These Gilded Seas

Chapter Five: The Bravery of a Friend

I can't go to Zula's alone. I'd be signing my own death sentence.

So, I swim back to my room as quickly as I can and hope I can find Finn once I get there. In my carelessness, I ram my shoulder into one of the harsh tunnel walls, and the sharp copper taste of blood fills the water. Clapping my hand over my arm, I hiss in pain. It doesn't slow me down, though.

Pushing the door open with my throbbing shoulder proves harder than expected. When I manage to get through, Deca swims away to his nook, and I reach for the healing salve I keep by my bedside. It's a thick white cream, made by pirates and traders. It glitters in the jellies' light like it's made from pearls. Yet, I don't know what it actually is. Every time I've tried to ask, the response is the same.

"Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to."

Whatever it is, it works wonders.

I use two fingers to brush the cream over my new scrape, wincing the entire time. Then, I wrap it in a piece of cloth and tie it off. It's not my best work, but it'll hold up.

Before I've had a chance to put away the miniature med-kit, my bedroom door swings open. I look up in shock, but it's just Finn.

A gasp leaves his mouth. "Are you okay?!" he asks, rushing over. I suck in a breath as his fingers touch the raw and therefore sensitive skin.

"Divine, yes," I mumble, pulling away from him. "I scraped my shoulder in the tunnel."

Finn's concern melts into disapproval. "I've told you a hundred times to grow some bioluminescents down there. Is that where you've been the past few hours? I searched high and low."

"You know where I hide, Finn. Why didn't you look there first?"

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, obviously having no solid answer. The grotto should have been the first place he checked, considering it's our secret. No other living soul knows it exists.

"Living" is the keyword there.

When I was younger, before my siblings were born, Mama and I would spend countless hours reading to each other from her personal collection of human literature. She'd twist the tales I knew by heart, bringing them to life with her magic and lyrical voice. We would act out the most dramatic parts, stabbing each other with faux swords made from driftwood branches. That's how I learned to read faster than the tutors expected, how I became such an energetic student, how my imagination blossomed.

Our secret rendezvous in the grotto became more sparse when my siblings came, but occasionally, she'd pull me away and tell me everything she knew about humans. Her stories painted them in vivid pictures of kindness and beauty, as if the War had never happened. I never understood her fascination, but her words enraptured me.

But then she was gone, and the fantastical stories lost their spark.

I can't read fiction anymore.

Not without her to give it life.

"It doesn't matter," Finn snaps, bringing me back to reality. "The point is—I've been looking for you."

"And now you've found me." I toss my bag onto my bed. "What did you need?"

He wraps his arms around himself. "I was just worried about you. Your father can be really scary when he's mad, and this is like the hundredth time you've done something like this so—"

I cut him off with an eye roll. "First of all, I've never been seen by a human before, so that's not—"

"They saw you?" Finn screeches, grabbing me by the shoulders. I wince in pain but don't pull away. I couldn't if I wanted to; his fingers are digging into my skin like talons.