Salt Storm: The Salted Series: Episodes #31-35 Galvin, Aaron (classic fiction txt) 📖

the Silkie handmaidens ushered her toward the washtub and helped to guide her in.

“Oh!” Sydney winced at the coldness of the water when she dipped her toe in.

When the Orcs again mocked her, Sydney forced herself to embrace the icy water and climb inside. The cold prickled her in an instant, Sydney sucking a deep breath of air at the frigid temperature. Even as she shivered, she swore to not leave the water until the handmaidens had finished with her. So too did Sydney dare to look on each of the surrounding Orcs as the Silkies went to work on scrubbing her with thick, stiff bristles. Her brow furrowed at the pain reddening her skin with rashes for every brushing. She endured it all the same.

Solomon was watching her throughout, his gaze as cold as the bathwater.

Despite her brave showing, Sydney hurried out of the tub the moment the Silkies offered her an escape. She likewise rushed into the gown they offered her, if only to fend off the cold. Where she hoped for a warmer fabric like the fake Selkie suit she had once worn, the royal gown offered to her now was made of silk. It clung against her skin with a similar icy touch, locking in the cold as the water had done for her skin before it.

Why are they doing this to me? Sydney wondered as the Silkie handmaidens next went to drying and brushing her hair, then dabbing at her face with blush to bring back some small bit of color into her pale skin. Why are they dressing me up like I’m still a princess if they mean to put me on trial with Mom?

She looked to Solomon again as if the Orc might have read her mind. Even if Solomon had the ability, Sydney knew in an instant that he would never deign her worthy of an answer. He and his fellow Orcs stood silently by as the Silkies continued on with their work, all the way to the finishing touch – a tiara adorned with pearls, nestled lightly upon Sydney’s head.

Solomon scoffed as the Silkies stepped away from Sydney. “Well, look at this then, lads. She seems to me a right lil’ spoiled, Merrow princess again, eh?” He scowled as he came forth, not stopping until he could look down upon Sydney. “But we know what you really are, don’t we, savage?” He turned his head and spat upon the stones beside her feet. “Aye, we Orcs know what you are.” Solomon cracked a grin when Sydney met his gaze once more. “And soon enough, the rest of the Salt will know it too. Once the king and our Lord Blackfin has finished with you and your ilk.”

The other Orcs’ chuckled along with him, then.

Yes. Sydney thought, recalling her mentor, Yvla, and her final words as Solomon took her roughly by the arm and led her toward a set of great oaken doors. They’ll know me for being my mother’s daughter. She stumbled upon the dress, but did not fall. Solomon held her steady as he led her through the doors and through a maze-like series of arched stone tunnels. And brave like Yvla too.

At first, Sydney thought of the tunnels like the catacombs her mother had often spoken of witnessing in the hidden underbelly of Paris. There were no bones in these tunnels, however, only the constant drips of water coming from unseen sources and the shadowed torchlights dancing across the walls as the Orcs continued their escort of Sydney.

Nearing the end of a long tunnel, Sydney swore she heard murmuring from somewhere in the distance. A moment later, she understood the noise came from overhead. Then, in front of her too. Behind also. And, finally, from all around. It reminded her of a time when she had waited in the tunnels of the Indianapolis football stadium before rushing the field for a halftime show with other cheerleaders from across the state.

Only then did Sydney understand where she was.

The Nautilus. Sydney’s throat ran dry, remembering when she had walked a similar tunnel with her seahorse riding trainer, the Merrow lord, Rupert Bowrider when they had come to witness the theatrical play the king had pretended to hold in Nattie’s honor. All before Darius had condemned his wife as a traitor and ordered his queen taken prisoner instead.

Is that where we are now? Sydney wondered. Are we in the Nautilus?

Solomon snorted beside her. “Hear them finally, do you?” he asked. “I wondered how long it might take.”

“What are we doing here?” Sydney asked.

“Where better to hold a queen’s trial than the Nautilus itself,” said Solomon. “Any street corner will do to serve justice to a petty criminal. Ah, but a queen and her loyal followers, that deserves a showing like none other.”

A show. Sydney thought, the word bringing forth the memory of Yvla flying through the air as Lady Roselani, the titular character portrayed in the play she had witnessed. Sydney swapped her sadness for her anger then. The same night he had Mom taken . . . the same night he called her a whore in front of everyone.

Sydney’s fists shook at her sides at the memory, even as the lessons of her mentor spoke from the recesses of her mind.

Be brave, Sydney . . . Yvla’s voice lived within her always. Be brave . . .

Sydney lifted her chin higher as they approached the last set of doors. The crowd was closer now, the jumbled chatter of well over one hundred thousand voices or more awaiting their show to begin beyond the threshold. As Solomon bid the other Orcs to open the doors, Sydney promised herself that she would not show the king or the crowd any hint of fear. That she would meet their scorn, jeers, and all else the same as her mother and Yvla too would both do in her stead.

When the Orcs opened the doors to the greatest of Salt pantheons, another group had blocked the