I didn’t want anyone learning all of my tricks.
The Trials started soon, and I was in for the fight of my life. Literally. Every hundred years, the crown held a series of contests for all the young Merpeople who were of age. Not just a competition either—the Trials were not unlike war.
Entry was mandatory, but I would have participated regardless of the rules. Even if I was on the younger side of all the entrants.
The Royals used the Trials to choose the Mer Nobility, which was earned through service and changed generation by generation. Messengers like my father were among the most important, though there were many other positions. The appointments came with status and wealth, sometimes even riches beyond imagination.
But I didn’t want to be a Messenger, even though it would solve many of the issues I was currently facing. I could finally face down Thalia and my stepmother. As a Messenger, I could hold my head high. I’d equal them in status, if not exceed them. Travel, adventure, respect, and material wealth would be mine.
I’d start with the repairs to the dilapidated home we used to live in with my mother. I had loved the house when I was a little girl and still visited it when I could. The garden was overrun but lovely, with my mother’s corals and grasses still growing.
It was a real home, the only one I’d ever known. One that had nothing to do with my stepmother or her wealth. A safe place that I could eventually move into myself.
But even more than that, I wanted to see the one thing that was out of reach for all Mers. I wanted to see it more than anything.
Land.
I had my eye on the highest prize of all.
The best of the best was assigned to become the Sea Spark. There were sometimes two or three assigned, but never more than that. More often, only the highest scoring Mer ascended to Spark. That meant there was only a handful at any time, with many never living to the age of retirement.
It was more than an honorary title. Sea Sparks could travel from land to sea at will. They were meant to keep an eye on the two-legger world. A Sea Spark would do anything they could to protect our watery domain, the underwater world the dry land folk seemed determined to destroy. It was the highest prize and the greatest danger one of the Nobility could face.
Humankind did not know of our existence, but they seemed determined to wipe us out.
Plastic. Chemicals. Oil rigs. Fish farms filled with toxic antibiotics. They poisoned the water, oblivious and uncaring of the extensive damage they caused.
Blah. It makes me sick. Two-leggers can be so gross.
I was desperate to learn as much as I could about them and their world. Why they treated the ocean as a garbage dump. Why they seemed so obsessed with material goods.
And how they could create such beautiful art and sculptures if they were so vile.
Plus, they saw things every day that a Mer could only dream of. Trees. Flowers. Sunrises and sunsets. Rainbows. Books made of paper that didn’t dissolve in your hands when you opened them. The big striped animals they called teegers.
Teegers were ferocious, with sharp claws and fangs, but also unspeakably beautiful.
As far as I knew, that was about it. In my dreams, I expected to see a teeger on every corner. I’d seen a skin once, a tattered rug in a shipwreck that had already been picked over. The oily fat on the underside had kept the colors bright. I’d trailed my fingers over the fur, wondering how anyone could kill such a magnificent creature.
I’d been endlessly fascinated by the land walkers as a child, and I’d yet to outgrow it.
Merpeople are long-lived compared to our dry land cousins. We might look human from the waist up, but we live a lot longer.
And we’re not nearly as stupid.
Most Mers live to be three hundred human years old or more. We’re adolescents for twice as long, leaving those who were chosen to serve for at least a century or two, until the Trials could be held again.
We also mature much slower, leaving a large group of teen and young adult Mers to compete in the Trials. Mers come from the world over to participate, and most are fiercely, and sometimes savagely, competitive. It’s not unheard of for ‘accidents’ to befall competitors, even when there are no weapons in a particular competition.
The current Trials were more important than they had ever been, with two-legger technology rearing its ugly head. I’d wanted to be a Spark ever since I learned the meaning of the word. I’d risk everything for the chance to turn the tide and make things right.
But it was a risk. The Trials were deadly more often than not. And the jobs themselves were dangerous. So many chose to just drop out by losing the initial race before things got bloody.
It was not a costume contest, as Thalia seemed determined to make it. I doubted she’d make it past the first round, opting out through deliberate defeat as many of the less ambitious Mers did. But me? I was going all the way.
I had to.
There was nothing else for me to do.
I had to win.
I had to be a Spark.
Chapter 2
The cave was quiet and dark, nearly invisible from the outside. I’d swum past it several times, circling back to make sure we weren’t followed. And then I gave Beazil the nod.
We dove deep, finding the entrance to the cave easily. The imperfect triangle near the sea floor was partially hidden by rocks and seaweed. It was hard to find, but once you knew it was there, it was easy.
Once inside, we swam upward. The cave was like what I imagined the two-leggers called a cathedroll. Tall and wide and elegant, it was expansive. There was something deliberate about the structure, though I knew it was entirely an accident of nature. There were several openings high up in the cliff wall that let in the light of the sun like windows.
The back of the cave was quite shallow, with a narrow sandy beach and bright blue water that was warmed by the sun and air. Even in the colder months, it was relatively warm in here.
I knew it was selfish of me to keep this place to myself. It was too close to civilization to make a safe permanent home for a Mer, but I knew others who might have liked to come from time to time if they were daring enough to come this close to shore.
But I wanted one thing, just one thing that was for me alone, a place I felt safe. Not an unloved orphan. Not a servant. Not a freckled Mer without a home. This was it. Only Beazil and I knew this place. It was more of a home to me than my stepmother’s palace had ever been.
When I was here, I was the master of my own domain.
I swam to the back of the cave to gather my weapons. The long spear was my favorite, something I’d scavenged from a shipwreck. The ship had been well picked over by the time I found it, but the spear was wedged behind a large piece of furniture. It was the sort of place only a desperate and slender Mer would look. Being small and flexible came in handy when scavenging.
Made of a hard, dense wood, it had been roughly carved when I found it, looking primitive compared to the refined construction of the ship. By now, it was worn smooth by the sand and water and the palm of my hand.
I also had two daggers, also scavenged. Mer folk did not have the ability to forge metals, other than the few legendary blacksmiths who dared work close to an active volcano. Sure, you could find warm spots in the ocean. Entire communities sprang up around them. But a reliable spring that was hot enough to forge metal and contained enough to not boil you in an instant?
That was truly rare.
Only a Royal could afford what those blacksmiths charged for their work. In fact, many of them had become Royals, marrying into the family. The ability to forge and work metal was easily as good as becoming Nobility.