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.