The Seventh Princess Read online

  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 the
m 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.