Temptress Unbound by Lisa Cach

of my eyes was still water-smeared, but through the other I could see them, their faces pale, their eyes and mouths shadowed hollows. Long blond hair and a light blue gown: Wynnetha, clinging to her father Horsa’s arm, her mouth wide. Brenn, his good hand over his mouth to hide his expression; he knew our secrets. Una beside him, bouncing on the balls of her feet; she knew, too. There was no way to keep anything from Una.
    The tall one in the center, there . Arthur, square-shouldered and rigid, his head tilted slightly back in surprise. Did he recognize me from the top of my covered head, as Terix would have? I thought not.
    I dropped my gaze and concentrated on emerging.
    It is not as easy as one might think, to walk up a ramp through water without looking like a frozen, half-drowned, lurching woman who sends great splashes of water out of her way. It was slow control I was after, and no hint of human feet plodding onward. I’d practiced until both Terix and Maerlin agreed that I looked as if I were being lifted from beneath and carried forward, my body perfectly still and upright, arms straight at my sides with droplets falling from the tips of my scaly, pointed sleeves. I took tiny steps on my toes, bending at the ankle instead of the knee. One slip or momentary, flailing loss of balance would destroy the illusion.
    The reaction of the gathered people was palpable, buffeting me like a breeze: I felt their astonishment, their awe, the racing tingle upon their skin that said they were in the presence of something not of this world. I drank it in, enjoying being a performer in total control of her audience. Their reaction fed me, and in return I gave them all I had, to make this an event they would remember for the rest of their lives.
    At just above knee-deep the ramp ended at a level platform. My toes wiggled into place, finding the metal lever. I stood motionless for a ten count and then slowly raised my arm and pointed at Arthur. He stepped forward, and I turned my palm over and curled my finger just once, beckoning. Commanding.
    The crowd leaned back as Arthur stepped forward. Ignoring the damage to his boots and leggings, he waded into the water, the strain of uncertainty beginning to show around his eyes and mouth as I kept my arm in its raised position and he went deeper and yet deeper. His nostrils flared as the water hit his balls, but still he came. When he was ten feet in front of me and up to his waist, I turned my hand and held out my palm, stopping him.
    A twitch of his eyelids; a flicking of his gaze over my figure. Recognition in those blue eyes?
    His lips set in a hard line.
    Yes.
    I told myself it didn’t matter. I wasn’t Nimia at this moment; I was the water spirit, the messenger from Annwyn. The Lady of the Lake.
    I was not the woman he had thought to love, until she’d let his brother have her.
    I shoved the thought from my mind. There was no place for it now; this moment was so much more important. Sordid personal histories should not touch upon Skalibur.
    Terix, Maerlin, and I had spent night after night after night debating what the water spirit should say when she presented the sword. What could be grand enough? Mystical enough? Worthy enough of a sword that had been to Annwyn? And how could we be sure that no one would recognize my voice or notice my accent?
    It had taken us weeks to decide what seemed obvious now: the spirit would say nothing. She would sing a wordless song of the Otherworld, instead.
    I lowered my arm and began to sing without words, clear notes rising and falling in a melody I improvised as I went, guided by the vision in my mind of Skalibur. The song went beyond language, drawing on that universal essence within us all that called out for something more real and enduring than this solid earth and our too-solid flesh. I sang softly at first, letting free a mere whisper of sound, then gradually growing louder as I lost myself in the musical spell I wove.
    And