Brianna did not stop swimming until the western shore disappeared behind her.
The storm followed her into deeper water, though beneath the surface it became little more than flashes of pale light and distant vibrations. Rain struck the ocean above in countless tiny impacts. To someone on land, the weather might have seemed violent. Below it, the sea absorbed the chaos and softened it into motion.
She should have felt relieved.
The human had not followed her. He had not entered the water, called for others, or thrown one of the weighted nets she had seen fishermen use near the harbor. He had remained on the shore where he belonged.
Still, Brianna glanced behind her.
Nothing moved through the dark water except a school of silver fish scattering between the rocks.
She slowed near the edge of the reef and pressed one hand against her chest. Her heart was beating too quickly. Humans were not supposed to make her feel that way. They were supposed to be loud, careless creatures who took from the sea without understanding it. Her people had taught her that from the time she was old enough to swim beyond the nursery gardens.
Humans trapped anything they feared.
They killed anything they could not control.
Yet the man on the beach had begun removing his coat because he thought she might be drowning.
Brianna shook the thought away and continued toward home.
The current grew colder as the ocean floor dropped beneath her. Her tail carried her easily through the darkening water, its greenish-blue scales blending with the colors of the reef. Flecks of violet flashed along her fins whenever distant lightning reached below the surface.
She usually admired the effect.
That night, she worried the light might reveal her.
The outer markers of Nordith appeared ahead—tall columns of white stone grown over with coral and marked by generations of carved symbols. They warned strangers that the surrounding waters belonged to the city and reminded citizens that they were protected only as long as they respected its laws.
Brianna passed between the columns and entered the patrol grounds.
Two guards emerged from behind a ridge of black rock.
They carried long spears tipped with sharpened bone. Bands of woven silver circled their upper arms, identifying them as members of Nordith’s outer watch.
“Brianna.”
The older guard, Varen, lowered his spear but did not move aside.
She forced herself not to look back toward the surface.
“You are far from the city,” he said.
“So are you.”
“I am assigned to be.”
“And I’m returning home.”
Varen’s mouth tightened. He had known Brianna since she was small enough to hide inside the coral chambers beneath her parents’ home. That familiarity had never made him less suspicious of her.
“The western currents are restricted after nightfall.”
“Because of Larson?”
“Because Nordith is at war.”
“Nordith is always at war.”
The younger guard tried to hide a smile.
Varen did not. “That does not make the danger less real.”
“I stayed near the reef.”
It was not exactly a lie. Reefs stretched across a great deal of ocean.
Varen studied her wet hair and the sand caught beneath the edges of her scales. Brianna resisted the urge to brush it away.
“You went to the surface.”
It was not a question.
“The storm stirred the water. I wanted to see it.”
“You can watch storms from below.”
“It isn’t the same.”
“No. From below, you are less likely to be seen by humans.”
Brianna crossed her arms. “There were no humans.”
The lie came too quickly.
Varen noticed.
He moved closer, his expression changing from irritation to concern. “Did one see you?”
“No.”
“Did you see one?”
She thought of the human standing ankle-deep in the surf, holding his coat in both hands. She remembered his confusion when she spoke and the way he had smiled despite being uncertain whether he should fear her.
“No one came near me,” she said.
Varen remained silent.
Brianna hated how easily people mistook silence for authority.
At last, he stepped aside. “Return to the city. Your parents have been asking where you are.”
“They always ask.”
“Tonight, they sent people to look.”
That was worse.
Brianna swam past the guards before Varen could question her again.
Nordith revealed itself gradually through the deep.
At first, she saw only scattered lights glowing among the coral. Then the city emerged from the darkness—arched homes formed from stone and shell, gardens of swaying plants, bridges shaped from the living reef, and tall central structures that rose like pale towers from the ocean floor.
Nothing in Nordith had been built quickly.
Every home had grown over generations. Families added rooms by guiding coral around carved supports. Walls carried the marks of those who had lived there before, and many doorways were decorated with shells belonging to ancestors who had died defending the city.
Nordith remembered everyone.
Sometimes Brianna thought it remembered too much.
Citizens moved through the open waterways between buildings, though the storm had kept most families close to home. Merchants covered their stalls with woven nets to keep loose goods from being swept away by restless currents. Warriors gathered near the central grounds, checking weapons and speaking in low voices about movement near the western borders.
Brianna kept her head down.
She nearly reached the residential gardens before someone caught her wrist.
Her mother turned her around sharply.
Carigon Nordith was smaller than her daughter, but no one who knew her mistook size for weakness. Her dark hair had been braided tightly against her head, and the fins along her arms flared with anger.
“Where have you been?”
“Swimming.”
“Do not answer me as though I’m foolish.”
“I didn’t.”
“You disappeared before the evening meal, crossed the outer patrol, and returned from the direction of the surface.”
Brianna glanced around. Several neighbors had slowed to listen.
“Can we speak at home?”
“We could have spoken at home hours ago.”
Carigon released her wrist but remained close. “Your father is with the war council. Larson scouts were seen near the western border. Half the city believes an attack is coming, and my daughter decides this is the perfect night to vanish.”
“I didn’t go near Larson.”
“That is not the only danger in the ocean.”
Brianna thought again of the human.
He had asked her name.
No one on the surface had ever asked her anything. The few humans she had watched from a distance shouted over one another, dragged nets through the water, or stared at the sea without seeing what lived beneath it.
This one had listened.
“I’m sorry,” Brianna said.
Her mother’s anger softened, though only slightly. “Were you seen?”
Brianna looked toward the glowing towers in the center of the city.
If she told the truth, the outer guards would be doubled. Warriors might be sent to the western beach. She would never be allowed near the surface without someone following her.
“No.”
Carigon touched her cheek. “You are curious. I understand that more than you think. But curiosity has killed many who believed they were wiser than fear.”
“Maybe fear has killed just as many.”
Her mother’s hand fell.
“That sounds like something your father would say before making a terrible decision.”
Brianna smiled faintly. “Then perhaps I inherited it.”
Carigon tried not to smile in return. “Come home.”
Their house stood within a cluster of coral arches overlooking the nursery gardens. Brianna followed her mother through the open entrance and into the main chamber, where soft blue plants illuminated walls covered in family carvings.
Carigon began preparing food while continuing to question her about the storm, the western currents, and whether she had noticed anything unusual.
Brianna answered carefully.
She did not mention the man.
She did not describe his dark hair, his warm voice, or the way he admitted that humans had given her reasons not to trust them. She did not tell her mother that he had returned to the beach after seeing her only once.
Most of all, she did not admit that she intended to return as well.
Later, when Carigon had gone to speak with a neighbor and the city settled into its nighttime quiet, Brianna drifted near the opening of her sleeping chamber and looked upward.
Miles of dark water separated her from the surface.
Beyond it waited a world of storms, boats, strange lights, and dangerous people.
One of them now knew she was real.
Brianna should have been frightened by that.
Instead, she found herself wondering whether the human would be waiting the next time she rose from the sea.