The Queen of the Drowned Court – Part 1: The Terms of the Tide

The wave had thrown him up on a shore of pale coral under a sky the colour of mother-of-pearl, and when Corin opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a woman looking down at him.

She was tall, taller than any woman he had ever known, with skin the colour of wet slate and long dark hair that moved as though underwater, even in the air. A crown of shell and pearl sat low on her brow. Her gown was the green-black of kelp and fell in heavy folds to her ankles. Around her, at a respectful distance, stood a silent crowd of figures in grey and silver, watching.

"You are not drowned," said the Queen. Her voice was low, slow and musical. "That is unusual."

"Where... am I?"

"In the court of Thalassa, Queen of the drowned kingdom, whose realm lies under the tide and whose shore you have wandered onto." She tilted her head. "You are a sailor."

"Corin. Of the Marigold. A ship's carpenter, Majesty."

"A carpenter." She almost smiled. "We have a use for those."

He was thirty-seven, a shipwright by trade, quiet and sturdy and tired. He had spent fifteen years taking orders from captains and giving them to apprentices and had come to the sea in the first place because he wanted nothing in the world so much as quiet. The Queen studied him with a long, level, unhurried gaze, and he felt a strange stillness settle over him.

"By the law of my court," said Thalassa, "any who wash ashore belong to the tide until the tide gives them back. But I am a fair queen, and I do not keep those who do not wish to stay." She stepped closer. "I offer you a bond, Corin of the Marigold. A bond of service. I will tell you the terms. You may refuse them."

"Refuse, Majesty?"

"Always. In my court, no service is binding unless it is freely given." She raised one long, slate-grey hand. "I will ask you to serve me. To kneel when I tell you. To wait. To be corrected, by my hand and voice, as a servant is who has not yet learned his place. I will not harm you. I will not shame you beyond the game we agree. I will not keep you from the shore if you wish to go. And there is a word."

"A word."

"Shoreline. Speak it, at any moment, and it is done. You will be carried home across the water, unharmed, and the tide will forget you." She held his gaze. "Do you understand?"

He thought of the long, tired years. The captains. The noise. The ship's bell at four in the morning.

"I understand, Majesty."

"And do you wish it?"

"I think," said Corin, very quietly, "that I have wished for something like it all my life, and never had the words."

"Then say the oath."

He knelt on the cool coral. "I, Corin, freely and with my own will, place myself in the service of Queen Thalassa. I accept her terms. I may end it by one word."

"And I, Thalassa, accept your service, and swear to keep you safe. The word is Shoreline."

"The word is Shoreline."

The crowd murmured softly, like surf. The Queen reached down and laid two cool fingers beneath his chin and tilted his face up to hers.

"Are you content, Corin?"

"Content, Majesty."

"Good," said the Queen, and the tide began to turn.

Continue the story: Part 2 – Shoreline.