Drowned by Nichola Reilly

them. I’ve never seen this many of them together at once. I’m not quite sure why half of all the king’s guards have been summoned to retrieve me, the defenseless one-handed Scribbler Bait. I swallow. “What is this about?” I finally find my voice, as two of them reach their gloved hands under my arms and hoist me to my feet. They don’t answer, just lug me along as if I’m a beached fish they found on the shore, spraying sand as they march. I try to walk, but they’re moving too fast, dragging me inches above the ground so that my toes leave ruts in the sand. My face burns with a combination of humiliation and fear as the others watch me.
    Of course, no one steps in to help me. Where is Finn’s protection now, when I need it? I can’t see him anywhere. On the shoreline, I see Tiam casting out a drop line, tanned back to me. He turns at almost the second I wish he would, as if he hears me screaming for him in his mind, and then he breaks into a run.
    His long legs propel him across the sand so that he’s standing in front of them, spear drawn, in a matter of seconds. I expect that the next words out of his mouth will be, “What are you doing?” or “Leave her alone.” Instead, he says, very evenly, “Don’t hurt her.”
    The men have metal spears, weapons that could slice him in half with one swing. They move around him, and he grinds his jaw. He doesn’t look as if he’s planning to attack, but maybe he’s going for the stealth approach. In case he’s about to lunge, I hold out my hand. “It’s okay,” I tell him. “Just... My bag. Where’s my bag? Can you watch it for me?”
    I really don’t know if it’s okay, or if I’ll ever have the chance to see my bag again. But I know attacking the guards is simply stupid, even if he is going to be king one day. His eyes bore into the guards for a moment. “Don’t be afraid, Coe,” he mouths. Then he walks toward the base of the platform and picks up my sack, pulling the strap over his head so that it joins his own on his back. He never looks at me, just stands like stone as they drag me off.
    I watch Tiam, standing motionless. Don’t hurt her. He knows. He knows where they’re taking me. Why they’re taking me.
    We move beyond the sleeping quarters, the craphouse. Meanwhile, all the people we pass look at me as if seeing me for the first time. And then I look up and see the castle towering over me. The castle. I know I’d played there as a child, but my memories all seem like dreams. I can’t remember ever being this close to it. It’s towered over the island for so many days of my life, in its shimmering splendor, just like the moon; lovely to look at, impossible to visit. I’ve always thought of it as this fantastic mirage in the distance, that if I ever got this near, it would disappear. But here it is, enormous, a hundred times bigger than our sleeping quarters.
    The guard slides open the door, and I find myself kissing the floor. But something is strange... There’s no sand there. It’s the color of sand, but smooth and cold. I quickly straighten and bring myself to my knees, then gasp.
    The room is bigger than anything I can imagine, the color of a seashell, with sloped ceilings that glimmer like a pearl. There is no furniture, only a pink mat on the floor. Princess Star is sitting there, cross-legged, a bowl in her lap. She’s wearing a lace thing over most of her face, but I can see her jaw working. She’s chewing on something. “Keep her over there,” she calls across the room as I avert my eyes. “I don’t want her near me until she washes.”
    Near her? Why would I go near her? “I’ve washed,” I say softly.
    She laughs. “I can still smell you from over here. You’ll have a freshwater bath.”
    Freshwater? Freshwater! My heart catches in my throat. I value my skin too much to have it burned off my body. Is this some kind of punishment? “For...for what?”
    “To be my lady-in-waiting, of course.” She pulls the