Between the Sea and Sky by Jaclyn Dolamore Page A

that.”
    “I guess Alan is just curious about the world and he looks to books for answers. He’s always been like that.” Esmerine might argue with Alan, but she would still defend him to Belawyn.
    “Now, when did I ever name names?” Belawyn grinned. “All I know is, the sea and the land have a relationship, and some of us feel it in our bones. Some of us want to be here, and there’s no harm in it, if we’re willing to make the sacrifice. Tell me what’s the harm in living on our own terms? I’m my own woman, and a damned happy one. Don’t ever bother with what people say about you.”
    “Well,” Esmerine said. “That makes sense. But I don’t want to stay here. My family misses me.”
    “I’m sure they do, but I wonder at your phrasing. Do they miss you, or do you miss them?”
    “Of course I miss them too! I hardly need mention it.” Esmerine’s family wasn’t like Belawyn’s, that was certain. They would never forbid her from turning her tail to legs. “Are you the only mermaid in Sormesen?”
    “Oh, besides a few stolen sirens, there are a handful of us, from different villages all along the coasts. They never talk about us back home, I imagine.”
    “I’d never heard of a mermaid leaving home who wasn’t a siren.”
    “There are a few mermen too, although they have a harder time with their feet. Humans are more likely to accept a lame woman than a man.”
    “But how do you ever get used to it? The clothes? The pain?”
    “Just like you get used to anything,” Belawyn said. “When you really want something.”

Chapter Twelve
    The next few days passed in what could have been a routine manner, except that nothing felt routine in the surface world. Every day brought new people from around the continent, with their varied clothes and accents and manners, and new foods. One day Alan came home from making deliveries with balls of dough drenched in honey and nuts. She had never tasted anything so sweet or so delicious, and she didn’t tell him she had a stomachache all night. She never slept well anyway, so the discomfort seemed worth it.
    In the morning, she sang for the shop, and in the afternoon, when Alan was usually out running errands, she watched Belawyn sell books in a languid way that drove her mad—if Alan was too snobbish about his recommendations, Belawyn seemed more interested in gossip than bookselling. Esmerine suggested books when she could, for as days went by, she grew acquainted with some of the stock, especially books she remembered from her childhood. In the evening, she read the shop’s contents. It was almost difficult to enjoy them, seeing so many at once and knowing she would never see them again at week’s end. She held the memories close for when she was back under the sea.
    Alan remained distant, even when they were alone with Ginnia at mealtimes. Sometimes Belawyn joined them for dinner, but not always. Usually Esmerine and Alan ate with their respective books open at their plates, but she had trouble concentrating. She would have rather talked to him, known how his life had been since their childhood.
    Finally, one morning she decided to ask. “Alan, you said you used to be a messenger?”
    “That’s right,” he said, still looking at the book. “Not for long.”
    “Why not?”
    “I hated it.”
    “Why?”
    Now he looked up. “Why the interest?”
    “I just wondered what you’d been doing since I last knew you. How you ended up here. I mean, we used to be such good friends, it seems strange not to even talk when we have this week.”
    “Oh.” He closed the book. Thank goodness. She had started to hate whatever book he was reading. “It’s not very interesting. Most Fandarsee go to the Academy and then become messengers for a time. We’re supposed to see a bit of the world before we go on to further education or apprenticeships or so on.”
    “Why did you hate it? It seems travel would be interesting.”
    “Well, the messenger years are sort of