Children of the Sea 03 - Sea Lord

are the targair inghean .”
    “Oh, let her go,” Enya snapped. “Let her take on Gau on someone else’s turf. That would solve our problems with Hell.”
    “One way or the other,” Morgan said.
    Conn shot them a glare that shut them up.
    Lucy turned to them, her frantic gaze scanning the circle of interested, noncommittal, selkie faces.
    “You could help. Help my family. Please.” Her heart pounded. “Won’t any of you help me?”
    Griff shuffled his feet and looked away.
    “They are human. Mortal.” Her eyes begged for understanding. For sympathy. “They will die.”
    Conn took her hands in a strong clasp. “Lucy, Sanctuary itself is threatened. Without it, our people will die.”
    “You’re immortal.”
    “Not in human form. Not outside of Sanctuary.”
    “So what?” Was that her voice, sharp and cold as the wind? “So you only live eighty, ninety years?”
    His face set. “It is not for the children of the sea to grow old and die.”
    “My family won’t have the chance to grow old. They’ll just die. Gau will kill them. Unless you send help.”
    “No one can be spared from the defenses here.”
    “Then I must go.”
    “You can be spared least of all. We need you here. I need you here.” Conn lowered his voice. How he must hate this display of emotion in front of his wardens. “I cannot do this without you.”
    His eyes—warm silver—bored to the bottom of her soul. Her hands trembled in his.
    But her voice was perfectly steady as she said, “I’m sorry. I love you. But my family needs me more.”
    Slipping her hands from his grasp, she walked out of the hall.
    No one moved or spoke or tried to stop her. She walked swiftly, so no one could catch her. She did not look back. She couldn’t afford to.
    Across the courtyard and into the tower, down the stairs, and through Conn’s private door. Madadh whined and trotted after her.
    On the path that led to the beach, she turned. “Go!” she shouted. “Go on. Go back to him!”
    The hound pressed closer, thrusting its bearded muzzle into her hand. Her eyes stung. Her chest was on Page 108
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    fire.
    She stumbled down the track.
    She had never wanted to be like the mother who had abandoned her. But she could be herself. She must not think of the ones she was leaving behind, but the ones she was leaving to save.
    Lucy swallowed hard. Maybe her mother had done the same.
    On the beach, she stripped off her borrowed clothes and folded them in a pile.
    “ Something holds you back, ” Conn had said.
    Yes. Pain.
    Fear.
    Love.
    Naked, she stood at the water’s edge.
    Or nearly naked. The aquamarine glinted against her belly. Conn’s words teased at her memory: “ The selkie do not alter or adorn their skin. ” Was she selkie? She remembered the tearing pain at her midsection the last time she had braved the water. Maybe . . .
    With shaking hands, she fumbled with the piercing and laid it on top of the pile of discarded clothes. The tiny jewel shimmered against the rough linen like a tear. A promise. A farewell.
    Her heart hammered against her ribs as she turned to face the water. Conn had cautioned her against going alone into the sea. What had Iestyn said? Without a guide, a selkie Changing for the first time could be lost forever beneath the waves.
    But she was connected to the land in ways no selkie had ever been, anchored by duty and bound by love.
    Taking a deep breath, she walked naked into the sea.
    The water foamed around her ankles. Cold and apprehension shook her. She didn’t want to do this. She had no choice. Admitting it was a kind of relief. No choice. No control.
    She slogged forward.
    Pressure built under her skin, beneath her ribs, deep in her gut, swelling in slow rolling breakers along her sinews, bones, and nerves.
    She recognized the precursors of pain, the onset of the Change. She’d always resisted it before. Now she welcomed the pain, waded into it, with tears streaming down her face and outstretched arms.
    She needed the pain to take her where she had to go.
    Her vision blurred. Her hearing sharpened. Smells, a rich stew of kelp and brine, swept over her. The current dragged at her knees. She staggered, and the water bore her up, wrapped her in a lover’s embrace. Pain ripped her belly. Confusion rent her mind as the world dissolved and swirled around her.
    Her limbs shortened and fused. Her body thickened. Panic closed her throat. She