Female Fantasy
I wait until Ryke, his Upper Shoal, the rest of the sentries, and I have retreated to the main dining hall for dinner.
By the time they are on their second or third cups of ale, raucous laughter reverberates off the sand-papered walls, and someone plays the opening notes of a war ballad.
This is when I excuse myself to my chambers.
But instead of retreating to my waterbed and continuing to recuperate after my brush with death, I look behind me until I am sure I am not being followed, then slip out of the fort.
Before I do, I grab the dorsal fin, the smallest and lightest item from the trove, and nestle it beneath my skirt.
Then I swim as fast as my legs can carry me, as far as my air bubble can afford.
Past the moat, away from the big pearly gates.
I am not thinking clearly, moving without a plan of action.
All I know is that I need to get out.
Out of the palace. Out of the ocean.
I need to be somewhere I can finally breathe.
I cannot be molded into the mer’s secret weapon. Not when I have barely begun to step into my own power, to understand my own strength as a human woman with the blood of a goddess, a sea ancestry. I have no idea what I am capable of and cannot fathom finding out for the first time on a battlefield.
Not that anyone has asked for my opinion.
In the eyes of the mer, my command of the treasure trove is a sign from the holy Furnace and its Fates. This fight is my destiny, regardless of whether I choose it for myself.
And Prince Ryke…my Ryke…
He may believe he loves me. Truly, down to his very bones.
But I know the truth.
I was willing to sacrifice everything, to forfeit my life, to help him regain his strength.
That is love.
I love him, body and blood and soul.
But he does not love me. He is merely confused.
What he actually hungers for is my life force.
He craves more of my energy. I saw the way he eyed my wrist, my neck, my veins, even as I searched for his eyes.
The sparks between us must be the result of some kind of pheromonal release in the aftermath of our joining.
The only thing that I cannot account for is the tender way he held me. Declared me his. Looked at me with such adoration, so much worship, that I felt myself every bit the deity his people have declared me to be. I wanted to become the person he saw. To be worthy of him in that way.
What is that if not love?
But I was suffocating inside those walls. Even now, I feel the water all around me, ready to rush into my air bubble. I need to get out. To think. To let myself feel everything clearly, precisely.
I rush through the sand banks of Atlantia in a panic, not bothering to hover overhead, not caring whether I am seen.
I fly by the theater where I first learned the truth of who Ryke is.
Crowds of mer and merchants part as I move with agility and precision, a form of chaos upheld by the graceful movements of these great underwater beings.
I care not. After the day I have had, my unhinged behavior feels like an outlet rather than a cry for help.
Turning into a side alley by the market, I find myself at a dead end. I sigh, turning around, when I hear the water rumble behind me.
“We have been looking for you,” a voice says. “Did nobody tell you never to swim alone at night?”
And then everything fades into darkness.
When I come to, I have no way of telling how much time has passed. It could be minutes or days. My body is bound to a chair with rigid sea kelp and sailor’s ropes, and I am in some kind of dark cavern.
“Good, you are awake,” says the voice I heard on the street.
Nix, the false queen Talassa’s younger brother, inches toward me. His bloodred eyes trail over my restraints with cruel delight. His white hair seems to glint, though there is little light in the cave.
“Here I thought kidnapping you would require some effort,” he croons. “Imagine my surprise when the human heroine of the mer was spotted fleeing from her protectors, alone in the streets of Atlantia without even the magical items from the treasure trove to protect her.”
He inches closer to me, his beautiful tanned skin smelling of rotting fish. “I owe you a great deal of pain. After all, you filleted my most seasoned marksman with a mere flick of the wrist. How do you plan to fight back now without your precious trident, my dear?”
I open my mouth to respond, only to discover—to my horror—that it has been sealed shut with some kind of gooey ink, the kind excreted by a squid.
I am trapped.
Despite all my training, my power, my abilities, I never stood a chance.
The sirens have abducted me.
It was never going to be a fair fight.
And now they will kill me before the coup even begins.
I will never learn the extent of my powers.
I will never discover whether I have the ability to shift.
And I will never get to tell Ryke that I am desperately in love with him.
Against my gag, I let out a small whimper.
Nix smiles at the sound, his teeth jagged and sharp as claws. “Let us begin, shall we?” he says. “When does the Prince of Atlantia plan to strike?”
I shake my head vigorously, unable to answer. If these are my last moments in this world, I will spend them with dignity, protecting those whom I have come to love. Kai and Mira. Dylan and Guinn. All of them.
I will take their secrets to my watery grave.
Nix raises a brow. “Very well, then.”
He pierces my air bubble.
Water pours in, filling my shield from the bottom up. I pull violently against my restraints, attempting to move. If I can stand, I can hold the water off a moment longer.
But it is no use.
The water is pooling around my calves.
Soon it will be at my waist.
And after that…
“Allow me to ask you again,” Nix muses, humor in his voice. “When does the Prince of Atlantia plan to strike?”
The water is at my neck now. I am gulping down all the air I can. Why did I not spend more time practicing holding my breath when I had the chance?
And that is when I realize the siren’s true aim.
But it is too late.
All I can do now is close my eyes and pray for mercy as Nix begins to waterboard me.