she wasn’t going to let that happen. She gritted her teeth, offering no real answer to his confusing speech. It sounded as though he spoke of the days of Kū or perhaps even before that. If Kanaloa had seen such days, that would make him incalculably old, older even than Aunt Latmikaik, and thus privy to secrets she surely could not imagine. That did not, however, give him the right to rule the seas.

“Wakened, we imagine a sleeper would see the transformed world and set to restoring order, to give the chaotic Earth structure and thus absolute glory that might stretch for eternity. Such an order might, one could imagine, even prevent the need or capacity for further iterations of the Earth, forestalling the next eschaton. Perfection, achieved at long last. If a small mermaid Princess were capable of imagining such a thing, then surely she would begin to see her true place, her only legitimate choice, would be in service to the master of the deep. If the Princess were so wise, she would bow to the Lord of Perfections and beg absolution for the petty inconveniences she had wrought.”

Kanaloa had not moved, and yet she felt as though his arms were squeezing her, crushing her limbs and choking the breath out of her. The pounding in her skull had reached a crescendo until she was forced to face the truth of his words. He was a god and the world was wrong. Kanaloa alone had the age and wisdom to enforce an order that could last for all time. And she, the Princess of Sea, had no better calling than to serve as his herald. She would be his living weapon, the tool with which he could purify the seas and the land alike and put an end to war and suffering.

Fate had always been preparing her for this. Her true calling.

All at once, as she reached the conclusion, the forces holding her released. Namaka twirled her tail in respect. “Forgive me, my king. I do beg absolution. Allow me to serve and work your will upon the Earth.” And she would start by showing the blasphemous army at the door the error of their ways.

27

“Something is wrong,” Poliahu said.

The pressure of so powerful a will was like a disruption reaching through the Ghost World. Anyone sensitive to the Art must surely feel it, but Kamapua’a and Pele both looked at her strangely. Neither of them understood any hint of the world that lay just beyond their sight.

Though she couldn’t see what was happening, she had to imagine Kanaloa was working some powerful use of the Art. And whatever he was doing, it would not be good for Namaka, the mer, or mankind.

“What is wrong?” Pele asked.

“I think your friend is in trouble.”

“Shit. I’m gonna swim down there and kick the shit out of those shitters.”

Both Princesses ignored the man. It had taken Poliahu only a few moments to realize that must usually be the best course of action when he spoke.

Pele rose from where she had crouched on the edge of the ice disc, staring into the deep as though she might see something down there. “If Namaka is in danger we have to do something.”

“Got it under control,” Kamapua’a said. He tossed aside his skirt and leapt off the ice disc.

His sudden absence caused the disc to pitch both Princesses into the sea and, by the time they had climbed aboard once again, Kamapua’a was long gone.

“You don’t think he could actually hurt himself like that, do you?” Poliahu asked.

The Flame Princess shook her head, flinging droplets of water off her. “No. He’s got the brains of a jellyfish, but very few things seem to cause him any lasting harm.”

Poliahu frowned. “I don’t think jellyfish have brains.”

“They don’t. Now what can we do for Namaka?”

Poliahu clutched the Glyphs on her leg, connecting herself to Lilinoe and the other snow sisters. There was only one thing she could think of doing. A gambit, and one that might lead to the destruction of the sea turtle. If that happened, she wasn’t certain what would happen to the other pieces of her soul. Perhaps the snow sisters would be free to work their revenge on her. But she had come this far.

“Go and find Kanaloa and attack him,” she whispered, directing the spirits. Again they revolted against her control, struggled against her will. She drove all her focus at them, pouring mana into the effort. It was like banging her head on a block of ice to see which would crack first.

Hot liquid dribbled over her lip. Nose bleed. Not important. Lilinoe was pushing back the hardest, struggling to find freedom from her prison of ice. Poliahu grunted, then groaned. Until finally the spirits gave over fighting against her, remaining bound for at least the next few moments.

The sea turtle ought to distract the god-king. But if he was using the Art against Namaka, the mermaid was in a great deal of trouble. She needed more than a distraction. She needed something watching over her.

“Are you all right?” Pele asked.

“Get to the center of the disc and do not move from that spot, no matter what happens.”

Poliahu joined the Flame Princess, then began to carve Glyphs around the edge of their platform. Weak as she was, there would likely be a hefty price for sorcery of any sort. But she needed to summon something to shield Namaka from Kanaloa’s power.

Moments later, Kamapua’a burst back to the surface, gasping for air.

“Didn’t make it down there, huh?” Pele said.

“The ocean is shitting deep.”

Poliahu ignored them, kept her focus on the Glyphs. Everything depended on making them perfect.

28

Kauhuhu swam after Namaka as she left the throne room. The wereshark seemed hesitant, perhaps not yet aware of who his rightful master was. Namaka understood. An hour ago the shark had fancied himself a king. Now he had seen what a real king looked like. And after seeing the god-king, perhaps Kauhuhu had lost some of his illusions. As would Latmikaik and the other mer who considered themselves above the races of the Earth.

A tremendous crash sounded behind her, shaking the entire palace. The ice turtle had swum through a window in the throne room, tearing down a chunk of the wall with it. The creature slammed into Kanaloa, biting with its bladed jaw as the god-king snarled and wrapped its mighty arms around the sea turtle. Blood streamed through the throne room.

Poliahu! The Snow Princess was attacking her lord. Namaka would have to kill the bitch for this. First, though, she needed to stop that ice behemoth. She flung a blade of water at it. The current sliced into the turtle, breaking off a chip but failing to cleave through it.

“Kauhuhu! We have to stop that thing!”

The wereshark hesitated again. What was wrong with him?

Namaka slung up another blade, but it fell short as searing pain built in her chest. She looked down, gasping. Some invisible force was carving a Glyph between her breasts as if with a knife. Pain lanced through her as the sigil spread and grew above her breastbone. It felt at once like being sliced and being burned and she screamed, tumbling into the wall and clawing at the wound. Her hands closed on nothing, for her attacker was not in this world at all.

Then it finished, and as it did, her ears popped like she had just dived into some undersea chasm. A pressure she had forgotten was there released itself from her head and she shook herself. What the fuck? Kanaloa was crushing the ice turtle beneath his arms. It cracked, a spiderweb beginning to form along its shell as the god-king squeezed.

Protect her lord … the thought lingered in her mind, yet now it seemed wrong, foreign. Kanaloa had controlled her, but somehow she had broken free from that. Because of the Glyph now warding her? Aumakuas, that hurt.

She turned back to the giant he’e in time to see the ice turtle explode, shards of it flying all over the room.

The god-king turned his black eyes upon her, staring at her with challenge.

“Kauhuhu? Are you with me?” How was the nanaue less affected by Kanaloa’s power?

At her question the wereshark sped forward, surging for the he’e with blinding speed. Namaka followed, using jets of water to fling herself forward. Kanaloa roared, the sound shaking the room. His arms flew in all directions at once, each acting independently. Some grabbed chunks of the wall, widening the hole the ice turtle had made. Those chunks he flung at her and Kanaloa, but they were both too fast. Namaka zipped under one arm, over another, zooming around the throne room on jets of water.

Where she was able, she would fling blades and lines of water at him. Her attacks cut his arms in a dozen places, but always he managed to ward his eyes. Round and round she swam, dashing from one end of the room to the other. There was nowhere she could flee that those massive appendages could not reach.

She had to get closer, had to find a weak spot. Take out one of its eyes. She dipped under a surging arm just before it punched a hole in the ceiling, turned back, and used jet streams to fling herself forward. Out of nowhere another arm surged forward and slapped into her. The impact flung her spiraling into the floor where she banged her head. She lay there, only an instant, trying to push water through her gills.

And then the arm wrapped around her, crushing her limbs to her sides. Her mermaid strength was nothing compared to Kanaloa’s might. He hefted her in front of his eyes, those wells boiling with their ancient hatred. She heard her arms break as waves of unbearable agony rushed through her. Her ribs began to crack.

Kauhuhu collided with that arm, jaws first. Again and again he bit down, tearing through flesh like a long-roasted fish. The arm dropped Namaka and she fell to the floor, barely able to think or breathe, much less fight. She’d never felt such pain, didn’t think it should have been possible to live through such agony.

And still she managed to look up in time to see Kanaloa wrap the nanaue in its arm and slam him into the ceiling and walls, beating the glorious shifter to a pulp. A dozen nanaue raced in through the torn wall, swarming the god-king. How Kauhuhu had summoned his followers Namaka didn’t know, but she was grateful he had.

Her gills weren’t working. She couldn’t breathe. Spasms took hold of her and she shook on the floor, losing track of the mass of blood and sharks and arms fighting just above her. With the curse broken she had dared allow herself to believe she didn’t have to die for this. A foolish thought. One did not defeat a god without paying a hefty price.

And maybe Hiyoya would be lost. It seemed even Kauhuhu had fallen, and without him, how could his people possibly win? Would all she had done be for nothing?

Whimpering in pain she opened her mouth, sucking seawater down her throat. These waters were sacred. Hiyoya had been built here because of the Urchin, because this place was overflowing with mana. And mana could heal her, could save her. More and more she drank, trying to draw in the strength of this place. If she failed, everyone she had ever loved would pay the price. Both her peoples would fall, and Kam and Pele would drown. Everything would be lost. She could not let that happen. She had to pray for strength, from Kāne, from the aumakuas, from the Urchin … or from herself.

Her gills began to flap again, letting her breathe.

She looked up to see Kanaloa’s enormous beak descend on the tail of a fleeing wereshark. The man was bit in half, his torso resuming human form even as it drifted toward her in a shower of gore. The nanaue was a shifter, a kupua, and thus also filled with mana. Filled with her last hope.

Namaka let her shark teeth descend, then bit down on the man’s flesh. She tore chunks of it away, devouring it as quickly as she could stomach. Mana flooded into her arms and ribs until she could feel the bones fuse together. Then, finally, she used her hands to break apart her meal’s ribcage and extract his heart. This she ate in three bites. It was the strongest source of mana and she needed all she could get.

Finally, blood streaming from her mouth, she looked up at Kanaloa and screamed in fury. A dozen swirling currents surrounded her, breaking off in spears of water as she fired one after another at the god-king. The he’e roared again, and Namaka used another jet to propel herself away. This monster had caused all the harm that had befallen Sawaiki. In his mad quest to dominate the Earth, he had sent Pasikole and the taniwha and ignited all of this.

And it was time he paid for those sins. She fed mana into the blood seeping from the gouges Kauhuhu had torn in Kanaloa’s arm. And, holding it firmly in her mind, she yanked her hands backward. Flesh peeled away, splitting from the inside out, spreading down to the tip of that arm. The god-king’s shriek was so mind-rending it actually stalled her attacks and forced her to clutch her ears.

When she looked up again, Kanaloa had disappeared through the hole he’d torn in the back. Damn. Namaka used jets of water to fling herself after him. She’d taken off half his arm, but he had another seven needing her attention. Even as she reached him, he disappeared into the gorge.

Namaka raced down into it. She had gone maybe ten paces before a concussive wave hit her, sending her colliding with the wall and knocking all sense from her.

* * *

Namaka awoke to find another mermaid shaking her.

“Princess? We took the city.”

Namaka groaned. What had happened? “Kanaloa?”

“We can’t find him, Princess.”

Namaka pushed herself up and darted into the gorge. It was covered with Glyphs. Kanaloa had worked some kind of sorcery here, but to what end? He had used it to knock her unconscious, but then had failed to finish her. She was surprised the god-king could get his beak through such a tunnel—at least until she saw it had been widened. The he’e had used the last months to carve away large chunks of the sacred place, opening the way to the Urchin.

At last she broke into the Urchin’s chamber. It was gone.

A gaping hole where the glorious being had dwelt was all that remained. Namaka trembled, felt weak. She had driven out the god-king, but he had taken something irreplaceable from Hiyoya. Had his sorcery destroyed the Urchin? Or had he—unbelievable as it sounded—somehow transported it and himself elsewhere?

Either way, she could not forgive him for this defilement. It was one more sin to add to the list, true, but for this … for this she would be left with no choice but to hunt the he’e king to the ends of the Worldsea.

* * *

Day VII

29

Of all the inhibited islands, Hiyoya was closest to the Big Isle, and so Poliahu had carried herself, Pele, and Kam there on the sheet of ice. It was an awkward, tedious voyage that took most of the afternoon and left Pele’s neck cramped and ass freezing. After that, she’d been happy to get a good night’s sleep on her own island.

Poliahu left before dawn, sailing her ice raft back to the Friendly Isle. The Snow Princess had said little, clearly lost in thought, save to ask a single question. “If you could, would you go back, change the past and use your time differently?”

Pele, groggy-eyed, had grumbled that such questions were better left for kahunas like Fire-Keeper. In the end, she had given the best answer she could. “You can’t change the past. Just learn from it.”

When the Snow Princess had left, Pele waited on the beach while Kam foraged for some fruit. Namaka had sent word the day before that she would meet them here today, that the battle was won and the seas were saved. The message had been delivered by a terse merman covered in numerous shallow wounds that left Pele wondering at the chaos that had raged beneath her.

Now, with Kam returned, they broke their fast on coconuts and roots. Kam was carrying on about his various escapades on the Valley Isle, claiming to have once defeated a river in single combat. Pele paid him little mind save the occasional grunt. The wereboar hardly seemed to understand his own nature. He was more than an ordinary shifter, she was certain of that. First Ku-Aha-Ilo, then Kam, and now Kanaloa and the he’e … there were so many secrets in this world. Forces she had never imagined playing games with people’s lives, manipulating the whole world just out of sight. Poliahu had learned of those secrets, had studied the Art. Part of Pele longed for that understanding, but it had cost the Snow Princess, too. She had lost touch with her humanity in much the same way Ku-Aha-Ilo had. The woman had casually thrown curses, death, and damnation. She had turned back from that abyss at the last moment, true, but still she had teetered on the edge. Pele had to believe the secret lore, the Art, had played a part in Poliahu and Ku-Aha-Ilo’s descent.

So. If she were to try to understand those secrets, to match herself against the forces controlling the world, would she also begin to slip, lose herself to the very power and knowledge meant to elevate her? No matter how pure her intentions, she might be twisted by the machinations she would be forced to engage in, corrupted by the Art itself. But the alternative was to go home, pretend like nothing had changed and try to live her life the way she always had. No one exposed to the true reality could really turn back from it. If she tried, she would always know it was out there.

“So that’s when I said, Moon, I’m sick of your shit. Then I punched it so hard it became a half moon.”

“Uh huh.”

Pele shook her head. These were the sort of deep thoughts always troubling Fire-Keeper. Maybe they troubled all the kahuna. Not so long ago, a kahuna had once told her a person could fill the Worldsea with all the kahuna did not know about the Ghost World. And once you knew that, once you knew that even the learned among mankind had only the barest clue what was really going on, how could you possibly go back to the innocence of before? You couldn’t. She wished Fire-Keeper were here with her now.

* * *

Around noon, Namaka rose from the sea and trod over to where Pele sat. Kamapua’a had decided to take a nap, but perked up as the mermaid approached.

“Fish Girl. Shit, you know how long we’ve been waiting here? I just contributed to saving Sawaiki, all right. You know what that means! It’s time for a shitting luau.”

Namaka smiled at him and embraced the wereboar. “I missed you.”

Pele rose too. “Your messenger didn’t exactly give us many details on the battle.” Considering she had come to help save their city, had used her Gift to defeat the Hiyoyans’ enemies, that was more than a little insulting.

Namaka sighed. “We drove out the he’e, including Kanaloa.”

“Drove out? You mean the god-king lives?”

Kam kicked a clump of sand in the air. “Shit! I told you I should have gone down there and punched his shitting face.”

“We saved the city. One day, I’ll have to hunt the octopus king down and take back something he stole from us. For now, just celebrate.”

Pele folded her arms. “You don’t seem happy.”

“The price was very high. Many mer died, many nanaue.”

“How did you get the weresharks to help?” When Namaka had asked Pele to see the shark king, it had sounded a fool’s errand, if not suicide.

“I had to grant them access to other islands Hiyoya had previously forbade them.”

Pele stood straighter. The nanaue were savage, brutal killers given to raiding for anything they wanted. Confining most of their number to the Friendly Isle was about the only good thing Hiyoya had ever done for Sawaiki. “Which islands?”

Namaka shook her head. “Don’t worry, I didn’t give them yours. Just the Valley Isle and the Pineapple Isle.”

A tremble of rage shot through Pele so quickly her hair and hands caught fire before she knew it. Nor did she even realize she’d tried to grab Namaka until Kam was pulling her away. “How dare you! That island was not yours to give!”

“Would you have preferred I give them the Big Isle? It has a larger population—”

“Yes! Because I could have protected it.”

Namaka sighed. “And I’m certain the Princess on the Pineapple Isle will do the same. I had to make hard choices, Pele.”

“The Princess on the Pineapple is named Hiiaka. My sister! You just granted weresharks free reign on my sister’s island, you twit!” Pele glared at Namaka but gave up struggling against Kam. She would never physically overpower him and she wasn’t willing to burn him just to get at Namaka. Aumakuas, she thought Poliahu had begun down a dark path. But it wasn’t just her. Namaka called it a hard choice. Had it been? Or had she simply cast aside lives as easily as the Snow Princess? She was enmeshed with a spirit, suffused and changed by their world. And maybe one day Namaka would cease to value Sawaiki at all. Already she seemed to place the interests of Hiyoya above those of the islands.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.” Namaka backed away. “I didn’t know you would have wanted me to grant them your island.”

“You didn’t ask. You just made a choice to completely change life on Sawaiki.”

Now Namaka glared. “I had no choice. This conflict is bigger than any one island, bigger even than all of them. Now, you need to—”

Pele jerked away from Kam and he released her. “I am going to the Pineapple Isle to warn my sister and try to clean up your mess, Namaka. But do not think I will forget this. I was just starting to trust you, to like you. But you never consider how your actions affect others.”

Namaka shut her eyes a moment, then turned back to the sea. “I only think of others, Flame Princess. I have other problems to deal with. Sorry your life is also complicated.” With that, the Sea Princess dove back into the ocean.

Pele spat after her.

“You missed,” Kam said.

Finally, Pele turned back to him. “We have to find the nearest village and get another outrigger. Can I count on your help?”

Kam shrugged. “Sure. I’m totally dependable. And incorrigible. And shitting mighty.”

Pele smiled, shaking her head. “I know, Kam. I know.”

30

The once glorious benthic city lay in ruins. Some houses had been buried by Pele’s volcanic blasts, others flattened by the force of Namaka’s rushing waters. The royal palace was so broken by Kanaloa it might take months to fix. And still, when Namaka returned, everywhere she looked the mer were cheering her. They lined up, flooding the streets to welcome her return. The common mer trying to rebuild their homes, praising her for giving them back what little remained. The courtiers twirled their tails and congratulated her on her victory.

Everywhere she turned, it was “thank you, Nyi Rara.”

Everywhere save in the eyes of Latmikaik, who waited on the threshold of the palace, honor guard before her. The queen held very still, shoulders stiff, until at last Namaka reached her aunt. Then the queen offered a very slight tail twirl. “It seems you have saved Hiyoya for us, niece. More or less.” The last she added softly so only the closest would catch it, emphasized by a pointed look at the devastation.

As Namaka, her aptitude for politics was limited. But the part of her that was Nyi Rara knew. Latmikaik could not speak against her, not while the public had named her their hero, their savior. But the queen was not pleased with the damage Namaka had caused. Or more than that, she probably did not like the attention now being showered upon her niece. For her part, though, all Namaka could do was play the dutiful princess, twirl her tail in acknowledgment, and pretend nothing was amiss. In her own way, she was as trapped by all this as Latmikaik.

The queen presented to her the Pearls of Hiyoya, a necklace that served as the greatest honor one could bestow on a mermaid. Namaka inclined her head, allowing the queen to drape it over her shoulders like a lei. One heavy for more than its weight. In truth, the queen had a right to be disappointed. Namaka had failed to destroy Kanaloa and failed to stop him from escaping with the Urchin. The god-king had had a backup plan. Given his enormous power, she had never even considered he might have contingencies in place should he find himself losing. It meant she had underestimated Kanaloa.

More than that, Namaka had wounded the god and his pride. He might be able to regrow his lost arm—he’e could do that—but he would not forget what she had done to him. Even as she began to plan the hunt for him, he would no doubt be planning his own counter moves.

She was faced with the most terrible foe imaginable and it seemed her allies were dwindling. She had not meant to alienate Pele or Latmikaik, but one now met her with open hostility, the other with barely disguised envy.

Much as she would have liked to get away from the palace, she knew she had to begin planning her next move. And so, ceremony concluded, she swam inside. Her way was blocked by a young merman watching, and looking so fatigued he seemed to barely support himself in the water. She did not know the face, and yet he seemed so familiar. And his tail …

“Ake?”

He nodded. “The queen sent out scouts to gather new hosts.”

“But it’s not time for another tribute.”

“It wasn’t with you either, Nyi Rara. She considers times desperate.”

Namaka grimaced. So the queen had broken the ancient pact with Sawaiki, probably had her mer take men right off canoes and outriggers. Drown them and make them hosts. Because she wanted her general back, wanted a fresh infusion of soldiers. And Ake had not regained his strength after being discorporated back to the Spirit Realm. That was probably dangerous to him. A spirit so drained risked losing his grip on his host, perhaps even having his soul dissipated. But Namaka understood. Hiyoya needed its general. With the he’e driven out, Mu would no doubt be returning to their waters in a matter of days.

And once again, the human hosts were nothing to the mer.

Ake must have read the look on her face, for he frowned. “Help me to my chamber, please.”

She did so, letting him rest an arm around her shoulders and half carrying him through the halls. When they reached his grotto he collapsed, breathing a sigh of relief. It should have been years before Ake took another human host, but Latmikaik had sent for him in a matter of days. Actually, that meant it was probably taking all Ake had to keep his host under control. That host was a young man, perhaps Namaka’s age or a bit older, and definitely Sawaikian.

“Try to compromise with him. It’s easier.”

Ake shook his head. “Always the proponent of symbiosis, of coexisting. Well, people know it now. Did you hear what the court was calling you?”

They had a special name for her? She wasn’t certain that was a good sign.

“They’ve taken to calling you Nyai Loro.”

Her fluency in the ancient mer tongue was less than perfect. “Godmother Two?”

Ake clucked his tongue. “You should have studied more, Nyi Rara. The Twin Goddess. Two souls, fused into one. And natural derivation of the name Nyi Rara, after all.”

Nyai Loro. She rather liked that.

“Ake …” The general was weak because she had killed his host. Namaka could not forget the taste of his blood in her mouth, the horror she had visited on a man she called friend. Maybe she would never be able to forget it. “Get some rest, General. We have a lot of work ahead of us.”

31

Years of anger and hatred were replaced by profound self-loathing. Poliahu had hated her parents for giving her away to the sisters. When they had made their attempts to see her, she had denied them. She had thought she meant nothing to them.

She didn’t know where they lived anymore, didn’t even have that many memories left of her childhood. But the village she’d been born in seemed a good place to start. She walked now along the shore. Evening was not far off and she wouldn’t make the village tonight, but that was all right. She needed time to think, to try to find the words so she could say what she had never been able to voice before, never been able to understand.

They had not sent her away because they didn’t care. They had sent her away because they had to, because her Gift necessitated she be trained. And the kahuna had long thought the snow sisters the ones to train a Snow Princess. They had never suspected the truth about the spirits. It wasn’t their fault, either. They couldn’t have known things that transpired millennia ago when the Worldsea was new.

Seeing the way Pele’s Gift had flared out of control with her temper, how she had failed on Kamakou, had been eye-opening. Because Poliahu’s parents had sent her to the sisters, she had received the finest training possible. Training from those who had actually been Snow Princesses in other lifetimes. And she, for her part, had appreciated the training while never acknowledging the sacrifices her parents had made.

She had spent decades in pursuit of the Art, her passion, her obsession, closing her to anything else. Much as she must have done in her past life as Lilinoe. Though she could not remember that lifetime—and was probably lucky for it—still she could imagine it. Imagine letting days and months and years pass her by in a vain pursuit of immortality. Trying to grab more years for her life without making those she had worth living.

For the first time in so many years, she was pained by the holes the Art had torn in her. Not the physical wounds, those were a small price. But memories. Once, she had considered losing such things getting off easy. What a fool she’d been. Memories were the sum of moments, the meaning of her life. And in shredding them, she had rent all that had gone before meaningless. Given enough time, meditation, and care, even her soul might recover from the bits and pieces of it she had lost. But the memories were gone.

At last she sunk down on the beach to watch the sunset. She had rarely bothered to do so before. It had seemed a waste of time. She had always understood time was valuable, but not why. It wasn’t only because it was limited, but because each moment was infused with its own uniqueness. And that was a view she had not seen until she stood atop a mountain summit, poised on the edge of death and looking back at a wasted life.

She had denied herself any form of meaningful relationship with her parents, with … anyone. She may have lusted after Aiwohikupua, may have been flattered by his attentions, but that was not love, or even real friendship. She didn’t even know what such a thing would look like—except insofar as what Pele, the Flame Princess, of all people—had shown her. Coming here, risking everything for Namaka.

The Flame Princess who had told her to learn from her mistakes.

Poliahu’s most recent sorcery, what she had wrought to save Namaka, had cost her as well. It had burned away at her life, probably cost her near a decade. That meant, given she was almost thirty and had already burned away bits of her life before, she probably had only a few years left. If that much. She had to pray it was enough time.

There had been so many chances for Poliahu to try again and she had spat in her parent’s faces, even when they came to her. It would be easy to blame that anger, cruelty even, on the Mist spirits poisoning her mind. But, of course, those spirits were pieces of her own soul.

And if she was to begin to put that soul back together again she would have to start by building memories that meant something. By building connections to the people who mattered most. Twice, on the way here, she had stopped at a temple to pray her parents would still welcome her home after all that had happened, all she had done. Nothing she could do would ever give her back the time or memories she had lost.

But her life was not over yet. There was still a little time.

And for that, she had to be grateful.

32

With the Flame Princess away on the Friendly Isle, Kaulu was finally able to investigate the Place-of-Darkness without fear of discovery. As he had suspected, his father’s ghost lingered here. Kaulu lacked the ability to speak with spirits, but he could feel the angry soul of Ku-Aha-Ilo haunting the chamber. All but begging for the revenge Kaulu hoped to one day grant him.

Years ago, after Kaulu had demonstrated his strength and cunning by killing the nanaue Ku-kama-ulu-nui-akea, his father had let him drink from the Waters-of-Life. Again and again, after each defeat of a great king or spirit or so-called god, he earned his prize, sustaining his life for the better part of three hundred years.

Now it was time for another taste, before his bitch half-sister returned to suck up more of the Waters. Oh, he would deal with Pele eventually. The Flame Princess should be made to pay for her crimes, after all. But she was powerful. Anyone who could overcome their father should not be underestimated. If Kaulu had been here, perhaps he could have helped their father destroy his sister. For now, he would have to settle for another way to get revenge.

She had loved ones, after all. A kahuna she was rather fond of. Perhaps when she returned to her precious refuge on Mount Kilauea, she would be greeted by his head on a spear. And she probably had a mother out there somewhere.

A waterfall of lava covered the entrance to the chamber where the Waters-of-Life waited. His father had gotten around that by turning himself into blood and skirting behind it. Kaulu’s own Gifts were different than those of his father. As a kupua, though, he was certainly more than some mere human. He couldn’t control lava the way his sister did. He could, however, beat almost anything into submission.

He punched the lava waterfall. His fist disrupted the air as he swung, breaking apart the lava even as he touched it. It vanished into steam, not only where his fist entered, but spreading outward in both directions like fog evaporating at dawn. The lava he had destroyed was gone, but even as he stepped through the new opening, more lava from far above now crashed down, sealing the entrance. That was fine. He’d punch his way out again.

He descended the stairs into the stone chamber where the bowl was carved into the floor. Only a few drops of the precious fluid now graced the chamber. His damn sister. How much had she drunk? “Could she have actually given some of the Waters to others?” he grumbled. That seemed unbelievable.

SHE HAS.

The voice, coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once, boomed between his ears. Kaulu spun, but no one else was in the chamber. He felt a presence, but not something directly in the Ghost World. Someone was using the Art to scry upon him and now, apparently, to communicate with him, though he had never heard of anyone with such power.

“Who are you?”

THE GOD OF THE DEEP.

God of the …? “You are Kanaloa?”

ONE OUGHT CALL US KING, HUMAN.

Kaulu chuckled. “More human than you, perhaps. But not exactly human.”

ONE IMAGINES THAT MAKES YOU USEFUL TO THOSE WITH COMMON ENEMIES.

Common enemies. It sounded like Kanaloa wanted him to kill someone. Kaulu was adept at killing. And trickery, when the need arose. Not too much else. “Who?”

ONE WISHES THE END OF PRINCESSES.

Ah. To kill a Princess. Well, he’d been planning on killing one already. He didn’t mind adding another to the list, if the reward was sufficient. “Which one?”

ALL OF THEM.

Ambitious. Kaulu liked that. “And what are you offering in return, great king?”

POWER. DIVINITY. IMMORTALITY.

True immortality. To no longer rely on the Waters to retain his strength and youth. If the god-king of the he’e was offering such rewards, Kaulu had only one question left for him.

“Where do we start?”

Read More

If you like the Worldsea Era, sign up to hear as soon as new books come out:

http://www.incandescentphoenix.com/join-the-worldsea-era/

Thanks for reading,

Matt Larkin

Did You Like This?

This book was published by Incandescent Phoenix Books, an indie press. Without reviews, indie presses like us cannot market their books. Leaving any review is a huge boon to the author—and it takes only a single line or two to make that difference. Telling others what you liked helps the author write more of it!

Most readers don’t leave reviews. If you do so, it would mean more than we can say.

Thank You,

Incandescent Phoenix Books

About the Author

Matt Larkin is an American fantasy and science fiction author. He lives in Florida with his wife Juhi and daughter Kiran. With a background in philosophy and publishing, Matt started a small press dedicated to top notch speculative fiction. He adores mythology and history, passions he conveys through his novels.

Matt would love to hear from readers, so feel free to email him at matt@incandescentphoenix.com.