Carousel Seas by Sharon Lee Read Free Book Online Page A

realized what he’d done. Never argue with a trenvay — or a Guardian.
    “Your gran lives in a tree,” he pointed out.
    “That’s because Gran’s a dryad. It’s what they do. Besides, mostly she lives here.”
    “And why’s that?”
    Damned if I knew the answer to that one. Gran had lived in Tupelo House during all my memory. I’d never thought to ask her why, even though I knew her nature.
    “Gran does what she does,” I said to Borgan. “She has her reasons, and woe to any fool who asks her for them.”
    He laughed. “There’s that. Takes a steel backbone to deal with Bonny. Well, then, speaking for myself . . .”
    He paused, the pause stretching out until I was afraid I’d been something far worse than impertinent. Panic clawed at my throat, which was stupid, and I knew it, but . . .
    “Speaking for myself,” he said again, very quietly. “The Gulf o’Maine’s my service and my support. I’m her Guardian, but that’s a knife cuts both ways. I swore to protect her, and guard her from harm; but, too, it’s up to me, to hold her from doing harm. Understand some things’re just nature; there’s no cruelty, or intention, behind ’em. But other things—there’s more behind ’em than nature. There’s malice, sometimes, because the land hurts her, and she wants to strike back. That’s where I reach in an’ guard her from hurting herself.
    “If I . . . mingled with the sea, let her wash through my spirit, and surrendered all of me to be part of her—I’d fail my oath, and my Guardianship wouldn’t be anything other than wrack and whim.”
    I felt his hands on my shoulders, warm and comforting, yet somehow conveying the information that he wasn’t quite as calm as his voice would have me believe. Slowly, in case it was the wrong thing to do, I leaned back into his chest. The pressure of his fingers increased, and I knew, at least, that it had been a right thing to do.
    “The Gulf o’Maine, now,” Borgan said, still talking as low as if we were hunting tigers. “The Gulf o’Maine’s one of the richest and peacefullest pieces of water in all this world. There’s a lot of angry ocean out there. A lot of angry ocean. Add that into the weather shifting—no malice there, just nature. Science, like they say. Science or malice, though, landfolk are gonna die.
    “If I can keep the Gulf alive; if I can keep her peaceful and . . . disposed toward the land . . . we’re gonna need the Gulf o’Maine, all the damn’ world of us . . .”
    He snorted, then, maybe a laugh.
    “So, long story short, that’s why I live on Gray Lady , and not with a mermaid under the sea.”
    No, my evil genius piped up. Instead he started a relationship with a land woman—a Land Guardian —in hope that’ll count as another point toward the Gulf’s peacefulness toward landfolk.
    I didn’t say it; I do know better than my evil genius. Mostly. This, apparently, was one of the less mostly times. My chest cramped a little, thinking it was the Guardian he wanted, not Kate Archer. I took a breath, to ease it, reminded myself that Kate Archer and the Guardian were pretty well inseparable, and leaned my head back until it rested over his heart.
    We stood that way for a minute or two before Borgan took his hands away from my shoulders and wrapped his arms around my waist.
    “Penny for your thoughts,” he said, still soft.
    Well. It was lucky for me that I had a second level of thought running under the half-hurt.
    “I was thinking that your approach makes sense, Captain, but I’m wondering—how far does familiarity go? When Prince Aesgyr and I shared power, all sorts of conditions snapped into place—including us not being able to hurt each other. Which I’m starting to think might include more than just sympathy for the devil. If, for instance, he comes out of Varoth— or Daknowyth—and parks an army right here on the Beach, how much is his influence worth? Is my nature stronger than our . . . bond?”
    “That