Female Fantasy
“Fight with us.”
Ryke’s eyes search mine, bright and urgent.
“What?” I ask, sure I have misheard him.
That I have misunderstood.
“Join the resistance, our fight against the sirens,” he says once more. “And together we will liberate Atlantia.”
My mouth falls open, slack. A tiny guppy worms its way into my air bubble and down my throat. I begin to cough, embarrassed.
“You cannot be serious.”
“As a shark attack,” he says.
I regain my ability to breathe and huff out a laugh of disbelief. “But Ryke, I have nothing to offer.”
“Nothing to offer?” he repeats, incredulous.
I nod. “I am just a woman, Ryke. Weak. Feeble. I have spent the last few years of my life catering to a man who never met my eyes, who never spoke my name with an ounce of kindness or gratitude. I spent my days caring for a house that would never be my home, polishing spoons that could never properly feed me, cleaning corners that boxed me in. And I never fought back—did not dare question my position—until you walked through my door and demanded that I go with you. Challenged me to change. So you see, Ryke, I am a liability. For without you, my instinct was to submit. And when I could not take it anymore, I left without argument. I never put up a fight. I simply gave up.”
Before I understand what is happening, the air bubble around me begins to move.
I float, turning head over heels, spiraling like a spinning wheel through the ocean’s sky, and Ryke swims beside me until we reach some sort of underwater cove.
Another hidden cave, but this one is filled with light, sound, and vibrant life.
Scrolls upon scrolls documenting years of Atlantia’s history.
Knickknacks and artifacts from his travels all over the world, on land and beneath the sea.
Watercolors of a young mer with dark hair and golden eyes.
This is Ryke’s private hideaway, I realize. His haven.
Then he swims toward me, swiftly popping my air bubble.
I puff out a sharp breath, afraid to move.
He leans forward and tips my chin up to meet his face.
“Let me be frank, little minnow,” he says.
“When you left that wretched man, you didn’t give up anything.
You gained everything. Walking out of that house, quitting your unsanctimonious union—that was no act of weakness.
No, there is only strength in leaving a path that leads to harm.
In walking away. You are strong, Merriah. ”
My heart waltzes about in my rib cage.
My eyes flicker from his own to his lips. If I were to angle my head just slightly, to lean in and shut my eyes, I could feel his mouth against mine. Soft and firm. Warm and wet.
He grits his teeth. “Have I made myself clear?”
“As a wading pool.”
“Good,” he says, backing away slowly. I feel the absence of his body heat immediately.
I swallow my disappointment at the lack of contact.
“Besides, I hope to keep you close. At the very least, until we learn why you have such a powerful connection to the ancient Conch of Hippios.”
Of course.
That is why he is keeping me at his side.
Not because he has developed an attachment to me.
He needs to study me.
To understand what makes me, a human waif, so special to the horn.
I have been a fool to hope otherwise.
“I do hope you still stay and join our cause,” Ryke says, his voice clipped.
“But the choice is yours. I mean it, Merriah. My desire to keep you safe is stronger than my impulse to take my next breath. But I will remain true to my word. You can leave at any time. Say that is what you want, and I will find a way to return you to the shore, by the water’s edge.
And I will watch over you from below. But if you do choose to stay and fight, know that you will have a fierce protector in me.
No, not a protector. A partner. An ally. ”
Bewildered by his words, I take him in.
His obsidian tail is black as ox blood and his kingly stature makes me feel like a member of his court, adjacent to royalty.
He holds his posture with honor, readies his locomotion with a kind reverence I admire.
But it is his eyes that truly undo me. It’s as though he can see every thought and feeling that moves through my body, and he treats them all with both honor and respect.
And I believe what he said. I trust that while he would like for me to work alongside him, to help unravel the true purpose of the conch, he would never pressure me to do so.
To give up a life onshore for a life beneath the depths.
And regardless of my growing attachment to him, despite the fact that I yearn to match my lips with his, to share one breath of life, I want to make that choice.
To choose him.
To live side by side with him, a child of the tides, fighting for a people I have never known.
I have spent so much of my precious time on this planet thinking of myself as a weak woman. Maybe it is high time I step into my own strength.
“Okay,” I tell him.
“Okay?” he asks.
Hope is a steady spring in his eyes.
“Okay, I will stay and fight with you. But there is one problem.”
In this moment, Ryke almost looks childlike. Youthful and exuberant, giddy with pleasure. He looks down at me fondly, as if I am the most precious gemstone beneath the sea. And for a split second, I am worried my insides might well and truly burst.
“Any problem you might find,” he says, “I am certain we can fix it together.”
“Well, you see, sir…” I drawl. All around us, bubbles rise like stars. “I do not know how. To fight, I mean.”
“Little minnow, your training begins tomorrow.”
Ryke leans in, his lips barely brushing against my cheek.
Beneath my pebbled flesh, a phantom tattoo looms.
“We shall make a mer out of you yet.”