Some Thing Called Myself (Complete)

LXI: Something belongs

Mara blinked a few times and said the only fitting thing for a moment like that.

"Holy shit!"

The older mermaid chuckled and said, "I thought you would recognize me. After all, this isn't the first we meet, is it?" With his face half-hidden by the mantle, Mara could only see the gentle curve of his lips.

She shook her head. "I think I saw you...maybe a week ago? When I found the undercroft."

"Yes, I remember. I felt your presence outside the cathedral, flesh-eater Mara." His smile turned crooked. "Although I have to say, that wasn't your first time in here. You just don't remember the others...yet."

Mara was about to ask what he meant by that when someone interrupted her.

"Mara?" Kiki's voice came from the other end of the chamber, small as it bounced off the cold rock. "Help! I think Falchi isn't feeling well."

First, her body answered, making her jump to her feet and grab the bars that separated her from her sister. Then, her brain weighed in.

Not your sister.

The other memories, those implanted by Kiki—no, the Famaliá—now felt too colorful. Vivid reds and greens and blues, much more appropriate for a kid's drawing than for reality. Those memories had already turned into nothing more than a pretty fantasy.

And yet, Mara couldn't help but heed the protective instinct drilled deep inside her. When Kiki suffered, she suffered too. And now, the very origin of Kiki's suffering was yet another of Mara's mistakes. Falchi was a Gardener, connected to their Kerana tree since birth—and more than anyone, they were bound to pay for the tree's death.

"Everything's gonna be all right, Kiki. I'll find a way to help them, okay?" Mara looked around her, her heart beating faster in her chest.

The King sighed.

He tugged the hem of his mantle up, showing two lanky legs, and brushed a hand down across his calf. The shadow of half-moon-shaped scales showed in the dim light; they were almost transparent and seemed to be cut in half as if not completely grown. He took in a deep breath and brushed the same hand in the opposite direction until he found a very thin, very delicate scale that was big enough to fold against the side of his finger. King Çaíra held it with his other hand and furrowed his brow, his face contorted in concentration.

"What are you—?" Mara tried to ask.

The King plucked the scale with a soft grunt. Blood trailed down the narrow cut left by the scale and dripped on the rusty ground of the cell. He brushed a thumb on it, smearing the blood around until the cut disappeared.

"A hard scale would work best to keep a Gardener alive, but I'm afraid they took all of mine." He offered it to Mara. "This one will have to do until we leave this place and find my kids. They'll help."

Mara only noticed her mouth was open when she closed it and swallowed the odd discomfort in her throat. It couldn't be painless to just hand those scales to other people, and yet he did it without a second thought.

"Here, let me tell you a story." The King placed the scale on Mara's hand and pointed at the Jía. He covered his legs once more. "Have I ever told the story of the little mermaid and the time-bending corals?"

A wave of groans spread in the cells, showing that yes, he had told it many times. Mara turned to the Jía and found all the other beyond-fleshers standing. The Jía outstretched a hand. He didn't seem as afraid of Mara as before, and that's when Mara noticed—The King was doing it all on purpose. In the same way he had helped her interact with the other beyond-fleshers, he was now trying to lift their spirits. She looked to the side, and the Alamoa boy, like many others, was smiling at the interaction, rather than being afraid for Falchi. The tense, sad, gloomy atmosphere had thinned, and even if just for a moment, it was a relief.