Free The Sea Is Ours by Jaymee Goh

and her fellow warriors especially, but the alternative had been worse. No one wanted a drawn-out war. So many lives had been lost already. In the end, the datus and rajahs had agreed over the objections of the diwata.
    To think that España would try to find other ways to control them.
    â€œYour name?” Udaya repeated a third, and final, time.
    The seamstresses on either side of the instigator shifted away, not wanting to share in her ire. They were opportunists, Udaya noted with no small amount of amusement. Though they’d been complaining moments before, they now returned to work with fervent dedication.
    Then, and only then, did the woman realize her position. Udaya could almost sympathize. It was hard being alone. The woman swallowed with visible difficulty and wet her lips. “Hiyasmin.”
    â€œHiyasmin,” Udaya echoed. The syllables filled her mouth, the shape etching itself into her memory. For better or worse, she’d never forget the young seamstress and no place on these islands would hide her from Udaya’s nightly travels.
    A commotion came from behind her. “Terrorizing children, liaison? So the stories my father told me are true.”
    Udaya turned to face the owner of that voice. And here was the other bit of news. Outside of the covered pavilion where the seamstresses worked stood a young woman. She held a parasol to keep the sun’s rays from hitting her face. Strange to see the features so characteristic of her people set in such pale skin. Though it had been many years, Udaya recognized the young woman instantly. She always remembered the children.
    â€œAmbassador,” she greeted carefully. “When did you arrive?”
    Maria Flora Agcaoili smiled. It was a beautiful smile.
    It was also a dangerous one, and Udaya took warning.
    Ambassador Maria Flora Agcaoli had come into the position through an unusual string of events. Though she’d been born in Ilocos, she’d grown up in Americana Mexica where her father had been the previous ambassador. When a disease from those lands had struck him down unexpectedly, the vacant position left a gap of power. Rather than send someone else, the diwata had pushed the rajahs to appoint Maria Flora. On this point they agreed, and she’d become the youngest of the ambassadors, a voice for islands she could barely remember.
    â€œYesterday,” Maria Flora replied. “I would have come immediately but the voyage tired me.”
    â€œIt is a long voyage.” Udaya understood the need for appearances. Then she noticed the ambassador’s two companions and stiffened. “Why are you here?” she asked the old man in the black robe.
    Maria Flora clucked her tongue. “Liaison,” she said, “don’t be rude. Father Ignacio has come a long way.”
    â€œI am sure,” she replied with barely hidden hostility. First España sought to gain influence through trade and technology. Now they attempted again to insinuate their faith of a cold and distant god? Fighting a battle of blood and violence against armored men was simple compared to this.
    The priest, for his part, took her greeting in stride. He bowed his head. “You serve the Diwata Kagubutan?” The syllables rolled strangely off his tongue, mangling her benefactor’s name.
    â€œI am her liaison,” Udaya corrected. Her eyes fell upon the man next to the priest and stilled. He might not wear armor and he might not bear sword, but she knew his kind on sight. She had fought many and killed more in her time. Once, he would have been a conquistador. But now—“This is your bodyguard?”
    A frown flitted across the priest’s face. “Javier is here to ensure my safety.”
    Udaya smiled. Though time had dulled her senses, she still loved the taste of fear. “You do not trust us?”
    Her question made the old man uncomfortable. The not-conquistador scowled. A keeper of his thoughts, he was not.