Read Drowned for Free Online

pulls out his spear. When one slithers out, he is ready. He slices it in half in midair with one quick, expert swing of his weapon. When two more spike out of the sand, he easily does away with those, too.
    He’s so busy fighting, and I’m so bewitched by his moves, that we don’t notice the one snaking its way up behind us until I take a step back and feel a sleek form skirt against my foot. It rears back to attack me, and before Tiam can turn and notice it, I’m already beating it down with my backpack. I hit it again and again and probably more than necessary, because by the time I get full control of myself again, it’s been beaten flat, mutilated beyond recognition, its green insides spilled generously upon the sand. I stare at it for a moment, breathing hard, then turn to Tiam, who has fallen silent. He’s staring at me.
    “Wow,” he says. “You are deadly with a backpack.”
    I shrug and hide my stump behind my back as I inspect the dead animal. “I just really hate those things.”

Three
    Paralyzed Force
    W hen we hike up the beach toward the sleeping compartment I can already hear Ana’s shrill voice.
    I want to hide. Instead I watch Tiam’s and my shadows growing on the side of the platform as we trudge through the sand toward it. His image on the concrete is strong, with a square jawline, muscular arms, broad shoulders tapering in a perfect V to his waist. I, on the other hand, look like some odd mythological creature, with a crazy, shapeless nest of hair that makes my head look massive in comparison to my small, sticklike body. Tiam: Beautiful. Coe: Frightening.
    “Coe! Coe!” Ana shouts as she comes around the platform to meet me. “Where have you been? There’s poop everywhere in there, and as usual, you’re nowhere to be found!”
    I sheepishly grab my shovel and head to the craphouse. Tiam apologizes to Ana and says something about how he thought I was done with my duties, or else he wouldn’t have asked me to come. He knows as well as I do that with Ana, it’s better to make peace. Tiam’s role as peacemaker will probably serve him well as king. King! I shudder in disbelief at the thought and stare down at my crusty old shovel. Tiam: In Charge of the World. Coe: In Charge of the Craphouse.
    Ana has hair red as fire and a temper to suit. She’s been through thirty-five or thirty-six Hard Seasons, making her one of the oldest people on the island. She is also one of the most important people who doesn’t serve the royal family. She is the cook and manager of housekeeping. Those titles would suggest that she has some talent in making meals and organization, but she has neither. She’s very good at stretching a piece of fish to feed several dozen hungry mouths, and she’s even better at barking orders. She was also my foster mother, and Tiam’s, too. She’s good at this job, at making sure no one laid a finger on me whenever Buck was busy tending to the fishing. Even now, she runs the sleeping compartment so militantly that it’s the one place I don’t fear closing my eyes. People listen to her, respect her.
    The job of Craphouse Keeper, Ana told me when I assumed it when I was five, “always falls to the youngest person in the world.” But Tiam never had to shovel crap, and neither did Memory, the next youngest person in the world. And Fern is now the youngest, but when I pointed that out, Ana just shook her head and barked, “Be grateful.” It seems that either I am the greatest Craphouse Keeper in the world or they think shoveling crap is the best job a one-handed nobody should be entitled to.
    By the time I get up my courage to steal a glance at our future king, he’s already strolling down the beach, his back toward me, scribbler-nose spear in his hand. Looking for treasure, I guess. He never stays still for long, so I don’t know why it hurts me that he didn’t take the time to say goodbye. I trudge around the compartment and down the path a ways to another smaller