Date: 2016-03-13 01:56:20+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy
Description: Claim the Sea … Embrace Destiny In every generation a Princess is born to each island of Sawaiki, blessed with the power to control a single aspect of the natural world. Namaka’s power is arguably the most valuable of them all--in a world of archipelagos and endless ocean, she control the seas themselves. The mer people of the Worldsea despise her for this power over their domain, all the more so because she can barely control her gift. At war amongst themselves, they harness this uncontrolled power by possessing Namaka with a mermaid spirit--turning her into one of them. As Namaka struggles t
Publisher: Incandescent Phoenix Books
Rights: Copyright 2017 Matt Larkin. All rights reserved.

The Seventh Princess

The Worldsea Era: Book One

Matt Larkin

Contents

Get the Sequel Free

Day 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Day 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Day 3

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Day 4

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Day 5

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Day 6

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Day 7

Chapter 21

Keep Reading

Get the Sequel Free

Acknowledgments

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 SEVENTH 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, my darling princess.

Get The Burning Princess FREE

If you liked The Seventh Princess, you’ll love the sequel. Namaka is back and face to face with the mighty Princess of Flame.

Click the link to claim your free copy and continue the adventure:

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

Thanks for reading,

Matt Larkin

Day I

1

According to the kahuna, long ago the land was so vast one could walk for weeks and never catch sight of the sea. In those days, gods walked the Earth. And Namaka—like all the Princesses of Sawaiki—was descended from one. She was kupua, a half-god.

And that was less entrancing than it sounded.

With a huff of frustration, she collapsed in front of the old earth dragon. “I should at least watch the damn races,” she said, running her fingers through her dog Moela’s fur where he lay curled up by the dragon. The animal nuzzled closer to her, but didn’t rise. He was used to long afternoons where the dragon droned on about history and old myths and times that may not have ever existed.

Mo-O-Inanea, her dragon nursemaid, looked like an overgrown monitor lizard, about five paces long from nose to tail. Earth dragons were much smaller than the great sea dragons of legend, the taniwha, but also much kinder toward humans. She ought to be grateful for that, at least.

Namaka and her dragon—and her adopted brother Kamapua’a—lived alone in a cave behind a waterfall, about an hour’s walk from the rest of her clan. Since Kam spent half his time exploring the jungle, Mo-O was often her only real company.

The dragon flicked a forked tongue at her, no doubt knowing how much that annoyed Namaka. When she spoke, it was with the voice of a grandmother, one who had spent far too many years breathing in the smoke of sacred fires and now seemed in need of a good nap. “Why did the seas rise?”

Namaka folded her arms and stuck her own tongue out at the dragon. They both knew Mo-O was just being stubborn by refusing to let her go. It wasn’t like she thought the races would be fun. But she felt an obligation to at least be there. To try to smile at the men’s efforts. Those races were being held to impress her, to get her to choose one of the men as her own. As a Princess, she had a duty to share her mana with the clan, which meant kapu required her to take her first lover within the week. Most people experienced, enjoyed sex by the time they were ten or eleven. But somehow, being required to take a lover had made it intimidating. Like everything else, her freedom in this was taken from her by unbreakable kapu. Yesterday she had turned seventeen. By the end of the week, she must spread her legs and do her duty.

Other people got to choose when they were ready to take lovers. If they wanted to wed, their parents would arrange things, but only with the express permission of the participants. But a Princess—oh, she had to help elevate a few lucky men to kahuna status. The wise men drew their powers—if unusual insights could be called such—from the Princesses, from the mana absorbed by sleeping with them. Mana, life force, pulsed the most strongly in the chiefs and kahunas, and, of course, in the Princesses.

Maybe Mo-O’s refusal to let Namaka go was somehow meant to protect her. But gods damn it, if she was going to be courted by every man in Hamoa Village—perhaps in every village on the Valley Isle—she was at least going to try to enjoy it. Which meant she’d made a new pa’u skirt, woven flowers into her hair, and was going to be there to watch a canoe race held in her honor. Because if she didn’t, if she allowed herself to be trapped by this duty, then what was she? A slave? Or worse … a walking, talking font of mana with no purpose save to share that mana with her devoted supplicants.

The dragon’s only response to her childishness was to shut one eye and watch Namaka with the other.

Given Mo-O had lived for at least two hundred years, Namaka probably wasn’t going to out-stubborn the old beast. Not that she hadn’t tried. But in the end, Namaka always ended up playing the good little Princess and doing what the giant lizard told her. Which was whatever kapu commanded. Don’t play like the other children—train for when you get your powers. Don’t fall in love at your own pace—choose a mate within a week of your seventeenth birthday. Don’t live for yourself—exist for the island, for the clan.

The dragon had insisted on hearing the story of the Princesses at least once a month, as if rote memorization somehow prepared Namaka better for her duties. Duties to share her mana, to serve as arbiter between the clans, and to defend those clans against the other islands. She might, if the Valley Isle were attacked, be forced to use her powers to kill. To protect her people. She had never killed anyone and didn’t look forward to having to. Raids had become less common in the past year, since word she had attained her powers had begun to spread.

“The seas?” Mo-O prompted again.

Namaka sighed. “Some of the gods were wicked.” She intoned her voice in the most singsong, annoying manner she could. Mo-O was just too easy to tease. “And so Kāne flooded the Earth, leaving only a few archipelagos like Sawaiki. But the god Kū escaped the floods and came here and planted his banana in a Golden Cloud. Repeatedly.”

Mo-O’s deep growl filled the cave. When Namaka pushed the dragon too far, it was like the creature’s anger rumbled through the Earth itself, bubbling through the stones and trembling like a volcano ready to burst. The dragon didn’t move, except perhaps for a narrowing of her one open eye, but Namaka swore the cave closed in on her.

“Fine!” she blurted. “Sorry. Sorry.” She cleared her throat. “Kū and Keaomelemele—who was called Golden Cloud—fell in love and she bore him seven daughters, and one was my ancestor.” Namaka frowned. Her past life might be more accurate. As a Princess and heir of Kū, her authority exceeded all others. Were she so inclined, she could order anyone save a chief or kahuna sacrificed to Kū. She could sanctify marriages. She could do anything she wanted. She ruled the Valley Isle, and yet, she never felt quite free. She never would be free. She could change anyone’s fate, save her own. “I’m going to the races. Now.”

“You need to practice controlling your Gift.”

“Mahalo. I will,” she said, scrambling out of the cave before the dragon could even react. Moela jumped up and barked at her as she fled, then chased after.

It was always like this. She had nothing for herself unless she took it. Her life, from the moment the kahuna had identified her, had belonged to the clan. Or maybe it was more complicated than that. A chief was a custodian of the land, but he did not own it—the land was divine and so could only be owned by the divine. In a sense, then, she was a custodian of mana. To violate kapu was to offend the Ghost World and risk disrupting the flow of mana throughout her island. But. But she was a person, wasn’t she? Did she not have a right to get something out of her life?

Sure, Mo-O would be mad as a shark on a mountain. But the dragon wasn’t going to hurt her, and Namaka had learned a long time ago—if she wanted anything out of life, she had to seize it when she could. One day soon her duty would be to travel from village to village, offering her protection, blessings, and body to the people.

Rather than walk the path down to the valley, she jumped into the waterfall. Its chill embraced her, suffused her very soul until she had to shriek with pleasure. Waters surged up beneath her, heaving her forward like a woman on a surfboard, skidding down the outside of the waterfall and onto the river. All around her spread an endless blanket of green, of vibrant life sustained by the waters. And those waters carried her on their surface, the wind whipping back her hair as she whooped. For five or six paces she skated the river before her control faltered and she crashed beneath its surface. The river sucked her under and spun her around, everything blurring around her.

An instant of fear seized her chest and the river immediately spit her onto the bank, scraping her elbows on the rocks.

“Ow.”

An enormous snort of derision echoed through the valley. A moment later, a broad-shouldered youth tromped over to her and hefted her to her feet.

“You’re getting better at that,” Kamapua’a said, his grin wide enough the boy could have swallowed a banana whole.

“Oh, shut up, Pigman.”

“Wereboar to you, Princess. I eat pigs for breakfast. Or at least for dinner. And midday meal. Well, yes, and sometimes breakfast.”

Namaka shook her head, turning away so he couldn’t see her smirk. The boy was a mess. Though he was only her age, he already sported a short beard, which he claimed made him more manly. Maybe it did, though with his hulking frame and unruly wavy hair down his back, he didn’t really need it. “So you eat your own kind. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Shit no. I’d take some bacon right now if you had it. Does it bother you your people are going to eat you?”

Namaka frowned. “No.” Yes. In case it wasn’t enough that she was compelled to sleep with as many lovers as possible, when she died, the clan would eat her. Anyone else would be cremated and have their ashes scattered across the Worldsea. Not her. That was kapu.

Sex was the only way to share her mana, at least until the clan was ready to consume her flesh. When they did eat her, all the worthy in the clan absorbed her power and had more chance of siring a Princess in the next generation. Mo-O-Inanea had said that, when she died, the people would eat her as well, drawing in the mana that coursed through dragons. That was touching—or disturbing—but either way, Namaka refused to let that be all her life was, a source of mana to her people. She refused to be a royal slave. She would be more than that.

Moela’s barking drew her eyes, as the dog raced down the rocks to meet her. Namaka smiled and scratched the animal behind the ears, then climbed up the rocks and to an old rope bridge strung across the valley, Kam in tow. “Anyway, hurry it up, Pigman. I want to get down to the races.”

The wereboar chuckled and chased after her, making the whole bridge sway as he bounded across it. Namaka cast an irate glance over her shoulder and he shrugged.

“Come on, Princess. You know the boys are just looking for a little horizontal hula.” Kam thrust his hips forward and grunted suggestively, continuing the motion far longer than was necessary to make his point.

The bridge shook at his movement and Namaka scrambled off it. Of course she knew it. Everyone knew it. He could at least let her pretend they had some interest in her for her own sake and not for the power her body could bring them. She was beautiful enough, or so she’d been told, with rich skin and long dark hair. Her mother had been famed for her beauty when she was a girl—her father had even dueled another chief for her hand.

No one would duel for Namaka. Not when she already belonged to everyone.

Namaka offered him a mock-scowl. “Disgusting pig.”

“What can I say? I’ve got a boar in my soul and a … a different big animal under this here grass skirt.”

“Your way with words never ceases to astound me. But keep it up. Maybe there will be bacon served this afternoon.” Not that she, or any woman, was allowed to eat pork. Even for a Princess, breaking that tabu was death.

Kamapua’a laughed again, the sound echoing through the valley. “I’m surprised the shitting lizard let you out of the cave.”

Namaka flashed a grin back at him. He probably knew damn well that wasn’t what happened. Kamapua’a had come into Mo-O’s care maybe a year after Namaka had. As a wereboar, he was a kind of kupua himself, and a dangerous one. Supposedly the dragon was meant to teach them to control their divine gifts. Sometimes, though, she figured Uncle Kamalo had given the wereboar over to the dragon just to get the boy out of his own graying hair. And she was grateful, since the wereboar was about a thousand times more fun than the crusty dragon, even if she wasn’t about to tell him that.

* * *

The Valley Isle, at its longest point, stretched sixteen leagues across. Its coastline was dotted by countless small villages, and a few lay even farther inland. Namaka had seen many of them by Mo-O’s side, and she was grateful for that.

On the hike to the beaches, Namaka paused just long enough to grab a fresh hibiscus for her hair. Kamapua’a offered her another suggestive thrust and a snort, and she turned away with a huff. Stupid wereboar. He was determined to remind her none of this was about any of those boys actually loving or even liking her. It wasn’t even really about them lusting after her, though deep down she hoped they did. No. This was about power—her whole life was about power, about mana. For kupua like her and Kamapua’a, mana allowed them supernatural powers. And kahuna, well, they could send off ghosts and such, ensure the dead passed on to Lua-O-Milu rather than lingering near the Earth. But for most people, it was just the essence of life—and the more you had, the greater your life would be.

Or that was the thinking.

Most of the village huts sat on the water rather than the beach, stilts lifting them up twice the height of a man. Each of the twenty or so families had their own small hut covered by a palm-thatched roof. Every house stood a single arm span away from its neighbor, and they were all connected by a wooden walkway. Every time Namaka came down to Hamoa Village she was mesmerized, swept away by the music of pahu drums and ukeke bows, the smells of fresh food roasting in the village imu oven—tomorrow was the Festival of Lono. And most of all, she was taken by the sea. She couldn’t remember a time when it didn’t call to her, speak to her soul with whispers that sent a tingle through every muscle in her body. The sea was where she belonged—the one place she would be home.

It was part of why Mo-O forced them to live away from the ocean. Whatever power, whatever pull she felt from the waterfall and the river was nothing compared to the all-consuming song of the sea. And it was growing stronger. Over the past year she had felt it rising in her, her Gift beginning to awaken. Since the kahuna had confirmed her as the seventh and final Princess of this generation, she had known. Everyone had known her Gift would be the only one left. The power to control the sea—the most feared and most worshipped Gift in Sawaiki. This generation the Valley Isle had received that power. If she could use it wisely, if she could control it, she could bring prosperity to her people. She could bestow the bounty of the sea upon them, keep away raiders from the other islands, and protect her clan from harm. And if not … kahuna spoke in whispers of the desolation left behind by Princesses who failed in their duties.

Despite the gorgeous view of the valley from her cave, Namaka would have preferred to stay with her parents, but it was too dangerous. The village kahuna had told her so when she was a child of seven and he sensed the mana so strong in her, he knew she must be a Princess, born again into the new generation. Her parents had sent her away, to live with the old earth dragon and be trained. And every day for the past ten years, Mo-O had spoken of her tedious heritage as kupua and a Princess. Had forced her to learn the history of the isle, of her own status as a spiritual successor to Kū. She pounded her lessons into Namaka like a girl trying to smash open a clam with a rock. It was a constant reminder Namaka was not quite human, that she would never have the life others took for granted.

Well, Namaka was a tough little clam, and she was going to enjoy her life in spite of whatever kapu demanded of her.

Hard as it was, she tried to shut out the sea’s call while she rushed to her family’s house. Her father was the village chief, and thus his house sat farther up the shore, on a raised stone foundation. Had she not become a Princess, she would have been the high caste as well, ali’i, given a life of privilege. She’d have had any boy she wanted as a lover, not for duty, but for the fun of it. And, eventually, would probably have married some other ali’i. But a Princess had no caste and marriage was pointless.

Her mother sat on the porch, legs hanging off the side. She was weaving a lei when Namaka hurried over, Moela yipping at her heels.

“Mother!” Namaka shouted and embraced her before the woman had been able to fully rise.

Her mother hugged her back, but it was too brief. She pushed her away and held her by the arms, looking her up and down. Though she tried to hide the pain in her eyes, it was there. Yes, it was tabu for them to be too close. Kapu had so many tabus for a Princess. This woman, Haumea, may have given birth to Namaka, but once Namaka had been named a Princess they were forever separated. A duty, a destiny beyond mortals, rested on Namaka’s shoulders. And it had probably broken her parents’ hearts. Her father often avoided her entirely. She had wept so many nights because of it, wept into Kam’s shoulder while the wereboar was uncharacteristically silent.

Kamapua’a knew, understood her pain better than anyone. His own father had not been able to deal with the spirit inside him and so, when Uncle Kamalo had been passing through the Gathering Isle in his travels, the man had given over his son to the care of a kahuna. According to Kam, his mother was a Princess. A child born to anyone else, any other union, was a cause for celebration throughout the village. A child born to a Princess was immediately offered up in sacrifice to the gods. Most Princesses thus tried hard to avoid becoming pregnant. If Namaka were to ever hold her own baby in her arms, it would be for a mere instant before her father or a kahuna would take it and offer it to Kū.

Since the wereboar made up stories to keep himself entertained, Namaka had her doubts about his real parentage.

“Go on,” her mother said. “You’re not here to see me today, are you?” She winked at Namaka then, as if to say whatever society called tabu was the surface, and beneath that surface swam deeper feelings than could ever be truly forgotten. As if to say Namaka was still needed, still wanted, still loved. And that sentiment was what kept her going. She might not be able to violate tabus, but damn her if she wasn’t going to get something out of life in spite of them.

“Mahalo. You’re the best, Mother.”

Namaka hurried beyond the village and down to the rocky shore. The sun was already beginning to set and with a shout, the canoe races began. The boys would skirt the island, past the village and the rocks where she and countless other spectators waited. The race was half a league today. Not so far—more a test of speed than endurance.

A hundred or so men and women stood there watching, as well as numerous children and their dogs. They cheered for the racers, enthused as always at any contest.

Uncle Kamalo, the village’s kahuna, was there, as was her father, dressed in his feather cloak. It had been handed down from his father and grandfather, each adding more feathers with every passing year. Only a few feathers were ever taken from each bird—which must then be released back into the wild—so that the cloak would be made from the feathers of a hundred or more birds. And if her father, Ku-Waha-Ilo, had had a son, that cloak would have passed on to him. Maybe, even, it would have come to Namaka, had she remained the chief’s child. Instead, all he offered her now was a nod. Her sole inheritance.

Namaka returned it, then squinted against the sunset at the canoe races. There had to be a dozen of them. A dozen boys racing for a chance to be her mate.

“Bet you Hau-Pu is in the lead,” Kamapua’a said.

Namaka tried not to smile. Hau-Pu was a few years older than her and already one of Hamoa’s finest hunters and warriors. Muscular, tall, and with a tasty bit of mischief in his eyes. He’d been after her for almost a year—Moela had been a gift from him. It would not at all surprise her if he was in the lead. He was probably the one she’d choose. He would make a fine apprentice to Uncle Kamalo.

“Thinking about riding his canoe?” Kamapua’a asked.

Namaka huffed. “Kāne, Pigman! Not everything is about sex.”

“Uh, of course not. There’s also food, fun, and adventure. Besides, I was talking about his stupid boat.”

“Were not.”

“Yeah, well, neither is he. I mean thinking. He’s thinking it—look how he’s thrusting his canoe forward, ahead of all the others—”

Namaka followed Kam’s eyes to the horizon, beyond the canoes. A vessel was cast in silhouette against the sunset, larger than any Namaka had ever seen, like a whale drifting along the surface of the sea.

This ship was like nothing in Sawaiki.

And it was headed for her village.

* * *

As the ship turned along the shore, its bow revealed a face, carved like a massive ki’i mask watching them. Judging them. Namaka stood enraptured by the enigmatic vessel, dimly aware of Uncle Kamalo moving up to stand beside her.

“The mask of Lono,” the kahuna said. His voice sounded hollow, full of none of its usual mirth.

A chill settled over Namaka. Now that he mentioned it, the mask did look like the agricultural god. Down in the temple, all the gods had their own ki’i masks, and Namaka had been required to learn them all.

“Are there men on that thing?” she asked.

“Human emissaries of the gods, I imagine,” Kamalo said.

His words set her skin tingling, her soul calling to the sea. A sudden, violent wave shook the foreign ship then surged farther up the beach than any should have.

Her uncle cuffed her on the shoulder. “Control yourself, girl.”

Namaka bit her lip. She was probably lucky Mo-O hadn’t seen her little display. Every time she got excited or scared it was like the sea answered her, tried to come to her, comfort her. Except it wasn’t a comfort when she couldn’t control it. Power wasn’t the problem. Her emotions, and the chaos they created with her Gift, those were the problem. It could be worse, she supposed. According to her uncle, a number of Flame Princesses has destroyed themselves in volcanic eruptions. The last Sea Princess had wiped out a dozen villages along the shore on a bad day.

The mental image forced her to shut her eyes and clench her teeth. If she let herself get caught up in the fear, it would consume her, and worse, she’d probably take everyone she loved with her. Mo-O had been right to force her to live away from the sea. Her duty was to protect people.

When she opened her eyes, her father was walking down the beach, toward where the sailors had lowered a smaller boat that looked like an outrigger canoe, only larger. His feather cloak trailed behind him, glorious. He stopped at a location off to the side, ensuring his shadow would not accidentally fall upon the approaching emissaries.

Namaka scrambled after her father, keeping a safe distance behind as the foreign canoe pulled up on the shore. A half dozen men and one woman stood in it, their skins an odd, whitish pink. The lead man jumped from the canoe and walked toward her father. The setting sun behind his back made it hard to see his features clearly, but … yes. His hair was as golden as the sun itself. He too was pale, like a man born from clouds. He wore strange clothes, heavy layers that would have left her sweating buckets.

“Aloha,” her father said and held up a welcoming hand. “I am Chief Ku-Waha-Ilo.”

The strange man strode forward and bent at the waist, keeping his eyes on her father, and on her. Kāne, his eyes were blue as the sea! Despite his pale color, he was muscular like a warrior. Her uncle had been wrong, this wasn’t a mere emissary of Lono. This had to be the god himself. A hand on her shoulder jerked her to a stop, making her realize she’d started to walk forward. She glanced back to see her uncle shaking his head, then he advanced to join her father.

“I am Captain Pasikole,” the man said as he stood straight once more. His accent was off, like he struggled with the vowels. That was odd. Why would Lono send an emissary who couldn’t speak properly? Did they speak a different language in the heavens above?

“Welcome to the Valley Isle, Lord Captain Pasikole.”

“Uh, ‘captain’ isn’t part of my name. It’s a title, like ‘chief.’ Chief of a ship.”

Her uncle was whispering something in her father’s ear, so Namaka crept closer, trying to overhear.

Before she could catch anything, though, her father held up a hand. “Chief Pasikole honors us with his presence. Therefore, we must throw a luau in his honor.”

A cheer went up from villagers Namaka hadn’t even realized had followed her. Of course they had. Who wouldn’t want to see what came out of that strange vessel? And they hadn’t had a good luau in weeks. Preparations for the festival had begun, of course. The boars had been roasting for days, the poi pounded out, the fish all caught. She couldn’t help but grin at the thought. A little fun was just what she needed to distract her from her impending deadline. It looked like she was going to be even later getting back to that cave.

Her father invited Pasikole to bring his full crew ashore while the villagers prepared the luau, gathering the poi, lighting torch poles, and stoking the imu. The imu was a communal oven dug into the earth. The village men used the imu to cook pork and no woman, not even her, was allowed to cook in it. Which was fine—she had better things to do than cook food she wasn’t even allowed to eat.

Her uncle almost immediately began a trek to the temple, and Namaka trotted after him. She spared a glance for Kamapua’a, but the wereboar had already taken off. Probably chasing after some girl. Or looking for a pre-feast snack. Or both.

“What did you tell my father?” she shouted after her uncle.

Kamalo turned to face her, a warm smile on his face, waving the carved stick of his office at her in a poor imitation of a threat. Technically he was her mother’s uncle and Namaka’s great uncle. Meaning he was probably as old as the islands themselves. He wore his long gray hair tied at the nape of his neck. Even his beard had gone gray, almost white. The man loved to laugh, which only seemed right to her, given his plump belly and grandfatherly eyes. He had come to the Valley Isle long ago after having lost his wife and children. Back then, a Flame Princess had ruled the Valley Isle, ruled from the volcano Haleakala, and Kamalo had tried to serve her. In so doing, he’d met Namaka’s grandmother’s sister, a friend of the Princess, and eventually become mated. He couldn’t remarry, of course, and she shared no blood with the man, but Namaka had never really known Kamalo as anything other than an uncle.

After a wink, he chuckled and shook his head. “If I wanted the whole village to know, I wouldn’t have whispered, would I?”

“Well I’m not the whole village.”

“No, though if that pig-headed friend of yours was around, I imagine the village would hear the story in less time than it takes him to devour a fish.”

She shrugged. Since Kamalo had been the one to bring Kamapua’a to Mo-O and thus give rise to that friendship, he could hardly complain. “Uncle,” she said. “What did you tell my father about Pasikole?” She was the Princess of this isle, which meant she was supposed to be in charge. No one ever treated her like she was, and it was time that changed.

He snorted, then continued his walk to the temple. That was obviously an invitation, since he had to know there was no way she’d let this go.

The temple was built over volcanic rock down the beach, far from Hamoa Village so no one would draw too close by accident. It was open, without walls, a high terrace covered with waterworn pebbles. Around the temple stood wooden ki’i masks of the gods, and at its center, a fire pit. Only the kahuna could approach the fire pit, lest the Ghost World be offended by the trespasser. In fact, only the ali’i, kahunas, and the Princess were even allowed in the temple at all.

Namaka paused at the top of the steps, not daring to approach the flame. Uncle Kamalo was indulgent, but one just did not break kapu—those rules governed life on Sawaiki and kept it in balance with the Ghost World. Those who broke kapu, who violated tabus, tended to have short, unpleasant lives. Namaka was just lucky enough to have a whale’s portion of extra tabus governing her life.

Her uncle laughed, faced her, and began to walk backward toward the fire pit, a faux frown of sympathy on his face, shaking his head.

“Uncle! I order you to tell me.”

“All right, all right. Don’t spill the ocean. I told him strong mana flowed in Pasikole.”

Strong mana. It was power, life, spiritual energy all around them, in every person, in every place. Stronger in some, in those destined to shape life for others. Men and women like herself. Namaka tapped her foot. “So, you tell my father I have strong mana and I get sent off to live in a cave. The foreigner has strong mana and you throw him a party.”

He shrugged. “Trust your kahuna.”

She scoffed. That was pretty much his answer any time she questioned any decision he ever made. “You are unbelievable.”

“Mahalo, my child. You don’t want to miss the luau, do you?”

Why was the man always right? Did being older than dirt grant him wisdom, or was it the mana kahuna siphoned off Princesses when they slept with them? Namaka wrinkled her nose at him, then took off, running back toward Hamoa Village. She paused only to grab some plumerias along the way. They smelled like sweet coconuts, making them perfect for adornment. She dashed up to her parent’s house. As expected, her mother was already braiding another lei, working harder now the festival was coming a day early.

“Mother, I really, really need that.”

Her mother shook her head. “Oh? For your father?”

Sure. If her mother wanted to feign innocence, Namaka could play along. “I have to present a lei, of course.” When her mother held up the lei, Namaka grabbed it and quickly wove the plumerias through it, finishing the garland.

The instant it was done she ran back for the beach, where Pasikole was leading enough men and women to compose a war party ashore. Other girls had been approaching with leis, so Namaka dashed ahead of them to Pasikole himself. Let them give their leis to his men. She was the Princess, after all.

The man paused before her, eyebrows raised as she pushed the lei toward him. His eyes darted down to her breasts and he blushed. Oddly, the men and women she’d seen come with him wore coverings on their chests. He reached to take the lei and she laughed.

“No, bend down. I have to put it on you.”

The foreign man looked over his shoulder, then did as she asked, leaning forward so she could set the garland over his neck.

“Who are you?” His eyes sparkled with laughter.

“I’m Princess Namaka.”

Those great blue eyes widened for a moment, then he smiled. “You’re Ku-wa … Ku-wa-i … The chief’s daughter?”

“Oh. Uh, I am she. Yes, his daughter. But that’s not what makes me a Princess. That’s complicated.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the center of the torches. “Come on. The luau has already started.”

“And that means?”

Kāne! He didn’t know what a luau was? “It’s a feast and dancing—a party. This feast is supposed to honor Lono.” Namaka paused, waiting for some reaction on Pasikole’s face. He merely nodded.

How odd. Wasn’t that why Lono had sent him here, at this time, so near the festival? She pointed to a spot in the sand. “Sit here. You’ll see.”

The moment Pasikole sat, villagers carried out a giant roast pig that had been cooking in the imu and began to serve him. In the center of the village, a couple sang a mele chant in time with a woman playing the ukeke.

If Pasikole had never seen a luau, he’d probably never seen the hula either. And since Namaka had won the last four hula competitions, it was only fair she show off the arts her mother had taught her. Hula was sacred, a tradition honoring the goddesses and the aumakuas. It was also a chance to show off how athletic she could be.

She waved to the musicians who began beating the drums and playing the mele at an ever increasing rhythm. Namaka walked to the center of the luau, slowly swaying her body, her movements growing faster as the beat did. Her hips took on a life of their own, jerking from side to side. Hula was all in the hips. She spun around, rapidly shifting her weight. Men began cheering and Namaka couldn’t even contain her smile. Hands up, hands down, welcoming in the sun.

As the dance continued to intensify, she let go of everything else, was barely even conscious of the audience. It was like tapping into the sea. Primal, basic. An expression of her very soul. In the dance there was no duty, no tabus, no deadlines. There was only life, her life and what little of it she might claim for herself. She whooped and whirled around, ending arms wide in a big finish as the song concluded. Slowly she looked up at Pasikole. His eyes were beautifully locked on her own.

Panting, Namaka stepped out of center stage and took a seat beside the other women.

Kam tromped over and plopped down beside her. The other girls muttered and giggled, and several rose and relocated farther away. Men and women were not meant to eat near one another. Kam didn’t seem to care. When he offered her a plate of poi, she took it and pretended not to keep watching Pasikole.

“Shit, Princess,” the wereboar said. “Keep shaking your ass like that and I might forget my brotherly affections toward you in favor of more amorous ones.”

“I am not related to you, Pigman,” she said between mouthfuls of poi.

“Sounds like an invitation to hula to me.”

She shook her head, not bothering to look at him. They had never had a physical relationship. True ali’i brothers and sisters were encouraged to bear children, to create bloodlines strong in mana. But it had always felt wrong with Kam, and he had never pushed her. Of course that was probably because he’d slept with half the girls in Hamoa Village already.

“Well,” Kamapua’a said after a moment, “we both know who you were really dancing for. And, shit! I don’t think it was Hau-Pu this time.”

Namaka ignored him. In the center of the luau, a pair of fire dancers had begun to twirl flaming batons, tossing them in the air and catching them, even flinging them back and forth. Only after hearing Hau-Pu’s name did Namaka even realize he was one of the fire dancers. No doubt still trying to impress her. And he was good, she had to admit. As good at this as she was at the hula.

But Kamapua’a was right. Tonight, she hadn’t been dancing the hula for Hau-Pu. Namaka glanced over to where Pasikole sat, clearly entranced by the fire dancers.

2

If Pasikole had to choose one word to describe the Valley Isle it would be ‘green.’ Lush rainforests covered almost the entire landscape, made all the more impressive by mountains rising up like storm-tossed waves frozen in time. In fact, the entire island seemed to have been forgotten by time.

The simplicity of these people was a deception, of course. Before instructing him in the local language, his employers had also explained the Sawaikians were effectively enslaved by the mer kingdom of Hiyoya. The mer demanded human sacrifices of each island. Pasikole’s employers suspected the people here didn’t even know the real reason why. They made the sacrifices and went about their lives, happy in their ignorance.

And that happiness was contagious. This luau was vibrant, a pounding explosion of sensation, of life. Sights and smells and sounds bombarded him, and everywhere, smiling faces. Innocent, believing themselves free.

And he would be forced to steal those smiles, shatter that innocence.

Seeing the sheer, pervasive joy that suffused this land … it was harder and harder to believe he might be doing it for their own good. It was for the good of all mankind. That was what he had to keep telling himself.

Day II

3

As soon as morning came Namaka snuck out of the cave, careful not to wake Mo-O. The dragon had been asleep when she returned, and she had no desire to get a lecture about her long absence last night. Since her chances of waking Kamapua’a were about the same as her chances of tripping over the moon, she didn’t worry about stepping over the snoring wereboar.

Moela rose and followed her to the edge of the cave. Namaka stared wistfully at the dog, who sat on his haunches, looking up at her with pleading eyes. Namaka knew what it was like to be told not to have any fun. “Fine,” she whispered, and jerked her head to indicate Moela could follow.

Stifling a yawn—excitement kept her from getting to sleep quickly, as usual—she ducked out of the cave and ran through the valley. Moela barked, rushing ahead. Last night, her father had agreed to let her be the one to give Pasikole a tour of their lands. Of her lands. In all honesty, she had rather insisted. Father hadn’t liked it, but she was no longer a child—even if she hadn’t gotten much of a childhood.

Childhood was for playing. Unless you were a Princess, then it was for training. Training to control the power that would bring prosperity or ruin to her people.

As she broke out onto the beach, a flight of nene geese soared overhead. Uncle Kamalo always called that a good sign for the day. And today was going to be wonderful. She was going to make it wonderful.

The yellow-haired foreigner was sailing ashore again, this time with only a handful of men in his boat. Namaka drifted down the beach to meet them and Pasikole waved to her, his smile equally broad. And he should smile. After all, the Princess was here to give him a tour.

“Aloha, Namaka,” he shouted, then waved for his men to unload a barrel.

“What’s that?”

The captain leapt out of the boat, walking through shin-deep water to stand beside her. “A gift for your father. Distilled spirits.”

“How did you get a spirit in a barrel?”

The captain raised an eyebrow. “I mean it’s liquor.”

And if she asked what that meant he’d probably think her simple, so she just smiled and nodded. Whatever it was, her father would appreciate the gift. Namaka pointed to her family’s house. “He’s in there. But you can have your men deliver it. I’ve got so many things to show you!”

Pasikole chuckled and spread his hands. “I’m all yours, Princess.”

Namaka turned her face away, looking to the temple, as much to keep him from seeing just how much she liked the sound of that as to start the tour. “Down there, you see? That’s where we’ll start. It’s a temple dedicated to the gods.” She led him toward the temple and he fell in step beside her. Moela kept sniffing about his shins.

Pasikole laughed and scratched the dog’s head behind his ears.

“You like dogs?”

He shrugged. “My family had a pair of hounds growing up. They were almost like an extra brother and sister. Not that I didn’t have enough of those already.”

Kamalo had guessed Pasikole was a human emissary of the gods. It only made sense he’d had a human life. Still, it seemed somehow off, hearing this man speak of siblings and dogs and a childhood. And why had Lono sent him? It would be beyond rude to directly ask, of course, but maybe she could entice a little information out of him.

Namaka pointed to the temple as they neared. “Each of the masks represents a different god of the archipelago,” she said as they drew near. “The highest is Kāne, then that one is Lono—but of course you know that.”

Pasikole glanced at her face, holding her eyes just long enough to make her heart race. “Of course.”

“And, uh, there’s Wakea the god of the sky, Paka’a the god of the wind, and Kū is a war god and my ancestor. Well, sort of.”

“What do you mean ‘sort of?’” Pasikole began to walk up the terrace steps, toward where the smoke from the sacred fire was billowing out over the beach.

Namaka’s stomach lurched into her throat and she grabbed him, pulling him away so quickly they both tripped and she fell on top of him. For a moment, she stared into his eyes. And then, looking down at his face, she was suddenly self-conscious of the way he looked back at her. Namaka rolled off him, scrambled to her feet, then offered him a hand. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

Moela dashed around them, yipping happily, but Namaka kept her eyes locked on Pasikole.

There again was that curiously odd raised eyebrow. Did emissaries of the gods find all people so amusing, or was she just a buffoon? Either way, he took her hand and she helped him rise. Since the man was even heavier than he looked, she suspected her help was limited.

But he had looked at her like he wanted her. That was, after all, why Kū had come here—to take mortal lovers. Mo-O hinted that very transgression might have been why Kāne had banished Kū back to the underworld. Milu’s underworld was said to be a place of icy mist and cold, somewhere beyond even the Ghost World. The death goddess ensured those who entered into her domain would never again return to the Earth. It was why some ancestors, the aumakuas, lingered in the Ghost World to bless their descendants. She liked that story.

She bit her lip. Pasikole was handsome, for certain. And a divine emissary must have a right to claim her body, if he so chose. Was that really an option for her? Choosing this man, some kind of kupua himself, as her mate? It didn’t even matter—she’d have to choose another lover and another, as long as she lived. The whole purpose of her life was to fuck as many men as she could, sharing her mana. To protect her people, and finally be eaten by them. And in exchange for such a life, she got to be in charge.

She shook herself and blew out a long breath. “You can’t get that close to the sacred fire. I mean, sure, you’re an emissary of Lono, but kapu says only an actual kahuna can be there, and only for tending the fire. The ghosts wouldn’t like it otherwise. I’m not supposed to go up there either.”

“Kapu?”

Namaka spread her hands. Who didn’t know kapu? “How you’re meant to live.” Unless you were Kamapua’a, and then they were suggestions. Damn but she wished she could live like that sometimes. But the people needed her and she couldn’t turn from her duty as a Princess. She had, in the end, done everything asked of her. “Kapu tells us which things are tabu—forbidden. And people going up to the fire is completely tabu. They’d …” Well, Kamalo would be forced to offer Pasikole in sacrifice to the gods to beg their forgiveness.

Namaka frowned. Was he testing her? He should have known these things. She pointed at the nine ki’i masks her people venerated. “So, I’m sure you know which gods the masks represent.”

A flicker of a smile lit his face. “Besides the ones you mentioned? That one is meant to be Ka Moho, the God of Steam. The female is Milu, Queen of the Underworld. And then there’s Kanaloa.” The last he said with what she might have almost taken for distaste. Or fear, perhaps. Some said Kanaloa, God of Magic and the Deep, was the one god even Kāne feared.

“You’re missing one.”

Pasikole chuckled. “The … the Poison Tree God. How could I forget? Any other tabus I should know about?”

Had he just changed the subject? He might be an emissary of Lono, but what kind of divine emissary didn’t know how to behave? This had to be a test. “Well … don’t walk in my father’s—or any chief’s—shadow.” That was the most important one.

If she spent the whole morning lecturing the man on things he couldn’t do, he was going to be bored by midday. And that was the last thing she wanted, so she grabbed his hand. “Forget the temple. I’ve got something way better to show you anyway.”

She led him away from the beach and toward her valley, passing through the forest. They hadn’t gone far when she ran into Hau-Pu, probably out hunting, given his spear. Moela barked happily as soon as he caught the other man’s scent. The warrior was larger than Pasikole, a fact he seemed intent on making obvious as he stormed over to stand right before her guest. Hau-Pu wore nothing but a loincloth and a headband, showing off his muscular torso and arms thick as tree branches, covered in tribal tattoos.

“Where are you going?” the warrior demanded.

“I’m showing the emissary the valley,” she said.

Hau-Pu’s eyes narrowed. “You’re taking him to meet the dragon.”

“Wait, dragon?” the foreigner asked.

Somehow Namaka doubted her caretaker would approve of her bringing the man to their cave. But if she was going to start enforcing her authority, she could show the emissary any valley she wanted. “We’re not going to bother the big lizard, all right? I just want to show him the waterfall. Shouldn’t you be killing something?”

Hau-Pu folded his arms. “I will kill anything you ask me to, Princess.”

Namaka snorted. “Fine. How about you go hunt down some nanaue?”

The warrior bristled and worked his jaw. “Is that your wish, Princess?”

“No!” Kāne! The man was going to get himself killed just to prove himself to her? Sure, that was flattering, but … What if he could kill a wereshark? No, nonsense. That danger was more than should be wished on any warrior. “I was joking, coconut brain. How about some boar or something.”

Hau-Pu shrugged. His pride probably wouldn’t let him show his relief. “I would have won that race, you know.”

Namaka smirked. “I guess we’ll never know now.” The races were so petty, of course. All the men trying to impress her so she’d choose them as her mate. It was entertaining, she supposed. If she didn’t smile at it, didn’t choose to enjoy it, she might be tempted to cry.

Hau-Pu grunted, then spun and stormed off into the forest.

“What was that all about?” Pasikole asked when the warrior was out of sight.

“Nothing,” she said, drawing the word out playfully. So it was a little satisfying to think the men were jealous over her. Why shouldn’t she enjoy it? Kamapua’a was right about one thing—she had to find what joy she could, wherever she could. She led Pasikole onward, not letting him see her smile.

“So the nanaue are what, exactly? Are they dragons too?”

“Weresharks. Nasty, nasty people. One of the big threats on the sea. I mean, beside the mer and the he’e. Not as numerous as the other two, thank Kāne, but a lot more likely to come on land and bother people. Not much on this island though.”

Hiyoya demanded a sacrifice once every decade, a young body they did gods alone knew what with. Ate them, perhaps. But as long as the villagers abided by the sacrifice, the mer pretty much left them alone. And the he’e disdained any contact with surface dwellers from all she had heard. She’d never even seen one of the octopus people.

“Oh. I’ve seen a few weresharks in my travels. Pretty terrible foes. Once we went to battle against a small frigate only to find it had a pair of weresharks on the crew. One of the bloodiest fights I’ve ever been in.”

Did that mean Pasikole was a warrior too? He didn’t have any warrior tattoos that she had seen, but he wore so many clothes, she could have missed them. And if his people had defeated a pair of nanaue, they were obviously better warriors than they might have seemed at first glance.

“What about mer and he’e? Have you seen them?”

Pasikole glanced at her before answering. “I have. The former are aloof, almost unfathomable in their motives. And the latter, well … they are perhaps even more so. Cunning, and alien in their sense of morality. If they even have one.”

He had spoken to the he’e! The octopuses were almost mythical. She bit her lip, trying to understand what he had meant to call them alien. Weren’t they like people? The legends Mo-O spoke of said they had lived in the seas even before the time of the flooding.

But … his tone had grown dark. She supposed a divine emissary must know many things, after all, and he did not seem to think kindly of either the mer or the he’e. But then, his knowledge here seemed limited. Could Uncle Kamalo have been wrong about this man being sent by Lono? His ship bore the mask of Lono, for certain, and he had the mana of a kupua … but could he in truth be a mere man? She glanced at him to make certain he hadn’t read her mind or any such thing. Instead, he seemed lost in his own thoughts and taking special note of every plant, flower, and bird they passed. Divine or not, he was a guest here, and deserved to be treated with all due respect. Better to honor a man as a god than fail to honor a god because they took him for a man.

After walking in silence for a bit longer, the land opened into the valley and she led him up to the rope bridge.

“Wow,” he said, staring at the waterfall that covered her cave.

It cascaded down the green mountains, falling into a pool thirty paces above where she stood, then tumbling down another fall over the cave. Once she had tried to climb the peak and find its source, but her energy had given out before she could reach so high, like the waters were poured from the sky by Wakea himself.

“Wow,” he said again. “Beautiful.”

Namaka moved to stand beside him on the bridge. It was beautiful. And that wasn’t the only thing she wanted to show him. Here, if she lost control, she might embarrass herself, but at least she wouldn’t hurt anyone else. Before she could overthink it, she reached out, allowing her mana to brush over the water and call it to her. She spread her hands in the air, palms up. Ripples formed in the river below, then spouts of water jutted up, covering them both in a spray like cleansing rain. Geyser after geyser fountained into the air, forming crisscrossing lines like a net of water above their heads.

Pasikole sucked in a sharp breath, then turned about, basking in the falling water. “That’s your Gift as a Princess.”

“Oh yes,” she said, grinning. It took concentration to keep the shower going, but she wouldn’t have cast this aside for all the islands of Sawaiki. “Each Princess has a different Gift. Every generation seven are born, one with each Gift. Since I was the seventh and last, there was only one Gift left. The best one. It scares them, I think. But I’m not a bad person.”

Pasikole grunted. “No … of course you’re not.” His gaze was locked on the cave behind the waterfall. “So there’s a dragon around here. Your caretaker.”

“Her name is Mo-O-Inanea and she’s kind of like a surrogate mother.”

“A dragon. Not as pretty as your real mother, I’m guessing.”

“Uh, no.”

“And how much control do you have over your power?”

Namaka shrugged and finally let the waterspouts die. Almost instantly the river resumed its normal flow, as though she had never touched it at all. For all her power, nature reverted to its own balance the moment she was removed. Just as each Princess touched her island for the briefest of instants in the grand scale. Or that was the lesson Mo-O kept trying to drive into her head. She was the ruler of the people, but only insofar as she was a part of the island itself. Divine, like the land was divine. But where the island was forever, she was but a tree, gracing the world for a time, and then replaced with another.

“That’s why I have to live here with Mo-O—so I can learn to control it away from the sea where it would be too dangerous. If I get too, uh … emotional, things can happen I don’t intend.”

“You mean if you become frightened?”

That too, she supposed. At times of any strong emotion, it was best if she wasn’t too near the sea. Her semblance of control could falter so quickly. And then the sea became an unguided, relentless weapon. Yet another reason she had to keep trying to spot the sun behind the clouds in her life. To give in, to give up, would bring as much destruction as refusing her kapu. She not only had to accept her role, she had to like it or she would have failed by default. Milu, she couldn’t even transfer mana to a man through intercourse unless she enjoyed it, or so Mo-O had explained.

Beyond the waterfall, Kamapua’a came tromping down the path into the valley. Namaka waved at him. The wereboar grinned like a maniac, jumped off the ledge, and splashed into the river. A moment later he surfaced on the shore just beneath them.

“Aloha, Yellow-hair!” Kamapua’a shouted up at them, then began climbing the rocks to the bridge.

Namaka sighed and shook her head. “That’s my best friend, Kamapua’a.”

“A warrior?” Pasikole asked as the pigman climbed the rocks.

With a laugh, she shook her head. “He probably thinks so. He’s a wereboar, so I suppose that makes him tough.”

“A dragon and a wereboar,” Pasikole said, then nuzzled Moela again. “And a dog. Some family.” He shook his head. “Earlier, you said you were sort of descended from, uh …”

“From Kū and Golden Cloud. They had seven daughters and for some reason, we’re born again in each generation. One Princess on each island.”

“So if it’s not by blood, how did anyone know it was you?”

“The concentration of mana in me. The kahuna can feel it.”

“Yeah!” Kamapua’a added. “Same reason we’ll all eat her when she dies.”

Namaka glared at the stupid wereboar.

“Eat her?” Pasikole’s eyes widened and his skin turned even more pale than usual.

“Well, not while she’s still alive,” Kamapua’a said. “I mean that would be shitting disgusting. But if I’m still around, I already have my piece picked out.” He winked.

“Milu drag you into the Ghost World, Pigman,” Namaka snapped.

“Eat you?” Pasikole asked again.

Namaka waved the question off. Stupid, stupid wereboar. Why did he have to bumble down here and ruin her moment? They were having a nice talk and then—

“Namaka!” the dragon’s roar echoed through the valley.

Pasikole shook so violently Kamapua’a had to grab the emissary to stabilize him. His face had grown stark white.

“Was that … ?” Pasikole mumbled.

Well damn. The old dragon was finally awake and she was going to want answers about why Namaka had come back so late. “Uh, Kam, can you take Pasikole back to the village? I’ll be back later.”

* * *

Mo-O had raged at her, at least until she’d explained about the emissary of Lono. Then the dragon had grown eerily quiet for a long time. Namaka had thought her asleep until Mo-O finally spoke again. “You must watch this man closely.” But the dragon had declined to expound on her reasons, or what she feared. Sometimes, Mo-O could be even harder to read than Uncle Kamalo.

By the afternoon, Namaka had returned to the village, leaving Moela back in the cave this time. She needed to find Pasikole and make certain she hadn’t offended him by sending him away like that. Besides being the emissary of Lono the man was … well, he was interesting. He was a new choice, an option she had never considered before. And now Mo-O had, unbelievably, not only given her blessing, but actually told Namaka to watch over the emissary.

On the boardwalk, the yellow-haired man was standing beside her father looking over the sea. Her father, of course, had to linger in the shadow of the eave, making sure his own shadow touched no one. That would mean death to the unfortunate soul.

Pasikole’s men appeared to be trading with her people, offering more barrels of liquor—whatever that was—or some other goods in exchange for fish and, apparently, a canoe. The koa trees used to make canoes were especially strong on this side of the isle, so she couldn’t blame the white men for wanting one.

“Princess Namaka,” Pasikole said as she drew near, waving again.

“Aloha,” she answered. “Sorry our tour got interrupted.”

“Interrupted?” That raised eyebrow again.

She shrugged. Maybe taking him to the valley without first explaining her actions to Mo-O had been a mistake. But that was done.

Her father shifted uncomfortably. He was always uncomfortable around her these days. Where was the man who used to carry her on his shoulders down the beach, watching the sunset? What had happened to the father who had danced with her at luaus and given her her first lessons in surfing? It was like as soon as Uncle Kamalo had identified her as a Princess, she wasn’t the same person anymore. But Father was the one who changed, not her. Now, here was a chief who seemed to speak more freely, more openly with an emissary of the gods than he did with his own daughter.

Namaka frowned. She was not going to let herself get down again. Her melancholy could drown her if she let it. It could drown everyone. She was going to live a real life and do her duty. She could have both.

An oversized wave crashed against the boardwalk and splashed the three of them.

“Namaka?” her father asked.

“Sorry, sorry.” Dammit. Every single time she got upset. She shook her head. She had to focus on happy things, and soon, before Pasikole decided she was more trouble than she was worth. “Have you ever been surfing?”

The foreigner shook his head. “I don’t know what that means, but I’m willing to give just about anything a try.”

Namaka grinned. “Father, can he borrow your board?”

After a moment’s hesitation, her father grunted his assent, then walked down the docks, as if even speaking to her was painful.

Namaka swore under her breath. What did he want from her? She was living a life not her own, and doing the best she could with it.

She led Pasikole back to her family’s house and grabbed her board. “Take that board,” she said to Pasikole. “Follow me. We have to find the right launch point.”

Board tucked under her arm, Namaka scurried back to the beach, then slowed, taking a leisurely pace. In the distance, Hau-Pu was returning with a boar slung between his shoulders. He began to stride straight for her the moment their eyes met, obviously trying to impress her with his catch. It was a damn big boar. Fine. So maybe she was a little impressed.

“That better not be Kamapua’a,” she said when he drew near. Suddenly the thought of her only friend dead didn’t seem amusing at all. Of course, if the pigman had been killed he’d have reverted to human form, but even imagining it … Happy thoughts. Keep happy thoughts, Namaka. Life was for living.

Hau-Pu grunted, then dropped the boar on the beach in front her. “I caught this for you, Princess.” How kind. He caught a feast she wasn’t allowed to eat. The boar had clearly been speared through the neck, which would have been a mighty feat even if it hadn’t had tusks as long as her forearm. Hunting that kind of animal alone was dangerous, reckless. And, well, fine—manly. Trying to make up for the canoe race being spoiled?

“Looks fit for a feast,” she said. “Why not take it down to the imu? Father will probably throw another luau for our guest.”

Hau-Pu scowled. “No. I will cook it myself, for the chief. No luau.” He turned his glare on Pasikole.

Namaka bit her lip and tried not to smile. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing to see which of them wanted her more. A little rivalry might go a long way, if it was rivalry for her heart and not for her mana.

Pasikole folded his arms. “I thought the luau was lovely. A great honor. I’d be honored to share in the boar, too.”

“Not for you, white man.”

The captain shrugged. “As you wish. Keep your pig to yourself. Tell me, Namaka, what exactly are we going to do with these boards?”

Namaka snickered at Hau-Pu’s obvious irritation, then turned to lead Pasikole further on.

“It’s an art that lets us commune with the sea. Plus, it’s pretty much the most thrilling thing you can possibly imagine. Come on, down there.” She pointed to a spot where the wind whipped the waves up to medium heights—enough where she could show off, without overwhelming someone learning to surf for the first time.

Pasikole turned to follow her. “The most thrilling thing I can imagine does not involve boards. Or wearing clothes.”

Namaka kept her eyes locked on the sea to cover her immediate flush. He must know he could share her mana like that. Or did he truly just want her for her? Maybe it was all a joke. Did he not know one surfed naked anyway?

“You cannot speak to the Princess like that!” Hau-Pu shouted, as though the man hadn’t been trying to get between her legs for over a year.

Even as Namaka turned to him, the warrior collided with Pasikole, sending the captain sprawling into the wet sand. He hit hard, the impact digging a small trench. He rose, shaking his head, clumps of sand stuck to his clothes, his neck, his hair.

Mouth open, Namaka stared at Hau-Pu, unable to form any specific word other than a general moan of distress. He had just assaulted the emissary of Lono. He had shoved a guest, a foreign chief, into the sand. What in Ka Moho’s steaming asshole was he thinking? How could he even …?

Before she could form a response, Pasikole stalked back over to Hau-Pu. “Boy, you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Boy! I am a warrior, ghostfucker!” Hau-Pu swung at Pasikole. The foreign captain ducked the powerful blow and landed his own on Hau-Pu’s ribs.

The warrior recoiled a moment before tackling the smaller foreigner and driving him into the ground. Pasikole strained to push Hau-Pu off him, but the man was too large and had leverage. Hau-Pu slammed a fist into Pasikole, then began to rain blows on the stunned emissary.

“Stop!” Namaka shouted. “Stop it! What in Lua-O-Milu are you doing? Stop it!” She grabbed Hau-Pu and tried to yank him off Pasikole. She might as well have tried to yank a whale out of the sea. Hau-Pu shoved her away with one hand, and she fell backwards so hard it left her stunned for an instant.

No! This was not happening. She hadn’t meant for them to fight, not like this. Hau-Pu was going to kill him! Their village would be damned if that happened. Lono would wither their crops and drive off the fish in the sea.

Namaka rolled over. “Stop!” she shouted again. Her whole body was shaking as she crawled back to grab Hau-Pu again. She had to get him off Pasikole. She had to end this. “I command you to stop!”

A shadow fell over them at the same instant a sound like the roaring of a typhoon swept across the beach. Both men paused and turned to the sea, and Namaka did so as well. A wave eight or nine paces high surged forward, summoned by her fear and rage.

The wave surged over Pasikole’s ship so fast and so hard she heard the anchor line snap as the ship listed to one side. A moment later the mast cracked. The rushing of the wave drowned out the sounds of men screaming. And then all view was blocked by the rush of waters all around her.

Namaka held up her hands, warding it off. Begging it to stop the instant before it struck. She flung herself over Hau-Pu and Pasikole, throwing her soul outward, pleading with the wave not to take them all. The sea arched over them like she had wrapped a bubble over their heads, but rained in a downpour that left them drenched long before the tide receded back out to sea.

The pain in her throat was the first indication she had been screaming. Hoarse, knees wobbling, she rose. Her whole body trembled as she took in the devastation around her. The hut farthest out on the boardwalk had been swept away by the wave, the dock itself splintered, and the sea littered with driftwood.

Namaka raised a hand to her mouth to stifle a mouse-like squeak. Pasikole’s grand, god-like ship was in tatters. Some of his crew had swum to shore, but others must surely have drowned.

In one instant of fear, of pain, of anger, she had whipped the sea as though she were a typhoon incarnate. What had she done? She had turned her power on Pasikole, emissary of Lono. Had killed his people. Had probably killed some of her villagers, had destroyed someone’s home.

She backed away from the beach. And then she ran back toward the dragon’s cave.

4

The mast had snapped and, until it was repaired, the Startracer wasn’t going anywhere. Pasikole sighed again, wiping his brow before slamming shut his footlocker. His jaw hurt from where the native warrior had beaten him. His entire cabin looked like it had been ransacked. Considering Namaka had nearly capsized his whole ship, that was the least of his worries, he supposed.

And he had spent the afternoon overseeing the funeral of two of his men. They had followed him across half the known Worldsea and beyond and now they lay buried in the sand on this, the farthest shore he had ever reached. Pasikole flung his chart table over.

“Damn it!” Talking only made the pain worse.

The hatch creaked behind him and he spun on the intruder. Inemes, of course. No one but his first mate would dare disturb him without knocking. Born on Tungaru, far west of here, Inemes had dark skin much like the natives of Sawaiki. He had met her on one of his early explorations—what, almost ten years back now? She’d been so eager to see the rest of the world back then.

Like the locals here, she hadn’t been in the habit of covering her breasts or even considering nudity to be sexual in nature. For his sake, and that of the rest of his crew, he’d convinced her to begin dressing like one of them.

Now, here he was, tromping around Sawaiki and facing a nearly naked Princess. One with the power of a petulant goddess.

At least Inemes was by his side. Now, a decade since she had joined him, she was battle-hardened, a scar splitting one lip where a mer trident had almost taken her chin off. She’d proved a decent warrior and an excellent sailor, trustworthy in all his explorations. Maybe no one knew him better.

Inemes shook her head, once, then moved to flip the chart table back over. Pasikole stood with arms folded as the woman placed his logbook back on the table, then spread out his maps. Most he had drawn himself, determined to map the whole world if he could. The one of Sawaiki was less than half finished. They didn’t even know the extent of this island, in truth.

His first mate flipped through his log to his latest entry—a few quick notes he’d jotted down about the local flora and fauna. He’d write a book once they finished here. It was an astonishing place, for certain. Similar, in some ways, to Kahiki. But the Sawaikians had culturally diverged from their ancestors, a process no doubt accelerated by their Princesses. Sadly, he had no way to determine if Kū had been a real person—or deity. He had his suspicions, of course.

“Everyone on the crew knew the risks,” Inemes said.

“They had no idea!”

Inemes pursed her lips and Pasikole immediately regretted snapping at her. None of this was her fault. They had known, of course, about the Princess of Sea. It was the reason they were here. He just hadn’t thought … He hadn’t thought at all. It was unlike him. He shook his head.

“How are the crew?”

“Frightened. Angry. Talking about punishing savages.”

“They’re not savages.”

Inemes shrugged. “I didn’t say they were.”

No. She of all people knew better. Some would have called Tungaru a land of savages. When he’d met her, she ran around waving a spear. Her arm and shoulders were covered in tribal tattoos. But there was nothing simple or savage about her. People were people, all over the Worldsea. It was why Pasikole did what he did. Because all people, all cultures were expressions of humanity. Because in understanding others, he could help his people to better understand themselves. And because the damn undersea kingdoms thought they could rule the whole world and do whatever they wanted. Maybe he couldn’t change the world. But he could take a step in that direction by helping others to understand it.

The mer called this their golden age. But it was an age built upon the backs of mankind. The mer used humans like shells, thinking a person’s life of no more value than that of a fish.

“Some of the crew are wondering …” Inemes began, then shut her mouth.

“They’re wondering why I didn’t grab her when I had the chance.” He snorted. He could certainly claim the reason was because Namaka was protected by a guard dog, a wereboar, and apparently a dragon, of all things. He could claim that and the crew would probably believe it. And still he’d been asking himself the same question. The girl was innocent, pure, and kind. She didn’t deserve to be a pawn in this game.

“I hope you’re not thinking of backing out on the contract,” Inemes said. “You know our employers would …”

Pasikole held up a hand. He knew. He knew all too well. “Even if I wanted to go forward, even if the ship was repaired, how do you propose we grab her? Now we know she can’t even control her Gift. If she gets scared enough she could swamp the ship without even meaning to.” He rubbed his swollen jaw.

“You’re the brilliant scientist. Make a plan.”

“Thank you. Very helpful advice.”

She snorted. “I should see to the crew. And you,” she indicated around the room, “need to get yourself and this ship in order. Our lives are in your hands. So clean up and get ready to ingratiate yourself with the girl or whatever else you have to do.”

He folded his arms. “Sometimes I wonder which of us is really the captain.”

“Whoever acts like it, I suppose. And you’re the one who asked for advice.”

Inemes ducked back out of the hatch, shutting it behind her, and Pasikole slunk into his chair. Maybe she was right. Maybe he had to do whatever it took, regardless of his own feelings. He had a bigger mission here.

But this was one contract he wished he’d never taken.

5

Tears welled in her eyes as she climbed the rocks behind the waterfall. Gods, Namaka had been a fool to think she was ready. The dragon was right about everything. She was a selfish, dangerous child and she had probably killed people. She, who was supposed to be the ultimate protector of her isle, to defend it against outsiders, had instead ravaged it. Pasikole had asked if being frightened could affect her power.

They all had their answer now.

She was a disgrace to her title.

“What happened?” Mo-O asked before she had taken two steps into the cave.

With a huff, Namaka collapsed before the great lizard. “Nothing.”

Mo-O flicked a disapproving tongue at her, then rose slowly, as though her bones ached for the effort. The dragon stalked closer, circling around Namaka. She lay back down, forming a protective arc around her.

Namaka sighed and turned away from the dragon, tucking her chin against her knees. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

A moment later, the dragon’s tail whacked her on the back of the head. The force was enough to shock her, but little more.

Namaka spun around and glared at the dragon. “Fine! I messed everything up, all right? I just … I ruined everything.”

“Everything?” the dragon asked. “Hmmm. I doubt you could ruin everything in one day, little Princess. Is the sun still shining in the sky? Did the island sink into the sea while I was asleep?”

Namaka wished it would. Then she wouldn’t have to live with the shame of what she’d done. Pasikole—divine emissary or not, she had harmed a guest in their land. No wonder her father was so ashamed of her. And why? Because she had been so damned determined to enjoy her life she’d neglected training with Mo-O. Ten years—long before her Gift had manifested—the dragon had been trying to get her to meditate, to control her emotions. And Namaka tried, but maybe she never tried quite hard enough. According to kapu, as a Princess, duty overshadowed all else. It meant if she hadn’t taken her childhood for herself, it would have been stolen from her. And now, finally, she understood why. She was denied the life other people had because for her to live such a life endangered those other people.

Her dog climbed over the dragon’s tail to lay his head in Namaka’s lap. Reflexively, she stroked Moela behind his ears.

“Listen,” the dragon said. “Do you hear that? Birds are outside, singing in the sunset. I imagine it’s beautiful. None of your mistakes have damaged that, have they?”

Fine. If Mo-O wanted to know, Namaka would tell her. “Two men were fighting over me,” she began. And how had that ever, ever seemed like a good thing? She proceeded to tell Mo-O about the fight, about losing control of her power, about the devastation she had wrought. By the end of it, her tears were flowing freely.

“You are angry at the whole world, aren’t you? But your anger hurts you most of all. Anger is a poison, clouding your vision. Preventing you from seeing what you are given while you grieve for what you were denied.”

“I’m denied a life of my own!”

Mo-O gently pushed her downward with her tail, until Namaka lay curled against the dragon’s warm side. Her protector’s heartbeat was slow but immensely powerful, like the thrumming of the Earth itself. The power of the land pulsed through Mo-O and she was a perfect expression of it. A balance of nature Namaka could never hope to achieve. The dragon held her there like that, as she had when Namaka was a child, weeping in fear at being away from her parents. Finally, Namaka shut her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

She woke to shuffling feet as Kamapua’a entered the cave, pacing like he’d forgotten where his straw mat lay. Namaka sat up and stared at the wereboar, unable to make out his features in the darkness. During the day, sunlight filtered in through the waterfall, but the moon cast only faint shadows that made the whole cave seem like something born from the Ghost World.

“What is it?” she asked when Kam continued to glance back and forth between her and his mat.

“Uh, nothing.” Finally, he plopped down in his place and rolled over.

“Pigman!”

The wereboar began making obnoxious snoring noises.

Damn. If Kamapua’a didn’t want to tell her, the news must be terrible. Had her father disowned her? Had the kahuna condemned her for her atrocities against the emissary of Lono? What if they decided she was a failure and they should just eat her and be done with it?

Namaka scrambled up, but was restrained by a large dragon claw on her shoulder.

“Answer the Princess,” Mo-O said.

Kam feigned snoring even louder than before.

“Do not make me come over there,” the dragon said.

At that, Kamapua’a sat bolt upright. “What? Did someone say something? Sorry, I was sleeping and dreaming about … uh, curvaceous—”

“No one cares for your lascivious dreams, wereboar.”

“Lascivious? I’m not lascivious. I was dreaming about curving … seashells. From the sea. Wait. What’s lascivious mean?”

Namaka eased herself out of Mo-O’s grasp and made her way over to Kamapua’a. “Just tell me what happened.”

“Well … So maybe there’s this stupid emissary down in the village demanding your presence.”

Oh aumakuas. She knew Pasikole would be furious. Would he ask for her life as recompense? Would the kahuna agree to such a request? That he was demanding her presence was probably even worse than he if refused to see her again. But it wasn’t like she could just sit here forever. She was a Princess, and she had a duty to her people. Forgetting that was what had led to this disaster in the first place. From now on, she was going to be the Princess the Valley Isle needed. If it wasn’t too late.

“Fine,” Namaka said at last. “Fine. If Pasikole wants me, I’ll go to him.”

“Uh … I didn’t talk to him. There was a different emissary. A … shitting merman.”

Namaka stared at Kamapua’a, not quite able to form a response. She glanced back at Mo-O, who shifted around and flicked out her tongue. A merman in Hamoa Village? That was not a good sign. The mer kingdoms ruled over the great Worldsea and humanity persisted on archipelagos only at their sufferance. People needed the sea for travel and food, and if the mer wanted to see her, she didn’t really have a choice but to receive them. It wasn’t time for a sacrifice, not for two more years … But by the aumakuas, this did not bode well.

Hoping her sigh covered the tremble in her chest, Namaka turned.

“Don’t go,” Kamapua’a pleaded.

“She has no choice,” the dragon said.

No choice at all. No one had given her a choice about being a Princess, about what Gift she would get, or about being sent away from her parents. She didn’t have a choice about taking lovers or about losing her childhood. Now, she had no choice about going down to see this merman. Sure, he might not come away from the sea to find her here in the valley. But if she refused him, the whole village would be in danger, and that she could not allow. She had done them too much harm already. And any of the mer kingdoms could crush a village like hers with little effort.

* * *

Each step felt like walking through mud as she made her way back down to the village. The moonlight barely penetrated the forest canopy, making her path treacherous—giving her an excuse to take it slow. And still, sooner than she’d have liked, the village came into view.

On the shore, just beyond the huts, Father and Uncle Kamalo stood with another man. Or a merman, she realized, as she drew near. Mer could take human form briefly, if they truly wished it. They usually disdained to do so, though, which meant he must come with urgent news if he was willing to take that step.

He looked almost human, save for the iridescent scales on his shoulders and the slight webbing between his fingers. He wore no clothing—indeed, it would have looked out of place with those scales. His hair was long, hanging to his waist and brown but with greenish highlights.

Namaka bit her lip as she approached, keeping her eyes downcast, desperately trying to slow her racing heart. Was she about to die? She wasn’t ready to die. She didn’t want to be eaten. Please, Kāne. She didn’t want to die. She would be a good Princess, she had always intended to be a good one. She had only wanted to live while doing so.

“You are the one?” the merman asked. His voice was deep but oddly musical, as though more suited to singing than speaking.

“I am Namaka of …” She swallowed. “Princess of Sea.”

The merman strode forward until he stood a mere pace in front of her. He was half a head taller than her, and he stared down at her with narrowed eyes shining with slight luminescence. “Of the sea? Of our sea? For they are our seas, child. And yet again we find them beset by a human. You whip the ocean into a rage that disrupts the tides and ripples outward for dozens of leagues, and for what? A childish spat? I have been sent by Queen Latmikaik to issue a warning—the kingdom of Hiyoya will no longer tolerate the indignity of humans exercising power over our domain.”

A lump formed in her throat. What was he trying to say? What exactly did he want her to do? She nodded dumbly, keeping her eyes on his feet. They were almost human, save for slight fins at his ankles.

“You are hereby forbidden to ever use the power so mistakenly given to you. This is your only warning.”

Give up use of her Gift? The power was all that made her a Princess. Without it she was just a stupid little girl who had ruined everything for her village. Worse, forbidden to use her power, she’d never be able to protect the Valley Isle from outside raiders. Instead of this isle being the best defended in Sawaiki, it would become the one target clans could prey on without fear of reprisal. The one inhabited isle with no Princess to guard them. And with her so impotent, why would her people not simply execute and consume her, take in her mana and hope for a better Princess in the next generation? They would face hard years without one, of course, but it might be their only option.

But … who was she to deny this emissary of Hiyoya? She had misused her Gift. She hadn’t realized, hadn’t even considered what that might have done to an underwater civilization. But she’d seen what it had done up here. Seen the price it had exacted from Hamoa Village and from Pasikole and his ship. The merman was right. She didn’t deserve this power. And even if she did, if she denied the mermaid queen, she didn’t even want to consider the reprisal Hiyoya might make against the Valley Isle.

She had no choice. None at all.

Unable to keep the tremor from her jaw, she nodded.

“Say it,” the merman commanded.

“I will not use my Gift.”

“Ever.”

“Not ever.” It was like choking on bile. Like trying to gnaw her own leg off. Not ever. “I swear it.”

At last the emissary turned back to the sea and dove in. He leapt once above the water, showing off his mighty tail, now adorned with great fins half a pace wide. His tail shimmered in the moonlight, beautiful and terrible. And gone in an instant.

“Namaka,” her father said.

She spun and ran, weeping as though a flood had broken on a mountain.

“Namaka!” Kamalo shouted.

But she ran on and on, toward the valley. And as she reached the river, it surged in her grief.

“No!” she shrieked. “Stop it.”

The rapids only intensified, whipping around in unnatural currents. Namaka fell to her knees on the river bank and wailed. “Stop it! Stop it!”

The river exploded around her, showering her in its cool waters as if it could drown her pain. And the more she tried to deny it, to stop her power, the worse the flooding grew.

She was damned.

Day III

6

Beyond the edge of the forest where Namaka crouched, down on the beach, the villagers brought supplies to Pasikole and his crew. Under his direction, they had cut trees for wood and were helping restore the damage she had caused. Namaka sat in the bushes, watching her people cleaning up her mess as best they were able.

By her side, Kamapua’a farted loudly.

Namaka cast him a withering look.

“Sorry. Happens when I get bored. Speaking of which, why on Milu’s misty-veiled tits are we sitting here?”

Namaka huffed. “How can I face them after what I’ve done?” After she was, in effect, no longer their Princess? What would they do if she showed her face? Perhaps they would banish her—assuming they let her live at all. Now she really served no purpose save to give rise to a new kahuna and then be eaten.

“Yeah, sure, you’re right. How about instead of going to talk to the people, we skip over to the Big Isle and maybe find us some adventure and a pair of girls.”

Namaka rolled her eyes. “I’m not really attracted to girls.”

“I know. I meant both for me. Remember, I’m incorrigible.”

Like she would ever forget it. But maybe Kamapua’a had a point. Maybe she had to face her fears because the only other option was running away. Sitting here sulking would solve nothing. Or maybe she gave the wereboar too much credit. Maybe he actually meant they should leave the Valley Isle and go hunting adventure on their own. But that wasn’t an option for Namaka. The mer emissary might have effectively stripped her of her powers, but she had to try to be the Princess of the Valley Isle. Her clan needed her, even if all she had left to give them was her flesh.

A Princess did not leave her island.

With a long, deep breath, she rose and trod toward the boardwalk. A cool wind blew down from the mountain, one she had barely felt in the bushes. But out on the beach it was calming, like Paka’a, Lord of Wind, had sent it just for her. To remind her that even if she had no powers, still she was Sawaikian. She didn’t have to give up. It was a fresh wind, one smelling of plumerias from the forest.

Trying to remain calm, she strode toward the boardwalk. The end was still broken, a jagged tear serving as a silent admonition of her weakness. She turned away from it and spotted her mother on the beach, roasting a swordfish over a campfire. Its succulent aroma was all the reminder she needed that she hadn’t eaten much this morning. A pineapple shared with Kam—his half of which had been much larger. She hadn’t often seen her mother cook, but then, making peace with Pasikole was crucial. Even the chief’s wife did her best to help the village. Just like Namaka had to do now. Let childish impulses die and do whatever it took to calm this storm.

“Mother?”

Her mother turned, looking to her with sad eyes, then rose and embraced her all too briefly. “Namaka. Are you sure you should be here?”

No. Not at all. But if she didn’t come, if she wasn’t here, where should she be? “I have to.” She had to try. “Where’s Father?”

“He’s trying to placate the emissary of Lono with gifts. Two of his crew died and a woman was badly injured.”

Milu damn it all. She had feared more would be hurt than that, but to hear anyone had died, to know it was true, left her stomach roiling. Her mother was right. She didn’t belong here, didn’t deserve to be here. Pasikole had lost people because of her. Now, her father was trying to placate him. Meaning, trying to convince him to remain on the Valley Isle? Or not to bring the god’s wrath down on the village? And what would that be? A withering of crops, a dearth of fish in the sea? Pestilence?

Father was trying to make up for her mistakes. But she should be the one to beg the man’s forgiveness. That was her duty as Princess and as the one who had created this terrible situation. So she would throw herself on his mercy. Perhaps he would claim her life in recompense. That was, after all, how kapu dealt with murderers—sacrificing them to Kū. And if he decided to take her life, maybe she could at least spare her people.

“Is that about ready?” she asked.

Her mother nodded, wiping her brow. “Swordfish.”

Food fit for a wedding feast. And here her mother was, already preparing it. Knowing what to do, while Namaka had hid in the forest. “Can I take that to him?”

Her mother hesitated, then nodded. “You should. Maybe it would help if it came from you.” Grasping both ends of the spit, she hefted the fish off the fire. Her mother coughed at the smoke and wobbled a little.

“Are you all right, Mother?”

“Just tired.” She offered her the fish.

The bundle was heavy, but Namaka tried to hold it high, carry it proudly like the worthy offering it was. Despite the morning heat and the effort of carrying the fish, a chill sweat built on the back of her neck as she trod toward the captain. What if he rejected the gift? She didn’t want to die, but if it was the only way … Calm.

She was the Princess of Sea.

A Princess had to stay calm. Mo-O had tried to teach her that.

As she approached, Pasikole was shouting at his crew in some strange language, apparently directing them to build a new mast. A few of the crew began speaking, staring at her, some even pointing. She didn’t know their words, but she felt their fear, their ire. Pasikole turned to look at her, again with that raised eyebrow. A bruise had developed on his jaw, a sickening purple against his fair skin.

“Princess Namaka.”

Namaka sank to her knees before him and raised the fish. Her arms ached and trembled, barely able to hold the spit above her head. If he didn’t take it soon, she was likely to drop the offering in the sand.

A moment later, he took the fish, his fingers lightly brushing hers in the process. “It smells wonderful.”

“Please forgive me,” she blurted. “Please do not take out your wrath upon my people. I meant no harm, but the fault is mine alone!”

The man inclined his head toward one of his men and the sailor took the swordfish and immediately began cutting pieces. Each piece he handed to the nearby crewmen. That seen to, Pasikole turned back to her and looked her up and down, shaking his head. “So. Some Gift.”

“I just got scared from the fighting and I lost control. I swear, I didn’t mean it!”

“Hmm. So maybe the fault is mine then, for provoking your … lover?”

“No!” He thought she was trying to shift the blame to him. What punishment would he devise for such hubris? “That’s not what I meant. You did nothing wrong, it was me!”

His upraised hand forestalled her. “You’re rather self-effacing for royalty, aren’t you?” He glanced back at his ship again, shaking his head at some private pain. “If you’re so determined to accept the blame for the incident … then you can make it up to me.” He turned back, favoring her with a smile, albeit one tinged with some emotion she could not identify. Regret, perhaps?

She swallowed, then nodded. The way he looked at her left her both warm and chilled. Did he mean to demand her body? Since she was required to choose a lover in the next few days, that was a fairly small price. “What do you want me to do?”

He clucked his tongue, then shared a glance with a woman on his crew. “You promised to take me surfing on those board things. Show me this thrilling activity.” His voice was dry, lacking any kind of enthusiasm.

That was not the response she’d been expecting. She had led to the death of his people and he wanted to learn an art form? Did the gods simply not care about the death of a few followers? Or did Pasikole have some other, unfathomable motive?

Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded, then looked around the beach. Hers and her father’s boards had been drawn away from the ocean and left leaning against the rocks. Common people were not allowed to touch the chief’s board, so it must have been one of Pasikole’s crew who saved them. They were fortunate no one had seen them, or her father would have been forced to demand the criminal’s life for the trespass.

Namaka grabbed her board and motioned for Pasikole to take her father’s, then led him farther down the beach, away from prying eyes and toward the perfect waves. She was going to have to be extra careful not to get too excited. Her power responded to her mood and usually helped carry her forward. Not that she needed it—she’d been one of the best surfers in Hamoa Village even before her powers began to manifest last year.

At last, she could stand the silence no longer. “You’re not angry about your crew?”

“I am angry. But not with you.”

He didn’t have anyone else to be angry with, as far as she could tell. The man was hard to understand. Maybe that was to be expected if he were sent by the gods. But he was clearly thinking of something other than just his lost crew. Before she could figure out what that was, he spoke again, though still without enthusiasm or life in his voice.

“So what is this surfing, exactly?”

Maybe he didn’t owe her any answers.

“It’s an art, where we wave slide. Like a means to become one with the ocean, not to conquer it, but to touch its power and be awed. That’s how Father first explained it to me. Each board is unique. Normally, you’d make your own as part of a ceremony, with aid from the kahuna. Since that takes a long time, you can use my father’s. It’s made from koa wood and is the best one we have, except for maybe the kahuna’s own.”

Uncle Kamalo had helped her carve her own alaia board and she was damn proud of it. Sleek, thin, graceful, and just heavy enough. When she had picked the ideal tree for it, she and Kamalo had dug out the tree and left a fish buried there, as an offering to Kalai-Pahoa the tree god. The alaia were probably the hardest boards to master, which was why she had wanted one in the first place. A challenge, something she could be proud of, something she had mastered on her own.

“This beach,” she said when they were far from the village, indicating the stretch secluded by the rocks. “It’s reserved for the upper caste of society, the ali’i. My family, a select few others.”

Pasikole chuckled. “The wealthy always get the best of everything. Even the best of nature.” He spoke in her language, but seemed to be talking to himself as much as her.

She shrugged. She had never actually thought about it before.

She unwound her skirt and tossed it aside, then she turned to the sea and climbed one of the rocks.

“You … uh … you surf naked?”

“What? You didn’t know that when you were talking about thrilling activities without clothes?” She laced her tone with as much mocking as she thought she might get away with. Then she glanced over her shoulder. “To be seen in wet clothes is a tabu. If you go in the ocean, you have to strip.”

Pasikole unlaced his shirt and dropped it, revealing a chest covered in more of that yellow hair. His skin there was even fairer than on his face and arms. At his waist he bore some kind of curved club that sparkled with bits of metal. His eyes looked to her body, then down at himself, and he shifted uncomfortably, as if uncertain he wanted to remove his lower garment.

Namaka looked away, trying not to giggle. Had seeing her nude been enough to arouse him? So maybe she was enjoying this a little. If he wasn’t going to kill her, she might as well live. She jumped into the sea, then climbed onto her board and began to paddle it out to catch a wave.

Still he stood on the shore, watching intently. He had removed the clothing on his feet, but not the rest. Unable to hold it in anymore, Namaka laughed. She stood on her board as a wave approached, turned with it, and let herself glide, whooping with delight.

Out here, she was a goddess. She truly was the Princess of Sea. Arms wide, she rode the ocean itself, becoming one with it, reveling in the spray as it tickled her legs, drinking in the power as she all but flew. As the wave broke, she turned, sliding over it. By the time she faced him, Pasikole was in the water with his board.

Namaka beckoned him closer. The foreigner paddled toward her, barely able to get the board to move. She shook her head. Her father said she was a natural, but most often, teaching children the art took a long time. She had to be patient. She shouted a bit of advice here and there, trying to let him figure some of it out for himself.

When he had paddled closer, he spit seawater from his mouth and stared at her. By this time, she had sat down on her board, tucking her chin against her knees.

“You’re not embarrassed?”

“About what?” she asked.

Pasikole looked around like someone was trying to spy on him. “You’re naked.”

Namaka glanced down at her body, then back at him. “Should I be embarrassed about my own body?”

“Well … no. You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Princess.”

“Do you?” She grinned.

Pasikole grunted in response to her challenge, then tried to climb onto his board. It flipped over underneath him, flinging him underwater, but confirming for a brief instant he had indeed removed all those restrictive clothes. He came up sputtering and tried again, twice more, before managing to come to a sitting position.

Namaka locked her eyes on his groin, just to see what reaction it would draw. Pasikole immediately tried to shift his position, covering himself with his legs, until he fell from the board again. She couldn’t help but burst out laughing once more.

On land, one covered the genitals out of respect to them. Pasikole’s people seemed to take it beyond that, as though ashamed of his manhood. Would a white woman feel the same way? Namaka shook her head. These people were so hard to make sense of. So grand, so vibrant, and yet afraid of their own bodies, unknowing of basic tabus. Like a people out of balance with themselves and with nature.

“I thought you were supposed to be making up for yesterday?” he said when he finally caught his breath and got back on the board.

“I think it’ll take more than one lesson.” Maybe he was right. Maybe she had teased him enough. She had come down to the beach resolved to behave herself, to make life better for her people. “Do you feel, um, placated?”

Now it was his turn to laugh. “Placated? By making a fool of myself or by seeing you naked? Not that any of you Sawaiki people wear many clothes to begin with.”

“Why would we need them? We have kihei cloaks if it’s raining, but unless you climb up the mountains, it doesn’t get too cold.”

Pasikole snorted. “Doesn’t get cold? It’s bloody hot. Except out here on the ocean, and now I’m freezing.”

Namaka smiled then, and led him back to shore, paddling slowly.

* * *

“We can try again tomorrow,” she said when they lay on the beach. “I mean, if you … if you want to.”

Pasikole grunted, then smiled like the sun itself. What did that golden hair feel like? She wanted to run it through her fingers.

He crawled over and yanked on his lower garments. “Tell me about your ancestor, this Golden Cloud.”

Namaka frowned. He’d be warmer faster if he let the sun draw the water off his skin before wearing his clothes. But maybe it wasn’t her place to tell him that. She had warned him about the tabu, after all.

“It was a long time ago, after the Worldsea covered the Earth, but still a lot of generations back. Golden Cloud was one of the original settlers from Kahiki who came to Sawaiki. There are eight islands, but only seven Princesses. Some say that’s why people can only live on seven of the eight islands. The Lost Isle has no Princess and almost no one goes there. They say ghosts roam its desolate beaches. You can actually see it, from certain parts of this isle.”

“Why only seven Princesses?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess Kāne bound Kū in the underworld before he could sire any more daughters or any sons.”

“And Kāne is your chief god?”

Wasn’t he everyone’s chief god? Shouldn’t an emissary of Lono know these things? Namaka frowned, once again left wondering if he intended to test her. Or had her earlier suspicion been right, and he was just a man? But she couldn’t afford to risk it. She’d made enough mess already. “Kāne created Sawaiki. After he flooded the Earth, he split a giant calabash in the sky and its seeds fell down to Earth and became the islands.”

Pasikole sat beside her in the sand, finally drinking in the sun for a time. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, so Namaka let him be, only sneaking the occasional glance at him.

“I’ve spent my whole life traveling around the Worldsea, you know. Charting every archipelago, mapping our world as best as anyone can.”

Namaka didn’t even know what to say to that. Her ancestors had come from Kahiki, of course, so she knew there were other lands. But never, in all the centuries since, had anyone else come to Sawaiki, nor had any of her people ever left.

“Have you been to Kahiki?”

Pasikole nodded. “They’re a lot like your people.”

Uncle Kamalo would be fascinated to hear about this. For an hour she asked Pasikole an unending stream of questions about the place where her people had so long ago come from. He told of other great islands, so many islands, so very far from Sawaiki. He spoke of his home in the Westlands. Of a dozen cultures besides her own—other ways of living. And he told her there, they called the gods by other names.

At last he rose and began gathering his other clothes, casting the occasional glance her way. “You get your powers from a … god.”

She shrugged. That was the story.

“You know you’re beautiful enough to have divine blood.” He cleared his throat before she could even react to that. “Sorry. I should get back to my crew.” He scrambled away from the rocks sheltering them, and back toward the village and his ship.

Namaka lay there for a time, letting the sun warm her. He didn’t seem angry. Had she averted his wrath? Maybe she wasn’t a total failure as a Princess after all. And he thought she was beautiful. Though she’d never admit it to anyone else, part of her had almost hoped he’d demand her body as payment for her crimes. By the aumakuas, that was a foolish thought. But he was so … exotic, like some flower plucked right off the slopes of Haleakala just for her. And she did have to choose someone within the next … damn, was it only four more days now?

A chill ravaged her, making her shake despite the warm sun on her skin. The aumakuas, her ancestor’s ghosts, might think her a foolish child for being so reluctant to take a lover. Perhaps they watched her from the Ghost World, laughing at her hesitance. She wanted to be a good Princess, she truly did. But was it so much to ask that whatever lover she might take actually love her? Or, at the very least, lust after her. Did all the Princesses go through this? She had never met any other. Indeed, because each Princess remained on her own island, few ever met.

Maybe her life wasn’t fair, but it was the only one she’d been given. If no one was going to kill her today—thank Kāne and the aumakuas both for that—then she did still have to choose a mate. And maybe Pasikole was her best choice.

* * *

After a while, her stomach grumbled. She’d barely had breakfast and hadn’t eaten since. There had to still be food down in the village. Her skin was long dry, so she quickly wrapped herself in her skirt and trotted toward her family’s house.

Halfway back Hau-Pu intercepted her, holding up a hand. The man had a sizable bruise on his ribs, though his darker skin concealed it much better than the one Pasikole bore. “You took the foreign man to the Royal Beach.”

She shrugged. She’d been there with Hau-Pu in the past. It was her right to take whoever she wanted. “Is that a problem?”

The hunter frowned, then shook his head. “You’re too quick to trust the foreigners. We don’t know what they want here, why they came to this isle in the first place.”

Maybe she’d had those same thoughts. Whether or not they were true, it was shameful to speak them aloud. She waved a dismissive hand, then trod past him. “You are too suspicious, Hau-Pu.”

“Princess!”

His shout froze her in her tracks. Not because it was loud, but because it was laced with pleading, with an almost genuine fear. For her? Was it mere jealousy that prompted Hau-Pu to act like this, or did he actually think her in danger? If so, he was a fool. Pasikole was charming and kind and shy. He would never hurt her. She knew that now.

“What if he is not sent by Lono?”

Uncle Kamalo had declared the man was, had said he sensed great mana in Pasikole. He must be kupua, though she hadn’t seen evidence of any divine power. It was possible Pasikole wasn’t sent by Lono. And Hau-Pu could think anything he wanted. It didn’t mean he could say whatever came into his head. “It would be tabu for you to question the kahuna’s decree.” She didn’t look back at him as she spoke. “Have a little faith, Hau-Pu.”

“Maybe you have too much for the both of us.”

Namaka shook her head. She wasn’t going to engage in this debate. She trod back to the village without giving the hunter another glance.

7

From what Pasikole had gathered, Hiyoya had sent an emissary in the night, but not to demand a sacrifice. Hiyoya, too, was interested in Namaka, and understandably so. Her power was extraordinary enough to be a threat to any government. Not far from here, the great mer empire of Mu threatened to swallow Hiyoya as it had swallowed a dozen such kingdoms before. Still, Pasikole could not be certain of Hiyoya’s intent here, and that uncertainty remained a nagging warning in the back of his mind.

He stood near the jungle, watching his crew carving a new mast. Already they had brought down one of the local trees—strong wood, these koas—and begun shaping it. They sang a shanty as they worked, blissfully unaware of the doubt gnawing at their captain’s gut. He supposed he was lucky so few of them had bothered to learn the local language before coming here.

Inemes looked up from where she was directing the work, then stalked toward him. Like the voice of doom. He shook his head slightly. He ought not think of her so, of course. She was the best first mate he’d ever had, always looking out for the crew, always keeping things in order so he was free to pursue his studies in cartography, trigonometry, astronomy—or whatever else caught his fancy. And beyond all that, he had thought he loved her once, when she was a little older than Namaka. That hadn’t lasted. A few months together and, despite passionate nights, they both realized they’d rather be friends than lovers. At least he liked to tell himself it was a mutual decision.

“I hear you had a fine morning. Learning the local arts, huh? Was that more fun than carrying out the contract?” She spoke the Westlands tongue, so he had no worry of the Sawaikians eavesdropping on him, but still he didn’t like her tone.

“You don’t understand.”

“I bloody well do. You’ve let yourself get attached to the locals, or at least to one of them. And now you’re having second thoughts. You could have grabbed her while you two were alone. She didn’t have the dog, wereboar, or dragon then, did she? No. And instead of knocking her unconscious and escaping—”

“Knocking her unconscious? What do you think the Sawaikians would do if we attacked their Princess? Our mast isn’t even repaired yet. We won’t be ready to leave until tomorrow morning at the soonest. So what? You think I should have bloody kidnapped her and kept her in the hold between now and then? I rather suspect someone would have missed her!”

Inemes quirked her annoying, mocking smile. “So you’re not having second thoughts?”

“I …” Damn her. “Fine. All right. We made a mistake. We never should have taken the contract.”

“I seem to recall mentioning that, at the time. A little late for regrets now, though.”

“No. No, when the mast is repaired, we’ll sail around the island, finish mapping it, and then chart the rest of Sawaiki. That’s it. Make sure the crew knows the plan is off.”

She threw up her hands. “They will come after us. You know that, right?”

“The Worldsea is a big place.” He patted the pistol strapped to his hip. “And I will defend our crew if need be.”

“Please tell me you are not falling for that girl.”

Inemes left unspoken how that had worked out for him last time, with her. Pasikole waved the comment off. He wasn’t falling for anyone. These people were human beings and deserved his support, his help against the undersea powers oppressing them. And failing that, the least he could do was not sell one of them out to such a power. Doing so had seemed easier before meeting them. And now he could only try to clean up his mess and be far from here when his employers realized he’d failed them.

8

The rains came in the late afternoon, a refreshing reprieve everyone took as a signal to cease work on the ship. This time of year, it was a light, continuous drizzle that fell all through the afternoon and on toward evening. Many of the villagers returned to their huts to rest, but Namaka lay on the beach—though wrapped in her kihei—letting the rain wash over and cool her. It smelled so clean, so fresh. After spending her whole morning with Pasikole, she could almost believe there was still hope. That despite losing access to her Gift, despite all the destruction she had wrought, her life was not over, not wasted. The rain was always so cleansing like that.

Kamapua’a lounged beside her. Rather than don a kihei, he had stripped off all his clothes, claiming that laying naked in the rain was as good as bathing. “Did you know there are foreign women on Pasikole’s crew?” the wereboar asked out of nowhere. “One of them is his second-in-command.”

Namaka grunted noncommittally without opening her eyes. She had seen, but not spoken to, a small number of women. As far as she could tell, only Pasikole and a handful of his crew even spoke the language of the isles. Honestly though, she was pretty certain Kamapua’a wasn’t actually interested in speaking to the women.

“Why don’t you go introduce yourself?” Namaka said, smiling at the mental image. If they were half as shy about nudity as Pasikole, seeing the naked wereboar tromp over and introduce himself would be a show she would not want to miss.

“Good idea.”

She heard him rise and opened her eyes to watch him go, but he paused to grab his grass skirt. Shame. It might still be entertaining to watch his display, but not as much as she’d hoped before. For a moment she considered following the wereboar, then she spotted Pasikole heading her way.

Namaka sat up and brushed the wet sand from her kihei. She rose as he waved to her.

“Aren’t you cold out here?” the foreigner asked.

“Nah, I’m good,” Kamapua’a shouted as he tromped away.

Pasikole glanced at the retreating wereboar, but Namaka ignored him. “No, it’s invigorating. You’re just cold because you wear too many clothes and they get soaked.”

A flush turned his face red. Right now he wore his shirt unlaced and open, exposing his chest. Maybe he was at least learning.

Before she could say so a chant rose over the sea, shouts that sent a shudder down her spine. Drums joined the chanting as canoes drew nearer the shore.

Frozen wastes of Lua-O-Milu … had word already spread about her punishment from the mer emissary? She grabbed Pasikole’s hand and dragged him behind her, running toward the village.

“What?” Pasikole asked as he ran. “What is it? Is this another luau?”

“A war party,” Namaka shouted back at him. And she was powerless. The very power she had turned against her own people could have swamped those canoes before they landed, but she had sworn to never use her Gift again. And her people were going to die because she was useless.

Before she had come into her powers, raids had been common enough, at least one or two a year. But everyone knew she had come of age, and the raids had stopped. It was too much trouble. How had these people learned of her loss in less than a day? Was it coincidence, or had the mer actually spread the word as part of her punishment? A sudden sinking feeling coiled around her gut. Maybe this was a test from Hiyoya, to see if she would keep her vow.

As the canoes beached, the tribe’s warriors had already charged forward to meet the invaders. Hau-Pu led them, hastily applied warpaint covering his cheeks. A pale imitation of the elaborate war patterns the invaders wore. They leapt from their canoes and charged up the beach, lining up in front of the village’s warriors.

The largest of the invaders marched forward, spear over his head. He spread his feet wide and stuck his tongue out, grunting and waving his arms in a challenge. The man marched up and down the warrior lines, repeating the gesture.

“What in the endless sea is he doing?” Pasikole asked.

“Intimidating our warriors.” Namaka slowed, taking up position behind the warriors. She wasn’t trained in war arts, that wasn’t the way for Princesses. Kamapua’a, however, had taken up position and was flexing his muscles. Namaka glanced up at the sky. Her wereboar friend would be trapped in human form until the moon rose and by then, the battle would likely be over.

She had to do something. Just a little show of power to frighten them away. All she had to do was reach for the sea. To break her word and dishonor herself forever. And worse, Hiyoya would hear of it, whether or not this was a test. The devastation they could wreak on her village far outstripped anything the invaders might do. Raiders would kill a few, maybe take captives, steal goods and food. But the mer emissary might well destroy her entire people in retribution for her broken oath. She could not take that chance.

As the invading warrior stepped back into his line, Hau-Pu stepped forward, repeating the man’s demonstration. He stuck out his tongue, grunted, and shouted, then beat his chest. A shout rang out among her people.

Namaka glanced back at Pasikole as he put a hand on her shoulder, scowling deeply. He stepped in front of her, positioning himself between the battle and her.

A final shout went up from both lines, and like the breaking of a wave they exploded into motion, crashing into one another. Namaka cringed as the first blood splattered the sands, but it was such chaos she couldn’t even tell who fell and which side was winning. Warriors impaled each other on spears, shoved one another into the sand. Some of the invaders broke through the village line and charged forward toward the huts.

One of the men rushed toward her and Pasikole.

The foreign captain took that metal club from his belt and pointed it at the man. She had seen him fight and maybe he could defend them, but his attacker was the size of a whale, with muscles on his muscles and tattoos covering his whole chest. She opened her mouth to shout for Kamapua’a.

And then Pasikole’s club roared like a miniature volcano, spewing smoke and fire and leaving her ears ringing.

The attacker’s momentum slowed, and he looked down at a hole that had opened in his chest. Blood rapidly poured from it, covering his tattoos. The man stared at the wound, open-mouthed as Namaka was. The entire battle had stopped at the thunderous crash of Pasikole’s power.

The wounded attacker collapsed into the sand, eyes going vacant.

Pasikole tried to pull her away, but Namaka couldn’t move, couldn’t take her eyes off the fallen warrior. This was the power Uncle Kamalo had sensed in the foreign captain? This destruction was like something only a Princess should wield. And Pasikole … he … he … what had happened? What was that club? Did it draw from Pasikole’s mana?

Using the distraction, Hau-Pu let loose another war cry and drove his spear into one of the invaders. The villagers followed his lead, and in mere moments the battle had turned and the invaders were retreating back to their canoes.

She hadn’t done anything. She, the Princess of the Valley Isle, had done nothing and they had won. Only a handful of her people had fallen. More than should have been lost, for certain, but it could have been far, far worse. Many were spared this afternoon because of the emissary of Lono. Because he had not turned his back on her people, despite her misdeeds. He had used that power to protect himself, but then, he had intentionally positioned himself in harm’s way to protect her. Why? Was that just his way, or did he feel something for her?

“Namaka!” he shouted at her, still yanking her away from the battle.

She shook herself and let him draw her back toward the huts, only pausing when they stood on the boardwalk. “What was that? Your magic?”

“What?” Pasikole held up his club. “This? My pistol.” He jabbed the unearthly thing back into the strap at his waist as though it were nothing special. Maybe it was nothing to a man sent by Lono, but it was far from that to Namaka. And to her people.

If she had ever doubted this man was divine, she’d been a fool. Before she could think better of it, she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. For a moment he looked at her in shock. Then he grabbed her around the waist—warm and strong—and pulled her close and kissed her on the mouth. She trembled from the sudden closeness, afraid of both the intimacy and the thought it would end.

“Princess!” someone shouted.

Namaka jerked away, flushed from neck to forehead. What did she have to be embarrassed about? It was just a kiss. According to kapu, she ought to have been sleeping with a man—or several—by now.

“Princess!”

This time, she turned to see Hau-Pu glaring at both her and Pasikole. The man was covered in blood, some of it his own based on the gash across his chest. A fresh scar that would only enhance the warrior’s appearance, assuming he got it treated by the kahuna in time to avoid infection. Hau-Pu had fought bravely, had been the first into the fray. And she knew, of course, that he had thought to claim her. A few days ago, she would have thought she wanted the same thing. Or had she merely seen him as the most attractive of her limited choices? Did he … could he even love her, knowing what she was? Could any villager, any Sawaikian love her as a person knowing what she represented, and knowing duty bound her to take them to her bed?

But Pasikole was different. He wasn’t Sawaikian, didn’t seem to even understand kapu. Yet he still desired her, still courted her.

Maybe it was unfair to Hau-Pu, who had only ever treated her with honor, courted her properly. And now she was kissing his rival. But around Pasikole, her stomach was filled with delightful rumbles and her soul sang like a chorus of larks. He was entrancing and exotic and, like her, filled with mana, maybe enough he had no need to siphon off her.

And the sudden, profound sadness in Hau-Pu’s eyes told her. He knew. He could see the way she now felt about the foreigner. Hau-Pu frowned and spun around, then stormed off. Did she wrong him? She had to follow her heart, didn’t she? To try to find some small measure of life and happiness for herself within the bounds of kapu.

She pulled free of Pasikole’s grip and drew him back toward the aftermath of the battle. A handful of her people were dead, and even as she approached, Kamalo began to sing the mourning chant. So sorrowful it froze her in place. Others of the village took up the song and Namaka joined in as well, conscious of Pasikole staring silent by her side. The kahuna’s song would send the ghosts of the slain away from the Earth, on toward Lua-O-Milu lest they linger and become Nightmarchers.

Warriors built pyres for each of the fallen while Namaka and the others sang. She saw no sign of Hau-Pu. She had not meant to hurt him, but if he failed to attend the funeral, he failed in kapu. He dishonored his ancestors and those who had fallen to protect this village.

The kahuna lit each pyre in turn and soon acrid smoke stung her eyes and lungs. Still she sang. These people would not have died if she’d been able to use her Gift. Sure, Hamoa Village had protected itself, but the raiders would probably have never even come here if they hadn’t heard she had effectively lost her powers. Where had they come from? The Big Island, probably. That was the only inhabited island close enough to their village for this. People had died because of Hiyoya’s decree. She had given her word to the mer emissary to never call upon that part of herself again.

At last the songs died out and still the fires burned. Pasikole’s hand slipped into her own, warm and timid, almost like he was afraid to touch her. His weapon, his pistol could kill a man with no effort. And still he seemed shy around her. He was a contradiction.

Those closest to the fallen would take their ashes out to the sea, paddle out on their surfboards and say their final farewells. There were very few people in the village Namaka could claim to be close to. Probably most of the villagers wouldn’t even want her there for those final ceremonies. A reminder of her failures, of her uselessness.

She pulled her hand free from Pasikole’s. “I’m sorry. I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She started toward the forest, only glancing over her shoulder as she reached the treeline. Pasikole still stood in the same spot, watching her.

* * *

With a sigh, Namaka made her way back through the forest, darting around overgrown bushes and ducking under vines, working her way back up to the cave. Her heart begged her to call her Gift, to draw solace from the river. And she could not.

Instead, she climbed up to the cave. Moela met her at the mouth of it, and she reflexively stroked the dog’s ears. Then she sank down to watch the waterfall. The waters called to her, pleaded to be a part of her. She would never be whole again without them. Water was in her very soul.

Moela lay his head in her lap and she pet him. Damn it. Even the dog reminded her of Hau-Pu, of the generosity he’d tried to show her. And she had broken the man’s heart—she’d seen it on his face.

“There was a battle,” Mo-O said from the back of the cave.

“Raiders. I’m sure Kamapua’a will tell you all about it.”

Perhaps the dragon could hear the reticence in her voice, because she did not press the issue.

* * *

Some time later, she wasn’t certain how much, Kamapua’a came tromping up the rocks back into the cave. He looked down at her, rubbed his belly, and grinned. “I can almost feel the mana from their leader.”

Namaka sighed. “You ate him?”

“All the warriors did. We offered Pasikole a piece—I mean he sure helped—but he seemed to be feeling a bit queasy. Oh, and I heard you kissed him!”

Namaka stroked Moela’s head, not answering.

“I bet that was fun. So … did you ride his surfboard when you two went down to the Royal Beach?”

“He doesn’t have a board, so I let him borrow my father’s.”

“Uh … well that’s all kinds of odd.”

Namaka flinched when she realized what he’d meant. “Dark gods of the Ghost World, Pigman! You are—”

“I know. I try. Seriously though? You, Pasikole?”

“No!” Not that she hadn’t wanted to. Did she love him? How could she not? Maybe he was her destiny all along. Maybe Lono had truly sent him here for her. She shook her head at her own foolishness. Hadn’t she sworn off childish fancy?

Kamapua’a sat down beside her, rubbed his nose, and stared at the waterfall before speaking. “You like him, huh? I mean, like more than lust. I know lust—I’ve got a boar running about in my soul.”

“And how many lovers have you had?” She’d never asked him before, never really wanted to know.

“Uh. Lost track. Twenty-five maybe?”

Namaka grunted. It was fewer than she’d expected, and still, somehow more. A confirmation that her best friend knew all about things she was still afraid of.

Kamapua’a sighed. “Namaka, I, uh … I can’t say I know exactly how you feel. But it kind of seems like you’re so desperate for someone to love you that you blind yourself. Love isn’t meant for people like us.”

Namaka lay back on the cave floor. Kamapua’a, vulgar and childish, might have a point. But her heart had made its decision. And maybe that was the first decision in her whole life that was her own. Kapu demanded she take a mate. Well then, she would take one of her choosing and damn expectations. She would take Pasikole as a lover and then … then the others. Maybe her Gift was lost to her, but she still had to do what she could for her people.

And still, she lay awake for hours, wondering what Kamapua’a had meant, saying she blinded herself. It was nonsense. The wereboar wasn’t given to insight or wisdom. He was right—he had no idea how she felt.

Day IV

9

Namaka rose late, exhausted from the past night. The sun was already up when she rolled over to face it. For a moment she lay there, drinking in its rays. Then it hit her. Pasikole. A smile crept over her face. His men would be out hunting more lumber today, but the captain might be free. Maybe they could go surfing again, or canoeing, or she could even take him on a hike to the Sacred Pools. A chance to spend some real time with him, away from the village.

The Pools would be the perfect place to take her lover.

Namaka stretched, then pushed herself off her straw mat. Immediately Moela rose and licked her face, tail wagging like a reed in a typhoon.

“All right, all right.” She nuzzled his wet nose.

Mo-O wasn’t in the cave. Probably the dragon had gone out to gather something for breakfast. Which meant she could be back with a bushel of bananas in mere moments or could be gone practically forever hunting fish. Who knew with her?

“Morning, Pigman,” Namaka called.

Kamapua’a grunted, barely acknowledging her. He did like to sleep in.

Hands behind her back, humming loudly, she strolled over to him. “I’m going to mate with Pasikole.”

“Ugh. Let me know how it goes.”

Lazy pig. She shrugged. If he wanted to sleep his whole life away, that was his problem. She had places to be.

“Come on, Moela,” she called.

The dog immediately perked up. Today was a special day—she could hardly ask him to stay in the cave, after all.

“Yeah, come on.” She cocked her head toward the mouth of the cave. Moela dashed off, barking happily.

* * *

She took a leisurely route toward the village, the dog rushing ahead, then doubling back to check on her a half dozen times. She’d be able to get breakfast there. Chances were good her mother would have something leftover she could snack on.

Before she even reached the beach, Hau-Pu stepped out from behind a tree, blocking her path. His sudden appearance froze her in place, and the look of fury on his face left her breathless. The poor man was going to have his heart broken, but what could she do? She had given hers away already. Maybe, one day, she would choose him too. Would hearing that comfort or enrage the man?

He grabbed her wrist before she could think of what to say. “Come with me, Princess.”

What was he up to now? She started to shake her head, but he dragged her behind him without another glance. What in the endless sea was the man thinking?

“If you think you can win me by …”

One of Pasikole’s men lay bound to a banyan tree, his face beaten bloody. A pile of discarded lumber lay nearby, so she could guess what he’d been doing this deep in the forest.

“What have you done?”

“This one speaks our language. A little. He had answers.”

“What have you done!” Namaka rushed to the white man’s side and began untying him.

Despite her efforts, the foreigner looked at her with stark terror in his eyes. Kāne, Hau-Pu was going to ruin everything. She had gotten Pasikole to forgive her for her accident with the sea, but this … this was no accident. A member of her village had attacked one of his crew, and after he had fought for them during last night’s raid.

“What in Milu’s vile domain were you thinking?” she demanded of Hau-Pu.

“Listen to me, Princess. I knew they were up to no good.” He pointed an accusing finger at the man. “He confirmed it. You never asked why they came here, why they chose our village. They came for you, for your power.”

His words, spoke with such certainty, chilled her heart. There was no way. It wasn’t true. “N-no. Damn it, you beat him senseless. He’d have said anything to make it stop.”

“Princess—”

“No!”

It was impossible. Pasikole was a good man. He’d seemed kind. He’d not known about kapu or the tabus or anything of the things he should have known. But did that mean he could not have heard of her Gift, even in his far away Westlands?

“I will prove it you,” Hau-Pu said, then dashed off before she could form a response.

Stunned, Namaka stood, gaping at the bloody white man. Damn it. For a heartbeat she considered freeing the prisoner, but … Whatever Hau-Pu was about to do was likely to stir up a maelstrom of trouble.

She chased after him, out of the forest and into the village. “Hau-Pu!”

She was among the most athletic girls in the village, but she had no chance to catch him before the warrior had rushed up to Pasikole at the water’s edge.

“Ghostfucker! Deceiver! You came to take our Princess away! I heard it from your own man.”

Pasikole reeled as if struck and Hau-Pu kept running at him. And then the captain was drawing that pistol from his waist. Everything slowed. She tried to open her mouth, to shout a warning, but it came out as only a squeak. A sound muffled by the deafening roar of the captain’s weapon.

Hau-Pu jerked to a sudden stop, took another step forward, then looked down at his chest. Blood blossomed from it like a flower. Namaka’s hand went to her mouth as the warrior stared at his wound for an instant. Then he slumped onto the beach.

“No!” she shrieked, then dashed to Hau-Pu’s side. Moela was there too, licking the man’s face where it had fallen in the sand.

“Betrayer …” Hau-Pu mumbled, apparently still trying to attack Pasikole.

“Namaka,” Pasikole said.

“You attacked him.” Her voice shook and she didn’t look back at the captain. Three days ago she thought she was going to take Hau-Pu as a lover. He’d made every effort to win her and she doubted him because … because she feared he just wanted her mana like everyone else. Everyone else. Even Pasikole? Wasn’t that what Hau-Pu was trying to say?

Moela had begun to bark, but she couldn’t focus on that, on anything but the man dying in the sand. Maybe he’d meant to call her betrayer. She had betrayed him, after all. Betrayed him and all her village to love a foreigner, to try to choose a man who … who she thought was different from all the others. That was what Kamapua’a had meant. She blinded herself because she was so desperate to be more than a source of mana. And could it be true? Could Pasikole have really come here intent on stealing her away?

Somehow, she couldn’t force the thought from her mind. It wiggled through her thoughts like the roots of a banyan splitting rocky soil.

Hau-Pu laced his fingers in hers, or tried, but his hand trembled like he could barely lift it.

“Come on,” Namaka said. “Come on, you’re going to be fine. I’m sure Kamalo is already on the way and he …”

Hau-Pu’s eyes glazed over and his grip went slack.

This wasn’t real. It was some nightmare born from a fever.

Tears streaming down her face told her she was lying to herself.

“Namaka,” Pasikole said again, voice terse. His damn hand on her shoulder.

Had Hau-Pu been right? Was this ghostfucker really her enemy? The one who had murdered the finest warrior in their village. Kāne help her.

Namaka screamed wordlessly, rocking back and forth. Kāne, please let it all be a dream.

“Namaka!” Pasikole shouted.

“I thought I loved you.” She spun when his hand jerked away from her shoulder, spun and saw what he had been shouting about.

The sea had answered her fear and pain and rage, answered, and it was coming to her. The ocean lashed one way and another, like some god shook it in a mighty gourd. Waves swept over the boardwalk and crushed it, tore it to splinters and driftwood, smashing half the houses in the village. The wave broke over them, leaving nothing but merciless sea in its wake, stealing homes and lives and hope.

She screamed, her terror whipping the sea into further frenzy. Even where she sat, several dozen paces from the water’s edge, sea spray fell over her. It slammed into the shore and swept up villagers and Pasikole’s men, carried off canoes and fishing nets and dogs who could not run fast enough. And she could not stop screaming. Waves tossed Pasikole’s ship about like a toy, but Namaka did not stay to watch its fate.

She had to get away from the sea while there was still something left of her people. She had to be gone from them and from this forever. Sobbing, she dashed from the beach and back into the jungle, Moela at her heels. She ran and ran.

But no matter how far she ran, she still heard the screams of her people, her victims. Those who drowned because she had, for a moment, dared follow her heart as it led her astray.

* * *

It should have been her to die.

If Pasikole and his crew had only come to the Valley Isle to take her, then in a way, she had brought them. She was responsible for all the death and devastation. And she should have died for it. Maybe the only thing to do was to go back, take her own life, and let the tribe consume her mana.

Moela lay his head in her lap as she sat on some mountainside, looking out at the sea so very far below. Even up here, she could feel it calling to her. Damning her. If some part of Kū was inside her, that part was a curse. Kū had been one of the wicked gods cast into the underworld. Kāne had flooded all the Earth to cleanse it of those gods. Mo-O had drilled that into her since she had first come to live in the damn cave, but Namaka had never once considered what it meant. Had the old dragon been trying to tell her all this time? Trying to tell her that she had wickedness, vileness coursing through her? That the source of all her mana, all her power, was not a blessing. But the blood of a dark god.

If she died out here, alone, the tribe might not find her, might not consume her mana. Would another Princess then be born in the next generation? Would it even be a bad thing if one was not? Maybe that’s what would have happened if Pasikole had taken her away from the Valley Isle. The end of the cycle. But it would only end on this island. The other six would have their Princesses, and the Valley Isle would be left unprotected against raids like the one they had suffered last night.

No, whatever the source of her power, her people needed that to protect themselves. So she had to go back to them and kill herself. More tears ran down her cheeks. She didn’t want to die. She was only seventeen years old. Her life shouldn’t have even been quite half over. She wiped her eyes. Look at her, blubbering here like a child when people were dead because of her. Again. Again she had failed the whole damn clan.

Her dog whimpered without rising, and she ran her fingers over his ears.

“You’d miss me, right?”

She sighed and lay her head against Moela’s. Maybe she should give the village a few days to calm down before she returned. A slight chuckle escaped her. Right, that was the reason for delaying. Because it would be so much easier to accept her death tomorrow or the next day.

Moela stirred beneath her, perhaps sensing her distress. Or someone else—a moment later she heard heavy footfalls climbing up the slope. Namaka lifted her head to watch Kamapua’a hiking toward her.

The man huffed and panted emphatically once he stood beside her. Given his supernatural endurance, that had to be just for show.

“How did you find me?”

“A boar’s snout never lies.”

Namaka nodded, then stared out at the sea.

After a moment, Kam sank down beside her. “So. That was impressive. You’re getting stronger.”

Namaka snorted. That was what he had to say about her destroying their village? “If I asked you to … kill me … would you do it?”

“Shit no! What in Lua-O-Milu is wrong with you? Kill you? Pshhh. I’d kill for you, girl. You know, if it was someone I didn’t like.”

“And just how many people died in the village today?”

Kamapua’a shrugged. “Don’t know. I didn’t stick around, I came looking for you. However many it is, I doubt your death would bring even one of them back. So get that stupid pig shit out of your head.”

Namaka huffed. The wereboar had no idea what she was going through, no idea of the pressure she felt. Maybe because he didn’t understand responsibility—he never had. He did what he wanted, when he wanted, and gave no thought to the cost of his actions. What would it be like to live like that? A lot like never growing up, she supposed. She had tried to walk some line between duty, between the fate she was born to, and having her own life. And this was what had been born out of her stubbornness.

“Uh huh,” he said after a moment, staring at her face. “Not buying it? Fine, Princess.” He grabbed her arms by the elbows and hefted her to her feet. The effortlessness with which he lifted her left her fumbling for words. How easy to forget how strong the wereboar was, even in human form. He was as much kupua as her, even if his power—his curse—was so much different. The animal instincts in him always threatened to overcome him, she knew that.

“Right. Now you’re coming with me.” Keeping his grip on one of her elbows, he dragged her behind him as he began trekking across the isle.

Namaka didn’t have the energy to argue with him anymore. Besides, maybe—just maybe—he had a point. Dying wouldn’t bring anyone back. Had that just seemed like an escape, a way to avoid facing the consequences of what she had done? Kamapua’a wouldn’t have suggested that, since he didn’t believe in consequences in the first place.

* * *

They walked so long her feet and calves began to ache, and still Kamapua’a led her on and on. By then, she knew where he was going. The Sacred Pools were the only thing out this far. They had come here twice before, the first time with Mo-O when she had wanted to teach them to feel the mana in the land. The Sacred Pools were replete with it, perhaps more so than anywhere else on the Valley Isle save the volcano of Haleakala. Later, she had come here with Kam, just to bask in it.

Namaka said nothing while he led her up the rough, rocky trail to reach the top of the Sacred Pools. They climbed out to the plateau above the pools and stood looking down. A cascade of a half-dozen waterfalls poured from the mountains above, creating a series of whitewater pools before eventually crashing over the rocks to reach the sea. At high tide, the ocean joined the lowest of those pools and easily carried swimmers out to sea.

A strong wind tugged at her hair as she looked over the waters and into the ocean. It was still, still calling to her. Despite all she had done, the horror she had unleashed on those she loved, she could never resist its pull. Never.

“It always going to be there,” she mumbled.

Kamapua’a grunted, clearly understanding her. “The spirit is always in me, always trying to get me to eat and fuck and fight. Maybe all at the same time. You get used to it. Except during the full moon. When that happens—well, actually, I don’t always remember what happens then. Sometimes you gotta let the boar out of the cave.”

Namaka snorted. On either side of the pools the land rose up in hills covered with jungles so vibrant she could almost understand Kam’s unending desire to run through them. It was, after all, easier. Easier than facing her fears, easier than controlling the power raging and roiling through her soul, demanding she unleash the fury of the sea.

Already it was responding to her mood, whipping itself into greater frenzy. And beckoning her to its embrace. A steep, treacherous path led down to the rocky shore. Mo-O had warned them not to go down there. Namaka didn’t care about the danger anymore. She didn’t care about anything. All she wanted was to be as free as the wereboar.

She began the climb down, having to watch her footing on the near vertical slope.

Kam snorted. “All right, then.” And then he was tromping down the slope after her.

“Fall on me and I swear my ghost will haunt you.” The wereboar would likely survive a tumble to the rocks below, but Namaka doubted she would.

“This morning you were asking me to kill you.”

Namaka clamped her mouth shut. Damn it. She was not going to admit to being outsmarted by the pigman.

Moela barked at them from the plateau above as she wended her way down.

“Sorry boy,” she shouted up at him. “Just give me some time.”

“Since we’re the same age, don’t call me boy,” Kamapua’a said.

Namaka ignored him and jumped down the last bit of the slope. Her feet skidded on the slick rock and she slipped, landing hard on her ass and sending a jolt of pain all the way up to her jaw. For a moment she just sat there, in shock.

“Very graceful, Princess,” Kamapua’a said as he strode past her. The wereboar stripped off his grass skirt and jumped into one of the pools. “Woooo!” He splashed about then beckoned to her.

Namaka shook her head. Maybe she would swim. Maybe later. Right now the sea was calling her so profoundly, so deeply, it rumbled through her soul like the tremors before an eruption, demanding her presence. Hand on her bruised tailbone, she rose and walked to the edge of the shelf, where the ocean broke over the rocks.

It tickled her shins and toes and promised her all its secrets. Like she could dive in and forget duty and responsibility and the devastation she had caused. Forget it all and become one with the endless ocean, one with eternity. If she left everything behind, never to see Kam or her parents or Uncle Kamalo again … it would break her heart as truly as Pasikole had. He had murdered Hau-Pu for trying to expose him, expose his treachery. It should have been the foreign captain who died, but despite her rage, the thought of never seeing him again felt like trying to rip her guts out through her navel.

“I loved him,” she whispered to the ocean, as if it had the answers to soothe her heart. In a way, she had almost loved both of them. Or thought she had. Gods, she didn’t even know what love meant anymore. Kam was right—it wasn’t for people like them. Their lives were so different from ordinary people’s that comparing them was bound to end in disaster. And maybe wanting love for herself was as destructive as insisting on having a childhood had been. She should have chosen Hau-Pu. Should have fucked him a year ago and been done with it. If she had, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe her heart would not be torn to shreds by Pasikole and maybe Hau-Pu would still be alive.

Namaka sank down on the rocks, careful of her sore tailbone, then dangled her legs into the ocean and let her head fall into her hands. Had Kamapua’a brought her here to spark these revelations, to force her to admit she couldn’t escape her duty with suicide? Or did she give him too much credit? Maybe the wereboar just wanted to cheer her up with some pretty waterfalls and a brisk swim.

She snorted. Despite it all, in a way, he had done just that. Stupid Pigman.

She turned as she felt him approach behind her, then almost fell over when she recognized the mer emissary, his face a mask of rage.

“You were warned.”

“Wait!” she shouted. “I’m sorry, it was an accident.”

She scrambled to her feet and tried to back away, only to have her heel jut out over the sea. Nowhere to go. She glanced behind her. A pair of mermaids were there, watching her with glares almost as intense as the merman’s.

Moela had begun barking frantically, trying to scramble down the rocks.

“Please,” Namaka said. “Please, don’t kill me.”

She wanted to live. She wanted to live.

A feral roar erupted from behind them and Kamapua’a plowed into the emissary shoulder first, driving the pair of them off the rocks and into the sea.

“Pigman!”

Before she could do anything for him, a surge of water tossed one of the mermaids onto the rocks. In a heartbeat her tail split into legs and, though she swayed awkwardly, she rose and walked toward Namaka.

Namaka glared at the mermaid. Now they were attacking Kam because of her. Going to hurt him, of all people. “You fear my power?” She scanned the ocean but saw no sign of her only friend. “You should.”

Namaka reached out to the sea with her soul and it surged toward her, a wave crashing over her and the mermaid. The sudden tide rushed over her, blinded her, and yanked her off the rocks.

She came up sputtering, ten paces offshore, just in time to see a gasping Kamapua’a drag himself back onto the rocks. For a moment his chest heaved, then he turned to her. Namaka swam for him, against the tide, but she managed only a few strokes before an impossibly strong arm wrapped around her neck.

“Princess!”

The mermaid had her in a grip she’d never break. She called to the sea, spun it around them, but the mermaid could breathe under the ocean and all Namaka got for her trouble was a lungful of seawater. The mermaid yanked her up to the surface once again, allowing her a breath and a sight of Kam diving into the sea and swimming after them. And then a powerful beat of the mermaid’s tail carried them both far from the shore.

Her captor could swim ten times the speed of the wereboar. He’d never catch them. And all Namaka could do was gasp for one fleeting breath after another as Moela’s barks receded into the distance.

* * *

They had swum for what felt like an hour or more, though the sun had not set when at last the mermaid carried Namaka into a water-filled cave off another island. Keeping her bearings had been all but impossible, but she was pretty certain this was the Lost Isle. Nothing grew here so no one lived here. If they wanted to kill her, why bring her all the way out here? Was it to make certain her people couldn’t find her body and consume it, to try to break the cycle and destroy her mana?

The cave was a great rocky arch. Water poured in through a hole in the ceiling some five paces above, creating a waterfall that broke over a ragged boulder. Seawater filled the entire cave, so there was nowhere to stand unless she could have climbed the boulder.

“Bind her,” the merman said.

The mermaid carried her toward the boulder, where a pair of rusty manacles dangled from a massive iron ring. Did they plan to kill her here and eat her themselves? Was this some kind of torture? A slow, agonizing death by drowning when the tide came up? Whatever they thought they were doing here, she wanted no part of it.

She reached out to the sea, not caring what she unleashed at this point. She had nothing left to lose. The waters reacted like a giant had slapped them, flinging both her and the mermaid against the rock wall. Her head cracked on it and everything went black for an instant.

Her vision cleared to find the merman attaching the manacles to her hands. She struggled against him, wiggling and squirming in his grasp. The merman leaned his face close to hers then slammed her hands against the rock. Red haze filled her eyes and her cry of pain cost her another mouthful of seawater.

“The more you fight, the worse it will be.” His eyes had a tinge of ethereal green.

Her heart pounded against her ribs with such fervor she thought it might burst. If she pushed against the wall, she could keep her head above water, but she wouldn’t be able to keep that up for long. “Please don’t kill me,” she mumbled.

“Killing you would only solve the problem for a single human generation. No, your body is suffused with power. It’s time we controlled that power.” He grabbed her skirt and ripped it off her.

New fear clenched her gut. Did he intend to force himself on her? Surely he had to know he couldn’t take her mana that way. She started shaking her head, blubbering and trying to explain that mana could only be given, not taken.

For a moment his eyes showed a brief flicker of sympathy. “Nothing so vile as you think, Princess. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry it has to be this way. It’s going to hurt. The transition is just easier if you’re almost dead.”

What? What in Lua-O-Milu did that mean?

He held her gaze a moment longer, then a beat of his tail carried him to the other side of the cave. He motioned to the second mermaid—the one she had thrown against the cave was glaring at her with murder in her eyes—and the creature swam over to her.

“Drown her,” the merman said.

No. Kāne, please no. Namaka wanted to cry, to beg them not to do this. Before she could even speak, the mermaid grabbed a fistful of her hair and shoved her face under the water. Namaka struggled, flailed in her grasp. It was like trying to lift a mountain. The sea around her spun in a maelstrom, responding to her terror. She felt the mermaid brace herself with one hand on the iron ring.

She couldn’t hold her breath anymore. Her lungs were trying to burst apart.

Kāne, please!

She didn’t want to die. She wanted to live and love and make things right. To fix everything. She wanted to see her parents and her people and mourn for Hau-Pu and to curl up beside Mo-O-Inanea. Why hadn’t she just done as the dragon commanded and remained in the cave? Why had any of this …

Involuntarily, her mouth opened, bubbles escaping so quickly they blinded her. Water filled her lungs. Her body convulsed. As much as the sea was in her soul, she couldn’t breathe it. Everything began to fade around the edges, until even fear began to give way to a calm certainty. It was over.

And then something filled her along with the seawater, seeped into her gut and coiled itself around her lungs. Something cold and foreign that beat down her weakened and surrendering soul. It slithered up her throat like an eel and sank its teeth into her brain. She had thought everything finished, thought her life done. Instead, a fresh series of spasms wracked her as she flailed against the alien presence.

Her neck tore itself apart like someone had slashed it with a knife. Agony burned through the gouges. Namaka tried to scream, but only managed to force water from her lungs. And then, despite the burning, suddenly she could breathe. Air was somehow reaching her through the slits in her neck—gills. Her legs jerked together, suddenly aching like they had when she’d had growth spurts as a child—only a thousand times worse. Scales burst from her flesh even as her legs melded into a tail.

They were turning her into a mermaid. That was her punishment? To change her from kupua to a real deity?

The alien presence in her mind shoved her down, until all she could do was think, and barely that. It seized control of her body in an instant. She felt herself move, felt her extraordinary strength as she broke the rusty manacles off the boulder.

An instant later, the other mermaid was unshackling her. She broke through the surface, spitting out water and sucking in a blessed lungful of air. Despite the gills, the real air tasted fresh, had never tasted better. She stretched her arms, then cracked her neck from side to side. Or rather the spirit inside her did. That was what had happened—she’d been possessed as if by a ghost. Was that all mermaids were? Ghosts?

She could almost feel the spirit’s mental snort of derision, but the entity did not deign to offer her any direct answer.

The merman swam over and twirled his tail. “My princess.”

For a moment, Namaka thought he had addressed her. Then she felt her mouth speaking. “Ake.” The mermaid inside her was also a princess.

And then she understood. If the mermaid spirits were like the boar spirit in Kamapua’a, they could keep a human body alive much longer than normal, slow the aging process once the host had reached her prime. This Ake had claimed that to kill her would solve their problem only for a single human generation. So instead they would possess her body and thus prevent her mana from returning to the isles for … how long?

Centuries.

Had the spirit spoken to her? The voice was like a hollow echo in the back of her mind, haughty and filled with disdain at the thought of conversing with a mere human.

“Princess Nyi Rara,” Ake said, “we must hurry back to Hiyoya. In the years since your last host died, open war has engulfed the entire kingdom.”

“Lead the way,” Namaka felt her mouth say, though the words had not originated in her mind, and thus tasted odd.

At that, her body dove back beneath the sea.

10

Even boars get tired eventually. Trying to catch mermaids. Stupid mermaids. Kam huffed as he pulled himself back onto the shore near the Sacred Pools. Stupid underwater mermaids. Swimming with their stupid underwater tails.

Moela raced over to his side the moment Kam exited the water. Poor dog had probably been dashing around the shore this whole time, just as upset as Kam about Namaka. Where had those fish people taken her? If they hurt Namaka he’d cook every last one of them in the imu.

Shit.

Big old pig shit.

What was he supposed to do now?

Kam scratched his beard. Milu’s tits, what would the whole Valley Isle do without their Princess? Namaka’s presence had protected all the villagers, dissuaded the majority of raiders. Without her, they’d probably be facing more nights like last night.

He paused just long enough to snatch up his discarded skirt.

“All right, come on.” He grabbed Moela under his arm and began the climb up the slippery rock path. Humans struggled with such a climb, but he was more than human, and even carrying a wiggling dog was little challenge. “You know you wish you were half as tough as me,” he said to the dog.

Not tough enough to chase mer under the sea, though.

Stupid shitting fishy shitters.

The boar rumbled around, deep inside him, urging him to rip his enemies in half. Stomp them like poi and shred them into tiny pieces. “I have to catch them first, you stupid pig.”

His breath had already slowed by the time he crested the ridge and set Moela down. The dog immediately took off running, barking like he had a clue what they should do now. That would have made the dog about twice as smart as Kam.

Think, damn it. Think.

Ah, shit. He hated thinking up stuff. That was what Namaka was for. And Mo-O-Inanea. Dragon always knew what to do. All right. All right. It meant he needed to head back to the dragon, and in a hurry.

“Well … we’re gonna have to run, boy,” he mumbled.

Moela barked like he understood.

That was going to be a long run. He glanced up at the sky. The sun was setting. And that meant the boar could finally come out of the cave. He looked back at Moela. “Yeah. You wanna see the boar? You know you wanna see the boar.”

The dog barked.

Sure. That sounded like a yes. Kam tossed his grass skirt aside, flexed his muscles. As the moon rose, he dropped down on all fours, welcoming the pain, the change. Bones and muscles tore, shifted, as his form changed. Coarse hairs burst through his skin and he shook himself, snorting as the transformation turned him into a true boar. He jerked his snout at Moela, then took off, running through the jungle, the dog chasing after him.

11

They swam far offshore, passing a myriad of skates and rays and fish of every color as they entered into a reef. Above them a hammerhead shark swam, paying them no mind. Despite the shock of losing control of her body, this world was beautiful, this feeling of absolute power mingled with fluid grace. And to be this far down, and yet breathing, was like coming home.

You want to be a host?

Nyi Rara’s voice in her mind jolted her from her reverie. The mermaid princess had been silent so long, the whole experience had begun to feel like a dream, like watching herself behold it all. And did she want to be a mermaid? Maybe she did. To never have to go back and face Pasikole and the damage she had done to her people. Without her Gift, maybe they would be lost, but … maybe, in the long run, they’d be better off. Maybe all of Sawaiki would be better off without its Princesses, tapping into powers never meant for humans, while still bound by very human emotions.

How very insightful you are—for a human.

Or maybe it was just she was the Princess of Sea and being down here was like finding a part of herself she’d never known was missing. Being a mermaid brought her closer to the sea, and thus more in touch with her own soul—her truest self.

Nyi Rara followed Ake deeper into the reef, the other two mermaids lagging behind. Faint lights radiated from somewhere within the reef, granting them illumination despite the sun having long since set. There were buildings inside the reef, covered in coral and—at their peaks—algae. Those lights she saw, they came from windows, from homes where mer lived. She had entered into the benthic city of Hiyoya without even realizing it. Everywhere she looked, wonders abounded that a human could barely have dreamed of.

And the farther they swam, the more lights she saw, casting all of the city in a blue-green glow that seemed like something out of the Ghost World.

Perceptive, though we don’t call our native realm the Ghost World.

Namaka frowned, planning to ask what Nyi Rara meant, then started when she realized she had moved her mouth. How had that happened? She thought the mermaid spirit had taken all control from her?

A moment of weakness, host. Do not expect another. Be still.

The center of the reef opened into a great circular grove, revealing the city proper. And what a city it was—buildings of stone two, even three stories tall, carved with a precision she had never imagined. And ahead, a palace towering over the city, light pouring from its innumerable windows and great arches. This was a dream.

And the smells! As a human she had never considered that anything beneath the sea might smell. But aumakuas, she could smell the scents of a million fish, of other mer, of the coral itself. Her new form opened her up to so many sensations it was almost overwhelming.

A pod of dolphins circled far above the city, mer clinging to a few of them, like some kind of patrol. Or maybe that was exactly what it was. The mer must exert some level of control over sea animals.

Sea turtles swam above, and thousands upon thousands of fish darted in and out of crannies around the city. Hundreds of mer swam about as well, or poked their heads from windows as she passed. The mer paid no attention to the animals, save a handful of jellyfish which they avoided.

Before the palace a circular stone landing rested, surrounded by orbs radiating yellow-green light. Namaka couldn’t even think of what to call this magic.

Wisp lights.

Once again, the mermaid princess was speaking to her. One moment she acted like she disdained Namaka, the next she was conversing, explaining.

I do disdain you, human.

Wouldn’t it be easier to work together?

Namaka jerked suddenly, then twisted in wonder, having control of her body again. Her powerful, sleek new body. It was glorious—and brief as the mermaid princess hit her like a physical force, driving her back down.

How can you think such thoughts? A host must be brought under control, must be tamed like a wild dolphin, taught to serve.

Namaka tried to laugh, though no sound escaped. It wasn’t like her old life was so much better. She was a slave up there too. She existed only to serve her people. A ruler in name, but denied a life of her own. Why should this be any different? And maybe that attitude was why most hosts didn’t take to being so used—they had something they wanted to get back to. Namaka didn’t have so much left. She had her family … If they would even take her back. Hiyoya was just so much more interesting. Besides, wouldn’t both host and spirit benefit from working together, like the shifter Moon spirit in Kamapua’a?

You dare compare me to those petty animals?

It seemed the mermaid inside her was a bit touchy. It didn’t matter. This place was as good as any other.

You run from your own life.

No. She’d never had her own life. One could not run from something never experienced.

The unknown is the most basic of fears.

The landing was carved with strange designs, just regular enough they seemed to have meaning, but she could not begin to guess what.

Nyi Rara followed Ake inside the palace, and Namaka took the opportunity to ogle the divine construction, the magical lighting, and the collected treasures. Even more so, the mer themselves. Every one of them had a different tail, blue or silver or green, often a mottled match like some tropical fish. Her own was a vibrant orange like the kou flower. Did the spirit choose their tail, or was it always the same?

The mermaid princess said nothing, but Namaka could feel that she had almost spoken, had wanted to. Why was the princess so intent on treating her like an enemy? Could she not be more useful as an ally?

Symbiosis? You believe that?

Why not? If they worked together, if Nyi Rara would just give her a little freedom, let her speak and enjoy this … then the mermaid wouldn’t have to waste her energy trying to control her host. Did she really want to spend centuries, as she had put it, struggling for dominance?

For a moment, the mermaid was silent.

Amuse me, mortal.

Suddenly Namaka felt herself in control again. She jerked to a halt, then darted after Ake.

“Wow. This is amazing!”

The merman turned to look back at her. “Princess?”

“Oh! Well, she’s in here too. We’re just working out living arrangements.”

Ake frowned. Did he disapprove of her working with the mermaid? He opened his mouth, then jerked his head to the side.

Namaka followed his gaze but saw nothing but shadows. At first. Then something seemed to melt off the walls, its colors shifting—a moment ago they had perfectly matched the stonework, but now became a mottled purple color. An octopus, one as large as she was. It drew itself up close, staring at her with eyes that seemed wells of darkness sucking up light and revealing nothing of a soul within.

Namaka shuddered under its unfathomable gaze, not able to look away even as it reached one of its tendril-like arms up to her.

“A traditional he’e greeting,” Ake said. “Ambassador Punga, may I present Princess Nyi Rara.”

The he’e watched her, as if waiting for some response, and Namaka struggled not to squirm under his gaze. She had seen octopuses, but never a true he’e. After looking at the creature, feeling it staring into her, Namaka was damn glad of that.

“Not at the moment, one must imagine,” the he’e said. His voice was thick, slow, and ushered from a mouth muffled beneath all those arms, so it took Namaka a moment to realize what he’d said. And an instant more to understand he meant she wasn’t Nyi Rara at the moment.

And face to face with this strange creature, she wished she was.

As you wish.

Just like that, the mermaid was in control again, and Namaka felt herself staring back at the he’e ambassador with renewed confidence. Still his eyes gave away nothing of his thoughts, so perhaps he had them at a disadvantage, but at least she was not alone.

You were not alone before.

Nyi Rara extended her hand, mimicking the he’e greeting gesture. “You must excuse me, Ambassador. My aunt will wish to see me. We’ve waited long enough for our reunion.”

The octopus blinked as if that were some kind of answer, then slipped off into the shadows, dragged along by arms that seemed to move each of their own accord. It was like eight squirming, slithering eels, each with the ability to become all but invisible.

“That was horrifying,” she said. The words echoed aloud. Nyi Rara had released her again, just as easily.

You are not like any host before. I just wonder if …

She must wonder if she might have been more successful in the past had she worked with her hosts.

Yes.

Namaka knew what it was like to question everything about her life, to wonder at the countless mistakes she had made. The assumptions made too easily led her to … here. This moment.

The mermaid said nothing else, but Namaka could feel her there, waves of distrust and doubt intermingling. So maybe she hadn’t earned Nyi Rara’s support yet, but she would.

“The he’e have their own kingdom a few leagues south from here,” Ake said, then beckoned her to follow as he led her through the palace. “They call it their Aupuni. The ambassador has been here for over a year now. We’ve been trying to maintain diplomatic relations with the other powers in the sea. It galls us to cater to the whims of a mortal race, but the he’e are ancient and cunning. Some claim they are older than this world. With the war against Mu, we cannot risk making more enemies.”

“Your diplomacy doesn’t seem to include humans.”

Ake snorted. “Humans serve their purpose. We need bodies, after all.”

Namaka shuddered. This was what they did with their sacrifices. They didn’t eat them, they possessed them.

“And what is Mu?”

Ake paused before a mighty archway and pointed within. Nyi Rara seized control of her body and swam into a great throne room. The ceiling was massive, stretching up four stories and following the same arch shape, creating an airy grotto. Thousands of polished shells decorated the throne room, the most notable of which was the throne itself. It had perhaps been a giant conch the size of a person, but had been broken open to allow the queen to rest upon it.

And that queen had abandoned any semblance of humanity. Her skin had turned aquamarine and was covered with scale-like bubbles. Mollusks jutted from her shoulders and a seashell grew from her head. Was that what happened when a host was possessed for centuries?

We can only sustain a human body for so long. The longer we do, the more our presence in you changes your form.

Did that mean this fish creature was closer to the true form of mermaids? Was that what they looked like in their own realm?

The queen had eyes the same color as her skin, but they sparkled with faint luminosity. She raised a webbed hand and beckoned Nyi Rara closer.

The mermaid swam near the throne then twirled her tail in an intricate gesture. “Aunt Latmikaik.”

“Welcome back, niece. You have been long away from the Earth.”

“Thank you for enabling my return.”

“We needed a worthy host, of course. Dealing with the human Princess was simply a way to address two problems at once.” The queen waved a hand idly, and the water swirled about it. The same power Namaka had, used so casually, as if the queen didn’t even think on it.

All our kind have some such control.

The statement was laced with such disdain Namaka almost choked on it. What did Nyi Rara mean? That the other mermaids could control the sea, but not the way Namaka did?

We have control.

Control. Not the raw power. Namaka’s Gift must be stronger than that of the mer. Oh, how that must gall them. She, half human, wielding greater power over the seas than Water spirits.

You test my patience.

“The battle your host died in sparked a war with Mu, Nyi Rara. And these past few years have not gone as we might have hoped. Their numbers are greater and they’ve marshaled a vast army of tiger sharks. Oh, we win some engagements, for certain. But with every passing year, their domain grows. They seem to think all the seas on Earth ought to belong to them. I disagree.”

So Mu was another mer kingdom?

The next nearest kingdom to Hiyoya. Long a rival. Since they had sent many of my kind back to the Spirit Realm, I did know about the war. It is … unusual to hear my aunt speak so frankly of our losses. Hiyoya’s borders have been shrinking for centuries, but we do not speak of it. Things must grow dire indeed.

“You, niece, must rejoin the fray and lead our armies to victory. Take Ake and go to the front as soon as the sun rises. Let us see how well the Muians cope with the power you gained from your new host.”

That was why they wanted her? To fight some Milu-damned war? Were her mistakes, her crimes, mere excuses to enlist her Gift down here? Of course. What a fool she’d been—how could a mer kingdom not want access to the power to control the sea?

Nyi Rara twirled her tail again and swam from the throne room.

Do not get ahead of yourself.

What in Milu’s misty realm did that mean?

And do not invoke her name, not ever. Perhaps my people took you for their own ends. I suspect you gave them reason enough. Perhaps the very same reason you welcome me into your soul, so eager to join our world just to escape your own.

And why should she get involved in a war between mer kingdoms? What business was that of hers?

These are your people now, Namaka. Can you stand idle why they fight and die for their freedom?

Namaka sighed, blowing bubbles in frustration. She had failed the Valley Isle, sure enough. The only way Nyi Rara was going to let her have any control over her fate from now on was to embrace Hiyoya as her people as well. And Nyi Rara knew that.

In the morning, she was going to have to fight a war.

* * *

“Your grotto has been prepared, Princess,” Ake said as Namaka left the throne room. The merman hesitated however, until Namaka cocked her head. “Hinaopuhalakoa will want to see you.”

Who was that?

The keeper of the Urchin and mistress of the Art for Hiyoya. Also, Ake’s older sister.

Urchin? The Art? The only part of that Namaka understood was ‘sister.’

“Lead the way,” she felt her mouth saying.

Ake turned and guided her deep into the heart of the palace. They passed through halls winding in a maze that reminded her of the intricate reefs around the city. Actually, that was probably intentional.

What was the Art?

The study of the conjunction of the natural and the supernatural. The secret, mutable aspects of reality.

Well mahalo, that cleared everything right up.

In the most vulgar of terms, you might call it magic.

Oh. So this Hinaophualakoa was a witch.

She, or rather Nyi Rara, followed Ake until they came to a circular chamber with a gorge down its center. The merman general twirled his tail—that must have been the mer version of a bow—and Nyi Rara returned the gesture.

Then she slowly descended into the gorge. Those glowing orbs of light had illuminated the chamber above, but they barely reached into this chasm, and the deeper they dove, the darker it grew. Her eyes, she found, had become superhumanly adapted to darkness. Perhaps that was a necessity for those who swam the depths. Eventually, however, the passage grew so dark even she could make out little.

Nyi Rara began guiding herself downward with a hand on either side of the increasingly narrow gorge. Just when Namaka began to suspect they would meet the witch in total darkness, a faint glow appeared ahead, emanating from a tunnel through the gorge’s side wall.

The mermaid followed this tunnel, revealing some kind of bioluminescent algae clinging to the tunnel’s sides. The light it cast was so faint a human would have struggled to see, but Namaka’s new eyes adapted quickly.

The tunnel wound around a bend before finally opening into a chamber at least as large as the queen’s throne room had been. Maybe larger. This place, however, had the scent and taste of eternity. The chamber roof rose dozens of paces above her, but its floor—which dropped down an unseen distance beneath her—was dominated by a sea urchin so vast a whale could have impaled itself on one of the spines. Those spines were an iridescent mix of purples, reds, and blacks, a forest filling this cavern.

The creature pulsated with an unearthly light, its movements barely perceptible, but so clearly alive. Even Namaka could feel the mana wafting off it, suffusing the chamber and seeping up through the layers of rock, feeding the city above.

Nyi Rara twirled her tail at the urchin—the Urchin—and Namaka found herself unable to form any other thought save to mentally do the same. This creature was ancient, perhaps timeless. As Nyi Rara entered the chamber, the Urchin’s mana hit Namaka like a gale, threatening to blow over her mind, even as her body basked in its awesome glory. It was like drinking in pure joy, life itself. And that life was self-perpetuating, an all-consuming love of existence that seeped in through her scales and gills and pores.

So enthralled with the Urchin, she barely noticed the other woman approaching until the mermaid drew within a few paces of her. This one, like Latmikaik, was covered head to tail in scales, and they seemed to radiate a faint bioluminescence of their own. Her hair flew about the chamber wild, unkempt, seeming almost forgotten. Probably it was, given the wide-eyed look this mermaid had. Her hands were totally webbed, ending in claws, and massive fins sprouted from her side. An ancient mermaid, become more spirit than human.

Nyi Rara twirled her tail again. “Hinaophualakoa. You asked for me.”

“It has been too long, young one.” The witch smirked as if looking at something beyond sight, beyond the understanding of mere mortals.

I am not a mortal.

Maybe not, but Namaka suspected not even Nyi Rara knew the secrets—or madness—the witch had glimpsed. That was it, wasn’t it? Humans thought spirits all powerful. Compared to mankind, she supposed they were. But they didn’t know everything about the universe either. No, even among their kind, some studied … the Art. Some knew more than others.

The witch placed a hand on Namaka’s face, then clucked her tongue. “Strong host. Willful, hopeful … unbroken.”

“The strangest host I’ve ever taken.”

“Perhaps your most valuable. The Urchin will speak to you, I think.”

It could speak?

Not in words. Be still.

Namaka felt Nyi Rara blow a breath out through her gills, as if steadying herself for an ordeal. Then the mermaid swam closer to the Urchin, circling it. With each pass, she drew a pace or so nearer those spines. As Nyi Rara did so, the Urchin moved, twitching its spines ever so slightly. Namaka’s eye fixed not on the spines, but on the pulsating body behind them.

Falling. Crashing like a wave that never broke. Vertigo consumed her, but she could not look away, could not let go for a single moment. Indeed, it was a kind of rapture embracing her body and soul, one that might let her fall forever and be at peace with that.

And through the fall, her mind was somewhere else. A thousand places, each like the last fading instant of a dream before waking. Ephemeral and hard to make sense of. Even harder to hold onto.

A settlement, a free-floating boardwalk, with buildings unlike the huts of her people. And Pasikole, walking there, torn somehow between two dark choices. The image slipped through her fingers to reveal other mer kingdoms. Mu, perhaps, three times the size and glory of Hiyoya, and ruled by a great king.

And more, volcanic fires erupting over the islands, and snow-capped mountains. The crash of thunder. And death. A thousand funeral lanterns as her people slowly slipped from the Earth. A man made of blood, slipping from island to island.

In utter darkness, eyes, massive, a form. A he’e, waiting like an answer to unspoken questions. Caverns beneath the ocean, crevices where the he’e made their lairs.

And she was on land, somewhere. The sea answered her call, becoming like a dancing volcano upon the waves, streaming through ribbons of joy.

Nyi Rara collided with the wall, shattering the torrent of visions and scraping her shoulder. Dazed, she drifted free until the witch caught her and pulled her back toward the entrance.

“What did you see?”

“I don’t know,” Namaka said. She was in control, like the barrage of sensations had beaten Nyi Rara down. “What was that?”

“Host. Interesting. You are strong. The Urchin can sometimes spark a glimpse of the Sight, even in those not inherently blessed with it. It is connected to all the Worldsea, pulsing with its life.”

“I saw … too many things.” Already, most had begun to slip from her grasp. She tried to hold on to any given vision, but the more she tried to recall them, the hazier they became. One blended into the next.

“Perhaps you saw things that have been, or things that are, or even … some things that one day will be.”

“I saw the future?”

“Anything is possible, though that is the rarest of visions.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t understand any of it.”

The witch shrugged, a surprisingly human gesture in her immensely inhuman form. “Not now. The Urchin’s mind, if we are to even call it that, does not think like a human, or even a mer’s, mind. You may one day be able to glean something useful from that glimpse of its thoughts.”

Before she could ask anything else, Nyi Rara reasserted control over her body.

The witch seemed to recognize that, and nodded. “You must be tired.”

Indeed, Namaka was exhausted, like the visions had beaten her senseless. Even the spirit inside her seemed fatigued, drawn out.

With a last tail twirl, Nyi Rara fled the Urchin’s chamber.

* * *

Ake led her to her personal grotto.

“Your sister is fascinating,” Namaka said when they reached the room.

The grotto was decorated with beautiful seashells and featured a circular hole in the ceiling to let in moonlight. The moment she saw it, a profound sense of being home washed over her, as though her human life had been a dream, separating her soul from its true place.

Nyi Rara appeared to be resting, for she had relinquished control and said nothing.

Ake must have taken her comment as an invitation to follow her into the grotto. “You are the host.”

“I am. Or maybe she’s my host.”

Ake gnashed shark-like teeth, as if unable to form a response to that. After a moment of awkward silence, he shook his head. “You should rest. Your body and mind will need to be strong for tomorrow.”

Namaka sighed and settled down on a bed of kelp gathered in a rock alcove. It was soft and a bit slimy, but felt cool against her skin. All she wanted to do was shut her eyes and dive back into the dream the Urchin had showed her.

“What does she do here?” she asked. “Your sister, I mean.”

Ake had already turned away, but now looked over his shoulder. “Advises the queen, watches over the Urchin. She is the Lorekeeper of Hiyoya.”

“I saw … this village, floating on the ocean. A village of white-skinned foreigners.”

“There are many kinds of humans. You can ask Hinaopuhalakoa about the village tomorrow, after we return.” He hesitated then. “Nyi Rara?”

Without warning Namaka’s insides constricted and she felt herself forced down, control taken from her.

He wishes to speak to me, mortal.

Namaka glowered inside herself.

“I’m here, Ake.”

The merman turned back, swam a little closer. “Why are you doing this?”

“Allowing the human some freedom?”

He nodded.

Namaka felt her body sigh—unnerving given the subtle gesture had not originated in her own mind. “At first this girl simply intrigued me. After that … the Urchin showed me things.”

Now that was interesting. What had the Urchin showed the mermaid? She seemed to be implying it had somehow prompted her toward a partnership with Namaka.

Be still. Be silent.

At Nyi Rara’s words, Ake’s face had creased. “Are you certain you know what you’re doing?”

Nyi Rara made no immediate answer. Oh. She wasn’t certain at all.

A flush of irritation struck her, but Nyi Rara made no other answer.

“You were missed, Princess. Now you’re finally back … I just hope you’re not making a mistake with this human. The people would not understand.”

Nyi Rara nodded. “Goodnight, General.”

Day V

12

Kam had grabbed another skirt from the cave while he sat, telling Mo-O all about the stupid fish people taking Namaka. Poor Moela had collapsed from exhaustion, barely seeming to have the strength to drink from the river below the cave. He’d run the dog too hard. Must have, because Kam himself was hungry enough to eat a whale. Not that he would—whales were pretty amazing. No, but he’d happily eat a merman. Or a whale-sized merman.

“So,” he began, mouth full of banana—the only damn thing Mo-O had to eat here. “What do you think they want with her?” Bits of banana dribbled out of his mouth as he spoke. Fortunately, one thing the dragon did not chide him for was eating manners. Manners were for people with too much time on their hands. Shit, how do we fill our day? Sure, let’s take twice as long to get anything done and call it proper behavior. Eat slowly, don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s rude to try to snack in the middle of sex. Stupid rules.

The dragon sighed, setting the cave rumbling like the aftershocks of an earthquake. Mo-O always seemed so tired, so drawn out. Once, he had mentioned being sad that they would outlive Namaka. Mo-O had told him—out of earshot of the girl, of course—that her life was nearing its end as well. That one day, she would be gone, and he would have to be able to manage on his own.

Well shit on that. He needed Mo-O and he needed Namaka. They were his best family.

“I suspect the same thing they do with all their sacrifices,” the dragon said at last.

“What, eat them?”

“No. Mer people would only eat a human if enraged or starving. They are like the Moon spirit inside you. Beings from a reality unlike this one. To exist here, they need hosts. But unlike the boar inside you, Kamapua’a, they don’t like to share the bodies they take.”

“Huh. Wait! Why didn’t you tell people this shit before?”

The dragon shut her eyes as if exhausted again. Kam drummed his fingers on the cave floor until she opened them and spoke. “The mer kingdoms rule the world. They prefer their secrets and … it would only trouble humans to learn their lost loved ones were being so used. It is the reality of the Worldsea.”

“Well that’s shit. If they think they can mermaidize Namaka, they’ve got another think coming.”

“What are you going to do? Swim down and punish them? Their kingdom is leagues offshore and nearly seventy paces underwater.”

Kam folded his arms and frowned at the stupid dragon. Always messing up his plans with stupid logic and shit. “Fine. Fine. Then I … I’ll get help from my mother!”

The dragon shook her head and lay down, ear to the ground.

She called that listening to the Earth. He was pretty sure it actually just meant taking a damn nap. Kam didn’t have time for that. If Mo-O wasn’t going to do something, he’d find someone who would.

He trudged down from the cave, sore from the run and desperately needing some sleep himself. And the moment he passed Moela, the dog was at his heels again. Yeah. They needed to find their girl no matter what it took.

So maybe Kam’s mother had never had time for him. And his father had handed him off to Kamalo the first chance he got. That just meant the old kahuna would know where to find his absent mother. She was a Princess. She must have some way to combat the fish people.

And Kam was going to find it.

13

Hundreds of mer soldiers swam before Namaka, leading the way to the front lines, while she hung back with Ake. It felt like they’d been swimming the whole damn day, and yet her new body still had the endurance to keep going.

“Everyone is praying you have enough control over the host’s power to turn the course of the war,” Ake said. The merman was now armed with a trident and it jutted out behind him as he swam forward. The weapon appeared to be metal, and well-wrought with elaborate barbs. But how did the mer people forge metal weapons underwater?

We trade with humans.

Oh. Well, that had been a stupid question.

Ake glanced at her and she realized she hadn’t answered his implied question.

“I am the host, thank you very much.”

Ake quickly looked away, but she’d have sworn he rolled his eyes. Who did he think he was, doubting his princess’s right to let another princess control her own body? Here she was, two princesses wrapped in one, and this boy was treating her like she needed his approval.

Boy? You realize he’s ten times my age, that his spirit has been around almost since the Earth was flooded two thousand years ago?

“Holy ghostfucker,” Namaka said.

Ake glanced at her again, eyebrow raised.

“Exactly how old are you, Ake?”

“Human, that is a rather rude question.”

Namaka shrugged. “I would argue that kidnapping me, tearing off my clothes, and drowning me was kind of rude too. The way I see it, you’re probably ahead on that front.”

“I was following the orders of my queen.”

“Uh huh.” Namaka fell silent a moment to bask in the glorious undersea realm. “Is it really true what the kahuna say, about Kāne flooding the Earth to punish the wicked gods? I mean there really used to be more land?”

Ake uttered a long-suffering sigh, then looked at her, some internal debate going on behind his blue-green eyes. “The elders say the Earth was once much less hospitable, yes.”

Less hospitable? Namaka snorted. What a perspective these mer had.

And you think your perspective more neutral, to assume a world with more land is more suitable for life? There are twenty times more species living beneath the waves than above them.

“Huh.”

You are one of us now. Learn to think like a mer.

She swam beside him for a time. Wherever this battle was, it was damn far. They had to have swum thirty leagues or more already. Why did they even care about something happening so far away?

If you don’t want to be addressed as a child, do not act like one.

Namaka stuck her tongue out, immediately tasting the salt in the water and a dozen other strange, intoxicating flavors. Her stomach growled. Kāne, she was hungry.

Then eat.

Eat what?

Control slipped from her and a beat of her tail carried her off course, crashing into a school of fish. Her hand snapped out and caught one with uncanny reflexes. Nyi Rara stuck the whole fish in her mouth and bit down. The moment of revulsion that filled Namaka fled as succulent flesh and blood poured down her throat. A few bites had shredded the fish. Of course. She had shark teeth too.

Of course you do. They descend when you need them.

Nyi Rara released her and she darted back after Ake. “Sorry. I was hungry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

Namaka shrugged. No human inhibitions at all? Did that mean …? “Fine. I have a question for you, Ake. Kamapua’a calls it the ‘mermaid problem.’ So when you feel the need to—”

If you ask him how we have sex I will take control of your body away from you.

All right then.

The tails are for convenience, speed, and warmth. We can take human legs any time we desire.

Now that hadn’t been so hard, had it? She forced such thoughts from her mind.

The merman general had been slowly increasing his pace, as if eager to catch his soldiers for some reason.

“What’s wrong?”

“I expected scouts to report back to us by now.”

Namaka frowned. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”

Everything now was so fascinating, so new. This whole other life—another world—had opened before her and she didn’t even know where to begin. She could swim faster than she ever thought possible, explore a realm of strange beauty with no limits or borders.

You are the strangest host I have ever had.

A strange sensation of jealousy filled her. Just how many hosts had Nyi Rara had before her? Was it odd that she felt possessive of the spirit inside her?

Very odd. Most hosts are horrified, writhing in their impotence as a spirit enslaves their bodies.

Well, put like that it did sound horrifying. But it didn’t have to be like that, was not going to be that way. Nyi Rara was hers now.

I am not a puppy, human. I am possessing your body.

“Awww, that’s a cute little mermaid,” Namaka mumbled under her breath.

Water carried the sound farther than she expected, and Ake turned to her. Before he could speak though, he pulled up short behind the soldiers, looking again in their direction. And he sniffed.

Actually, she did smell something. What was that scent? Like a tangy flavor tickling her senses, calling her …

Blood.

Wait, so she could smell blood? Sharks and mer must have been more closely related than she’d thought.

Ake frowned, then took off with renewed speed, darting past the other soldiers. Namaka followed, wending her way among scowling, cursing, or muttering mer. The blood scent had carried a long way, and they had to swim perhaps another half league before they saw its source.

Hundreds of mer floated dead in the water, torn apart by a feeding frenzy of sharks. Tiger sharks, hammerheads, gray reefs—all had gathered to gorge themselves on the bloody feast. A severed arm floated in front of the mess, before a tiger shark spun with surprising agility and snatched it up.

Namaka’s stomach lurched, then she belched out bits of half-digested fish.

This had been a massacre, more death than she had ever seen in one place. Numbers would be impossible to guess. But they weren’t really dead mer—they were dead human hosts. All those people, taken against their will, made slaves to fight in a war they knew nothing of.

“Our army,” Ake said. “We’re too late. They must have been ambushed by the Muians.”

It seemed the whole sea was a blur of red waters and guts and swarming sharks. How could one determine who these victims had been?

Because if any had survived, we would have met them on the way here.

Kāne, she had just found a new people. And now this. Again her people died in droves and she was helpless to stop it. For all her power she was nothing, had never been able to do one damn bit of good with it.

The waters around her began to swirl, and Namaka screamed. A sudden current scattered the sharks and sent bloody remains of mer spiraling in a whirlpool. So much beauty down here. And so much death. Everywhere she went—death.

The sea tugged at her as the whirlpool grew. Soldiers were shouting, Ake was shouting. None of it mattered.

Stop it!

But she couldn’t stop anything. She had never been able to control it.

Her chest suddenly constricted, like a clam had snapped shut around her. And then warmth seeped through her limbs, pulsed through her veins, much as it had when Nyi Rara had first taken hold of her. Except this was not cold, and not quite alien. It was like someone there with her … holding her hand.

You can control it.

Her hands rose of their own accord, reached out before her and touched the sea. The mana in her soul surged, driving the sea to calm, and for a brief instant she felt control like she had never known. A single heartbeat of perfect discipline. And then it fled, even as the whirlpool spun itself out and the sea returned to normal.

Namaka panted, suddenly feeling weak, exhausted even, and unable to keep herself steady in the current. She faltered and Ake caught her.

Her mermaid had helped her.

“Mahalo,” she mumbled to the spirit within. No answer was forthcoming. “Nyi Rara?” What had happened to her mermaid? Why wasn’t she answering? Could she have hurt Nyi Rara too? Kāne, please don’t let that be the case. She twisted around in Ake’s arms, eyes wide as she stared into his.

Confusion, and then something else—perhaps compassion—graced his features, and he touched a webbed hand to her cheek. “She is probably resting. All mer have some ability to control the sea, and the strongest and oldest have greater power. But she is not used to coupling that power with a host’s own. Humans don’t usually have Gifts, after all.”

Namaka swallowed and nodded slowly. Humans weren’t meant to have powers at all. She was kupua and, one might argue, the kind of being who should not exist. Now she was kupua and a mermaid.

“So you don’t think I hurt her?” she asked after a moment.

Ake smiled awkwardly, as if uncertain what to make of her concern for Nyi Rara. Namaka got it—everyone expected her to hate the spirit for possessing her, for taking away any measure of control or sense of self. But she didn’t have control in the first place, wasn’t certain she had anything she ever wanted to go back to. She was a slave to her people. At least down here, she was a slave in a glorious undersea kingdom. A slave, slowly being accepted as a partner.

“A spirit completely drained might be forced back to the Spirit Realm. If that had happened, you would have reverted to human form and drowned. Since you still have that beautiful tail, I can surmise she’ll recover soon.”

Namaka sighed, trying to relax, then realized she was still in Ake’s arms and wiggled her way free. “I-I think I’m fine to swim on my own now.” He had called her tail beautiful. It was gorgeous, vibrant as the burning sky right after an eruption.

“We have to get back to Hiyoya. Queen Latmikaik needs to know of our failure.”

That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t their failure, they hadn’t even gotten to fight. But if what had happened with her power was any indication, maybe she wasn’t ready to fight anyway. Merely controlling Namaka’s power, stopping it from running wild, had taken so much out of Nyi Rara the mermaid had fallen unconscious or into some sort of dormancy. How could she hope to accomplish anything useful with her Gift like this?

Ake ordered the other soldiers back, and Namaka swam behind them. Why hadn’t she tried harder to heed Mo-O’s lessons? To master the power that was her legacy?

And now it might be too late. Now all she could do was pray Nyi Rara was up to doing Namaka’s duty for her.

14

The Startracer had suffered additional damage after Namaka’s retribution against him, however unintentional it had been. Damage that meant it would take Pasikole at least another day before they could depart. Not that he didn’t deserve her rage this time. He had killed that man, Hau-Pu. He hadn’t meant to, hadn’t wanted things to go so far awry. But the warrior had had murder in his eyes, and after their last encounter, instinct had taken over. Pasikole had been a soldier, and, facing an imminent threat, he had defended himself.

But because of that, it had been a full day since he had seen Namaka. He wasn’t certain that was a bad thing. Maybe Inemes was right about him falling for the girl. Pasikole shook himself. Foolishness. He had been down that path, and it only got in the way of his studies.

He stood on the deck now, looking out over the Valley Isle. So lush, vibrant. Seeming almost untouched by mankind. And so defenseless against the ravages of the deep empires. The mer kingdoms and the even more inscrutable he’e. Namaka had been wrong, thinking the nanaue the most terrible predators of the sea. The weresharks were savage, deadly for certain. But in the end they were basically human, with human motivations. Mer and he’e were something else entirely. Their desires were hard to predict, maybe impossible for humans to understand. Perhaps because they played a long game, making moves designed to unfold over centuries. In such struggles, humans were mere pawns.

The knowledge he was collecting was, he hoped, their best chance to change that. To give mankind a chance to shape its own destiny. Back home, most people thought the Royal Trade Society governed their empire. It did, he supposed. But what the public didn’t realize was the Queen’s Council were mere puppets to rulers in the seas below. That was probably the case across the whole world. Ironically, the Princesses here had, thus far, granted Sawaiki a greater degree of independence than anywhere else in the Worldsea. And he had come here, contract in hand, intent on disrupting this little paradise. All in the name of knowledge and power. In some vain hope the secrets promised in return might help the rest of mankind.

Sacrificing Sawaiki’s independence for the greater good had seemed a fair trade before he met these people. But he’d been lying to himself. There was a word for people like him, people who failed to consider the needs of others. Jackasses. And that’s what he was, wasn’t he?

Maybe realizing it was the first step to changing it. He would leave here soon, as soon as he could. Leave these people in peace. And though he would miss seeing Namaka, it was for the best. For her, for the Sawaikians, for everyone. He’d finish his maps and then flee these islands, maybe head back to Tungaru or Kahiki or even to some new land entirely. Not to the Westlands, of course.

Pasikole sighed, then shook his head. If only it were so simple.

Namaka’s wereboar friend was paddling a canoe toward the ship. When he reached it, he immediately began climbing a line over the side. Namaka’s dog was in the canoe, too, yipping at him. The locals might not know they were supposed to ask a captain’s permission before boarding. Or, given the wereboar's nature, perhaps he just didn’t care.

“It’s Kamapa … Kamapua? Is that right?”

“Kamapua’a, but Kam will be fine. Namaka calls me Kam. Except when she calls me Pigman, which is most of the time. But you don’t get to call me that. And you killed Hau-Pu.”

Pasikole nodded slowly. “I did. Are you here to avenge him?” His hand drifted to the pistol at his hip. Another victim? But he couldn’t allow the wereboar to kill him or hurt anyone else on the Startracer.

“Shit. Huh. I didn’t think about that. Should I?” He shook his head, swaying his wild mane. “No, I mean, I guess he had it coming. Anyway, I don’t have time. I need to get to the Gathering Isle.”

The wereboar was not the most articulate of men, but few shifters were. Pasikole supposed the animals’ souls merging with their own were distracting. “And what is the Gathering Isle?”

“One of the other islands, northwest of here. And I need to get there in a hurry.”

Well that was a surprise. “You want me to take you there.”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

Pasikole frowned, then looked over the Startracer. “The ship’s still being repaired.” Did he owe this wereboar such service? Considering the damage he had already wrought among these people, he supposed he probably did. “I might be able to take you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? We need to leave now!”

“It’s not possible.”

The wereboar closed the distance between them in a single stride and thumped a finger against Pasikole’s chest. “You smell nervous, guilty even. You’re not sent by Lono, are you?”

And thus unraveled their carefully laid plans. The mask of Lono decorating their bow, their appearance during Lono’s festival, all had been calculated by their employers to win the trust of these people. To take advantage of the Sawaikians and the power they, or their Princesses, possessed. And it was all lies. Pasikole was sick of lies. As a scientist, his life’s work was the pursuit of truth, and somewhere, in that pursuit, he had been led astray. And finally, one of the Sawaikians was direct enough, uninhibited enough, to ask the question none dared ask.

“I never actually said I was.”

Kam snorted and shoved him away. Pasikole fell back several steps. Almost instantly Inemes was there, pistol trained on the wereboar. Pasikole held up a hand to forestall her at the same time the dog began snarling from the canoe below. A single shot would likely only make the wereboar mad. Besides, Kam was right.

“I am an explorer. I’m just trying to understand our world. And, if I can, to make it a better place.”

“A what? Fine, sure. Explore the Gathering Isle.”

“Why the urgency?”

The wereboar stomped his foot and huffed. “Stupid fish people kidnapped our Princess, all right? And I need another Princess to get her back. So fix your shitting ship and let’s be off.”

Pasikole’s stomach lurched so violently he had to fight down a surge of bile. The mer had taken Namaka. But which mer—Hiyoya or Mu? Being kidnapped by any mer was bad, but if she had been taken by Mu, she was surely beyond the reach of any Princess on Sawaiki. He hadn’t been able to fully catalog the Gifts of the other Princesses, but he had to wonder what any save Namaka herself could do to fight a mer army, much less to attack an underwater city.

But Pasikole had brought this on her. Perhaps not directly, but his presence had stirred up a whirlwind on the Valley Isle. If he could do anything to rescue Namaka, he owed her that much.

“As soon as the ship can be repaired, I will take you. I swear, Kam, I’ll do everything in my power to help save Namaka.”

* * *

Six months ago, he had stood on Pier City off the coast of the Westlands. The city, called the Pier by most, was a floating drift nearly half a league across and a central hub for the Royal Trade Society. A bunch of fat old men and women sitting around, pretending to speak for the queen. Her Majesty was, of course, nestled in a hilltop palace. A figurehead much like the mermaid that graced the prow of the Startracer.

The Royal Trade Society had become the effective ruler of these waters, at least as far as humans were concerned. Beyond, of course, lay the Pirate Nations and then the endless sea, broken only by a handful of islands.

And he had spent more than a decade charting them, recording all he could learn. A mission that had become all the more urgent when he’d stumbled upon the unsettling fact that the mer and he’e ruled more than the deep. Just as the queen was a facade for the Royal Trade Society to govern the hundred isles of the Westlands, the Society was in turn a mask for a subtler and more perverse force. One that had spread across all human islands he had ever visited, hoarding knowledge and power and feeding mankind off the scraps of its own former greatness.

And so he had met Brine. It was a pirate’s name, though the man was no pirate. Just another mirage on the horizon, an illusion to keep anyone from discerning the truth. Brine was the voice behind the Society, the voice of yet another power. If you peeled back all the layers of this onion you would find its rotten core as the ultimate ruler of the world.

Brine’s office was a shack on the Pier’s edge, accessible only by a long, winding boardwalk and steps descending to be almost level with the water’s edge. As the man’s name implied, the whole building stank of something dredged up from the ocean depths.

“Stay here and watch my back,” he told Inemes when they reached the edge of the shack.

She tapped a finger on the saber at her side. It was steel—making it rare and valuable enough in and of itself—and had been his gift to her when he made her his first mate. In this whole damn city she was the only one he would trust not to stab him in the back, literally, or spy on him for Brine and his associates.

“This plan is beyond foolish,” she commented. “You know we’d have to pass through the Pirate Nations, the Serpent Reaches, and beyond even Kahiki. No one’s ever been that far.”

He nodded. No one had. She knew him well enough to know that was part of the appeal of this … Sawaiki. A new land, unknown to his people.

Pasikole rapped on the door, then entered when a voice called from within. The man, Brine, sat dangling his feet through a hole in the floor. The water had to be freezing this time of year, but he didn’t seem to mind or even notice. Quite likely he was not entirely human, at least not anymore. The gods only knew what those things had done to him.

“I see you received word of the mission.”

Pasikole shut the door behind him. Inemes would probably listen through it anyway, but he should try to remain subtle here.

“It’s dangerous.”

Brine waved the comment away, fingers dripping with some goo. The bowl in front of him housed raw fish eggs. “Of course it is.” The man sucked his forefinger. “That’s why we need the fearless Captain Pasikole. Are you not the man who charted Kahiki and made it back to tell the tale?”

Pasikole folded his arms.

“All you have to do is grab one girl and bring her back to my associates.”

“Why is she so special?”

“She has a Gift.”

He knew it. Jobs like this had allowed him to procure forgotten tomes from before the Worldsea rose. Translating them had been the work of years—still he was fairly certain he had things right—but they spoke of a time when gods walked the Earth. A time when mankind had mastered the Art. And somehow, this princess of Sawaiki had the blood of a divine ancestor coursing through her veins. She could be the key to unlocking mankind’s heritage.

The mer and he’e were physically more powerful than humans. Stronger, much faster swimmers, and, of course, able to navigate much more of the Earth. But what really ensured mankind could never challenge them, never be more than subservient, was their mastery of the Art. His travels had introduced him to a handful of witches, medicine men, and shamans. Those who weren’t charlatans tended to go mad by whatever they glimpsed in the worlds beyond this one. Still. There had to be a way to even the playing field.

Knowledge was power, all knowledge valuable. But he could map the entire world, chart every star in the sky, work mathematical formulae until the day he died … and none of that would compare to a single unambiguous revelation of the supernatural.

“Don’t worry,” Brine said. “We’ll provide you with everything you need to convince them you’re sent by one of their gods. Our spies can even tell you the best day to make land.”

He shrugged, trying his best to feign nonchalance. “This is a bigger task than any I’ve done so far.”

“We might have uncovered a cask of tomes from the old world.”

Tempting. All knowledge of the time before the Worldsea was valuable. But it wasn’t enough.

He shook his head. “Getting to Kahiki means risking my life, the lives of my entire crew. For that I want the tomes … and one that explains the Art.”

Brine narrowed his eyes. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Then we have nothing else to discuss.” Pasikole turned his back on the man—or thing, as the case might well have been.

His hand was already on the door before Brine spoke.

“Wait.”

Pasikole turned slowly back. Finally. He need only deliver this princess, and mankind would be on course back to greatness.

* * *

At least, Pasikole had thought he was helping people. He had told himself that, told the crew that, over the long months of this journey. But after meeting the Sawaikians, knowledge no longer seemed worth the price.

And, in truth, he probably could not have brought Namaka anywhere against her will. Her power could have swamped their ship before they had made a league away from the Valley Isle.

But that wasn’t the reason he hadn’t kidnapped her.

He had been wrong, not in his pursuit of knowledge, but in being willing to hurt the innocent for the greater good.

Now he was left with only the desperate option of trusting the wereboar, hoping Kamapua’a was right about this other Princess.

15

Evening arrived before Namaka and Ake returned to Hiyoya, and the city’s lights once again illuminated the darkening sea. After witnessing the carnage in the wake of the mer war, somehow Hiyoya had lost some of its majesty for Namaka.

You’ve seen death before.

Namaka started at the sudden return of Nyi Rara’s voice. The mermaid princess sounded breathless, if such a thing were possible for a disembodied voice. Breathless and groggy. And though it was a comfort to have the mermaid back, it was a small comfort. Yes, she had seen death, and all too recently. The deaths of her villagers, of Hau-Pu, who had—maybe—loved her. Of Kāne knew how many others after her loss of control that day … was it really only yesterday?

Nyi Rara offered no further comment as Namaka swam through the palace.

“She’s back,” she whispered.

Ake glanced at her, then nodded. “I have to inform her majesty about the loss.”

“Loss? That looked like a massacre.”

The merman scowled. “Well, then you know why we have to stop the Muians. Unless you’d like to see this city wind up looking like that battlefield.”

The very thought of it soured her stomach. To see this beautiful city awash in blood, the waters obscured by the frenzy of sharks … it was some primal, blasphemous violation of kapu. She could almost see her uncle trying to propitiate the ghosts born of such madness and not knowing where to start. Uncle Kamalo. More than anything, Namaka wanted to run to him, to lay her head on his ever-growing gut and feel his riotous laughter rumble through her, promising all would be well.

Ake must have seen the pain on her face, because he offered a nod, then swam down the hall.

Had she welcomed her new life here? Thought it so much easier, so much more beautiful than suffocating beneath the weight of her ever-present destiny as a Princess? She’d run from that life only to find the alternatives were equally horrifying. Part of her just wanted to go home.

And abandon another people?

Who on Lua-O-Milu did that mermaid think she was? The mermaid princess could go fuck herself in a clamshell for all Namaka cared. Damn her for being so … so … damned … right. One day in Hiyoya and things had gone as horribly wrong as they had in the village. And Namaka’s answer was the same: run away. But what could she do? She couldn’t control her Gift, and trying to do so had driven Nyi Rara into a torpor that had taken the better part of a day to recover from.

I am not recovered … I need rest …

Namaka frowned at the thought of another person—or whatever—sleeping inside her body. So much about being a mermaid felt off, and yet also so right. The part of her that was the Princess of Sea loved her new form, her new reality. But Nyi Rara wasn’t half as forthcoming as Namaka might have hoped. No matter where she turned, her life seemed flawed. On Sawaiki she was a slave, and down here, she was a host.

A slow shift in color above drew her eye, as a he’e seemed to melt off the ceiling. Namaka’s heart lurched in her throat and, before she had even thought it, a beat of her tail had carried her several paces away.

It was like a waking dream, a reminder of the visions the Urchin had poured into her mind.

“What do you want?” It had to be Ambassador Punga—unless there was another he’e in the palace. How would she even tell the difference? The creatures could shift their skin to any coloration they wanted. How did they tell each other apart?

“Conversations spoken loudly and with fervor pose little difficulty to overhear, even when one makes no effort at eavesdropping.” Once again, the creature’s voice sounded alien, muffled, and thick, emanating from beneath all those arms. “Condolences are due for such losses, one must think. Hiyoya fairs poorly, it seems.”

Namaka glowered at the octopus a moment, then had to look away. Those fathomless eyes made it hard to tell if he was looking at her, or what he—assuming the he’e was even male—saw when he did. “Sure, fine. Condolences. Sounds about as useful as a surfboard atop a volcano.”

The coil of arms beneath the creature shifted, propelled it forward just slightly, causing its head to bob. Was that a nod? A shrug? Some alien gesture she had no word for? The he’e had no face, really, just those eyes—black as a starless night. “The Princess asks no question, but still, one might think she desires an answer.”

Namaka threw up her hands. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe an answer that involved actually saving people.”

“In conflicts between mer nations, the he’e remain bound, always officially neutral.” Which made them officially useless right now. “One might wish there were more solace to offer to one’s friends at such a time, of course. But such things are a matter of politics … complex interrelations between kingdoms giving rise to paralysis on the part of all parties. You understand, one must imagine.”

Not really—the octopus’s words were as tangled as his arms. Politics. What a pointless excuse for inaction. It was like Punga cared, but not quite enough to swim through the hoops of formality. He had said they were officially neutral. If they lived by their rules like her people lived by kapu, then he couldn’t overstep what he perceived as his bounds. But maybe those bounds could be changed.

Was that what the Urchin had tried to show her? That the he’e could be useful if she could find the right way to ask?

“What if Hiyoya were to offer a treaty, to ask for aid?”

Once again, the octopus’s arms shifted in some inconceivable gesture, almost like they were discussing the idea among themselves. Strange and frightening as the he’e were, Ake had called them ancient. They might make formidable allies. “Any request must naturally depend on the asker and the terms offered.”

That was pretty much a yes. Namaka darted several paces away, then spun back to look at Punga. “Uh, one moment. I mean, I’ll be right back!”

She bolted into the throne room as Ake and Latmikaik were discussing the massacre, or its aftermath. A stir went up among the gathered mer, but none dared interfere with her. She was a princess even down here, after all.

“Uh …” The whole plan had seemed more refined before she tried to put it into words. “Aunt … I mean, my queen. There’s something I …” Namaka cleared her throat. Now would be a good time for Nyi Rara to take over and be all elegant and regal. And … nothing. She twirled her tail, although the gesture felt clumsy compared to the elegance with which Nyi Rara performed it. “Ake has informed you about the battle.”

Latmikaik raised an eyebrow, then reclined her head into one of her palms.

Great. The almighty mermaid queen probably knew it was some stupid human—mostly human—host talking and not her niece. Fine. “I just spoke to the he’e ambassador and he sympathizes with our losses.”

The queen did not speak for a moment. When she did, all heads turned to her. “The he’e care only about the he’e.”

“They have political interests, my queen, I’m certain. What if we could offer them something they wanted? They seem like they feel strongly bound by their treaties and duties and so forth. So let’s give them a new one. After what happened, we obviously need some allies against Mu.”

Latmikaik rubbed the scales on her face for a moment. “Distasteful as an alliance with mortals might be, still we tried that. They are intractable, their motives inscrutable. What does the Princess suggest we offer the he’e in return for such … assistance?” The queen said the last word like it left a bad taste in her mouth. Hadn’t Ake said something similar about having to even have the ambassador stay in Hiyoya?

“What does pride matter if you’re all dead?” Latmikaik’s eyebrow rose and Ake failed to quite stifle a gasp. She was probably swimming in dangerous waters. But she had to press on. “What would you be willing to part with to win this war?”

After a moment, Ake spoke. “We know they’ve wanted Red Coral Reef for some time. It was the original reason Punga came here.”

“And we refused,” the queen said. “Red Coral Reef teems with food, besides providing a strategic location from which to protect our borders.”

Namaka shook her head. “If you keep losing battles you won’t have any borders to protect.”

Ake’s eyes widened and the queen glowered at Namaka. She should have probably chosen more diplomatic words.

The queen sighed, then twirled water around her fingers a moment. “If you are so very convinced of that, then so be it, niece. Tell Ambassador Punga we will grant him Red Coral Reef in exchange for aid in defeating Mu. And not a league more than that of my ocean. Go, Princess. Bring us these allies you seem so certain are going to save us all.”

“Me?”

The queen waved her hand at the archway and a none-too-gentle current ushered Namaka from the throne room. She really had to learn to choose her words with more care, especially down here, talking to a spirit who was probably old as the sea itself. It didn’t help that everyone had thought Namaka was the one who was going to save them all. Well then, she would. Not through her wild power, but by bringing Hiyoya the allies it needed to win this war.

And then maybe she would have to go home, try to set things right with her parents and her uncle and everyone. Assuming Nyi Rara would even let her. The damn mermaid ought to let her, all things considered.

* * *

Namaka swam back to the hallway where she had left Punga, but saw no sign of him. “Ambassador?”

“He returned to his grotto,” a mermaid guard said.

“Show me the way. Please.”

The mermaid bowed and led her around several twists of the palace, finally gesturing toward a circular chamber. Sand from the seafloor dusted the ground and algae grew along the walls. Unlike most of the other chambers, no glowing orb of light illuminated the room, leaving it in such darkness she could barely see.

“Ambassador?”

Something shifted in the shadows. “Come in, Princess.”

Actually, she would have preferred he come out of his creepy little grotto, but she had probably offended enough people today. She swam in—a pace or so only—then scanned the room, still uncertain where the he’e was.

“What can I do for you?” The voice sounded from the back of the room, somewhere on the floor. The he’e must have better night vision than even a mermaid. Maybe they liked the dark. Weren’t octopuses nocturnal anyway? He wasn’t trying to be creepy, just comfortable. That was all.

“I bring an offer from Queen Latmikaik for a new treaty. One in which you agree to offer military aid against Mu.”

“To join the losing side in war offers one little benefit to outweigh the prodigious risk. To entwine one’s arms in a mer battle leaves one in treacherous waters. What could prompt one to such a decision, one must wonder.”

“Hiyoya will cede you Red Coral Reef.”

The he’e hesitated, or squirmed at least. If she could see his face—if he had a damn face—maybe she could make out what he was thinking. “One wonders what now prompts Queen Latmikaik to overcome recalcitrance that so bound her in years before.”

Namaka frowned, trying to untangle the he’e’s words. “We are very serious about building a strong relationship with your people.”

“A weighty commitment is asked, but with half a heart …”

Namaka sighed. “Come on. You know you want the reef. And you just said you hate seeing our people suffer. Do the right thing and help us.”

A strange rumble echoed through the room, like a miniature undersea quake. Was the creature laughing? “The right thing? Right and wrong are perceptions, perspectives, reflections, defined by the speaker. Shall our kind do the right thing? We always do right by the ends we need. And for you, this very night King Kanaloa shall receive word of your plight. If one ends a war, one expects ample gratitude toward Aupuni, above and beyond the terms of mere politics.”

Kanaloa … God of Magic, God of the Deep. How could a god be a king?

The god-king of the he’e is the same ancient, unfathomable deity you so venerate.

God-king? That sounded promising. If the he’e ended the war, maybe she could finally get back to fixing her own life. And a deity even great Kāne feared must be powerful indeed.

“Mahalo, Ambassador.”

Namaka swam from his chamber and back to the grotto they had granted her—or rather Nyi Rara, relishing the intricate designs on the walls and the flicker of light through the water. It was beautiful down here, and part of her truly wanted to stay in this life. But she did miss her family and Mo-O and Kamapua’a.

If she helped solve Hiyoya’s problem, would Nyi Rara let her go home?

I still need a body.

Couldn’t they share? Nyi Rara helped her, completed her in a way she had always been lacking. But that didn’t mean she never wanted to see her village again.

* * *

Despite the fatigue, sleep would not come to her. Images of the visions the Urchin had shown her played behind her eyelids, each so faint as to be ungraspable. The intangible realities of the past and future were a torment, but one she craved again. Of course the mer had built Hiyoya upon such a wonder, eager to bask in the magnificence of primal life. The entity flowed with such mana that being in its mere presence had infused her with a fresh zeal for life.

Maybe that was how mortals felt about being with a Princess. And she, in her fear, had refused to share something glorious with her clan. None of that mattered now, though. All that mattered was another chance to see, to understand. To stare into the unknown and begin to comprehend the mysteries of life.

No, she wasn’t going to sleep now.

She had to know.

Slowly, she made her way back through the palace. Most of the mer, save the guards, had long since drifted off to sleep in communal grottos.

Nyi Rara made no objection to Namaka’s journey back toward the Urchin.

She knew the mermaid could hear her, feel her intent, but said nothing. Probably that meant the mermaid needed to understand the truth of the visions as desperately as Namaka herself did.

Maybe the Urchin had shown the he’e because of the value of their alliance. She had seen … something. A he’e the size of a small mountain. Was that Kanaloa, their god-king? And why had the Urchin given her a vision of Pasikole? What did the foreigner have to do with anything? She didn’t even know if what she was seeing was something happening as it was revealed to her, had already happened … or would yet unfold.

There were too many questions.

Worst among them, the funerals. Thousands were dead, but why, how? She had brought destruction upon her village, but there was no way so many people could have died from her wave. Her entire village had consisted of only a few hundred people.

The way back to the gorge was winding, confusing. Or would have been, had Nyi Rara not suddenly seized control of her body when she took a wrong turn. Still silent, the mermaid guided them on, diving deep. Was she wondering all the same questions? Or had the visions differed for her?

They are different for everyone.

And what had Nyi Rara seen?

The mermaid princess made no further answer, just dove into the gorge without hesitation. Down the long descent and through the tunnel the only sound Namaka could hear was the swish of her tail and the increasingly rapid pounding of her heart.

They broke into the Urchin’s massive chamber to find the witch waiting for them. “I wonder which one of you started the journey here?”

“I did,” Nyi Rara said, using Namaka’s mouth.

“Did you? You play a dangerous game with your host, child. You dart between dominance and partnership, do you not? Toying—if only that—with the idea of symbiosis.”

“To allow that would be … disgraceful.”

Disgraceful. Namaka mentally snorted at the mermaid inside her. Just when she thought they were developing a rapport.

“It has been done,” Hinaopuhalakoa said. “On the rarest of occasions. In the old world, men used to use the Art to attempt just that. Or even to try to draw a spirit inside and master it. They sought the Gifts of the Spirit Realm without paying the price. Most, of course, paid far more than they could have imagined.”

“But it would be my choice. I allowed this human such an indulgence.”

The witch nodded. “You know you cannot achieve what you want here.”

“I need to see it again, understand better.”

All right, what in Lua-O-Milu were the two mermaids talking about? Namaka pounded against the sides of her skull, trying to take control. The mental backlash Nyi Rara sent at her was like being slapped by Mo-O’s tail, full force. It left her so dazed she missed whatever Nyi Rara said next.

She caught the witch’s answer, however. “The Urchin shows you what it will, when it will. You cannot command an answer from it, Princess.”

Damn it. She needed to know what it had tried to show her before.

Be still.

Did Nyi Rara not know about the countless dead among Sawaiki? Or did she not even care?

The witch grinned, revealing her shark teeth and apparently all too aware of the inner struggle going on inside Namaka’s mind. “Do you know why I told the queen to take that host?”

“Her Gift, of course.”

“Yes. Power the Urchin showed me—power your host does not understand and cannot control. You can, but not if you spend all your energy fighting against her.”

So. The witch had been the one to select Namaka in the first place. Through the Urchin, she had known everything. And been able to understand it.

Of course. The visions, hard as they were to interpret, represented a power perhaps greater than even Namaka’s Gift. And that had to be why Mu was pressing their borders so determinedly. They wanted to control the Urchin. Their people could grow flush with its mana and their rulers wise off its shared knowledge.

You are more intelligent than you first seem.

Funny, she felt a fool for not having seen all this yesterday. She was one piece in a complex game being played out across all the Worldsea.

But you are a valuable piece.

And that was why Latmikaik had placed her own niece inside Namaka. The queen could have taken her herself, but could not risk going into battle. So she did the next best thing. Chose another member of her family, one she thought she could control.

Control?

Obviously. Namaka was well versed in being manipulated by those around her. Chiefs and kahunas all answered to their Princess … except not really. They spoke the kapu that bound the Princess to so many duties she could never make a truly free choice. Not what to do even with her own body. And mermaids were like that, using her body for their ends.

But the Urchin had shown Nyi Rara something of symbiosis, hadn’t it? The mermaid’s silence answered her question for her. The Urchin didn’t give answers, only helped a person to understand the questions. To see connections.

And did that mean everything it had shown her was connected? Her people, their deaths. The he’e, Mu, even Pasikole. All part of a larger whole that, if she could but understand the connections, she might begin to unravel. And to do that, she would have to return to the surface.

Save Hiyoya … save the sea. And then I will help you repair the damage you’ve done on the surface.

Namaka smiled. At last, Nyi Rara was truly with her.

Day VI

16

The rising sun lit the ocean like a bonfire overhead, casting Namaka’s foes in silhouette—like shadows come to prey on the forces of Hiyoya. The Hiyoyans had set an ambush for the advancing Muians, one the he’e would allow them to pull off. This morning was when the tide turned for Hiyoya.

Namaka hung back, letting her army rush forward to meet the threat. Part of her wanted to be up there, to help her new people however she could. But she was no warrior and she’d only get in the way. From the back, she could do something the others could not.

A dozen tiger sharks surged forward from the enemy ranks, rushing in upon Ake and his forces.

This time it would be different. This time, she and Nyi Rara had what they needed.

Namaka reached both hands toward the onrushing sharks, begging the sea to stop them. “Come on.” Her soul reached the sea, but as always, it spun rapidly out of control, threatening to consume her own forces in another maelstrom. “Come on!”

Calm yourself.

The mermaid princess was there then, guiding her arms forward, caressing her soul. Namaka shouted her fury at the sharks. The instant before they would have collided with Ake and his people, an undersea wave shot outward from his position, crashing into the sharks and sending them spiraling out of control. The wave carried her own mer forward and they launched themselves upon the tiger sharks in an instant, impaling them with tridents and spears, filling the sea with blood.

A merman wrapped his arms around one of the sharks’ dorsal fins and bit through it with his own shark-like jaws. The fish flailed out of control and more mer swarmed it, stabbing and biting and driving it into the sand.

Namaka panted, a slight tremble running through her from the effort. But she had done it. She had really done it.

Despite the loss of their advance forces, the Mu army still crashed into Hiyoya’s, the bloody sea devolving into a blurry, incoherent melee Namaka could make little sense of. And she could do little to help Ake now, at least against the forces that were already here. Instead, rapid beats of her tail carried her around the battle, scouting for any fresh threats.

“Where are the damn he’e?” she asked.

Late. Nyi Rara’s voice sounded groggy already. It seemed to take so much out of her to control Namaka’s Gift. But they had to hold this position until help could arrive from the he’e kingdom. It was only a few leagues away, but she didn’t know just how fast those octopuses could swim. Already Hiyoya faced superior numbers.

Just hold the line.

Namaka grunted, and continued swimming until she had come around to Mu’s side. There, waiting beyond a gorge—a whole other battalion of Muian mer, armed with some kind of bladed bracers strapped to their wrists. Most of them appeared to be watching the battle, but at least a few turned to face her.

These forces must plan to wait until Hiyoya had near exhausted itself then sweep in, fresh and quick to slaughter Hiyoya’s broken lines. Maybe the he’e would arrive in time, but Namaka wasn’t going to take that chance.

You are not ready for this.

Right. Because those Muians were going to sit around and wait until she was. Namaka spread her arms in open invitation, in unveiled threat. Let them come to her. Let these little bottom feeders try to take another home away from her.

She clenched her fists and waters around them began to swirl, forming vortices. She was not a warrior. She was something else. “Come and get me!”

Like that, a dozen of the Muian strike force launched themselves toward her. Namaka almost laughed. A dozen.

“Help me,” she whispered to Nyi Rara, knowing the other princess would feel her intent.

I … am with you.

As her enemies drew near, Namaka yanked her arms back in toward herself, pulling the sea around her in a swirling bubble. The other mer were sucked in, tossed about and spun around her. But she needed to do more than make them dizzy. She needed to make them see, to make them fear.

Shrieking, she summoned the sea beneath them and shot them all upward like a shooting star falling in reverse, a ball that launched itself out of the sea and into the air. Namaka broke free of the ocean and for an instant was flying, the morning sun warming her skin and scales while the dozen mer beneath her tumbled around in her trap. Gravity caught her and yanked her down. Namaka turned, falling back into her ball and driving it down. The sea beneath it parted, swept aside in an inverted dome revealing the seabed just in time for the ball to slam her enemies into the sand. The next instant the weight of the ocean crashed around her.

Her power enveloped her, sheltering her from the crushing weight of the falling waves until they stilled, and another beat of her tail carried her forward.

She gasped, barely able to catch her breath, but filled with a euphoric sense of divinity she could never have put into words. This was what it meant to be the Princess of Sea. This was what she had been missing. She could feel her mana, flowing through her, connecting her to all the endless sea.

Mu’s forces watched her, faltering, clearly too terrified to assault her. Wicked grin on her face, Namaka punched forward, intent on throwing a concussive wave in their midst. She did so, but merely knocked a few aside, carrying only a fraction of the weight she intended.

What in Lua-O-Milu? “Nyi Rara?”

I’m … trying …

Oh. Damn. Namaka looked to the regrouping Muian forces—they were converging on her. Damn it. The power was still in her, the mana still flowing, but without Nyi Rara to help her guide it … It didn’t matter. She could do this. She could do it herself, just like all the other Princesses.

Namaka stretched both hands out, once again inviting the forces of Mu to attack. Then she swept them back together, shooting out a crossed current under the sea toward them. The waters responded to her desire—but not only toward the Muian army. They jetted out in all directions, colliding with her own fighting forces as well as the advancing Muian reserves.

With a cringe, she looked over her shoulder to see the battle stalled for a moment. Mermaids and mermen lay scattered on the ocean floor, shaking themselves. Some floated limply, unconscious or worse. No.

Not again. Not again.

Mo-O-Inanea had told her she wasn’t ready. Even Nyi Rara had said as much. Why couldn’t she just learn to listen? Milu damn her.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “Nyi Rara?”

No answer came from the mermaid princess. The spirit had once again driven herself into a torpor trying to control Namaka’s wild surges of power. And they were both fools for thinking Namaka could do this. There was nothing for her to do here—there never had been. She was as dangerous to the Hiyoyans as to the Muians.

Before Mu’s forces could recover, she turned and fled from the battle, swimming away as fast as her tail could carry her.

* * *

Well into the morning she swam. At first she didn’t know where she was going, save back toward the Valley Isle. But something pulled her toward a specific spot. Perhaps it was instinct. Perhaps it was the mana inherent in the Sacred Pools, calling to the power inside her. Or maybe that was just the last place she had seen Kamapua’a.

Either way, she crawled up onto the rocks, dragging her tail behind her. On land the thing was dead weight, barely able to help her push forward at all. As useless as she ended up being.

No—to Lua-O-Milu with that. She was done being useless and done moping over it. If everyone thought she wasn’t ready, it was time she got ready. Namaka shoved herself upright into a sitting position, then reached down to the pools, hand just brushing over the surface. Maybe she should have spent more time training with her Gift and less time surfing, dancing the hula, or agonizing over which man she was going to choose as her first lover. She couldn’t change what she had done in the past, but she could set it right now. She would set it right.

She allowed herself a single, shuddering breath. Then she began to summon her mana into her fingertips—just a hint of it. A mere touch, as Mo-O had always instructed. And through that touch, bubbles formed into the pool. A few at first, and then more. They popped, creating a chain of tiny splashes all along the pool. It was a start. She could do better.

She had felt Nyi Rara when the mermaid guided her power, had almost felt the control the other princess wielded. All she needed to do was capture that feeling, hold on to it.

Just a hint more mana, a slow, steady breath. Some of the bubbles began to float off the surface, contained by her power, not breaking. Flying in the air, holding their shape. Namaka clenched her teeth then raised her other hand, calling up more and more of the bubbles. They glittered in the sunlight, reflecting it the way the ocean reflected a sunset.

Control. She had always had power, but now she needed control. Just like Nyi Rara had shown her. Just like Mo-O had always told her. Namaka had never given enough thought to it, had always been so damn focused on all the things she was denied. Her childhood had been stolen from her. She was compelled by the laws of her people to use her body as though it were not her own.

She focused on a single bubble and drew it toward her open palm. The water burst just before it reached her. Damn it.

In that instant of frustration, dozens more bubbles burst, spilling back into the pool. Nyi Rara had told her to calm herself. The sea, all waters, they responded to her emotions. Her joy, her fear, her anger. They were tools she could use, as long as she didn’t let them control her.

And they had always controlled her. Anger. She was angry, had always been angry about what was not given to her. So angry, maybe she hadn’t really considered what was given to her. The life, the reality she had, might not have been the one she would have chosen for herself. But she was given a life, and it had had its moments. How many people could say they had swum far beneath the sea and been part of that majestic, dream-like world? How many humans had touched the pure life that flowed from the Urchin? And on the Valley Isle she had been adored, revered. Maybe it didn’t matter they loved her for her Gift. How could they not? She had the destiny of ruling an island and controlling the very sea. Her power carried with it a duty, but that power was glorious beyond anything most people would ever experience.

Namaka closed her eyes and felt the water with her soul, summoning more floating orbs toward her, allowing them to spin around her like leaves tossed in the ocean breeze. When she opened her eyes, she was smiling, entranced in the beauty she had called up.

And at last she breathed out all the fear and resentment. That had been what Mo-O and even Nyi Rara had been trying to teach her.

Anger is poison.

Mo-O had told her that, but she had never understood.

In raging against the world to which she was born, she had suffused herself with a poison that meant she would never have peace, and thus never have control. The sea was her emotions, even anger. And when she was angry at the world, the sea would naturally lash out at the entire world.

And her world was beautiful, wonderful. Literally full of wonder and the joy of life—any life she was given was a gift. And the Worldsea teemed with innumerable lives and possibility … and second chances.

Smiling, Namaka held one hand out, summoning more bubbles, and stretched another out toward the sea. It rose at her call, a pillar of flowing water jutting twenty paces into the sky.

Finally.

Free of anger and fear—the fear that had always held her back—the waters became an extension of her own body. Just another limb. She need not even think to move them. With a twist of her wrist she sent a dozen spouts pouring out of the pillar, showering into the sea before flowing back up in an endless circle.

This was it. This was the moment the Urchin had shown her. It had shown her she didn’t have to be angry, or afraid. She could be liberated.

A slight scraping sound drew her eyes to the rocky cliff far above. Mo-O stood there, looking down at her. Reading the dragon’s face was nearly impossible, but Namaka hoped the slightly bared teeth were meant as a smile. She could use a smile now. The dragon nodded at her, watching, waiting.

Waiting for her. Namaka dismissed her control over the sea and let it crash back down. But how was she supposed to get up there with this tail?

Mermaids could take human legs, she’d even seen Ake do it. But how? Was that something only the spirit inside could do? If so, she’d remain trapped in this form as long as Nyi Rara rested. And since the mermaid princess was likely to be irate with her, she couldn’t guarantee Nyi Rara would help her once she woke.

But maybe, if she could control her power, control the seas themselves, she could learn to control her own body. Namaka flopped forward a bit, away from the water’s edge, then wiggled some more. Legs, damn it. She needed legs.

She imagined herself pulling her legs apart, her tail splitting in two.

Nothing happened.

“I don’t suppose you know how I can get my legs back?” she shouted up at Mo-O.

The dragon shrugged. “Focus.”

Great. Pretty much the answer to everything. Namaka imagined herself walking, running, dancing. She locked onto that picture in her mind, not just a memory, but forced herself to feel it happening. A sudden, sharp pain stung her as her tail split apart and her scales receded beneath her skin. Her legs! She hadn’t realized how much she missed those. Swimming was magical, but legs had their uses.

She let out a slow breath, then climbed to her feet. For an instant, she wobbled, unsteady after more than a day swimming.

While shaky, it was probably a profoundly stupid time to go climbing a steep, slippery cliff. But right now she needed Mo-O, needed the dragon so intensely it was a physical ache in her chest. And so she set off toward the rocks, taking each step with care, especially as she climbed. She had to use her hands to steady herself as she made her way up.

“You’ve come a long way,” Mo-O said when she finally crested the rise. She reached a claw behind her and flung one of Namaka’s skirts toward her.

“How did you know I’d be here?”

“I didn’t. But this was the last place Kamapua’a saw you, so I came here to wait. After his story, I suspected what the mer intended to do with you. I’m surprised you managed to escape.”

Namaka frowned. “It’s a long story.” She grabbed the skirt and tied it around her waist, then tossed one end over her shoulder. “Kam is all right?”

“Wracked with needless guilt and having fits. I told him to wait in the cave, but I suspect he’s out trying to convince Kamalo to take him to see his mother again. He harbors some vain hope she might stand up to Hiyoya on your behalf.”

“Vain hope?”

The dragon chuckled, a sound like a boulder tumbling down a mountainside. “You think another Princess would take such a risk for you, a rival she has never met? Yes, I imagine it’s a vain hope, and Kamalo will know that well enough. You can prevent the need for that by going back to face them.”

Face the village she had wronged and then run from. But Mo-O was right, had always been right about everything. It was time Namaka started listening to her dragon nanny and stopped running away. Very soon, Nyi Rara would wake and probably force her back to Hiyoya to face yet another mess. Before that happened, she needed to see her people, assure them she was well and beg their forgiveness. And finally, finally be the Princess she should have been all along.

That no longer frightened her.

17

Arms full of pineapples, Kam made his way out of the jungle and toward Hamoa Village. The Gathering Isle was far, a long sail, and they were going to need some snacks and shit to get there. Huh. Maybe he should bring a gift for his mother. He hadn’t seen her in … well shit. He didn’t know how long actually, could barely remember her at all. His first clear memory was his father handing him over to Kamalo. But he was certain his mother was the Moon Princess on the Gathering Isle. And she’d help him put those mer shitters in their shitting places.

And more importantly, help him get Namaka back to her place. Which was here.

A shout, a long ululating war cry broke through the morning and Kam froze in place. Shitting raiders were back, and had pig shit timing. As usual. Every time raiders came around he was always busy with something else. They never raided when he was sitting around waiting for a raid. No, that would be too considerate of them. Shitters.

He dropped the pineapples and took off at a run, darting under branches and leaping over roots. It was a good thing he was shitting fast or the village would be in trouble. Fast and mighty. Very mighty. Like a mountain. A fast mountain.

He broke through the jungle only to be greeted by a tremendous roar that left his ears ringing. Pasikole’s ship was engulfed in a cloud of smoke at the same time the beach exploded, flinging villagers—or parts of them—over dozens of paces.

Kam stumbled to a stop. What the shit?

The villagers were attacking his ride. Pasikole wasn’t his favorite person—that was Namaka, after all—but Kam needed the foreigner. Besides, he was entertaining.

He raced forward amongst the warriors, shouting for them to stop. Despite his mighty voice, no one paid him any mind. Some of the warriors had broke and run from the explosions, while other pressed on.

Kam grabbed a pair of warriors by the arms and yanked them to a stop. “Hold it!”

Another cloud of smoke erupted from the ship an instant before everything around Kam exploded.

There was a fleeting moment of pain and unbearable noise.

And then nothing.

18

The afternoon had already drawn on by the time Namaka neared Hamoa Village. She had told Mo-O of all that had happened, though she hesitated to admit to the dragon how much she actually missed the mermaid’s presence in her mind. It didn’t matter anyway, since Nyi Rara would no doubt be back, and forcing her to return to the sea very soon.

“I guess I was afraid to face the village after all I had done. After the terrible mess I made of things.”

The dragon lumbered beside her, glancing at her with one eye, before answering in her thick voice. “There is no mess so great it cannot be cleaned, if you are willing to pay the price of doing so. Sometimes that price is high. Things can be fixed, but not always returned to how they once were.”

Namaka groaned. Listening to the dragon drone on about metaphors was as much fun as watching coral spread. “I get it. Embrace change, they won’t forget, they won’t see me the same. Life as I knew it is over.” Truly, she did finally understand.

“It is. But that doesn’t mean you cannot have a new kind of …” The dragon cocked her head to the side, then growled. “There is fighting in the village.”

Oh, what now? Namaka stared at Mo-O for a heartbeat. Then she took off at a dead run, dashing around trees and ducking under branches, heedless of vines and thorns scraping her as she sprinted. Another raid. Maybe one of the other islands had heard the Valley Isle Princess had gone missing. Well damn it, she was right here. And as far as she was concerned, being possessed by a mermaid absolved her of any promise not to use her Gift.

A stray branch scratched her cheek, but she barely felt it as she dashed forward.

She heard the shouts, the war cries and battle drums. She broke through the foliage and onto the beach. Her people had climbed into canoes and were advancing on Pasikole’s ship, beating their drums, covered in war paint.

Namaka stumbled to stop and stared open-mouthed at the scene. Uncle Kamalo had called Pasikole an emissary of Lono. Her people wouldn’t dare attack someone sent by the gods. But Pasikole had killed Hau-Pu and then Namaka had run off and disappeared. Did her people blame the foreign captain? In a way, they should. He was the one who had played with her heart and then murdered a man who loved her. Namaka shook her head and bit her lip. She was trying to dodge her own blame, to run from it again. Trying to let her anger take over again. Her power had caused the most devastation, and she chose to flee the scene.

Her only chance at control—at peace—was to accept the reality she lived in and her part in all that had gone before.

She ran toward the water. She needed to put a stop to this before something else went wrong.

A roar of thunder, like that of Pasikole’s pistol—only a hundred times worse—erupted from his ship, accompanied by a wall of smoke. Namaka lost her footing and fell onto the beach as canoes exploded into splinters. Water around the attacking villagers shot upward like it had burst from a volcano. In one instant war cries died out, replaced by cries of anguish. Even those were muted by the ringing in Namaka’s ears.

If Pasikole’s pistol was like a bolt of lightning, the power of his ship was like the wrath of the heavens themselves. Her people had no chance against such a power. And whatever their reason for attacking Pasikole, now he slaughtered her kin. She had to do something. Even if it meant hurting him. The mere thought set her stomach to twisting on itself. He was Pasikole. A small part of her still wanted to throw her arms around him. Part of her wanted to strangle him.

He was connected to everything. The Urchin had shown her that. But not how, not why.

If only Nyi Rara was with her now. She needed the strength. But it could not wait. She had to do this on her own. Namaka, not Nyi Rara, was the Princess of the Valley Isle. She was the Princess of Sea. This was her duty, and her destiny. She pushed herself back up and dashed for the sea.

Great gouges marred the sand, splattered with blood, entrails, and limbs separated from their owners. The sight—and noxious smell—was almost enough to bowl her over. So many lay dead on the beach. She had gone only a few more steps before she recognized one form, lying face down in the crimson sand.

Kamapua’a.

No. No, it wasn’t … he couldn’t be.

Namaka raced to his side and dropped to her knees. She flipped him, grateful for her mermaid strength. A dozen scrapes and bruises marred his features, but his chest rose and fell. Alive.

Thank all the aumakuas.

“I’m sorry, Kam …” she mumbled.

She had to put a stop to this. She had to stop it now. She rose and dashed toward to the sea then dove beneath the waters the moment she reached them, not even bothering to shed her clothing.

The instant she wished for her tail, her legs snapped together and formed into one. Rapid beats of her tail carried her beneath Pasikole’s ship in moments. Her skirt dragged against the water, but she needed to seem as frightening as possible and being naked impeded that just a little.

As she swam, her mana summoned the water around her, drawing it to herself. She grit her teeth. Enough of her village had died. As she cleared the far side of the ship, she twisted in a sharp turn and used the waters to launch herself upward like a whale venting. For a moment she flew over the ship, water guiding her toward the deck.

As she plummeted, her tail split once again into legs, the moment of pain barely registering through her mask of rage. It didn’t matter if they knew what she was now. This battle was too much. She need not be angry at the whole world. She could be angry only at a single situation. And she could direct that anger, like any of her other emotions. The sea was emotion. It was her heart.

She landed on the deck in a crouch, the sound of her impact like a tree splitting in a typhoon. And for a moment, every other sound died out. The fighting stopped. All eyes turned to her as she rose, glaring at Pasikole and his men through the strands of her soaked hair.

Their indecision lasted only an instant before several turned pistols on her.

“No!” Pasikole shouted.

Namaka was already moving, drawing up every drop of water on the deck as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. Then she jerked them apart, sending the water out in a thin sheet. It shot outward from her in an arc with the force of a tsunami. Pasikole’s men were flung backward, some stumbling over the rail, others thrown against the mast or the hull, pushing along the deck until some solid object broke their momentum.

One of the sailors tried to rise, tried to point his pistol at her again. On pure instinct Namaka summoned the waves beneath the ship and pounded the hull. The entire craft leapt out of the water, free fell for a heartbeat, then crashed back down. Namaka reached out to the sea, summoned a column of it, and whirled it around her like a dancer spinning a fire baton. When the sailor tried to aim at her again, Namaka launched the column of water at him. It slammed him against the back of the cabin, splintering wood and sending debris falling.

The sailor slumped to the deck, neck twisted at an odd angle, face a bloody mess.

Namaka gasped, panting, as much in horror at the murder she had just committed as in exhaustion. She wanted to slip to her knees and weep at having such chaos inside her. But she could afford no such luxury. The sea was her heart. A Princess of Sawaiki had a duty beyond herself, beyond her own needs and desires.

“Namaka!”

She turned to see Pasikole struggling to his feet, empty hands spread wide. “You’re a mermaid!” He shook himself. “Namaka, please stop this.” The captain was bedraggled, his hair a tangled mess hanging about his face.

This was it. This was why she was here. To throw her arms around the man and beg his forgiveness … Or to make him beg hers. To save her people.

From the corner of her eye she spotted another sailor trying to rise. With a wave of her hand she sent another arc of water whipping into the woman, crushing her back to the deck. Namaka took a step toward Pasikole. “Tell your people to stay down.”

The captain nodded, then shouted something in his own language. Though clearly hesitant, none of his crew took further action.

Namaka advanced on Pasikole. Her legs were unsteady, her whole body shaking from exhaustion. With luck, it looked like she trembled with rage. “You are no emissary of Lono.”

He shook his head. “I’m just a man.”

“You murdered Hau-Pu.”

“He attacked me once and I let him walk away. I defended myself when he attacked again. Should I have let him kill me instead? Is that what your kapu would have a man do?”

How dare he invoke her people’s code? “He attacked you because your man told him the truth! You came here to kidnap me.”

Pasikole shut his eyes a moment, then nodded. “I did. That’s why I came here, yes. But Namaka, after I met you I just … my feelings overcame the weight of any contract. I couldn’t help it. I liked you. I liked your people. I couldn’t take you away from this, couldn’t betray you even if it was why I had first come.”

What was he saying? That he truly did care for her? Did he still? More than anything she wanted to believe it, to hold him, forgive him and kiss him all night long. And it was madness. Too much had happened, too much had been lost.

Namaka raised a hand, forestalling any further objections. She just couldn’t deal with this. Kāne! Was love always this complicated? “If those ship pistols of yours—”

“Cannons?”

“If those cannons killed Kamapua’a or my father or …”

Pasikole’s face had fallen again, his eyes filling with sorrow.

No. Namaka shook her head. No.

“Namaka … The other day, when you … When your power went out of control …”

“No!”

A thousand funerals.

Pasikole swallowed, as if determined to speak. And she did not want to hear this. It wasn’t true. “Some of the villagers died. Your father, he was one of them. After the funeral, I guess the kahuna called us false emissaries. I didn’t want to leave without seeing you, but I was planning to go today. They attacked just now, before we could weigh anchor.”

Namaka sank to her knees. And then she vomited everything she had eaten on the walk back here. Pasikole hadn’t killed her father. She had done that herself. Her lack of control, her fear and rage had lashed out and cost lives.

Anger is poison.

She had known people would be dead, but hadn’t thought … her father. And with their Princess gone and no one to blame for the chief’s death, her people had turned on Pasikole. Only to invite more death among them.

“Namaka,” Pasikole said. He put a hand on her shoulder.

She slapped his hand away as she rose. “This is still your fault! If you hadn’t come here to kidnap me none of this would have happened.”

He nodded, not trying to excuse himself.

Which made it slightly harder to keep yelling. “You …” He had said his feelings for her overcame the weight of his contract. She had been so caught up at hearing he did have feelings for her she hadn’t asked. Namaka turned away so she wouldn’t have to see his face pleading for forgiveness, those beautiful eyes filled with regret. She couldn’t forgive him. “What contract did you mean?”

“I was hired to bring you to the he’e. I guess they thought your Gift would allow them to finally overcome the mer kingdoms. In exchange, they promised to share their secrets with me. They know things, ancient things that could make all the difference to humanity.”

Despite herself, Namaka turned back to Pasikole, unable to form a sentence after what he had just said. She had thought he must have come for his own people, or even on behalf of Mu. But the he’e? They knew about her from before she ever went to Hiyoya. And they had plotted to kidnap her, to use her. If that was so, Pasikole must be right. They must intend to wrest control of the seas from Hiyoya.

Ghostfuckers! They weren’t late to the attempt to ambush Mu. They had never been coming. The he’e wanted Hiyoya and Mu to exhaust themselves fighting each other, to waste their lives in battle. And by convincing Queen Latmikaik to go on the offensive, to count on allies they didn’t have, Namaka had only helped the he’e achieve their ends.

Hiyoya was in even more danger than her village.

19

“Namaka was here?” Kam demanded. As soon as he’d awakened, Kamalo had told him the Sea Princess had come and gone. So Kam had rowed straight over to the foreigner’s shitting ship to demand some answers.

Pasikole nodded. “You just missed her. She … I told her the truth about who hired me and she dove back into the sea, took off in a hurry.”

Huh. Kam hadn’t actually bothered to ask who had hired Pasikole. He opened his mouth to do so, but Pasikole spoke before he could.

“The he’e. They’re already the power-behind-the-scenes in many human lands, though most people don’t even realize it.”

The he’e. What the shit? Stupid octopuses were too damn smart. Sneaky shitters.

“And she was a mermaid?” he asked. Speaking hurt. Which was total pig shit because Kam liked to talk. Pasikole’s ship had walloped him and it would probably take all shitting day for his injuries to heal. Other villagers would not be so lucky. Too many had died in their pig shit attempt to murder Pasikole.

A wistful look fell over Pasikole’s face. Like he blamed himself for the attack. Well. Good for him. “She was.”

“But she came here, in control of herself.”

“Yes,” Pasikole said, turning to look out over the sea. “I was wondering about that, too. Kam, I … I’ve done too much damage here. I’m going now. Namaka is safe, at least as safe as I can make her.” He turned to look at the sea. “Do you still want me to take you to the Gathering Isle?”

Kam scratched his beard. Well the whole point of going there had been to convince his mother to save Namaka. But Namaka had come back on her own—as a fish person, but hey, everyone had problems. So what was the point in going there now? Both Mo-O and Kamalo had been convinced his mother wasn’t going to get involved anyway.

Finally, he shook his head. “Nah. No point anymore. Namaka will have to take care of herself.” He glanced around at Pasikole’s bedraggled crew. “Seems she can do so.” Kam turned to leave, then hesitated. He spun around and pushed Pasikole hard enough to send the man stumbling backward. “You’re not divine. But I’m kind of a bit divine. A bit.” He glared the foreigner. “Just want you to know that. Pigman is watching you, Yellow Hair.”

Pasikole smiled sadly, and shook his head. “Watch out for her, Kam. I don’t plan to come back.”

Kam favored the odd man with a grin, then clambered over the side back into his canoe. Maybe things would be better for everyone with the foreigner gone. Still, Kam would miss all the excitement.

20

Namaka swam faster than she had ever swum, even using the water to enhance her speed, shooting it out in jets behind her. Pushing herself, she could cover fifteen leagues in an hour, but the jets helped her reach almost twice that. The undersea world blurred around her and still she feared she would arrive too late. If the he’e had betrayed Hiyoya, no help was on the way. And after the battle with Mu had turned against them, the city might be woefully unprepared to face a new threat.

By the time she neared the city, the sun had set and the city grown dark. The moment she slowed her pace, the sounds of battle assaulted her.

We’re too late.

Nyi Rara! Thank Kāne the mermaid princess had awakened. Did she know all that had happened?

I know. You are growing.

Not fast enough. Not fast enough to prevent this from happening and not fast enough to put a stop to it now.

As she entered the city chaos greeted her. Mermaids and mermen struggled with he’e everywhere she turned. Every window, every house seemed to reveal another octopus strangling a mer.

Namaka darted into one of the houses where a he’e had one arm around each of a mermaid’s arms, four holding her tail still, and two more crushing the poor girl. Wordless rage shrieked from Namaka’s mouth as she sent a jet of water slamming into the he’e. The impact sent both attacker and victim colliding with the house wall. The mermaid’s eyes glazed over, but the he’e almost instantly recovered. Its arms propelled it toward Namaka like a rock hurled from a sling, not swimming so much as launching itself at her.

Twisting and ducking, she tried to avoid the creature, but it used its arms to alter its momentum so easily it crashed right into her. Before she could even react those arms enwrapped her, constricting, suctioning onto her skin and scales. Namaka tried to scream but the he’e wrapped one arm around her neck, cutting off all air. She grabbed at it and tried to pull it away. Though its skin was soft as velvet the muscle beneath was like rock.

Already her vision had begun to dim. A chill filled her as she lost control over her limbs. Then her vision cleared and she realized she was prying the arm away, tugging at it with inhuman strength—or rather Nyi Rara was using her body to do so. Pain lanced through her neck as suckers popped free of it. The he’e wrapped other arms around her own, sapping even the mermaid princess’s strength.

And then the other mermaid, the one she had come to save, collided with them, driving a coral lance through the he’e’s head. The creature shrieked and released her in an instant. The entire house suddenly filled with a thick black ink that stung her eyes and would have made finding her way impossible. She felt the he’e stream past her, heard its wails as it fled.

Nyi Rara remained in control, however, and guided them out the door. For a moment Namaka rested, letting the mermaid princess manage things. The spirit used Namaka’s hand to massage her throat, to brush over the damage and check its extent.

You will live.

Namaka tried to answer, to thank the mermaid, but her voice came out as a gargle. Even that felt like trying to swallow a mouthful of magma.

Give it a few moments.

Everything had gone straight to Lua-O-Milu and Namaka hadn’t done a damn thing to stop it. Her powers had pushed the he’e but had managed little else.

It is an invertebrate.

What did that mean?

It has no bones. Throwing it against the wall isn’t going to daze it the way it would a human.

Great. Good to know. So maybe if she had the powers of a Flame Princess she’d have a weapon against the he’e. But if impact wasn’t going to hurt them, what good could she do with the sea? She needed to find Ake. He was a warrior, a leader. Maybe he would know what to do.

The general is likely protecting the queen.

Nyi Rara’s aunt. Was that the point of all this chaos? No, the he’e had to have a bigger goal in mind. Kill Latmikaik and she would only take another host. All the other deaths—and dozens of mer bodies were now floating around the city—could well be a mere distraction. But if the he’e took the Urchin there was no telling what they might accomplish.

After massaging her throat one last time, Namaka darted for the palace. Merman guards struggled with dozens of he’e in the entry hall. Her heart went out to them, but she had no idea how to help them. The other mermaid had stabbed that thing in the head and it hadn’t died.

Their brains are not shaped like yours.

Wonderful. Namaka was starting to dislike octopuses.

She swam through corridors, avoiding the battles while making her way as quickly as possible toward the great hall. Not that she had any idea what to do when she got there. But she was going to help Ake and Latmikaik somehow. She had to do something. Too many people had died already.

Shouts echoed from the great hall, sounds of battle and death, though the entryway was obscured by more of that damn ink.

Namaka braced herself to dart inside the great hall. And then something dropped down on her from the ceiling. The he’e had been all but invisible, its color and texture so perfectly matching that of the walls. In an instant it had pinned her to the ground, arms trapping her tail, wrapping around her wrists.

“Welcome home, Princess.” The creature’s thick voice ushered from a beak uncomfortably close to her face. His position meant she was looking into its maw and couldn’t see its fathomless black eyes. But this had to be Punga. She knew it was.

“Ambassador.” Namaka fairly spat the title at him.

The he’e raised one of its arms—how did he even have a free arm with so many holding her down?—to her face and drew it along her cheek. “One might suspect a Princess on land ought to have remained there.” That arm danced in front of her eyes, a hair’s breadth away, so close she could barely focus on it. And then, with slow inevitability, it lowered around her throat.

The suckers latched on, but it wasn’t choking her. Not yet. Growing ever tighter. Kāne, the creature was killing her slowly, enjoying her fear at the impending end. Winning was not enough for this ghostfucker—he wanted to break her.

That, more than anything, filled her with such gut-wrenching loathing that nothing else—not even fear—had room left inside her. These creatures were monsters, vile. And despite being born on Earth, they were less human than even the spirits of the Ghost World like Nyi Rara.

Lend me your strength.

Damn right. Namaka jerked against the he’e, pulling with all her might.

No—feed me your mana. Let it flow through me like a river.

Namaka had no idea what Nyi Rara meant, or intended, but she gave over fighting Punga. Let him think her resigned to the end. Let him think her broken. She shut herself down, feeling the energy within her, feeling the sea stretching out around her into forever. And she felt Nyi Rara there, waiting. Handing her the power was like clasping hands with an old friend.

Bitter cold seeped into her core as her strength, her life poured from her, her mana being sucked up by this being inside her. It was like a river—or a waterfall—draining her until she would be nothing but an empty shell.

Nyi Rara extended one of her fingers toward Punga. Her arm remained bound at the wrist, but around that one finger the sea began to coil, to swirl in a vortex no wider than her single digit. Above her, the he’e turned, perhaps noticing the slight change in pressure around it.

Nyi Rara released the vortex and it shot forward like a spear hurled by the mightiest warrior. That tiny jet of water, propelled with the force of a geyser, lanced through Punga’s eye and exploded out the other side of his head. His arms began to slack as he reeled, shrieking and pulling away from her.

The cold in Namaka’s chest made breathing seem to take all her strength. Feeding Nyi Rara her power like that left her dizzy, unable to focus. But the mermaid princess wasn’t done yet. Namaka tried to break the spiritual grip the mermaid had on her, to sever the connection allowing the mermaid to feed on her mana, but it was no use. Nyi Rara shot another water lance at the retreating he’e. This time the creature went limp, though its arms continued to move, as if searching for a way to escape despite multiple holes in its head.

Gasping, Namaka reached out a hand before her own body gave out. Everything grew dark around her.

* * *

Someone was shaking her awake. Had she been out for a mere moment or for hours?

General Ake he shook her again. “Princess.”

Namaka groaned.

Even I could not get your body to move. Now you know what it feels like to be so drained.

Aumakuas, yes. Was that what Nyi Rara went through when she tried to control Namaka’s power on her own, without Namaka intentionally feeding her mana? Was there no way they could find a balance, a means through which they might both coexist?

“What’s happened?” Namaka asked.

“We’ve begun to drive out the he’e,” Ake said, “but our losses are extreme. I don’t know if we can hold out against another wave.”

“And the queen?”

“Safe. But reports indicated the he’e were headed to the gorge.” The gorge? Oh, aumakuas, the Urchin! “Nyi Rara, I cannot leave the queen …” His eyes pleaded. His sister was down there.

Namaka moaned and dashed toward the chamber with all the speed she could still muster.

* * *

We must reach the Urchin.

Obviously.

The he’e are adept in the Art. There is no telling what they could accomplish with the Urchin’s power.

Kanaloa. Their god-king, the being Namaka’s people worshipped as the god of magic.

She dashed around halls, choking, gasping, her blurry vision only just beginning to clear. The Urchin had tried to show her this and she had misunderstood. So badly misunderstood everything. It had shown her the he’e and the danger they represented, even shown her Pasikole, trying to help her make the connection. But she had missed it all.

And what had it shown Nyi Rara? Would the mermaid ever tell her? The conspicuous silence in her mind might well mean the mermaid had also missed the point of her own visions.

Namaka broke into the gorge chamber only to find four dead mer and as many dead he’e. They had come here, and the mer had given their lives to stop them. But had they succeeded? She darted into the chasm. The bioluminescent algae had changed in hue from green to red, as if somehow reflecting the violence now permeating this once glorious city, this sacred place.

Hurry, Namaka.

She was hurrying. Using the water jets to speed herself in these narrow confines would accomplish nothing but slamming her into the chasm walls. Instead, she pushed off wall after wall, at last nearing the Urchin’s chamber.

The witch lay sprawled at the threshold, eyes empty. Hundreds of sucker-marks covered her throat and face and breasts. Her arms lay twisted at odd angles, clearly broken. The corpses of a pair of he’e floated in the water as well, defiling the Urchin’s sacrosanct chamber.

Hinaopuhalakoa …

Namaka shook her head. Milu drag the he’e to her misty bosom and devour their souls. Ake’s sister had given her life to protect this place. Seething pain surged through Namaka’s gut, a cold rage that soured the beauty before her.

Hands outstretched, she reached toward the he’e corpses and coiled water around them, yanking them out of the Urchin’s room and flinging them back through the gorge. Entering the chamber now, without the witch’s presence, felt like a violation of some primal kapu.

Instead, all she could think to do was twirl her tail in respect to the Urchin. It sat there, giving no indication of distress at the death of the Lorekeeper. But somehow, Namaka suspected it knew. Sorrow filled her, not only for Hinaopuhalakoa’s loss, but for her own failure to understand what the mythic creature had wanted to show her. Treachery, ambition, and death. Thousands of deaths. She had taken the funerals of her people as literal imagery, but perhaps it had been symbolic of losses here at Hiyoya as well.

Biting her lip against the wave of self-loathing, she wrapped her arms around the witch’s body and swam from the gorge. Poor Ake. How was she ever going to face him, to break such news to the merman?

The host was nearing the end of its life as it was.

The host. The human host had died …

But Hinaopuhalakoa was merely banished from your world. Ake will see her again when this is over, when we call her soul back into a new host.

That hardly made her smile. Nyi Rara meant to say when another human girl was sacrificed, taken from Sawaiki, her life stolen so a mermaid could experience the pleasures of Earth for the thousandth time. And deny them to her human host.

Nyi Rara said nothing, but Namaka could feel her recoil from the accusation. Perhaps it was easier for the spirit to forget that humans, too, had souls and hopes and dreams. Lives that were stolen from them for the use of spirits.

I thought you loved being a mermaid.

She did. She was, however, beginning to see not all mer were like Nyi Rara. And even Nyi Rara herself had given no thought to the death of the human host.

It’s not that simple.

Namaka sneered as she breached the great circle chamber leading to the gorge. It was exactly that simple. The mer just didn’t want to admit they treated their hosts as disposable. She released the witch’s body. She had to get back to Ake.

She had only entered the next hall when a tremendous roar reverberated through the entire palace, shaking the very walls and sending a cloud of dust floating through the waters.

“What the—” Namaka was interrupted by another roar. It was coming from above them.

Not waiting for an answer, she darted through the corridors to the nearest grotto with an open roof, then swam up to see what the commotion was. A massive shadow passed overhead and Namaka looked up in horror.

The reptilian creature bore some superficial resemblance to Mo-O-Inanea, but this was a dragon of a whole other magnitude. It had to be near forty paces long, that entire length covered in a ridge of spines, the largest of which reached as tall as a house. It had short, clawed feet like a sea turtle and moved like a giant eel.

And it was swimming at great speed, not for Hiyoya, but for the Valley Isle.

* * *

It was a creature of myth, a legend of the deep. A taniwha. And somehow, the he’e had summoned it to their aid. Namaka didn’t know how, but it had to be them. Perhaps their god-king had called it. The how didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she catch the monster. It paused briefly to crush some of Hiyoya’s defenders. She arrived in time to see it swallow a merman near whole, biting off the end of his tail in a spray of gore.

Damn it. Damn the he’e and their cursed taniwha.

She was going to end this. She summoned the currents around her and launched them at the taniwha, sending an enormous undersea wave crashing into it. The current pushed it over slightly, but didn’t slow it. The beast didn’t even look at her. Like she was beneath its notice. Instead it swam on toward her home, propelling its bulk forward at a speed she could match only if she used those jets of water to accelerate her passage.

You will use up your strength before the battle begins.

And just how was she supposed to battle such a monstrosity in the first place? She’d thrown her full might at it and not even managed to annoy it. Could she bring it down with a water lance like Nyi Rara used on the he’e?

Doing that rendered you unconscious. And that was against a creature your own size. How do you propose we generate enough force to penetrate those scales?

Well, she wasn’t about to give up. She had to warn her people.

They’ll know.

A sick feeling bubbled up in her stomach. As the taniwha drew near land, it would rise toward the surface. Its enormous bulk and uncanny speed would disrupt the sea around it, creating a tsunami sweeping toward Hamoa Village.

Someone would see it. She could only pray they’d all ran inland, flee the coming wave toward the relative shelter of the mountains. They couldn’t know what would follow was worse. Beeyond any act of nature—or, perhaps it was nature in its purest, most wrathful form. The rage of the deep.

And it was headed for the people she cared most for.

Maybe Nyi Rara was right. Maybe she would only exhaust herself by using her power to move faster. But she had to. She had to get there before the wave wiped out what little was left of her home. She owed them that. She summoned jets of water to her hands, jerked them behind herself, and propelled her body forward even faster than she had done to reach Hiyoya. Everything blurred around her as she finally broke out in front of the taniwha.

Her breath came in pants that stung her still-raw throat. She glanced over her shoulder to see the creature glaring at her, increasing its own speed as if intent on catching her. Swallowing her up like a late supper. Or maybe no more than a small snack.

Namaka screamed, expending even more energy to fling herself farther out ahead. Just a little more. A few hundred paces more and she’d be there, be at her village.

And what will you do then?

She had no idea. Somehow, she’d buy her people time to escape. That was her duty as their Princess. It was the least—and sadly, probably the most—she could do for them. If the taniwha ate her, her people couldn’t even consume her flesh and take back her mana. But none of that would matter if they all died today.

As the beach neared, Namaka launched herself upward, flinging herself from the sea as she had done to board Pasikole’s ship. She landed a dozen paces away from the sea in a crouch.

Much of the village had probably gone to sleep, but a man shouted at her arrival.

“Run!” she screamed at the people. “Run to the mountains! Run and find Mo-O-Inanea.”

Namaka spun back to the sea. The foreign ship was nowhere to be seen, but the great wave rose, rushing forward. It would sweep over the village before they had gotten far enough away.

“Help me now, Nyi Rara.” The mermaid princess offered no answer, only a vague sensation of hesitation. Damn it. Damn her. “I fought to save your people! Now fight to save mine!”

There was only the barest hesitation more.

I am with you.

Namaka spread her arms wide, palms facing the onrushing sea, and sent her soul out onto it.

Break.

She fed all of herself into that thought.

Break!

She screamed with effort, touching the ocean with her soul, pouring her mana into it, and turning it back on itself. Even in her mind she screamed, her thoughts nothing more than a primal desire to defy fate. To hold back the sea, turn the tide, and stand against the inevitable.

The wave twisted, breaking in the wrong direction and falling backward in a cacophony that almost covered the taniwha’s roar of rage. The wave tossed the creature upside down and spun it around, before it broke through the surface a moment later, roaring once again.

But the wave had lost its momentum, and a mere high tide rushed forward to soak her shins. Namaka fell to her knees, suddenly unable to stand. Just offshore, the taniwha reared itself up in dark silhouette against the moon. Its rage seemed to shake the island itself.

ow it looked at her. Suddenly she was no longer a nuisance beneath its notice.

“Let Milu feast on your soul,” Namaka spat through gritted teeth. She had nothing left. Not even the strength to rise from her knees.

She might die this night, but at least she had turned back the tsunami, had bought her people time to flee. Without the ocean, they were doomed, powerless to feed themselves, to stand against raiders … Except there weren’t going to be raiders. This taniwha would wreck all of Sawaiki and leave it ripe for the he’e to enslave all the islands. But she had done everything she could.

The dragon reared back, clearly intent on swallowing her and a good chunk of the beach with her.

“Choke on a crab, ghostfucker,” she mumbled.

“Namaka!” The bellow reached her just before Kamapua’a collided with her, swept her up in his arms, and kept running.

The dragon’s maw impacted an instant later, indeed taking a chunk out of the beach. Kam had healed already, gods be praised. Even burdened with her in his arms, the wereboar ran faster than most humans could ever manage, tearing up a trail of wet sand in his wake. Impossible though it seemed, Kam’s muscles seem to grow, tightening, until he was a bounding force of nature himself.

The dragon roared and whipped its tail around to impede their way. Kamapua’a actually jumped over the tail, clearing an impossible distance. The taniwha’s tail slammed into the boardwalk, sending every remaining house in Hamoa Village crashing into the ocean, reduced to kindling. Men and women ran screaming while others plummeted into the sea. One woman froze in fear, staring at her impending doom. Namaka looked away just before the taniwha’s jaws clamped down on the victim.

Kam landed with a thud and immediately took off running again, this time toward the jungle and Mo-O’s cave where the rest of the village was already retreating. Namaka glanced back over his shoulder to see the taniwha, bellowing with wrath and continuing to smash the driftwood that had once been her people’s homes.

It placed one enormous foot on land, glaring at them. Then it turned and dove back into the water. In the moonlight it was hard to tell, but it looked to be swimming around the island.

And then she knew. She might have escaped for a moment, but the creature was going to destroy every village on the Valley Isle. And when it finished here, what was next? Probably the Big Isle, it was closest. Then the Pineapple Isle, and each and every island across Sawaiki. The he’e wanted to rule the seas, and to do that they could deny humanity access to the ocean. It would cut them off from one another and their primary food source, ensure they remained nothing but tiny, powerless tribes.

What few of them survived.

* * *

Most of the villagers sat spread across Mo-O’s valley, fearing to draw too near the cave. Many probably feared Mo-O, though the old dragon had never been anything but a guardian of this island and its people. They feared her because she was different, because she had powers they didn’t understand.

Dozens of people were wounded and dozens more lost entirely. Those who could walk were busy tending to the wounded, gathering wood for fires, or searching the jungle for fruits. Their homes were lost. All the food they had, gone. The taniwha had taken everything.

Namaka’s mother lay against the cave wall, her face drawn and a chill sweat dribbling down her neck. Even she had seemed nervous when they brought her in here, but Namaka had insisted.

Namaka brushed the hair from her mother’s face.

Her mother waved her off. “I’m fine. We have bigger problems, I just need some rest.”

She was right about that—they had an enormous problem. And Namaka didn’t have the first idea how to fight off the taniwha. Even if the mer of Hiyoya would have helped—maybe they would—they were engaged in war with the he’e. Nyi Rara, sadly, remained silent on the matter. Namaka had known using the mermaid to harness that much power would probably drive her into a torpor once again. It seemed unavoidable that one of them always had to pay that price.

Either way, the people of the Valley Isle were on their own against this threat. And what were they to do? Throw spears at the monstrous dragon? From the look of it, no weapon they had would come close to piercing its scales. The behemoth was powerful beyond anything her people could ever hope to fight.

Namaka rose to go, but her mother called her name and she turned back. From a bundle behind her, her mother drew out her father’s feather cloak. “I think he’d want you to have this.”

Namaka reached a trembling hand for it, stroked the soft feathers. But … even were she not a mermaid, it was not kapu. As a Princess, she was more than a chief. More, but different. Finally, she dropped her hand and shook her head. “It’s not meant for me. When this is all over, we’ll have to find a new chief.”

Her mother sighed, but nodded, shutting her eyes, and Namaka left her to rest.

She had always looked to Mo-O for direction, guidance. At the moment, though, the dragon seemed as lost as anyone else, watching Namaka. As if she had some kind of answer.

“What do I do?” she whispered, trying not to let any of the others hear her doubt. They all seemed to think she could save them. She was, after all, their Princess.

“You may have hard choices ahead of you,” the dragon answered. “It does not seem like you can do this with your power alone.”

And where was she supposed to get more? It wasn’t like she had time to go lounge in the Sacred Pools and try to soak up excess mana. And the villagers couldn’t help her, she’d already determined that. Namaka frowned. They couldn’t help her … because they had no weapons powerful enough to harm a taniwha. But there was someone who might have such weapons.

“Where is Pasikole? Where did his ship go?”

That ship was armed with those … cannons. Those weapons that rained destruction like angry gods.

“Kampaua’a said he sailed away after your scuffle with him.”

Namaka shut her eyes. Of course he had. Their best hope, and she had driven him away. Not without cause. The foreigner had helped create this disaster. And still she didn’t want him gone. What kind of madness was inside her to miss the man who had come here to kidnap her? “Pigman!”

At once, Kamapua’a rushed to her side. “I’m here, Fish Girl!”

She grimaced. Great. She’d probably never shake that nickname. “Which way did Pasikole’s ship sail?”

“Uh …” Kamapua’a drummed his lips with a finger. “He was headed for the Gathering Isle, last I heard.”

Fine. That would have to be enough. She could feel the sea, maybe she’d sense the ship disrupting it if she got close enough. “Stay here and watch over the people. Don’t let them back near the beach.”

He shrugged. “Sure. I’ll kill anyone who tries to commit suicide, no problem.”

Namaka shook her head once, then took off running back to the shore. She had to get to Pasikole. And somehow she had to convince him to return, to try to fight this sea monster. Whatever it took, she must gain his help. She dashed through the jungle and out onto the beach, then stumbled to a stop.

With the monster gone and the immediate horror passed, all that remained was carnage. Trees along the beach had been bent backward and splintered. Driftwood and debris—the last of her village—covered the shore in all directions. The people were gone, the animals fled. Everything had grown silent, save for the lapping of waves against the shore. Several dozen bodies had washed up on the beach, and others floated out in the sea. People she had known all her life—friends she had feasted with, danced with, laughed with. Bloated and lost, and since no kahuna had sent their souls away, probably doomed to become Nightmarchers. Doomed, because how could Kamalo perform the proper rituals in this situation? Or perform them for so many people at once?

After blowing out a long breath, Namaka continued down to the water’s edge and dove in, summoning her tail. She had no time to dawdle here, no time to mourn the dead, nor to send for her uncle.

Part of her longed to rush back to the camp and search him out. And still she beat her tail, surging forward. Nyi Rara had warned her using the water jets would drain her, but once again she saw no other choice. She had to reach Pasikole and every moment she took in doing so carried him and his ship farther away from the Valley Isle.

And so she summoned the jets and beat her tail, swimming on and on.

* * *

At last she felt something in the sea, displacing it, pushing it aside. It must have been near midnight before she reached the ship and launched herself aboard.

Only a handful of the crew were on deck at this hour, but a shout went up among them when she landed onboard. Namaka rose, straightening her drenched skirt. The tabu against wet clothes seemed rather pointless at the moment.

A sudden pit opened in her stomach. She had just cast herself onto their ship, far away from her home. This was what they had wanted all along, wasn’t it? To take her away. Except now she had taken control of her power. Now, Nyi Rara dwelt inside her. And at long last, she understood—understood herself and her place in the world. Anger no longer controlled her. And if these people tried to carry her anywhere against her will, she could sink this entire ship.

A moment later Pasikole stumbled out of his cabin, shirtless. He held a pistol, but lowered it when he saw her. The man opened his mouth, but didn’t seem to know what he wanted to say. He just stared at her as she approached.

Namaka started to bite her lip, then stopped. She needed to seem strong, in command. Everything depended on her convincing Pasikole to come fight the benthic monster now threatening Sawaiki. And that meant she needed to be more than Namaka. She needed to be the Princess of the Valley Isle, the Princess of Sea.

For a moment she stared up at him, trying to find the right words, trying not to get lost in his questioning eyes. “I need your help.”

“I, uh … I thought you wanted us as far from the Valley Isle as we could get.”

Had she given him that impression? Had she wanted that? Kāne! She didn’t know what she had wanted. She wasn’t even sure what she wanted now. Only that she had to right the things gone wrong. “The Valley Isle is under attack.” Had she misjudged him again? Just how loyal was he to the he’e? Earlier today he’d claimed his feelings for her had dissuaded him from his contract with the octopuses. Could she count on that now? “The he’e have unleashed a sea dragon on us.”

Pasikole glanced at his crew, but most offered no reaction. Most probably didn’t even understand her words. “A … dragon?”

“A taniwha—a guardian of the deep. It destroyed my village and it’s going to do the same to every village in Sawaiki. Unless we stop it. So turn this ship around and get those cannons ready for use on a real enemy.”

The captain rocked back on his heels, clearly shocked, though whether at her tone or her news, she didn’t know. In truth, she had very little way to convince him to take such a risk. “You claimed to have feelings for me. You said you did, despite all you’ve done. Well, prove it. Come back and help me save my people. Don’t you think you owe us that much after causing so many deaths?” After the lies and betrayals.

Pasikole once again looked over his crew. He wasn’t checking for their reactions at all. He was thinking of their safety. They were his village, his clan, and she was asking him to make a choice that would cost some of them their lives. Maybe all of them. With that realization, Namaka couldn’t think of anything else to say. He had to decide this on his own. Maybe she could use his guilt to make him risk his life, but there were other lives here.

At last, he spoke to his crew in his native language. Many of their faces blanched as he spoke, and a few of them shouted things that sounded decidedly impolite. Pasikole continued speaking, and finally, the crew fell silent. All looking at him. And at her.

And then he nodded. One of the sailors on the upper deck yanked on the wheel up there, and the ship began to turn. Heading back to Sawaiki. Back toward the taniwha.

* * *

Day VII

21

Dawn was moments away when the Valley Isle at last came back into view. Namaka stood at the ship’s bow with Pasikole. He had tried talking to her a few times during the voyage, tried apologizing again, and she had given him a curt nod. Part of her wanted to forgive him. Part of her wanted to hate him. She wasn’t certain how those two parts could exist side by side without destroying one another.

Anger is poison.

Maybe it was. That did not mean she was ready to let him back into her heart.

He had left her side only long enough to don a shirt. Now he stuck beside her, though he seemed to have given up trying to start a conversation. Maybe he felt the turmoil roiling in her gut.

“I had let myself fantasize about you, about us being lovers,” she said at last, as the isle drew near.

Pasikole opened his mouth, then shut it, seeming lost. Maybe, given how shy his people seemed about nudity, sex was also something tabu to talk of. Why, she couldn’t imagine. What a terribly backward way to look at such a central aspect of human life. No wonder these people tore themselves apart with lies and betrayal.

“It was before. Before Hau-Pu died.” Before Pasikole killed Hau-Pu. “Before all of this.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “None of this went the way I wanted it to.”

No. He’d wanted to kidnap her and sell her to the treacherous he’e. But she didn’t say it. Though he could probably read the thought off the look on her face.

“You came here with bad intentions. Are you so surprised it ended badly? If you—”

A horrid shriek cut her off and she spun. One of the sailors was wrapped by tentacle-like arms and tugged over the side of the ship.

“He’e!” she shouted.

The next instant a dozen of the creatures were crawling over the side, surprisingly fast even out of the water. They swarmed over the crew, wrapping them in crushing, strangling embraces.

The crew got off a few shots from their pistols, but those with the weapons seemed to be the first targets.

Pasikole drew his weapon and fired on a he’e advancing on him and Namaka. The creature jerked as part of its head splattered. Its arms kept dragging it forward, slithering over the deck like they had minds of their own. The creature was going to strangle Pasikole, as they had tried to do to her. But she had the strength of a mermaid—a human form would be crushed in moments.

Namaka grabbed the captain and leapt over the side of the ship, transforming her legs back into a tail. Pasikole’s eyes widened at the sight. She wrapped her arms around his waist, dove deep. In the pre-dawn darkness she couldn’t see far, but far enough to see he’e crawling all over the hull. Maybe the creatures had realized Pasikole had betrayed them. Perhaps they had come to punish his failure. Or maybe they’d always planned to kill him.

As she swam, she sent a current spiraling at one of the he’e. The vortex knocked it off the hull and sent it skittering through the water before its rapidly pumping arms could arrest its momentum. Her attack had also caused the ship to rock like it had been kicked by a giant warrior.

Pasikole beat against her back and she glanced at him, taking in the panic in his eyes, his cheeks looking like they were about to burst. On instinct she kissed him, blowing air into his mouth. She didn’t know how she was able to do it, but after flailing a moment more, he relaxed, eyes widening again. Then he nodded at her.

Namaka turned again to see another he’e rapidly propelling itself toward her and Pasikole. A wave of her arm sent a current jetting toward it, carrying it hundreds of paces away from her. She had to do something about those on the ship, though, or there would be no crew left to fight the taniwha.

The hull was covered in the crawling, monstrous things, stuck to it with those awful suckers. And quickly making their way up to the deck where they could wrap themselves around helpless men and women. She knew all too well the fear that evoked, the pain of being slowly crushed beneath far too many slimy, grasping, sucking arms.

She blew another breath into Pasikole and he held her face, leaving it tingling. She hadn’t intended the gesture to be romantic, but she almost didn’t want to let him go. Kāne, her heart kept getting her into too much trouble. She pushed the man away then pointed to the surface. He nodded and swam straight upward.

Then she summoned currents on both sides of the ship, calling them to her. Aumakuas, but she wished Nyi Rara was here to help guide this. Still, she was probably going to need the mermaid’s help soon enough when they faced the taniwha. She had to do this herself. Namaka screamed, releasing all her rage and pent-up frustration along with the current. The water slapped both sides of the hull with the force of a typhoon, shearing he’e from it on all sides. Those that refused to break their suction had their arms severed by the current.

In an instant the waters darkened with blood and ink as the he’e fled. The ship bucked, listing so far to one side a wave crashed over the newly repaired mast. For a single breath-stealing instant, she thought the whole vessel was going to capsize. Crew fell from the near-vertical deck, plummeting into the sea. And then the ship pitched back in the opposite direction, at last righting itself.

Some hapless souls were caught in the rigging and slammed against the hull as the ship bucked and reeled. More than one skull cracked open, and Namaka grimaced. That had cost more than she’d hoped. A few beats of her tail carried her up to where Pasikole now treaded water on the surface, staring in horror at his ship. She wrapped an arm around his waist and used a jet of water to launch them both out of the sea and back onto the deck.

By now, the he’e still on board were diving over the side, joining their fleeing brethren. From the look of it, half of Pasikole’s crew were dead in their wake. Many of their bodies had fallen over the side, but some lay strewn about the deck, crushed to pulp. Their faces turned purple, arms twisted at unnatural angles, necks squeezed so tightly their heads seemed ready to pop free.

Countless circular red sores covered them too, from where the he’e suckers had latched onto flesh. Namaka grimaced, barely able to keep herself from retching at the gruesome destruction around her.

“I hate the he’e,” she mumbled.

“As do I,” Pasikole said beside her. His voice was dark, his face a mask of rage. This was what the he’e had done to their human allies. This was what they thought of surface dwellers. And Pasikole must now be thinking much the same thing. What would he do about it? Would all this break the man, send him fleeing Sawaiki once and for all?

Namaka couldn’t afford for that to happen. “I know you grieve your losses. But the real enemy is still out there.”

Pasikole blew out a long, deep breath before turning to look down at her eyes. “The he’e are the real enemy. This taniwha is just a weapon of theirs. I will help you fight it. Though with so many of my people fallen or injured, I …” He shook his head.

It wasn’t going to be enough. That was what he feared to say. His ship, his cannons, weren’t going to be enough.

“Trying to shoot a sea monster will have the same problem as trying to fight the he’e,” he said. “We can only take a shot at something on the surface, not an enemy below us, nor one already upon our hull.”

And like the he’e, the taniwha wasn’t going to attack them like it was some war canoe, especially not if it realized they had the means to harm it. It would attack from the depths, render those cannons useless.

Unless … unless she could force it to the surface. Maybe Nyi Rara could harness that kind of power. Maybe. But the last time she had tried to feed her mana directly to the mermaid princess it left Namaka unconscious. Nyi Rara said she couldn’t even move Namaka’s body.

What if there was another way?

Nyi Rara, thank Kāne! Namaka had begun to wonder when she would finally hear the other princess’s voice again.

You are the strangest host.

Why? Because Namaka wanted—what had Nyi Rara called it? Symbiosis? She needed Nyi Rara and she knew that.

Maybe … maybe there is a way we can be blended more fully.

How?

Namaka could almost feel the mermaid sigh inside her soul. Go somewhere safe, calm.

They had no time for safety. People were dying all over the Valley Isle.

You will need to meditate deeply enough that your soul can leave your world.

Enter the Ghost World? Sure, that sounded easy. And absolutely horrifying. People who slept deeply were sometimes said to dream their souls into the Ghost World. But to do it on purpose, to walk there …

Sometimes we must do difficult things to win the day.

Namaka swallowed, then turned back to Pasikole. “Make your ship ready. I’ll find a way to get you that shot.”

* * *

Namaka had retreated to Mo-O’s cave, seeking quiet as well as escape from the morning sun. According to Nyi Rara, the darkness would make this meditation journey easier. The prospect of seeing the mermaid’s real world was enthralling, true, but it left her trembling as well. The Ghost World was the ultimate tabu. Only a kahuna of the greatest power could glimpse it while awake, and even then, they spoke of it only in whispers.

A human could not normally reach the Spirit Realm.

Spirit Realm … was that what they called the Ghost World? Namaka folded her legs beneath her and shut her eyes, trying to close out all sensation with them. That was what Uncle Kamalo said she must do. Clear her mind. Right, sure. Because that was her specialty. Namaka’s mind whirred so quickly she often couldn’t even sleep.

It will be easier because I am inside you. I can pull you into my world, if you let me.

Pull her into the Ghost World. She suppressed another shudder but couldn’t still her trembling breath.

You are afraid.

Well, no shit.

Your body will remain right where it is. Your mind and soul alone will walk beside me. Calm yourself and take my hand.

Namaka wasn’t quite sure how to take the hand of an incorporeal spirit possessing her body. After mulling it over for a moment, she decided grabbing her own hand was the easiest way to do it. Nyi Rara sighed in her mind.

Imagine me for a moment as a person like you, walking beside you. See me in your mind’s eye.

Fine. Except Namaka had no clue what Nyi Rara actually looked like.

Don’t you?

Her breath caught as a hazy figure materialized in her mind. Whether it was a trick Nyi Rara perpetrated or a vision drawn from her own mind, Namaka couldn’t say. Maybe it didn’t matter. Though roughly humanoid in shape, the woman who stood in front of her was far from human. She had opalescent eyes as alien as those of the he’e and, in place of ears, multi-layered fins sticking out from beneath the blue-black hair plastered over her face in wet strands. Fine scales covered her entire body, a faint blue-green sheen to them. She stood on legs, but her ankles bore small fins. The hand she reached out was webbed, her fingers ending in nails Namaka could only call claws.

All around her darkness stretched as far as she could see. There was nothing, absolutely nothing save the creature before her, reaching a hand toward her. Every strand of her being demanded Namaka open her eyes and flee from things the human mind was not meant to see. This creature might be nestled within her soul, but to see her like this made it too real, too inescapable.

“You asked me for symbiosis.” The woman spoke with the same voice that had so long echoed in Namaka’s mind, except now it sounded like words spoken aloud, coming from outside herself. Was Nyi Rara now outside her, or was her mind simply playing a trick on her? The mermaid frowned, but kept her hand outstretched toward Namaka. “In your world, you tend to think of reality as one thing or another. But once you leave behind the human world, human perception and human logic must be left behind as well. Now. Do you wish to do this? I cannot force you to take this journey, for it is not a journey of your body, but of your mind, your soul.”

Nyi Rara was right. Namaka had asked for this, had wanted to find a way to reconcile their two natures. And that meant accepting Nyi Rara for what she truly was. It had been so easy to think of her merely as another person talking to Namaka. But Nyi Rara wasn’t a person, exactly. She was something so far beyond human experience that Namaka might—almost—have more in common with someone like Ambassador Punga than with the mermaid princess.

Almost. But not quite.

She grabbed Nyi Rara’s hand. The spirit’s hand closed around Namaka’s arm, her skin clammy and chilled as a fish, rough with scales. Somehow, despite the claws digging into her own arm, Namaka felt a kind of peace holding Nyi Rara’s hand. And as she accepted that peace, the darkness around her began to fill with faint light, like stars viewed through a cloudy night. Slowly that starlight suffused the cave enough that she could see around her.

Her body remained where she had left it, legs still folded beneath her as she meditated, but it seemed a mere shadow in this place. As did the bodies of Mo-O and Kamapua’a, both watching her still form in obvious nervousness. Movement flickered outside the cave and she turned toward it. Shades drifted in and out of view, some the shadows of villagers back there in the real world, drinking from the river or praying and weeping for those lost.

Namaka pulled against Nyi Rara’s hand, feeling somehow she had to see outside. The spirit acquiesced and walked with her out of the cave. Outside there no floated overhead, but the sky was lit by iridescent clouds of every color she could think of, colors even she had never imagined and had no names for.

Motion again drew her eyes. Drifting among the shadows of the living were what could only be ghosts. Though slightly translucent, the ghosts seemed more real here than the people she had left behind. They walked about the villagers, idly lingering beside some, whispering words that the living gave no indication of hearing. Their forms were bedraggled, bearing the injuries that had slain them, but they were definitely the villagers who had died in the taniwha’s attack. Ghosts not yet sent beyond the world, not yet put to rest by a kahuna’s prayers, by the mourning chants and a proper funeral. Her people—dead and still suffering.

Some of them looked to her, shaking their heads. Did they judge her? Did they think her a failure as a Princess? None spoke to her. What words they had seemed meant only for the loved ones they had left behind. Some of the ghosts knelt around villagers, weeping, clenching their fists and shrieking in lamentations that—now that she had begun to listen—left her shivering. Those ghosts had congregated around villagers whose shadows here seemed off, weaker. A foul disruption in their essence somehow reaching into the Ghost World.

“What’s wrong with those people?”

“They are sick,” Nyi Rara said. “The foreigners brought diseases with them, illnesses to which they are adapted. But your people were isolated, never exposed before, never prepared. Those who survive will be more resistant, of course.”

“Those who …? What in Mi—”

Nyi Rara slapped a hand over Namaka’s mouth. “I told you, do not use that name. It is a name for the Demon Queen of the mists. And we do not want her eyes drawn to us, especially not while we are here.”

Milu could hear Namaka speak her name? She shook her head. She didn’t care about that right now. All that mattered was helping these people. Oh Kāne, her mother was sick, wasn’t she? She was one of those taken by the disease. No! She had lost her father. She was not going to lose her mother as well.

“Do something! Save these people.”

Nyi Rara sighed and shook her head. “I don’t have that kind of power. The only way I could save any of them would be to have one of my people possess them. A spirit inside might be able to overcome the disease.”

Namaka grimaced. To save her mother’s life she must force her to live the way Namaka now lived. If that was the price, then it was one she was willing to pay. “All right, do it.”

“I cannot right now. My people are beset by the he’e and the taniwha. We can look to solve this issue once the dragon is slain.”

Namaka huffed. “Then what do we do now? We’re here in your world. Get on with it.”

“This reality is not my world. It’s a barrier, a crossroads between your realm and the Spirit Realm. We call it the Astral Plane. To you, I suppose, it is part of your Ghost World.” Nyi Rara pointed to the river. “We can reach my world through any significant body of water. This will do.”

Namaka took a step toward the river, then paused, feeling someone watching her. She turned slowly, not certain why she felt so hesitant.

Behind her, on the bridge crossing the river, stood her father. Unlike the other ghosts, he bore no injuries. Perhaps his cremation and funeral had eased his suffering. But how was he here, now? Shouldn’t he have moved on? Or had he become an aumakua, a spirit to watch over her? Namaka swallowed and motioned for Nyi Rara to wait for her, then trod slowly up to where her father waited.

“Papa?” she asked at last.

The ghost looked at her with sad eyes, and then, hesitantly, embraced her. Drew her toward his chest as he had not done for so long in life. “I’m proud of you.”

Namaka gasped, unable to trust herself to speak, and just held him close. The words were like a dream, one she had longed for, sought after for years. “I thought I shamed you.”

“Never. There are tabus, rules that guide the living. As there are now rules binding the dead. But they are not the same, and in this place I can finally tell you how much I love you, daughter.”

Namaka choked back a sob. “Mother is—”

Her father held up a hand. He knew. Of course he knew. “You have agonized for so long over the weight placed upon you.”

She shook her head. She finally understood, knew why things had to be a certain way.

“But you are not like any Princess before you. You have embraced a destiny beyond those for whom kapu was meant. And so your tabus too must change. Trust yourself, Namaka. Trust your heart. In it is light, and kindness, and love. And those are your strengths, not your weaknesses.”

“Papa …” Ten thousand things she wanted to say to him, but no words would come. What had he meant? Trust her heart? It had led astray in the first place. Or maybe not. Maybe she had made mistakes, but made them for the right reasons. Was that what he meant?

Her father pointed toward where Nyi Rara waited. He was right. She had no time for a reunion here. Her people needed their Princess. As she made her way back to Nyi Rara, she cast another glance at her father, but he was gone.

Namaka shut her eyes, trying to block out the world for a moment. And then she felt Nyi Rara’s hand holding her own. The spirit led her and they descended into the river. The water felt off, slightly less wet than it should have, and she could breathe and see normally in it. The riverbed declined steeply, far deeper than she knew it to be in her world. It sloped off into seeming oblivion.

* * *

Nyi Rara continued toward that darkness, swimming now, but not releasing Namaka’s hand—and Namaka was damn glad of that. Nyi Rara was all she had to cling to in this place. They swam on, deeper and deeper, until Namaka’s ears popped. Something shifted, and suddenly the water felt cool and wet once more, like real water. Only more so. Wetter than water, though she couldn’t even understand how that was possible.

Purple light filtered in around her. They had somehow swum into an underwater cave. Nyi Rara’s legs had become a tail, though Namaka’s own had not. None of this made any sense. Damn, she was ready to go home.

As they swam through the cave, she spied other mermaids lounging about, admiring jewelry of gold, glittering with gems that shed their own otherworldly light. She was definitely dreaming.

“In a sense you are, yes. In a sense, we both are.”

“We’re here now?” She spoke, only briefly considering it strange she could still speak and breathe underwater like a mermaid.

“This is the World of Water. One of the nine worlds of the Spirit Realm. My world.”

Whereas the Ghost World, what Nyi Rara called the Astral Plane, had seemed dark, lit only by starlight, this world was vibrant. Radiant, even. The cavern walls glowed without any apparent source of light. Nyi Rara led her on and on, until at last they breached the cavern and entered into open ocean.

And nothing could have prepared her for that sight. She had thought the Worldsea endless, but here she gazed out and saw water stretching out forever. Looking up, luminous waters went on and on, with no trace of a surface in sight. Indeed, the ocean stretched forever in all directions.

“There is a cavern roof far, far above us,” Nyi Rara said.

Then all of this, the entire World of Water, was contained like some underground sea. It boggled her mind, left her unable to form words.

The mermaid guided her forward, their path rimmed by a procession of great stone pillars forty paces high. Those pillars were not like something carved on Earth, but at once natural and worked. Nothing was uniform about them, not their undulating shapes or the infinite variety of reliefs carved at their bases, and yet still they seemed wrought with immaculate care. As though the hand of divinity had shaped them.

Another mermaid swam ahead of them, guiding fish bigger than Pasikole’s ship. Namaka shrank away from the enormous creatures as they passed, but they paid her no attention. The line of pillars continued, making a gradual turn across the sea floor to avoid a chasm that looked deep enough to swallow the entire Valley Isle. Unable to help herself, she gazed into it.

The luminosity of the waters did not extend into its depths, but they did, however, reflect off something down there. A pair of eyes—an eel launched itself from the chasm. Mesmerized and horrified, Namaka froze. The monster must have been fifty paces long. Nyi Rara flung herself before Namaka and held up a hand that forestalled the charging creature. It spun in a tight arc, its incredible bulk slithering past Namaka’s face so close she could smell its oily flesh.

All she wanted to do was shut her eyes and wait for the terror to pass. It did not. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it would explode.

“I’m not really here,” she mumbled.

“Your soul is,” Nyi Rara answered.

And that had to be worse than being here in body. Anything that feasted on her would devour her very essence as well.

Nyi Rara clasped her hand as if in comfort. “Come. The city is not too far now.”

* * *

The columns they followed did lead them to a city, one far larger than Hiyoya. Here, she could see the peak of the cavern, for the city was carved out of a massive pillar of rock that must have stretched for well over a league from floor to ceiling. Its breadth was as thick around as one of the smaller islands of Sawaiki, and all of it was porous, light shimmering from a hundred thousand windows within.

Other rock columns ringed the great city and a walkway, similar to the one leading to the Hiyoya palace, stretched out, meeting the path they had been following.

“This whole world is filled with mer?”

“Among other things. Come.” Nyi Rara led her toward the lowest opening in the pillar.

Hundreds of guards patrolled these waters, riding sharks and seahorses, each of which shimmered and boasted features too sharp, too perfect for anything born on Earth.

They passed through the archway and she found herself staring up through a column that was itself alive. Pulsing, living stone like the gullet of some whale. The walls were smooth, but covered in an endless procession of imperfections, bubbles of stone, arching supports that looked like ribs and made her suspect the mer had grown their city here.

And above them, a radiant light as though the sun itself shone down through the waters. Upward they swam, on and on, until finally Nyi Rara led her through a side passage. Here the structure changed, becoming more carefully carved stone. This tunnel connected to another vertical shaft, perfectly smooth save for the Glyphs carved into the walls. Nyi Rara had called them wards at Hiyoya. Perhaps here they also served to protect the city.

They swam upward once again, until they came upon another mermaid. Her skin was white as milk, as was her hair and her impossibly long tail. It trailed off into the shadows like she was as much an eel-woman as a fish woman. And though her eyes were opalescent, like Nyi Rara’s, Namaka suddenly recognized her.

“Hinaophualakoa.”

The Lorekeeper smiled knowingly at her, though weariness tugged at her eyes. “Being discorporated drains one so … Still, I felt you needed guidance. Nyi Rara’s intents are beyond the unusual.”

“But it can be done?” the mermaid princess asked. “This is what the Urchin showed me.”

Of course. Namaka should have known. The mermaid had refused to speak of it because she had feared what this meant.

“You must go to the mirror,” the witch said, and pointed at an arch leading out of this chamber. “But Nyi Rara, this is an action not easily undone, a choice that will change everything for you both.”

“I made my choice.”

Or the Urchin had made it for her. Or … necessity had. Namaka nodded. Yes, they had to save their people—both of her peoples.

“Then I will tell you the words,” the Lorekeeper answered.

Nyi Rara released Namaka’s hand and allowed her to roam the chamber while the two mermaids spoke. Namaka longed for her tail, finding her motions with legs sluggish, inadequate for the task ahead. Still, she swam about, inspecting the intricacies of the carvings. Thousands upon thousands of the marks were carved here, work that must have taken years. Or longer.

At last Nyi Rara returned, taking her hand once again. Saying nothing, the mermaid guided her through the newest arch. The passage went on for two hundred paces or so before it led into another cavern that inexplicably held a pocket of air. She breathed deeply, but the air had no taste, no substance.

“This is a world of spirit,” Nyi Rara said, as if that should answer everything. The mermaid resumed her legged form and pushed herself up onto a rock platform, then helped Namaka do the same.

Maybe Nyi Rara had brought her to this cave so they would have solitude. Water streamed down around the cave walls, falling without apparent source, blanketing the entire cavern in a shimmering curtain, behind which more gems glittered in the wall. It was beautiful, for certain.

Imagine the wealth a chief could have with a mere handful of such gems.

Nyi Rara laughed. “You cannot take anything back with you. It would have no more substance than I do in your world.”

Namaka nodded, though she didn’t really understand. She supposed she didn’t need to. What mattered right now was doing what they had come here to do. Whatever that was. “So now what?”

The mermaid smiled, though she seemed sad and, if anything, afraid. How odd, to think this entity, this being who existed like a goddess, could feel fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of change. Or perhaps, for someone who had eternity to look forward to, change became more frightening than it was to a mortal, whose life was always meant to be a temporary state.

“Again the disturbing insights from a mortal,” Nyi Rara mumbled. She led Namaka further back on the platform, until they reached a well, a pool of still water.

Odd. Even in the World of Water, they needed a well. “It’s your perception of a font of energy, of the power suffusing the world. Water is one means of divination, but it’s difficult to look into water and see anything when you are already in the water. Thus the air pocket.”

Namaka really had no idea what Nyi Rara meant, but she sat down beside the well and folded her legs beneath her.

The mermaid did so as well. “You have to choose me as much as I choose you.”

“Choose?”

“Accept me.”

“I accepted you a long time ago.”

Nyi Rara frowned, then shook her head. “Not completely.” She held up both hands, palms facing Namaka. “Choose.”

So that was it. Embrace Nyi Rara, accept completely and truly that her old life was gone forever. Choose a new life … one where she would no longer be merely Namaka and neither quite Nyi Rara. Part of her still wanted to go back, back to how she had been … was it mere days ago she had laughed and surfed with Pasikole? Lifetimes had passed in those few days. And now, she had to choose to let go of that past, and the promise of the future.

Choose to become someone else, and in so doing, let her old self die. That was why most hosts and spirits could never do this. And maybe, maybe Nyi Rara had to make a similar choice. That was it, wasn’t it? Part of her soul would imprint on the mermaid princess, shaping her for all eternity. If the mermaid lived for a thousand years, for ten thousand years, would she always carry with her a piece of Namaka?

The look on Nyi Rara’s face told her she would.

The people they had been would be lost—or at least forever altered. But this was what she had asked for all along, wasn’t it? This was her chance to truly embrace the undersea world that so called to her soul. And the last, only option to face the threat the he’e had sent against them.

Namaka leaned forward and grabbed the mermaid’s hands in her own.

“Feel your power flowing through the well. The primal waters of this world underly the waters of your reality. Feel our power.”

She did feel them, pulsing like a heartbeat, calling to her and soothing her. A part of her. As Nyi Rara was rapidly becoming a part of her. Not quite knowing why, Namaka leaned forward and gently kissed Nyi Rara on the lips. The mermaid actually giggled—a strange sound to hear from a majestic, ancient being—then pressed her forehead against Namaka’s.

Nyi Rara had saved her. In possessing her, in forcing her to look inward and finally understand herself, Nyi Rara had freed her. Had helped her let go of the anger that had so consumed her over what she had been denied in life. For that, Namaka would always be grateful. Because of the mermaid princess she could finally look on her life without that anger, finally accept the beauty of the destiny before her, appreciate the things she was given.

Trust your heart. In it is light, and kindness, and love. Her father had understood. The sea was her heart, her power. And its truest depths were not her rage, but her love. Love of her people, both above and below the sea, love of life itself.

“I choose you,” Namaka said.

The pulse around her not only mirrored her heartbeat—it became her heartbeat. Their heartbeat, in unison. The well rippled.

Those ripples became a swirl.

The swirl became a maelstrom, rising up like a liquid tornado. That tornado stole her vision, drew her into its infinite depths. Nyi Rara was chanting something, words of some ancient power that meant nothing to Namaka. And yet they meant everything, echoing in her mind like a song of the building of the universe.

Time slowed as Nyi Rara began to merge with Namaka, as their bodies became one. Namaka felt herself falling.

* * *

Her body ached as she woke in Mo-O’s cave. She was lying on the ground, her arm half asleep. She could feel the mermaid inside her, but it was all different now. They were one. One mind, one body, and almost one soul. And she could feel water, everywhere. She need not feed Nyi Rara mana to control it nor drain the spirit’s own energy for mastery. Two had become one.

Namaka stirred, suddenly aware of Kamapua’a weeping nearby and of the smell of blood filling the cavern. She jolted upright and turned. The wereboar lay upon Mo-O. Blood drenched the dragon’s body, seeping into every corner of the cave, but it no longer pumped.

“What …? What happened?” Namaka’s voice came out as a squeak. This was not real. This was not possible.

Kam turned slowly, his eyes red and swollen, his lip trembling with unformed words. He stretched out his hands toward her, holding in them a heart, a massive one that could only have come from the dragon who had raised them both.

Hand to her mouth, Namaka stumbled, fell hard on the cavern floor.

“Sh-she …” Kamapua’a mumbled. “She insisted. She said it was the only way. You needed more stupid mana than even your body held. I told her no! She shitting begged me!”

Her breaths came so rapidly she thought she might faint. This was impossible. Madness. Mo-O-Inanea was old, ancient. She was going to outlive them all. She was like a grandmother and she … Namaka could not tear her eyes away from the still heart. The dragon had been filled with mana, of course. Like Namaka.

She shook her head. “I will not.”

“You have to,” the wereboar said, voice breaking. “She gave up everything so you could save us all. Make it mean something. Please.”

Her hands shook as she tried to stand and failed. Deep inside the mermaid stirred, agreeing with the wereboar. Trying to plead the case of necessity. To tell her that, if she refused now, Mo-O’s sacrifice meant nothing. The voice in her head was gone, replaced with something deeper, a sensation beyond words.

This was what would happen to her too, when she died. It was the order of things, what kapu demanded. It made her sick. And yet there was balance inside her, a stillness granted by Nyi Rara, now joined with her.

Kam rose, still extending the heart to Namaka as he approached. “Take the last gift she has to give us, Fish Girl. Take it. And make those shitters pay for what they did.”

Yes. The he’e and their taniwha. It was why she had journeyed to the Ghost World. Why she had chosen to merge with Nyi Rara. Why all of this had happened, in truth. Even Pasikole had been sent by the cursed octopuses. And the longer she waited, the more mana would bleed out of Mo-O’s body, seep back into the land.

After a long, shuddering breath, Namaka took the heart in her hands. It had already started to grow cold.

“I love you,” she whispered to the dragon. From what she had seen in the Ghost World, maybe Mo-O was there now, watching her. Hearing her words. If so, she prayed the dragon could forgive her for ever refusing her lessons, for all the times she didn’t listen. For her selfish, childish ways. For the anger that had blinded her for so many years, made her miss the moments of joy she should have treasured.

Sometimes we must do difficult things to win the day. Nyi Rara had said that before Namaka entered the Ghost World. And it was the truth, a hard truth she would never forget.

Slowly, she lifted the heart to her mouth. And then she bit down.

* * *

Namaka glowered out over the sea. She knew where the taniwha was. The monster was coming back around the far side of the Valley Isle. The sea spoke to her as never before and she could feel everything in it, for leagues upon leagues. Power coursed through her, more mana than she had ever come close to holding. It was temporary, of course. Her body could not contain such vast amounts of cosmic energy and it would bleed off, lost if not used soon.

But Namaka intended to use it.

She strode into the ocean, her face grim, alaia surfboard under her arm. Such power had come with the most terrible price imaginable. Mo-O should not have done this, should not have had to do this. Now, the only way left she had to honor her dragon was to kill this one.

Rather than dive beneath the waves, she mounted her board and used her power to jet her forward. Now, more than ever, she was grateful she had chosen the sleekest, fastest board available. She needed to be up here, where Pasikole could see her, follow her to the monster. Powerful as she was, she might still need his cannons to finish this. One hand forward, guiding her, the other jutting out behind her, her board leapt forward faster than she had ever ridden. She could not savor the feeling, could not enjoy the rush. Not this time.

She glanced over her shoulder to confirm Pasikole’s ship was following. They didn’t nearly have her speed, but that wouldn’t matter. She was going to deal with the taniwha herself. And it was nearing, coming back around the island. It had probably destroyed all the other coastal villages in the time she’d been away. And she would make the dragon pay for that, too.

Its massive presence disrupted the currents, made its own currents in violation of her waters. And she was going to put a stop to that. As its monstrous shadow passed beneath her, Namaka leapt off her board and dove beneath the waves, instantly assuming her tail. The dragon paid her no mind even as she approached, and she needed to use her water jets just to match its speed. It was coming around the island, back toward where her village had once stood. Maybe the he’e had directed it to focus there, to focus on her people. To draw her out.

They needn’t have bothered.

Namaka swam up beside its eye, a mere handful of paces away. The orb had no iris, only an incandescent pupil like flowing magma. It watched her for an instant. Wondering if she was the prey it had been summoned for? Namaka was going to make certain it knew the answer. She launched a lance of water right at the eye. The monster didn’t have time to blink before the spear-like pulse ripped through its lens. The eye exploded in a shower of gore and steam, blurring the water as though actual lava had lurked within the dragon.

Its bellow of pain drowned out all other sound, deafening her and disrupting whatever ability mermaids had to detect the movement of waters around them. Namaka spiraled out of control, clutching her ears as she plummeted into the seabed.

The dragon’s wild thrashing slammed it into a reef, pulverizing coral beneath it. It flailed a moment before focusing its remaining eye on her, radiating a palpable rage that left Namaka feeling like a minnow before a shark. Her ears were ringing. Everything felt off. Despite it all, she launched another narrow pulse at the dragon.

Now she had its attention. The pulse glanced off its head, barely slowing it. It sprang forward with speed and agility a creature of its size should never have managed. Namaka launched a stream of water off to her side, flinging herself in the opposite direction just as the taniwha’s jaws crunched down on coral where she had been.

Namaka twisted around and took off swimming, but with her disrupted her equilibrium, she collided with the reef, tearing a gash along her arm. She darted into a crevice, swimming as fast as she could, taking every hiding place. New instinct guided her every movement, told her exactly where she could fit. Instants after each turn the taniwha crashed into the space where she had been, obliterating the reef into nothing but a cloud of dust and debris floating in the waters.

All right. So she’d succeeded in making it mad. Really mad. She shot another jet of water from her hands, propelling herself away with as much force as she could. Away and upward. She could be fairly certain the taniwha would follow her now.

Water streamed behind her as she soared toward the surface. She spared a glance over her shoulder and was met with the rapidly approaching maw of the dragon. It could have swallowed her whole. Dozens of shark-like teeth lined its mouth in multiple rows, all hungering for her blood.

Namaka breached the surface, a spout of water flinging her high into the air. The next moment the taniwha erupted from the waters beneath her, half the length of its body flying into the air. She could barely hear her own scream over the ringing in her ears. On instinct she twisted the waterspout she rode and had it fling her out far to the side.

The dragon’s jaws snapped shut over thin air and it crashed back into the sea, sending a wave washing over her. The current spun her around, and by the time her vision cleared, the taniwha was already swimming for her again.

Namaka swept her hands apart, then clapped them together, creating an undersea wave that slammed into the dragon and stalled its momentum, but only for an instant. Damn it. She didn’t have a good enough weapon against such a foe.

But she could feel Pasikole’s ship nearby, chasing after them. Probably trying to get a clear shot. She had to give him that. His ship was too damn slow to turn, though. It could never keep up with the dance she and the taniwha had begun. It was devastating against slow-moving foes on the surface or the beach, but against a threat below, those cannons had no power.

The beach …

Namaka felt her surfboard floating some distance away. She still needed to be up where Pasikole could see her. As the taniwha closed in again, she launched herself upward, out of the sea to land on her board. It rocked on her landing and she spread her arms to steady herself, then immediately stirred up the waters beneath her, flinging herself forward so quickly it felt like she was flying across the sea.

As expected the taniwha was less than a heartbeat behind her, though it began losing ground to her incredible speed. But she didn’t need to escape from the monster. She needed to beat it. She glanced to Pasikole’s ship and saw him waving at her, even as his vessel came about. It was never going to get a shot like this.

Namaka pointed to the beach some distance away. Pasikole stared at her as though bemused, then suddenly nodded. She was going to line up a shot for them. One shot was probably all they’d get—so she had to pray to Kāne one shot would be enough. She turned her board, circling the dragon, letting it draw a little closer.

Everything she had done, all the mistakes she had made, the price those she loved had paid—they had been to give her this one chance. If she failed them now, then Mo-O’s death, her sacrifice, all the deaths of her people, her father, they meant nothing.

She didn’t need to ask if Nyi Rara was with her. That question was no longer necessary. They had become each other, together, a single Princess of Sea. And together, they would defend their two peoples.

Namaka jumped off the board and dove beneath the waves, pulling them along behind her as she did so. All the mana she had absorbed from Mo-O-Inanea’s loving heart she poured out into the sea, calling it. Demanding it bow before her. Her mana, her very life force surged around her until she hit the seabed. Then she spun, launching herself straight at the taniwha.

It had created a small tsunami when it rose to attack her people.

That wave was nothing compared to the one she summoned now. Anyone not in the mountains, not in the valleys, they’d be hurt by this maneuver. But she couldn’t think of that now. Couldn’t think of anything save ending this monster once and for all.

The dragon snapped at her, but a beat of her tail and the surge of the waves carried her beneath it. Carried her, and caught the dragon in its irresistible embrace, sucking the behemoth up in the current. Namaka surged upward in an arc that pulled that current into a single, high wave that rushed straight for the beach with Namaka riding high above it. Looking beneath her, the taniwha tumbled about, end over end, visible only as a giant shadow through the curtain of water they rode.

Namaka roared defiance at the creature the instant the wave broke over the shore. She wrapped herself in a bubble and flew forward, ahead of the destruction. The tsunami swarmed over the beach, washing away debris that had once been Hamoa Village, sweeping through trees and ripping out their roots, carrying away boulders in a cascade of devastation.

The taniwha slapped the beach and rolled several times, crushing what rocks and trees the wave had not immediately swept aside.

Namaka rolled over, having to use her power to help herself stand against the rushing current. The last of that power she poured into the sea, pushing it back, turning the tide as she’d done when the taniwha first attacked here. It burned through her veins until fire became ice and she grew cold from draining herself of such mana.

The waters receded, turning back, leaving the taniwha stranded. It rolled over, pushing itself up on its clumsy legs, then shook its head. Looking back and forth between her and the retreating sea. Deciding whether to close the distance and consume her or return to its point of strength.

Namaka fell to her knees as the water slipped away from the shore. Her arms dropped to her side. She had nothing left. All the mana she had absorbed from Mo-O-Inanea, all she could call upon from her own soul or Nyi Rara’s, all had been spent. The taniwha must have seen it, because it began to slowly tread in her direction, pulling itself forward with legs not meant for walking ashore. But capable enough of doing so when forced to it.

And then the sea leveled out and a curtain of smoke engulfed Pasikole’s ship, followed immediately by the thunderous roar of a dozen cannons. The beach around the taniwha exploded in a shower of sand and dust and blood, scales flying free and landing all around her. The sound of the cannons was drowned out by another pained bellow from the monster.

It had been nearly as majestic as it was horrible, and to see it brought to such an end almost made her sad. For all the destruction it had wrought, she’d had no choice. None of them did. But really, it was the he’e who had done this.

As the haze cleared she saw the creature, now reduced to a bloody mess, crawling back toward the sea. Its intact eye was now swollen shut, its jaw unhinged and trailing behind its head as though ready to rip off.

Pasikole’s ship turned about as Namaka watched the dying behemoth. Another volley fired from the ship’s other side. Namaka covered her ears and closed her eyes. This was over. It was truly over. At least for today.

The he’e were going to answer for what they had done. And for what they had made her do, made Mo-O do. For everything.

Strong arms lifted her to her feet, and she opened her eyes to find Kamapua’a helping her stand. “Are you all right?”

Namaka frowned. “I will be.” Maybe never quite whole again. Or at least, never quite the same. Maybe she didn’t need to be.

Kam patted her on the back and began to walk toward the taniwha’s corpse. It was dead, that she could see for certain now as the second cloud of destruction cleared.

“Where are you going, Pigman?”

“Well, if you got that much mana from Mo-O’s heart, can you imagine how much I’ll get from that thing’s?”

“You want to eat the taniwha?”

The wereboar grinned. “At least its heart.”

“That alone is going to be bigger than you are!”

He shrugged. “I’ll skip supper. I’m still incorrigible, right?”

Namaka shook her head and stumbled down toward the water’s edge. She sat in the shallows, letting the tide wash over her feet while she stared out over the sea.

* * *

By evening, the villagers had returned to the beach. Nothing remained of their homes. Probably other villages along the Valley Isle had met the same fate. Given enough time, they could rebuild lost houses, replace lost belongings. But the people would never come back.

Namaka would never again see her father. She had been graced with that one last chance to reconcile the distance that had grown between them in the moment Uncle Kamalo had revealed her fate. Her sojourn to the Ghost World, however brief, had been the greatest of all the gifts Nyi Rara had granted her.

The kahuna had spent all afternoon on funerals, sending away ghosts that would otherwise linger. The mourning chant rang out all along the shore, granting rest to the countless ghosts she had seen before. Or she hoped so, at least.

The bodies—those they could find—had been cremated, their ashes returned to the endless sea. Namaka prayed the ghosts would find peace. And yet, part of her almost wished her father was still there, even as a ghost, watching her. What a foolish, spoiled little girl she had been while he lived. But he had said he was proud of her. He was proud of her. And she had—she dared to hope—at last truly earned the title of Princess of Sea.

Trust your heart. In it is light, and kindness, and love.

She would not forget it. Years of fear and anger had held her back, kept her from understanding the things Mo-O and her parents and Uncle Kamalo had tried to teach her. And letting that go felt like some enormous burden was lifted from her.

As she walked through the wrecked village, Moela raced to her side, barking with such undisguised adoration she had to smile. Some things you could count on. She knelt and nuzzled the dog’s head.

Already, some of the villagers had begun to erect a communal hut, one covered with palm leaves to keep the sun’s heat off the weak, elderly, or injured. Namaka’s mother counted among those, as did so, so many of the villagers. Namaka drifted toward the hut, Moela at her side, frowning at the thought of what Nyi Rara had told her in the Ghost World. Pasikole and his men had unwittingly brought death in their wake in more ways than one. The foreign captain had helped her fend off the attack of a monster, but he would have no means to heal those grown sick. Even now, most of the village didn’t seem to understand what was happening. Many had grown feverish, drenched in cold sweats. The sick lay about, unable to help rebuild Hamoa Village.

She had spoken to Uncle Kamalo of what Nyi Rara had told her, and he had nodded with grim acceptance. Others whispered that Kāne or Lono or some other god had grown displeased with them. They blamed divine punishment for the disasters that had fallen over them in the past week. How quickly things had turned around. A few days ago, they had celebrated the arrival of Lono’s emissary.

But Pasikole was just a man. He might have come here with ill intent, but he had given it over when he had gotten to know her and her people. She couldn’t hate him for that.

Namaka knelt beside her mother when she reached her. “I’m here,” she said, stroking her hand.

Her mother opened her eyes and smiled weakly. “You know, I’ve missed you so much.” Her voice was soft, not for the ears of others. “I know it’s tabu, but I always wanted to be more a mother to you.”

“You always have been.”

“I love you, Namaka. However far you go in this life, remember that.”

Namaka leaned in close, until her cheek was touching her mother’s. Her flesh had gone from burning up to icy cold, and that was almost more frightening. “I’m not going to let you die. The mermaids in Hiyoya have a solution. I don’t know if I can save everyone, but … if you become like me they can fight the sickness growing inside you.”

“Like you? A mermaid?” Her mother smiled, then coughed. “Sounds beautiful, darling. I’m going to rest a little before that.” She shut her eyes and almost immediately fell to snoring.

Maybe sleep would help her. Namaka rose, frowning as she took in all the others who had fallen ill. Even if she saved her mother, much of the village would die. Nyi Rara had told her that, and now, merged with the spirit, she knew it to be truth. Maybe she could convince a few others to accept a role as host to mer as well. Of course, most such spirits would not be interested in symbiosis. They would ride their host like a canoe, giving them neither freedom nor hope. Just year after year, centuries even, of slavery in their own bodies. And how was she to ensure that any spirit invested in a given host, even in her mother, would be any different?

Damn.

She was walking toward the sea when Pasikole approached her. She had briefly seen the captain this afternoon, after the battle, and he’d looked more bedraggled then. Now, it appeared he had shaved and cleaned himself up. He approached her with a broad smile that almost covered the slight hesitation in his step. “Namaka.”

“Captain.”

“We did it. We saved the village.”

Namaka nodded, not quite certain how to tell the man his mere presence here had brought even more death among her people. She knew damn well he hadn’t meant to, and the damage was already done in any event. “We stopped the taniwha, yes. There are still dangers out there. The he’e are attacking Hiyoya. I have to go back, help them.”

Now that she was, in a sense, Nyi Rara as well as Namaka, she felt an irresistible calling back to her other people. And the mermaids would always be her people now. She’d tried to rest, to regain her strength, but it would probably be some time before she could manage any real control over the waters again. The mana she had drawn from Mo-O was gone forever, and her own had yet to replenish itself. Spending time near the sea would help with that, of course.

“I … uh … Well, I understand you have to go. But I wanted to ask something. This morning you told me you had dreamed of us being lovers. And I …” He dropped to one knee in a strange pose. “I want that. More than anything now. Marry me, Namaka.”

Namaka’s mouth opened but she only managed a squeak. She had dreamed of it, had wanted him to say he wanted her. Part of her still did. Sometimes, when she closed her eyes, she still saw them together. But that was a dream. Too much had happened. And she had to set what she could right. That was her role, her duty as the Princess. There was no more running from that, no more putting her own desires before it, even if she could have gotten past all the destruction Pasikole’s presence had brought.

Her father had told her she was like no other Princess before her. A new kapu applied to her, now. Maybe that was his way of telling her she need not choose her mate on any deadline. He had said to follow her heart, after all.

Her mouth trembled as she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I … I can’t be with you. I can’t be with anyone right now. I have a role to play that’s beyond me, and beyond my desires.” It was the truth—the hard truth Mo-O had tried to teach her for years. The dragon had finally succeeded only through the ultimate sacrifice. But Namaka would never forget that lesson. Not if Nyi Rara’s soul kept her body alive for the next three hundred years or more.

Pasikole’s face fell. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off before he could protest, pulling him up for one last kiss. It filled her with such warmth, she felt her heart trying to rip itself in two. Namaka broke away before her emotions could betray her or overcome her resolve.

She ran down to the sea, not looking back even as Pasikole shouted her name, or at Moela’s pleading barks. Instead she dove into the waves, assuming her mermaid tail, and swam. On and on, at a slow, steady pace. She had no energy to make extreme haste this time. Even if the battle still raged, she didn’t have the strength to aid Hiyoya in it. Not yet. But one way or another, she would punish the he’e.

That and find a way to save her mother, to save as many of her village as she could.

* * *

At last Hiyoya came into view, but she had not crossed into it before a merman darted out from the reef and grabbed her, pulling her back into a crevice.

Ake looked her over, face grave. “I thought you had been lost.”

Namaka frowned. “Maybe I was. I guess I found myself now.”

The merman shook his head, not bothering to hide his perplexed look. “The he’e have taken the city. I’m only here with a small scout force, watching them.”

Taken the city … Namaka had a sudden fear for her aunt. Or for Nyi Rara’s aunt, really, but Latmikaik now felt like family, if not as close family as her mother. She was only beginning to understand the complex relationships these spirits had to one another. The bond between her and Latmikaik was not affection, not exactly. But she would hate to see something happen to her.

“Where is the queen?”

“Escaped just before Kanaloa sacked the palace.”

“Kanaloa?” The god-king of the he’e.

Unable to resist the sudden urge, she stuck her head out of the reef and peered at the palace. Despite the darkness, now she saw what she had missed before—octopus arms peeking out of the windows, the entrances, but arms far larger than those of the he’e. It was impossible to judge their true size when seeing mere glimpses of them. But Namaka had to guess this he’e god-king must be near as large as the taniwha itself had been. Maybe larger.

This too, the Urchin had tried to show her.

The dragon had been a mere distraction, meant to draw her away while the he’e took the palace, took the entire city. The taniwha had done its work well, and it had cost her more than she could measure.

And now Kanaloa, god of magic, lord of he’e, controlled the Urchin and all the power and knowledge it represented.

This creature, whether god, mortal, or something in between like herself … it had brought all of this down on her. It had hired Pasikole to kidnap her and thus spread disease, cost lives, brought about violence. It had betrayed the alliance with Hiyoya and slaughtered her mer brothers and sisters. It had defiled a royal palace that had stood for nearly two thousand years. And it had sent a taniwha among the people of Sawaiki as nothing but a gambit, a ploy.

But if this creature had intended to kill her with the dragon, it had failed.

Namaka turned back to Ake, took him by the hand. “Take me to the queen.”

“We’re meant to keep watch on the he’e.”

Namaka shook her head. “This battle is lost, Ake. It’s time we start planning for the war.”

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Thanks for reading,

Matt Larkin

Acknowledgments

A big thanks to my beta readers Brenda and Eryn, to my awesome Launch Team (you know who you are), and to Juhi and Kiran, just ‘cause.

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.