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To say that Clara awoke to a slithering in the darkness would not be quite true, for it would assume that she had been asleep

to begin with. Instead, she had been drifting between consciousness and exhaustion, her mind too full of dead fish and dried

seabeds.

But there was definitely a slithering.

Struggling to her elbows, she would have let out a curse that would have made even Inka blush, only to find that she was still

without her voice. A strangled gasp was all that escaped her throat as she realized there was something in the small dark

chamber with her.

She groped for something, anything, to protect herself with. But her fingers met only the cold rock of the floor, so, feeling

like a scared little child, she huddled in the furthest corner, arms wrapped around her knees. It was her dream of her mother

locking her in the dark cabinet, except this time, the slithering sound was not just the manifestation of her fears. It was

real, and it was here.

“There you are. You needn’t be afraid,” said a voice that was both soft and slippery, and did nothing to put Clara’s fears

to rest.

There was a sound of bare feet moving closer, and then the glowing algae came back to life, illuminating the chamber in a hazy green glow. Forcing herself to look at the source of the voice, Clara raised her head.

Two red slit eyes peered back at her, framed with a tangled mane of black hair. Pallid skin and a long neck incised with gills.

It was the creature that had visited Maurits in the grotto. Clara relaxed, but only a little. Despite her strange features,

there was an impossible beauty that radiated from the creature, and Clara very much wanted to trust her, to follow her where

she might bid her. It was the same sort of hazy feeling that had come over her the first time Maurits had tried to lure her

into his boat.

The creature—who had a name that Clara could not remember—began moving about the room, humming a haunting tune. Her legs were

long and slender, and Clara quickly cut her gaze away when she realized that she was not clothed.

When the creature—Neese, her name was Neese—had made a full inspection of Clara’s prison, she gave a little hum that said

she was not impressed. “Maurits has gotten into a lot of trouble on your behalf.” There was no accusation in her tone, only

a bland statement of fact.

“You mustn’t be too cross with him though,” she continued, after receiving no response. “Everything he has done has been with

you in mind, even some of his stupider forays. He seeks only to reconcile your people to the truth and mitigate his mother’s

wrath.”

A cold comfort, given her position now. Everyone was very concerned with her knowing the truth, but no one seemed to care

what happened to her once she knew it.

“You are to stand trial, I understand.”

Clara wanted to ask her what the trial would entail, what her judgment would be, and if it was death, would it be painful?

Would she quietly slip into the arms of the water like poor little Fenna and simply go to sleep, never to awaken?

But then, she didn’t know what truly had happened to Fenna, what her last moments had been like.

All Clara had seen were gentle ripples. Whatever had transpired beneath the surface could have been much more violent.

Fenna’s spirit would certainly have her think as much.

“I have already risked life and limb by visiting Maurits, and to no avail. You though,” Neese said, moving closer and peering

at her, “Thade has tethered you with magic, but it is clumsy.” She slowly circled Clara. “He does not think very highly of

you, or else he would have bound you more strongly and posted guards outside your door. You’re very quiet, aren’t you?”

Clara just stared at her. Understanding lit Neese’s red eyes. “Ah! Thade has played the same little trick on you as he has

on Maurits. I don’t pity Maurits the loss of his voice—if anything, it is a welcome reprieve not to have to hear his every

passing fancy and thought. But you... well, you are only a human. It does not seem to be in good sport.”

Clara looked away, her eyes suddenly smarting. So, Neese had seen Maurits. And Maurits was Pim. And she desperately loved

and missed Pim. An old ache opened up in her chest. Clara wrapped her arms around herself tighter, but she could not help

the hard set that her jaw took. She was going to stand trial, and she would be found guilty. She would die with love and anger

and hurt in her heart. All of Helma’s stories had always ended so neatly, with lessons learned and happily-ever-afters. If

Clara had her voice, she would have screamed until the chamber shook.

“You have something in the pocket of your dress.” Neese’s slippery smooth voice interrupted her thoughts. Clara had almost

forgotten about the stones that Tryn and Jan had given her. But she could feel them now, heavy and expectant, radiating a

dull sort of pulsing heat from her pocket.

As if sensing the power the stones held, Neese’s mouth split into a wide grin, showing two rows of perfectly sharp white teeth.

“Clever little human!” Neese said with real admiration.

“You have some magic of your own! And here I thought I would have to intervene, when in fact you are quite capable of freeing yourself.”

Clara had had enough of these creatures and their tricks and riddles and the way they talked in circles without ever coming

directly to the point. Her eyes were tired from trying to stay open, her body stiff and aching from the damp. She could not

even begin to fathom how to spin magic from a stone.

“Well?” Neese watched her expectantly. “Are you going to release your bonds?”

Any fear of this strange and beautiful creature was quickly fading. How was she supposed to know how the stones worked? Jan

and Tryn had told her to that all she had to do was hold it in her hand and imagine her heart’s desire, but surely it couldn’t

be that simple? Otherwise, every fleeting wish that had crossed her mind would have been rendered real by the stones these

past months. And once her bonds were released, Clara had no idea what to do next, where she should go. She only had to remember her last escape attempt and how

close she had come to death.

Clara threw the creature a peevish glare, which only earned her another toothy smile. “Well, well,” Neese purred, “I can see

why Maurits is smitten and Thade is vexed. Who knew the last child had a temper?”

Neese was lurching closer, her uneven gait echoing through the small chamber. Clara held her ground as Neese stopped less

than an arm’s length from her, her gaze drawn again to Clara’s pocket.

“Whoever gave you these should have ensured that you knew how to use them. In the wrong hands they could unleash a dangerous magic. But no need to fear, I will show you now.” Neese raised a long, webbed finger, pointing at her. “First, you must close your eyes.”

There were few things that Clara wanted to do less than close her eyes in the presence of this creature.

“Close them, Clara,” Neese sang, her voice so honeyed and sweet that Clara found herself obeying. The hazy feeling returned,

grew more intense.

“Good. In your mind’s eye, you can see the manacles that bind you to this place.”

All she saw was darkness behind her eyelids. She was about to open her eyes to glare at her presumptuous visitor, when, to

her surprise, shapes began to form until she could see manacles, rusted metal, and glowing glass at the same time, sparkling

with magic. How had she not noticed them before? What else did she not see because she did not know what to look for?

“You see them now, don’t you?” There was a smile in Neese’s voice.

Clara managed to nod.

“Take a stone in your hands.”

Her invisible bonds were long enough to allow her to reach into her pocket and palm the stones nestled there. They were smooth

and hummed with a promise of power as her frigid fingers closed around one. It showed her things, terrible, wonderful, things

that it could do for her. There was none of the simple twinkling magic of Helma’s stories in the power of this stone. One

errant step past the periphery of her wish, and she would be plunged into a deadly cauldron of magic from which she would

never emerge.

“Show it what you want to become of your bonds. Show it with your mind.”

Clara forced her mind past images of unlimited riches, beauty that never faded. Free she said in her mind. She envi sioned the rusted metal breaking and falling from her wrists and ankles. She envisioned the snapping sound of glass, the glowing manacles floating away. I want to be free .

The stone gave an excited thrum, as if it were a horse being given free rein, and then it dissolved in her fingers, simply

melting away as if it had never existed. She opened her eyes, but she did not need to look to know that it had worked. There

was a lightness about her, as if she might float up, if not for the stone ceiling.

Neese was still regarding her. “Where did you get that, I wonder? That is not a charm for a novice.”

Neese didn’t seem to expect an answer. Flexing her fingers a few more times, Clara coaxed her blood to flow into her hands

again. She looked about, uncertain how to proceed. Even the doors were different here—smooth rocks that slid over the entrance

with seemingly no handles or knobs.

“As I said, you don’t have guards,” Neese continued. “Thade did not think that escape would be possible for you. Come.” She

gave a jerky nod of her head, and as easily as if she were strumming a string on a lute, ran her finger down the smooth rock

until it slid to the side, revealing the opening below it.

“There will be no air for you beyond the door,” she explained. “May I?”

This time, when Neese raised a finger in Clara’s direction, Clara nodded, understanding what was needed. Neese’s finger was

firm and cool as she placed it just above Clara’s collarbone, fitting neatly into the hollow left by Thade’s marble.