Chapter 4

The first thing Samuel heard when he woke up was soft off-key humming followed by the crash of glass breaking and muttered curses. He opened his eyes and turned his head towards the noise to see which of his father's servants had been foolish enough to disturb the ill. He saw the woman crouching and picking up the shards of glass, cursing all the while, and couldn't smother a chuckle that rapidly turned into a cough. The woman looked up and smiled.

“Good, you're awake. You've been sick for some time now. Don't fret if you're a little confused: it's been a month since you first fell ill. You've had a few moments where you've come to, but you probably remember them as dreams instead of reality.” The woman stepped over the broken glass, looking at the mess with obvious disdain before turning her attention back to Sam, who was still coughing. “No, don't fight the coughs. Relax, easy, easy.”

Sam was held up by cool, strong hands as the woman propped the pillows up behind his back. He leaned back and found that his lungs didn't protest as much. “Thank you. I can actually breathe now.”

The woman nodded and went back to crouching over what Sam assumed was a broken teacup. Her black hair was tied back in a tight bun, showing her elegant jawline and the tips of her long eyelashes. “You frightened all of us, you know. I expected you to wake up a few days after I arrived to help, but you had other ideas.”

Sam was having trouble following what the woman was saying, and tried to slow her speech down in his head. “Wait, who are you?”

“Oh, I'm sorry. Everyone around here knows my name now, so...well, don't I seem silly now. I'm Lenalia.” She stood up and curtsied.

The blond man blinked in confusion for a moment, for her curtsy didn't look quite right. He looked down at her legs and realized what threw him off. “Why, you're wearing trousers!”

Lenalia rolled her eyes and looked at him with disgust. “They're easier to move in than a skirt, and I'll have you know that where I come from, women can dress like men and not have anyone comment on it!” She turned around and strode over to the door, yanking it open before Samuel realized that she was angry.

“Wait, please!” The man didn't want her to leave him alone, with only his thoughts to keep him occupied. “I didn't mean to offend you. It's just unusual for a woman to be comfortable wearing trousers. Really, I didn't mean it.”

Lenalia slammed the door shut and whirled around. Her eyes darted from side to side rapidly before she finally sighed and walked back to Sam's bed. “Men.”

Sam laughed, amused by her frustrated tone. “You sound like you've had enough of men for a while. Your husband and children must be a handful.”

It was Lenalia's turn to laugh. “I have neither. I have a brother who is noble, and my father, rest his soul, was a leader much like your father. Saying they had pompous days is an understatement. My brother and I are quite close, despite it, so I've become wise in dealing with frustrating men.” She filled a teacup and handed it to the man. “Drink this, but be careful. It's still hot.”

Samuel took the teacup with a shaky hand and tried to lift it to his lips, succeeding only when one of the woman's cool hands reached over to steady him. As he took a sip, he lifted his eyes to look at the mysterious woman. Her expression was gentle and reassuring, drawing Sam into her gaze. He lowered the teacup.

“That tastes horrible!” He grimaced, cleared his throat, and asked, “What happened to your father? And what happened in the past few weeks here?”

The gentleness faded into barely contained fury. “My father was killed. It seemed like an accident, but I can't seem to shake the feeling that someone planned it.” She shrugged. “My brother sent me away so he could find out more. He seems to think I'm too brash to be subtle, but--”

The door burst open, cutting Lenalia off. Jonathan looked between the two and glared at the woman. “If you slammed the door and woke him up, I swear I'll remove you from this house immediately.”

Samuel had never heard his twin so angry at a woman. Before he could speak up, Lenalia stood and went to stand by the door. “I'll let Captain Wash tell you of the past weeks.” She bowed and left, closing the door behind her.

John rolled his eyes, just as Lenalia had done a few minutes before. “Women.”

Sam looked at his twin with exasperation. “Why did you scold her? It was my fault she slammed the door.” He moved to set his teacup aside, and Jonathan was there, gently taking it from the man and setting it beside the teapot. “I didn't mean to offend her, but--”

“I know how you are with women. You tend to dig yourself into a hole before you notice that something's wrong. Sam, she just appeared, as if she knew we needed her. It's too much of a coincidence for you to fall sick and for her to be right there when we docked.”

“So, you think she caused my illness?” Sam laughed—a short, quick noise. “I was out in the rain for two shifts, John. It was cold and windy and that's why I became ill. If I had listened to you and gone below decks when you told me to, chances are that I wouldn't be in this position right now!”

“I know, but I can't help but believe--”

“That, what, she controls the weather? John, she'd have to be magic to do that, and might I remind you, magic doesn't exist! You're being ridiculous, and you know it.” Sam shook his head. “She was there when we needed her most, and I thank God for that. You should give her the benefit of the doubt.”

John fell into the chair next to the bed and sighed. “You're right, I'm being silly. Perhaps it was just the stress of not knowing if you'd live or die. Forgive me, Brother, I have been cruel.”

John's twin smiled. “Don't ask me for forgiveness, ask the one you've been cruel to. Now, please, tell me what I have missed.”



The next day Lenalia checked Samuel's temperature, feeling his forehead to check the status of his fever. Satisfied that it was fully broken, the woman sat at the chair in between the bed and the window, and began reading the book that Mitchell had let her steal from his study. She had read it already, but didn't understand it, and decided to try again after Mitchell explained some human phrases to her. It had remained difficult to read, though not as troublesome as Geoffrey Chaucer was.

Lenalia was pleased that she could say that her people had retained the same language they had when they had first spoken, thanks to strict language rules. She was also pleased that her father had taught her and Kanshil different human languages so she could pass the time by reading. She opened the book to the marked page and sunk into the story.

Sometime later, she was startled by a raspy voice. "You know, Sir Richard Steele was a pompous bastard, and is writing is not meant for a lady's eyes."

Lenalia looked up from her book and shook her head. "Samuel, I believe we went over this yesterday: what a lady reads is her own business, and the logic behind it is unintelligible to anyone other than her. Now, let me get you some more of that tea, and no faces this time." She set the book down on the window sill and walked gracefully over to where the serving woman had left the tea.

"Ech, please don't make me drink that horrid tea cold. It was bad enough when it was hot, and now it's--"

"Oh, hush. This time I can put sugar in it, since your fever has broken. As for it being cold..." Lenalia touched the side of the tea kettle and feigned burning her finger as she reheated the liquid with a bit of magic. "It's still hot, so quit whining! It gets annoying after a while, and I actually have to stay here with you. Don't make my life miserable just because you were an imbecile and got yourself sick. Now drink!" She thrust the tea cup at the man and sighed once he took a sip.

"I swear, men are the worst things to exist! They don't have to be as proper as women in public, and they still complain!" She sat back down on the chair and snatched up the book once again, ignoring Samuel's chuckles. He was having none of her silence.

“Lenalia.” He looked at her with curiosity making his eyes glow with a tell-tale gleam. She muttered a curse and set the book down, looking at him impatiently.

“What?” Sam noticed that Lenalia was wearing a skirt today, as her hands were gripping her skirt with tightly clenched fists. He assumed she had fought with John again.

“Why did you decide to help me?” He gulped down the hot tea and set aside the cup with relief. “You just came to the town and helped, without even knowing who I was or anything about me or my family. Why would you do something like that?”

The woman was silent for a while, looking down and smoothing out the creases her fists had made in her dress. She had a worried look on her face, as if she wasn't sure she could trust the man she had taken care of. Sam was about to apologize for asking such a rude question when she finally spoke. “I came to West Haven because my father had died, and he knew Mitchell. His dying wish was that I become the bond between our two--” She shook her head, retracting what she was saying. “No, that's not right. He wanted me to speak to your father, and I think he wanted me to become the bridge between your town and my city. I don't know that it was a wish of his, and even the desire to have me speak to your father was unspoken.”

“But you came here to let my father know of his passing, even though it meant leaving the people you knew behind?” Samuel thought that was very selfless of her. He then realized that it wasn't selfless but instead selfish. She'd wanted to leave the obviously painful memories of her father behind, regardless of her family's feelings about the matter. She'd left them to fend for themselves.

Lenalia picked up on what Sam thought through his facial expressions and sighed. “You're horrible at controlling your body while you're thinking. I didn't abandon my brother. He insisted I leave. I didn't belong there, you see. I'm not a legitimate child.”

“I see. I didn't mean to judge you, and I apologize.” The blond felt ashamed of his thoughts, and blushed. Lenalia stood up and came over to the bed.

“Samuel, please stop apologizing. I'm not offended, really.” She smiled sadly at him. “My brother and his mother both treated me better than my father did for a long time. You see, my father...well, I think he was ashamed of his actions. He thought he was doing the best thing for his people, but he couldn't deny the love he felt for his wife. Fortunately, the tryst with my mother only lasted for the one night. He could deny the regret he felt about his actions, until I was left at his doorstep with only my mother's eyes to tell him who—and what—I was. He had to reveal what he had done to his wife and infant son, but it couldn't end with the truth. The truth—me—would continue to exist in his household, and I don't think he could accept that as well as his wife and son.”

“What did he do? Did he say you were legitimate and make his wife support that?” Sam tapped the bed so Lenalia could sit.

The woman raised her skirts enough so she could tuck a leg under her and sit. “No, he locked me in my room. His wife started visiting me so I could learn how to sew or weave. Later, when I was about seven, my brother stole the keys from my father and took me through the city at night. Father found out, of course, but he let me be part of the family after that.”

“So, why did you help me?” Sam couldn't shake the feeling that he had to know the reason for her actions before trusting her. Damn Jonathan. He made me think like him.

“You were ill, and I knew what was wrong with you. I'm not sure your father told you, but I'm a doctor. I know what I'm doing, and it was clear that no one else had any idea what was wrong.” A knock sounded on the door and Lenalia went to answer it. She narrowly avoided being hit by the door as it was flung open. As it was, she fell backwards to the floor to avoid injury.

Jonathan walked through the doorway and saw what he had done. “I'm sorry, Lenalia. Allow me.” He grabbed her under the arms and hefted her to her feet as she yelped.

“Set me down this instant! John!”

Sam noticed with a start that she wasn't angry, but instead scared. She clung to his brother's arms as he steadied her, and tears formed at the corners of her eyes. “John, let her go.”

Lenalia whimpered and fled the second she was free, her footsteps echoing down the hall. John smiled and closed the door. “Well, that was fun.”

“You bastard. I thought we went over this already!”

John looked at his twin and jerked back as if he'd been hit. The mood in the room went from calm to tense in moments, and Sam was the center of the storm. “What did I do?”

“You scared the life out of that poor woman! She's been nothing but kind to this family, and you terrorize her. Go find her and apologize at once!” Sam sunk back into the pillows and coughed, spent.

“I did no--”

“Now!” Sam gestured to the door before rolling onto his side, back facing his brother. John sighed and left, confused by his brother's sudden protectiveness of the strange woman.

No, Jonathan realized, it wasn't sudden. Samuel had been defending Lenalia from John's distrust of her from the moment he woke up. John also became aware to the fact that both his father and brother had spent time getting to know the woman, while John had been comfortable in his silent hatred. The blond strode down the hall with a groan. He had to make the effort that they had, and he didn't like it one bit.




Lenalia waded into the water, not bothering to hold her dress above the waves. She sighed with relief and set a quick message to Kanshil through the water. It didn't hold much information, just that she was still safe and Sam was now on the mend. The song of the ocean called to her with every wave, making tears spring to her eyes. She pulled herself back from the magic of the water and sat in the sand.

It's getting harder to stay away from you, my beloved, Lenalia thought. Your passion calls to me even when I'm away from your caress. It's cruel for you to leave a tender message in the sand at my feet, the breeze in my hair. Fear not, kind lady, for I shall return to your embrace someday soon.

“Lenalia?” A hand on her shoulder snapped her out of her reverie. Jonathan was standing over her, looking at her with kind eyes. “May I join you?”

The woman nodded and turned back to the water with a sigh. “Are you here to yell at me again?”

“No. I simply wish to sit with you for a while.” He sat down on the sand beside her and crossed his legs. “I came here to apologize. Father and Sam are right: I've been unnecessarily harsh with you. You've been kind to my family, and for that I thank you. I honestly don't know what would have happened if Sam had perished. We've already lost my mother, and I don't think Father would have survived if we'd lost Sam.”

Lenalia looked at him, unused to the kindness. “He might have died even though I cared for him. The first nights were difficult. I wasn't sure my medicine was working, and he seemed like he kept getting worse. Pneumonia is a trying illness, and often kills those that have the best doctors at their side. That Sam survived is a testament to his fitness. I assume he has sailing to thank for that.”

John appreciated her honesty. Most of the doctors he knew would have accepted his assumption that their medicine was the reason for their patients' survivals, but she rejected it and placed the truth in the space. He realized that his fear of her lack of humility in front of the townsfolk had colored his opinion of her. The blond rewrote it quickly, and found trust where hatred had been before. “Do you like it here?”

The woman's worried look disappeared when she smiled—completely, he noticed, not just her lips—and nodded enthusiastically. “West Haven is a beautiful town, the men kind and helpful, the women gentle and supportive, and the children curious. It doesn't seem to be so much a town as a large family. It feels like home.”

Jonathan laughed. “I meant the beach, not West Haven, but I'm happy you consider our town pleasant.”

Lenalia's smile faded a little. “I do like the beach, but it's bittersweet.” She held her breath a moment before releasing it in a gust. “This might not make any sense, but I feel both too close to the ocean and too far from the ocean when I sit here. It's almost too painful to bear, but I can't seem to stay away. I'm sorry, I can't explain this very well.”

Jonathan nodded. “Lenalia, are we friends now? Perhaps if I can be more kind to you?”

“If you aren't cruel, then yes, we're friends.”

“Good. As a friend, then, I'd like to tell you a little secret.” The woman's grey eyes sparked with interest. “You see, there's a bit of a rumor floating around this small town. That rumor says that there's a ship, a beautiful ship, looking for a new doctor to hire. You see, the doctor they had aboard has bad joint pain, and can't stay on the crew any longer. Also, the crew doesn't believe in the superstition that women are bad luck on a ship. I only bring this rumor up because I know you're a good person, not willing to step down from a challenge, and hopefully you're not prone to seasickness.”

“I'm not.” Lenalia smiled, understanding where Jonathan was heading with the conversation. “Wouldn't I have to speak to the captain in order to become one of the crew?”

“Oh, only if you're one of many potential crew members to choose from. It just so happens that you're the only person capable of surviving life on board a merchant ship in the town. On the entire island, really. The captain got word from the other towns that they have no one to spare, and he's become quite desperate. His bones itch when he's on land for too long, and he'd like to start planning a new voyage soon.” Jonathan shrugged. “If you're not interested, though--”

“Oh, I am.” She giggled. “So, Captain Wash, what should I do in the meantime?”

“Please help me plan this voyage. With Sam bedridden, I'm short a pair of hands.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Chapter 3

Three nights later, Mitchell went into his son's bedroom to find Lenalia fast asleep in the large chair by the window. She'd been reading a history book from the library in the Lord Mayor's house, and it was resting on the floor near her fingertips. The man smiled and checked his son for any signs of distress before quietly walking over to the girl. A hand on her shoulder made her wake with a start.

“Shh, Lenalia, it's just me. Come, child, we have things to discuss.” He picked up the book and set it on the windowsill before making his way out of the room, the groggy woman following him.

She shut the door behind her and sighed. “Sorry, Mitchell, I must've nodded off a few hours ago.”

“I understand completely. Taking care of Samuel is hard work, especially when you're not using your magic.” He turned to face the woman and asked, “Why don't you? It would be easier, my son would heal faster, and--”

“And Evana would either kill me or kill Samuel. Her magic is wrapped around him, and I don't know what would happen if mine interfered.” She saw the worry in the man's features. “Don't fret, sir, the magic can only work on an existing illness. Once your son is well, it will release him.”

Lenalia sounded more mature than her years, Mitchell realized. “If I may ask another question, I'd like to know how you managed.”

“Managed what?”

“It was my understanding that half-bloods were culled shortly after their birth. Why were you saved?”

Lenalia crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. “Evana left me at the palace steps of her own volition. Father told me that she wanted him to realize that if the sirens and merfolk joined together, the result would be disastrous.” She frowned. “I was four weeks old when I destroyed a wing of the palace. The gods were smiling on us that day, thankfully, and no one was hurt.”

Mitchell had heard stories about certain powers being volatile and difficult to control, and nodded. “What happened to you? Did they teach you how to control your magic?”

The woman shook her head. “None of the tutors wanted to be close to me. Father had me locked in my rooms to prevent any more incidents, but his wife pitied me and visited me every day to teach me how to sew or weave. When she discovered that I could be patient, she taught me how to channel my powers into healing spells and potions. I lost control sometimes, and Father was still reluctant to let me out, so his son, Kanshil, got the keys and let me out one night.”

Mitchell saw the love in her eyes and smiled. “Did you destroy anything?”

“No. We toured the palace and the city, but it was late at night, so no one was around. We decided that if Father never found out about the excursions, we could go outside every night.” Lenalia smiled. Her brother was the first mer to treat her like she was normal. “Father was waiting at the palace gates a few weeks later, and we got in a lot of trouble. He later said that if I hadn't managed to destroy something by then, I deserved to be treated like one of the family. Ever since then, I was accepted. When I was twelve, I started training to get in the mer armies, and when I was sixteen, became the general.”

“Isn't that a little young to be fighting in a war?” Mitchell asked. He knew merwomen were allowed to fight, and thought it was a good idea. His late wife had taught him that women were deadly when provoked.

“I wasn't the youngest general. General Torrus, now Council Member Torrus, took that position when he was fourteen. All of the ranking officers had been killed in a siren attack, and he was the highest ranking soldier left.” She shrugged. “He retired once the treaty was made between the two kingdoms.”

The man nodded, and crooked his arm for Lenalia to take. She did, and they walked down the hall to Mitchell's study. “If you don't mind, would you indulge my curiosity? Verilan and I never discussed the sirens. It was a bit of a sore subject for him.”

“It would be. What would you like to know?” Lenalia, despite being raised by merfolk, knew about sirens from Torrus and Kanshil, both of whom had wanted her to have an unprejudiced perspective of them.

The man had been expecting the woman's hand to stiffen on his arm, as it usually did if he asked a question she was uncomfortable with. “Do sirens actually sing to ensnare sailors?”

The conversation paused as Mitchell opened the lock to his large study. It was a pleasant room, filled with bookcases and paintings. The family portrait hung over the currently unlit fireplace across from the oak desk. It showed Samuel and Jonathan in the front, sitting on wooden chairs draped with velvet. Behind them was Mitchell, who held hands with a beautiful and obviously pregnant woman with vibrant red hair. Lenalia liked that portrait—it showed the happiness in everyone's lives. She turned her attention back to the man at her side.

“Yes, but that's only a defense mechanism. If ships sail too close to Evana's palace, the siren guards will enthrall the sailors and cause their ships to crash into the coral nearby. Other sirens, the renegades who don't obey the laws, will do so just for fun.” Lenalia had been forced to investigate shipwrecks for a year of her training, and had learned about the renegades and the hatred all sirens had for humans.

“They have laws?”

“Every civilization has laws, Mitchell. They have to have them to keep some semblance of order during a war.” She sat down in the leather chair across the desk from Mitchell's larger chair. “They may not be the same as mer or human laws, but they do exist.”

“Of course. Are you able to enthrall humans?” The man wasn't accusing her of anything, but he wanted to be certain just in case.

Lenalia laughed. “I can heal, but that's it. I fight using my own two hands or my weapons, but the magic in my weapons is sealed within them, and not usable by me. I would be able to use my siren powers to snare human males—it won't work on females—but I can't sing.”

Mitchell did a double take. “What?”

“I can't sing. At all. It sounds like something stepped on a seal if I try. Not exactly something a man would fall in love with.” She couldn't help but smile whenever her singing voice was mentioned.

“I suppose that's for the best, then.” Mitchell knew it was wrong for him to feel very relieved that the woman couldn't sing, but he did.




“Lord Mayor, who is she?”

“Where did she come from?”

“Did she save Sam?”

Mitchell groaned as he strolled through his front gardens and was bombarded by the questions from the townsfolk. They wanted to know about the strange woman that had arrived four days ago to save one of his beloved sons. The women were especially curious to hear who she was and where she was from, since she showed no shame in front of the men.

“My dear people, one at a time, if you please! Geoffrey, her name is Lenalia, and she is a well-trained doctor. Amanda, please don't shriek like that, you know it hurts your throat. She's from Rome, and has traveled a long way.” Both he and Lenalia had pondered over how to explain her unusual name and cover her tracks. “She went overland through France, then was taking a ship to our island, but the ship she was sailing on was caught in the same storm as the Leaf. It sank, and the townsfolk in Pearl Cove helped her make it the rest of the way here.”

“But, Lord Wash, why here?” A child close to the fence asked.

“I'd written to other Lords across the island about finding a doctor for the Leaf, and one of her friends passed the word on to her. He knew she was looking to move to a new town, and she trusted his word. Yes, Matthew, she did save Sam.” Mitchell leaned over and picked a bright yellow rose and handed it to one of the young girls standing with their mother. The townsfolk seemed satisfied and started meandering away from his fence.

When he turned to head back down the path, Jonathan was standing in the way. His face was creased with controlled anger, and his green eyes were stormy. Mitchell looked at his son before going around him. John followed his father until they were at the gate between the front and back gardens.

“Father, she's completely new to this town, we know practically nothing about her, and here she is, tending to Sam and living in our home!” John gestured angrily at the house.

“She saved your brother, John. Why don't you do as she suggested and swallow your pride? Show some gratitude towards her, son. Think about how you would have reacted if she had been here to save your mother and sibling!”

The rage in his son's eyes settled abruptly. He looked away from his father's eyes and rubbed his face before walking away. He paused a moment and said over his shoulder, “That was low, even for you.”

Mitchell watched his son walk away and shook his head. He and John had never been friends, instead using their ship as a buffer between them. They operated like acquaintances with a shared interest than anything else.

“It's a bad thing, my lord, when you can't let your son voice his opinions without hitting him below the belt.” The voice drifting down from one of the windows belonged to Lenalia.

The man smiled up at her. “My dear girl, would you have gone about it differently?”

The woman grinned slyly. “Yes, I would have tossed him into the roses and let him fight his way out. Much more entertaining and far less stressful for me.”

Mitchell laughed. “I'll let you do that next time, then. How's Sam?”




Under the calm surface of the ocean, a storm was brewing, fueled by Evana's rage. She'd been surprised by her daughter's perception once again, and was very displeased with the events unfolding around her. The dark-haired siren growled as she swam around her palace, trying to find a new way to deal with the corrupted spawn she'd birthed.

“M-Majesty, please. I--” The siren messenger that spoke trembled enough that Evana could feel the ripples. He regained his control and straightened up slightly. “Majesty, I have a message from the border.”

The queen turned to glare at the siren before resting on her throne. “I'm waiting, fool.”

The messenger's eyes darted around nervously. “The general is dead, as are half of his squad. The rest are badly wounded. The Sergeant Vika seeks your guidance.”

Just what Evana needed at that moment: a new problem. She sighed and put a hand on her head. “She's now General Vika, messenger. Tell her to regroup if she can and that I'll send reinforcements.” She struggled to keep her voice calm. It wouldn't do to frighten the messenger into a dead faint. He bowed deeply and fled while he could, followed by Evana's scream of fury.

“Blast them all!” She turned towards the pillars framing her throne and contemplated destroying them. Instead, she sank wearily to the seat and rubbed her face. Killing Lenalia would have to wait. Evana had work to do.

Chapter 2

Lenalia breathed a sigh of relief when she rounded the last bend in the road into West Haven. She hadn't realized how difficult having legs could be, and her feet hurt. Fortunately, the townsfolk at the town she surfaced at assumed she'd been in a shipwreck during the thunderstorm that night, and clothed her before sending her away. The next village down the road had a sick child that she helped, and had given her a few coins to get her to her destination. The dark-haired general dug in her skirt pocket for the coins and scowled at them when she opened her hand.

She only had three of the silver coins and eight of the copper coins left, but she'd be damned if she knew what she was going to do with them. Apparently, they were a type of money, similar to the merfolk's trions and skels. Based on her experiences from the past few days, the silver coins, called shillings, were good for a night's rest at a way-house, including a warm bath and a small dinner. The coppers were much less useful, and failed to interest her.

Lenalia got to the town's entrance, marked only by a better constructed road, and stopped. The streets were filled with laughing humans and screeching children, not exactly what she'd been hoping for. She wanted a nice, quiet night to rethink her plans for finding out what her mother wanted with the strange creatures. The gods were obviously testing her, and she straightened up and strode forward with confidence.

She would have blended in well, if it weren't for the human legs Lenalia found herself stuck with. The general of the mer armies managed to land perfectly on her rump in a puddle of water. She tried to right herself, but her feet got tangled in her skirts and each other and she merely flopped back into the puddle.

“Careful, lass, that cobble's slick! Oy, Richard, help the wee lass up, will ye?!” Lenalia turned toward the richly accented voice and saw an old man leaning on his cane, and a similar looking younger man reaching forward to help her to her feet.

She blushed and tried to smooth her skirts as the men looked her over. “Thank you, sir. My feet are sore from my travels, and I didn't feel them slip.”

The old man smiled kindly at her. “I haven't heard your accent before, lass. Where do ye hail from?”

Lenalia blinked, struggling with the man's rolled rs. “Pardon me?”

The younger man laughed and assisted her. “Sorry, miss, Grandfather's a Scotsman. He's hard to understand when he's excited.”

The raven-haired mer smiled nervously, not wanting to come up with an origin for herself. She certainly hadn't thought about that question. “Excited about what, exactly?”

The men looked at each other before taking up spots on either side of her. The younger man, whose name Lenalia remembered was Richard, extended a bent arm towards her. She looked at it for a moment before realizing she was supposed to hold onto it. She gently placed a hand on his arm and found herself led down the street.

“Well, lass, the pride o' the town's come in at last. We thought her and her crew to be harmed in the storm a few nights ago, but she's still afloat!” The old man waved his cane in the air before leaning back onto his cane.

“Our lovely town's a merchant town, miss. We trade with others on the island or on the mainland by using our lord's ship, the Journeyman's Leaf. We have a few smaller vessels about, but they're fishing vessels, mostly. Others are too small to trade further than Pearl Cove. That's a village about two day's ride down this road.” Lenalia nodded. That was the village she'd first surfaced at. “Now, with the horrid squall gone through, and no word from any safe harbor along the Leaf's course, we thought we might've lost them. Fortunately, that ship's too strong to be floundered by that little shower, and here she is, coming home to us.” Richard stopped and looked at her. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ramble.”

Lenalia looked up from her feet, startled. “I find this conversation quite interesting, actually. I've never lived near ships before.”

Both men looked appalled by that statement. “Lass, you have been missin' quite the excitement.” The old man shook his head. “See, Captain Jonathan, good man--”

Lenalia couldn't help but smile as the two men spoke of the ship's crew and led her towards the docks.



Jonathan looked at his father's anxious face on the docks and winced. He was hoping both his sons were safe and sound, but he was about to be disappointed. Samuel had been rushed to Daniel's cabin after he collapsed while coughing blood, and hadn't stirred since. His breathing was shallow and quick, almost constantly interrupted by coughs that tore through his entire body. The two days it took to come home seemed like an eternity to the captain and worried crew, and it seemed like they would make it home just in time to let Sam die in the same house he was born in.

Father will die. I know it. John hung his head and waited for the crew to lower the gangplank so they could carry his brother to land and his father. How the man hadn't heard the coughs already was beyond him. The green-eyed captain strode forward as the gangplank was secured and walked down it to greet his father.

The older man smiled at his son and embraced him tightly. “My boy! Good to see you in one piece! Why, it doesn't look like you did any work at all!” The man looked his son over quickly. “Not even a hole in your clothes. Where's your brother? No, let me guess: harassing the crew below decks?”

John stopped his father's babbling with a look. “Father, Sam is very ill.” The older man paled. “He stayed on deck when I ordered his watch below. He must have climbed the nets while I had my back turned. Sam was out there all night, and he must have gotten sick from that blasted storm!”

“How bad is it, Jonathan?” His father's eyes held his, and John was forced to look away.

“He's going to die, Father. Daniel's the only doctor in the area, and he's at a loss. He might survive the night, but not tomorrow.” John's eyes filled with tears. “I don't want to lose him, Father. He's all we have.”

His father gripped his arm and watched the crew disembark and run to embrace their families and friends. The last two crewmen came down to the dock with a stretcher carrying Sam between them. The coughs coming from the stretcher were now audible, and the crowd closest to the sick man fell silent. “We'll still have each other, John, we'll still have each other.”

Lenalia, who had been dragged through the crowd by her escorts, surveyed the scene before her, wondering why the townsfolk had become so quiet. The two blond men off to one side were looking at the other blond in the stretcher, and were carrying on a hushed conversation. When the townsfolk behind her heard the news about the ill man and became silent, her besieged ears adjusted, and she heard the wet coughs.

Those aren't normal. Lenalia thought, trying to listen carefully. She pushed her way through the men still in front of her. He's ill. Not normal ill, either. Magic ill. She couldn't suppress the gasp when she realized that Evana's magic—the smell of it—was all around the sick men.

Her gasp attracted the attention of the two blond men near the stretcher. Lenalia squared her shoulders and took a step forward, out of the crowd. “Excuse me, sirs, what illness has taken hold of that man?”

The younger man strode forward, stopping uncomfortably close to Lenalia. “Why do you wish to know? My brother is dying, miss, and he is not something to be gawked at.”

The mer raised an eyebrow. “Why don't you swallow your pride for one moment, sir? Perhaps then he won't die while the entire town watches.” The man gaped at her, but Lenalia only rolled her grey eyes. “By the looks of it, he's been sick only for two nights, three at most. I take it he's been coughing up blood, and I can hear how shallow his breathing is from here. He needs to be brought inside, now. The salty air is going to do him more harm than good.”

The man didn't move. “Miss, I doubt you can do any good here. You're only a woman, after all.”

Lenalia's eyes hardened. She'd dealt with fussier mermen than this human, and she'd be cursed by the gods if she gave up so easily now. She shoved past the man, making his stumble backward into the crewmen nearby, and knelt by the stretcher, feeling the sick man's forehead. She knew by looking at him that he had a high fever, but she wanted to feel for her mother's magic. It was curled around the poor man's lungs, infecting them and slowly killing him. She stood and turned towards the other blond.

“If you can deal with me being a woman, hear me out.” She paused and the man crossed his arms, waiting. “Good. I know the cure.”



Mitchell Wash, Lord Mayor of West Haven, looked at the newcomer as she took over his large kitchen and thought she was different in some way from others like her. He knew what she was, at least partially. Black hair, grey eyes, and a way with words that would make any man quiver with fear meant she was definitely a royal. The fact that she was stumbling every few steps merely confirmed that. He chuckled and strode forward to help the girl fend off his irate cook.

“Margaret, please go home. It's been a long day, and I'm sure your husband would like to see you a little early.” The large woman huffed and curtsied before leaving. Mitchell turned his charms to the girl bustling about in his cupboards. “If I may, milady, I know my way around this maze and could speed up the process.”

The girl glared at him. “I've told everyone that's come through to help that I can manage just fine on my own.” She reached for the cupboard next to her left leg and lost her balance, falling into Mitchell's waiting arms. “Gods curse it all! This damned dress is much too long! 'It'll fit you perfectly, miss', she said. 'It's not to long, miss', she said. What I would give for a pair of trousers!” She righted herself and yanked open the cupboard door, grabbed a large pot from inside, and slammed it shut.

“Perhaps you'd do better with your tail instead of legs, yes?” Mitchell said calmly.

The girl froze completely before her legs gave out. “W-what did you say?”

“Tut-tut, my dear, human women don't rumple their skirts like that. Take my hand, and I'll help you up. There's a girl.” The Lord Mayor's eyes glinted mischievously.

“You are a very bad man, sir.” She said as she stood. “How did you know?”

“Milady, you look like your father. How is King Verilan?” The man sat at the large servant's table and crossed his legs. “He was the one who suggested I repair this part of Haven and found it, after all. Also, a name for you other than 'milady' or 'my dear' would be nice.”

The girl's eyes darkened and her face showed her grief. “My name is Lenalia, and my father is dead, sir. He died several weeks ago.”

Mitchell patted a chair next to his, but Lenalia shook her head. “He was a good king, I'm truly sorry to hear of his passing. How did he die? It was my understanding that you merfolk lived for centuries.”

The girl lifted the bucket of water she'd pumped earlier onto the wooden counter and filled the pot. As she set it in the hole on the stove, she shook her head. “Most of them do, my lord. I suspect, as do others, that my father was murdered by the sorceress-Queen Evana.”

“I know of her. Verilan used to tell me tales of her failed schemes. He seemed amused rather than concerned. Go on, Lenalia.” Mitchell watched the girl crush herbs into the pot and steady herself.

“He was always curious about her. One day, almost twenty years ago, he bedded her. I think he was hoping to forge a truce between the two realms, but others believe Evana seduced him. Personally, I think it was a bit of both. He loved her, or so he told me at one point, and they had a truce for three years after that. Once Evana realized that he wasn't going to wed her, she attacked one of the border villages and that ended the truce. We've been at war ever since.” She stirred the pot before placing her hand over it. “This might look painful, but, I assure you, it's not.”

Mitchell winced as she submerged her hand into the hot water. A moment later, she lifted the hand and shook it. “Are you alright, dear?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. It's sticky, that's all.” She examined her hand as if it wasn't attached and then tasted some of the liquid. She shuddered and nodded. “Perfect.”

The man looked the girl over and realized that she couldn't be older than nineteen. A revelation came to him as Lenalia wiped her hand off with a damp towel. “You're the result of that day, aren't you? Evana's your mother.”

The girl looked at him suspiciously. “You are far too perceptive for your own good, my lord.”

“Stop calling me 'my lord'. My name's Mitchell.” He saw the steam coming up from the pot. “If that's done, you should go give it to my son.”

“He's not going to enjoy this treatment, sir. It'll last a couple of weeks at least, and this isn't the most pleasant potion.”

“Good. Maybe then he won't disobey his brother anymore. Goodness knows we don't need any more swordfish problems!”

Lenalia cocked her head, confused. “Swordfish problems, sir?”

“I'll explain later.”

Chapter 1

The night was just beginning, and many merfolk saw the passing group and waved before continuing on their way. The kingdom was prospering, despite the war that was being waged halfway across the realm. The three mer that were talking animatedly were discussing just that. The sirens and mer were at an unhappy standstill, their armies equally matched in numbers and power, but the mer had just become more vulnerable with the loss of their king just a fortnight past. The ruler of the sirens, Sorceress-Queen Evana, was suspected to have played a part in the king's untimely demise, but the proof was vague at best.

“King Verilan would not have wanted us to give up, milady. We could move our troops away from the border and try to reduce the tension between our two kingdoms.” A council member for over fifty years to the late King Verilan, Torrus was an excellent strategist, but had lately had problems with the leadership of the mer armies.

The merman swimming between the council member and the general of the armies sighed and ran a webbed hand through his hair. “I don't think that's what my sister had in mind, Torrus.” He looked at his half-sister and saw her relax a little. She was stubborn and young, but was a leader through and through, and refused to retreat unless that was the best option for the kingdom. Her black hair floated in front of her face, hiding her eyes from the council member and her brother. “Perhaps Lenalia should tell us her plans, instead of us ordering her around, for a change.”

Torrus tensed up all the way to the tip of his silver tail. He took pride in his ability to control the rebellious general, and having the other merman undermine his control was offensive. “Your Majesty, I don't think your father—”

“My father is dead, Council Member. I am the new king, and you will listen to me. Lenalia, dear sister, what are your plans for the borderlines?” The king shot a glare at Torrus, preventing the argument that was about to pass through his lips.

The general looked at her brother with respect, her grey eyes shining with pride for his new backbone. “I plan to send reinforcements in the morning. The sirens have backed off for now, but that seems to be only a temporary situation. After all, Evana did love my father, if only for a brief time. She's showing that she respected the old king, but that leads me to suspect that she'll have her armies attack with more force to express her disdain for Kanshil. No offense, dear brother, but you are quite vulnerable during this period of change.” She smiled for a moment, shot a glare rivaling her brother's at Torrus, and continued. “We are lacking in magical support at that front, and I plan to send the royal mages at them.”

Kanshil laughed, seeing her plan clearly. He glanced at Torrus, who was obviously confused. “You plan to take out that entire front, don't you? Pull our troops back for the initial attack, then destroy the trench and make those sirens quake in their fins, right?” Comprehension lit Torrus's face and his look of disrespect changed to one of glee.

“That would send the message to Evana that we're not afraid of destroying her sirens, without actually doing much damage. That's—milady?” The blond council member frowned, seeing a look cross over Lenalia's face, as if she was looking many miles past them.

“Len?” The king shook his sister lightly until she blinked and focused back on him. “What did you see?”

Lenalia's voice shook with rage. “Evana's attacking the humans. Her magic's on its way towards West Haven. I think it's going after a ship.”

“I didn't feel anything. Are you sure it's Evana? Torrus and I should have sensed it as well if it were.” Kanshil looked at Torrus, who shook his head.

The general sighed. “You have no siren blood in you, so you wouldn't sense this spell.” Her grey eyes flashed black and back again. “Mother's up to something.”

Kanshil let go of his half-sister and backed away. Only when she was fighting for control over her siren blood, given to her when Evana seduced King Verilan, did she call the evil queen 'mother'. “You're going to follow her magic, aren't you?”

Lenalia jerked in surprise, and looked at her brother in shock, now in full control once again. “You knew?”

“It's you, Len. Crazy stunts are pretty much a daily thing with you. Besides, if you sensed the magic, you can stop it. I'll check in with you once every two weeks at sunset. Keep no secrets from me, Lenalia. We're dealing with humans, and they can be deadly. You know the stories Father used to tell us!”

Torrus gaped at the siblings. “You can't just let her go! She's our general, and we're at war!”

The king nodded. “I know, but we have seconds in command for this purpose. Besides, if she can figure out what Evana wants with the humans, we might be able to end this damned war and unify the two kingdoms.” Torrus was about to speak again when Kanshil held up a hand. “It's her decision, and it's been made. Lenalia, please be careful. Evana might be using one of the humans to lure you into a trap.”

The raven-haired mer nodded and hugged her brother. “Don't get yourself killed while I'm gone, okay?”

“Love you too, Lenni. Now get going.”



On the surface world, a beautiful night had turned violent. Storm clouds roiled with energy, causing lightning to illuminate a lone ship and her crew. Thunder boomed, and shook the ship's masts, making the crew tighten their holds and mutter hurried prayers before returning to the rigging. Two blond men spoke rapidly as they fought to keep control of the helm. One looked at the other, his green eyes worried.

“Well, this is fun! Whoop, there's the current. The helm should hold easy now, John. I'm going to go help the others!” The man ran towards the bow, shouting orders as he went. “Furl that damned mainsail! It'll pull us out of the current again! No, damn it all, drop anchor! Maybe we won't die then!”

The other man he left in charge of the helm glanced around. “Sam, get back over here!” The first man whirled around and slid on the soaked deck, landing hard on a hip. He struggled to his feet and hobbled back to the other. “That looked like it hurt, Sam. Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, but my pride's a little bruised.” He looked over his shoulder at the men doing as he ordered and straightened up. “Captain, the mainsail is furled and the anchor should hold fast. We're not going anywhere in this.”

The captain looked behind Sam and examined the frantic work being done. “Sam, how long has your watch been out here? We've been out here for hours!” There were red tinges coloring the horizon. “Your watch was here at the beginning of this blasted storm, and you're all soaked. Order them to get below decks and warm up, now!”

Lightning flashed again and some of the men staggered with exhaustion as they tied down ropes. Sam looked down at his soaked shirt and breeches and chuckled. “They do need a break.” He turned and shouted, “Third watch, get below decks and rest! Now!”

John raised an eyebrow, once again impressed with his brother's ability to shout above thunder. “That means you, too! You're soaked, and need sleep. Get going!”

“You still need my—”

“No, you said we'd be alright now. Go!” John glared at Sam. “It's an order, as your captain!” Lightning struck the mizzen mast and the crew scrambled for buckets. “Leave be! The wood's soaked and won't light! Go back to the rigging!”

When John turned back to order his brother again, Sam was gone. Just as well he listened. It wouldn't do for us to fight in front of the men.

John didn't see a tall blond man climbing the shrouds despite his orders, and went back to commanding the men on the deck.



Underwater, a figure surrounded by others swam back and forth, silently fuming. Her grey-violet hair was tied back with a leather strap, and the claws on her hands were unsheathed. Her eyes were narrowed and filled with controlled rage. Her followers didn't move, praying that their queen didn't lose control and kill one of them in her fury. She growled and flung a bolt of magic to a nearby rock, which shattered upon impact.

“Damn that daughter of mine!!” She flung another bolt at a shark, and watched it implode with disdain. “Kora!”

One of the queen's followers swam forward to her side. “Yes, Evana?”

Evana glared at Kora and rolled her eyes. “Take these fools away from me. I wish for silence!” The black-haired follower bowed and shooed everyone else off. The queen of the sirens sat on her throne and sighed when Kora bowed in front of her after making sure the others stayed away. “Kora, I wish my eldest to suffer a horrible death...what do you suggest?”

The siren thought for a moment and shrugged. “She's fascinated with the humans. Make sure she gets attached to certain ones, then kill them all. Save her for last. That would make her heart tear in two, and make the magic that returns to you from her blood taste that much sweeter.”

Evana nodded. “You're getting better at your schemes, Adept. I've already lured her away from the small safety of the mer kingdom using the humans. What next?” The siren had already had her plan all thought out, but she wanted to see how the youngest of her daughters would kill a sibling.

“Perhaps...cast a spell on one of her new pets and make her fall in love while helping the others right the damage you inflict upon him. Wait until she has him wound around her finger, then murder the bastard, implicating her in the process. Her other pets will kill her for her treachery.”

Evana clapped. “Very good, Daughter. Your idea would kill any mer, but you must remember that Lenalia has some of our powers as well.” The queen's eyes flashed, showing her belief that Lenalia should have been a pure siren, and corruptible by her.

Kora looked confused, her long hair swirling around her head as she tilted it. She knew Lenalia was a half-breed, but hadn't realized that the siren powers had transferred as well. “Mother, how does the mer blood purify her powers?”

Her mother's eyes snapped in anger, and Kora's question was answered with a hard, backhanded slap. “You fool! Her mer blood doesn't purify the siren powers. It corrupts them!”

Evana's youngest spawn looked at her mother again, holding her bleeding and bruised cheek. “Meaning?”

The words were choked out of Evana's throat. “It makes her a healer.”



Jonathan was forced into a seat by the Chief Steward of his ship, grumbling the whole time. A bowl of hot stew was placed in front of him and a glare from the steward told him that he'd better eat—or else. The blond grinned, and started eating just as his brother came down from the shrouds and sat at the makeshift table. Samuel sighed and stole John's roll.

“Quite a day, huh?” He said, noticing his brother's stare and pointing at the bowl in front of the captain. “You should eat that. I saw Peter running around all morning trying to keep up with poor Daniel's meal recommendations. At least stew met all of them. Oh, thanks Peter! Smells delicious!”

Jonathan grabbed the roll that came with Samuel's meal and glared at him. “You've been messing about the shrouds since I ordered you down below, haven't you?” His brother's guilty grin gave him all the answer he needed, and he slammed his mug of mulled wine on the makeshift table hard. “Dammit, Sam, I ordered you to get some sleep! If I can't get you to obey orders, then how the hell am I going to get the crew to listen?!”

Samuel sighed and ate a spoonful of stew. “John, I'm your brother. I'm supposed to disobey your orders occasionally. It keeps you on your toes. Say, have you sent a letter to Sadrick Harbor or Eastbrook yet? Daniel's joint troubles are getting worse, and we can't go without a surgeon on board!”

The captain slapped his head. “I keep forgetting! Oh, well. We'll be home in two days. I can write the letter on the way, then send it off once we dock. In the meantime, though, you are going to finish eating, then you're going to go down below and get some rest. I'll take your watch tonight, too.”

His brother rolled his eyes and took a sip of wine. “Fine, I'll rest. If I'm up later, though...”

“Then you can take watch with me.” Jonathan looked away from his brother and noticed the rest of the crew quickly turning their attention to their meals and chuckled. “Well, at least we didn't end up roaring at each other this time.”

“Unlike the swordfish incident?” The grin on Sam's face grew and his eyes danced.

The other blond laughed. “Oh, goodness! Remember when we got done tearing into each other?”

“Yes! That's when Father decided that it was his turn! He didn't know which one of us he was angrier with.” A few of the closer crew members overheard the conversation and also started smiling and laughing.

“He was lucky we didn't destroy the ship!” Sam's laugh turned into a yawn and the blond blinked. “I think it's time for me to go to bed. Thank you again for the warm meal, Peter.”

Jonathan gripped his brother's arm. “Thank you for helping out for longer than necessary. Sleep well.”

As Samuel went below decks, another crew member walked up to Jonathan and sat in Samuel's vacated seat. He set down his bowl of stew and his mug, and brushed his brown hair away from his face. “He'll be okay, John.”

The blond looked the man up and down for any injuries, then, satisfied, shrugged. “He's exhausted and anxious to get home. Something's calling to him, I can feel it.”

“You can feel it? Like your weather-sense, or something else?” The brunet dipped his bread into the stew before taking a bite out of it.

John shook his head. “Something else. Different. I've never felt this kind of thing before. It feels like...like the night after we buried Mother. It was hazy then and now it's—I can't describe it well, I'm sorry, Timothy.”

Timothy nodded. “It feels pure, not clouded with emotion. I felt something that night as well. We had to have been affected by the emotions of others, the mood was so dark that night. Maybe it's how we all feel after that storm.” He took another bite of bread and said around the mouthful, “Speaking of which, would you like to know the casualty report?” The blond nodded and braced himself. “Miles has a badly twisted ankle—he fell off the fighting top when the lightning hit the foremast.”

“Lucky he didn't break his neck.”

“That's what I told him when he had the nerve to complain to me about it. The ass almost gave me a heart attack when I saw him fall. There's a note for you: never get emotionally attached to a shipmate.”

Jonathan laughed, well aware, as was the rest of the crew, that Timothy preferred men over women and was currently attached to Miles, another crewman on a different watch shift. “I don't plan on it.”

“Good. Let's see...ah, Matthew broke his arm, but according to Daniel it didn't break through. He called it a fracture or something. He'll be back on board in a month or so for light work. Now for the bad news.”

His captain's head jerked up, fear running though his features. “Bad news? Who didn't make it?”

Timothy's eyes filled up with tears he bravely held back. “Eric. He was in the crow's nest when lightning hit the main mast. We didn't find him until a couple hours after the rain let up. Daniel said the poor man wouldn't have had a chance, even if we had gotten to him earlier.”

“What did you do with the body?” John wasn't sure if he wanted the body to still be on board, but his worries fled when Tim shook his head.

“We covered him and gave him his rest. We couldn't have let his family see him the way he was, even if they did live close. I know you hate writing letters, John, and if you want me to write this one, I will.”

Eric's family didn't live on the large island John and most of his crew hailed from, the blond remembered. “Tim, don't even suggest it. I know you two were friends...why don't you go check on Miles? I'll go to my cabin and start writing it now. See if you can't get some rest.”

“Yessir.”



Jonathan was helping the men repair a frayed line when Samuel surfaced in time for his watch, yawning and shaking off the last vestiges of sleep. He saw his brother and grinned. John rolled his eyes and tossed Sam a small heap of tangled rope that had snapped.

“I hope you realize that these repairs aren't going to last long, John. New rope is going to cost Father a fortune!” The blond man looked at the tangles and growled, recognizing the central knot to be one of his making. “Alright, who made a bird's nest out of this line?”

His brother chuckled. “Sorry about that. In my defense, I did almost break my neck after tripping on it.” He reached over and grabbed a frayed end to wiggle in front of Sam's nose. “I managed to get one end out before giving up.”

Samuel sighed and hitched a hip up on the deck rail to work. “Thank you so very much, Brother Dear.” His blue eyes looked out across the calm ocean. “King Triton's brood must have been in distress earlier. Look at this calm!”

John knotted thin strands of frayed rope together before glancing up. “It's been like that since you went below, but the wind picked up not a moment before sundown.” John's eyes went unfocused, and his brother smiled. Everyone on the ship knew how much their captain wished to learn all the ocean's secrets and thought about them frequently. The captain shook his head slightly and asked in a quiet voice, “Do you really think merfolk exist? Not just in legends, I mean. Do you think they control the ocean with their power?”

Sam set the rope down on his lap. “Father says--”

“I'm not asking what Father believes. I'm asking what you believe, Sam.” John sighed. “I know you expect me to know what your thinking, being your twin and all, but once, just once, I want to hear you state your beliefs aloud.”

The concern in his brother eyes compelled Sam to take a deep breath and gesture to the water. “I believe that the Ocean can't ever be completely controlled by anyone, not even those with mystical powers. She's a passionate mistress, and has Her own ideas about what people want from Her. I believe She tests us by throwing dangerous storms at our men and our ships, and if we please Her, She will reward us with the best a sailor could want: calm seas and windy skies.”

Jonathan glared at his twin when he stopped. “I meant about the merfolk. Your beliefs about the merfolk.”

“I'm getting there, John. I believe tha--” Sam was cut off by a violent coughing fit. Once he recovered, he wiped his watering eyes and saw that his brother had steadied him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “I'm fine, just breathed wrong. John, don't look at me like that, I—” Another cough sent the rope off Sam's lap and forced him to stand to breathe. He tried to make his throat work, but the coughs kept coming, making his head swim and his knees go weak. The blond could only see the wood on the ship's deck coming up to meet him before his world went black.

Introduction

So, here I am, a poor college student with a good idea. The 'poor' part of that is a big factor in this project. Well, so is the 'student' part. It basically means that I'm doing things through a blog because I can't afford to actually do anything spiffy right now, and the 'student' part means give me a little bit of slack in the beginning, I'm still learning. Please, bear with me.

This 'book', as I'm going to call it, has been driving me nuts since 2004, and here I am, 7 years later, finally posting something lucrative. I've toiled with the storyline, changed the characters significantly, and learned a lot more about writing in those 7 years.

I started working on this during this summer (summer of 2011) after having a revelation that can only be compared to playing Oregon Trail on the Mac (we're talking pre-OS 8 Mac), and suddenly waking up to find that you have internet though a fiber optic service.

In other words, I got bored and found that I had the talent to write this at long last.

So here it is. Here's my idea.

I hope this works.

(P.S. note the copyright symbol at the bottom of my posts. This work is mine, and mine alone. Mine. Any help used will be given fair credit at the beginning of each chapter.)