34. Enna
Chapter thirty-four
Enna
What I should do is march up to Odissa’s bedchamber, draw her bath, brush her hair, and help her get dressed for the ball. But the thought of seeing her twists my stomach into a tight knot.
A guard flings open the door to the palace, and the breeze of it brushes my neck, lifting my hair. A shiver wracks me from head to toe.
Goddess, how long will this last?
I trace the curve of my neck where his lips had been moments ago. My skin prickles beneath my own touch, keeping the memory of him alive. My spines quiver in their sheaths. What if this never goes away?
A crowd of Coral mermaids crowd stand in a loose line outside the throne room door. The subjects dress in their best robes, carrying tokens of gratitude for the royal family inside. They murmur to themselves. A few turn my way, taking me with curious glances. The captain of the royal guard, Nara, stands at the door. Her maroon eyes flick to me, widening slightly. I drop my hand from my neck.
The guard behind me grunts, no doubt irritated at me for blocking the entrance. I mutter something about the princess needing another book and turn toward the library. The captain’s gaze warms the back of my neck as I rush down the hall.
The library’s ornate doors groan as I pull on the handle. Pearl sits at the desk, chatting with a patron. She tugs her hands through her cloud of white hair as she talks. She glances at me as I enter and winks.
The library is busy today. It’s bustling with mermaids ambling through the shelves on all four levels of the room. Some gather in groups, chatting softly. Others hold tablets, their hands hovering over the glowing engraved surfaces. The soft hum of magic fills the air. A few of them look up at the sound of the door. Their eyes drop to my toes, then back up again.
My heart leaps into my mouth, pulsing anxiously. I came here to get away, not to perform etiquette for strangers. I dip my head politely and weave through the shelves, aiming for the center stairwell. Maybe the higher levels are less populated. When I reach the railing, it senses my intent. As soon as my hand touches the stone, the stairwell creaks and swivels, reattaching to the right side of the room.
Mermaids stir at the sound, watching me as I ascend quietly. Darkest hell. So much for being ambiguous. The railing is soft under my touch, sending a zing of pleasure up my arm.
The second floor is less populated. Merfolk chat in the history section. A merman plucks books from the romance section, his feathery ears twitching. He taps the surface of his tablet, and the embedded magic glows. He smiles as the book begins to play.
From the back corner, the royal section beckons. I eye its shadows with longing. In there, I could find respite. No one would disturb me once I got past the lock.
The group is far enough away not to notice, but the lone merman is within sight of the darkened corner. I sneak past him, while he sits on the floor, curling up with the book. He closes his eyes.
I hug the far wall, ducking behind a shelf as I study the lock. An iron gate stretches across the opening to the room, fastened shut with a complicated lock and chain. The gaps in the bars are too narrow to fit through.
I should just leave; head back to Odissa and help her prepare for today’s festivities. Tonight’s ball is a crucial step in maintaining our ruse. But my heart won’t stop its rapid rhythm. My stomach turns in endless somersaults. If I face Odissa now, I know I’ll crack.
If Hugo hadn’t shown up, I’d still be on that beach, blissfully receiving the prince’s skillful cock. My core flutters at the thought, the memory of Soren imprinted in places not apt to forget him. Soren. My thoughts caress his name, liking the way it sounds as it echoes through my restless mind.
Of all the things I’ve done for Odissa, this assignment is the most absurd. I’m three weeks into the job and no one is dead—minus the original princess—and I’m not drowning in blood. I’ve hardly touched my knives. And I just fucked a prince against some rocks on a public beach. If anything, I should be glad for the change of pace.
The thrusting, skin-slapping pace. Goddess, help me.
I need time. I need darkness. I need quiet. And this room is the only place in the palace that may give that to me.
So I study the lock. I send a path of electricity through the metal, tracing it through the internal gears. Satisfied, I wedge my claw into the mechanism and twist. The lock pops open. I drag open the gate and slip into the cool, dark room.
It smells faintly of the Abyss. Cold and crisp, with a hint of iron. Shelves line the small space, the ceiling low but not enough to hit my head. I dip into the far corner, where passersby won’t spot me. I snatch a few books from a shelf, taking them with me as I settle on the floor, hugging my knees to my chest. I rest my chin on my knees and close my eyes, inhaling the scent of the room. It’s not quite the same, but it’s the closest thing I’ve found to smelling like home.
I count my breaths as they filter through my nose. Ten. Twenty. Slowly, my heart gives up its restless rhythm. My stomach settles. My muscles loosen.
I pick up a book and settle in for some light perusing. The inscription on the surface scrawls in a hurried hand, denoting the diary of Amura. Pearl said the first queen, Amura, was a lady of secrets. A queen after my own heart. I swipe my hand over the surface of the first tablet to activate its stored memories.
The narrator’s voice fills my head with a sweet, melodic tone. Today, Eero chased the beasts into the deep. They will not come back, now. He says the reef is safe. We will make a home here.
The first image shows a young mermaid female swimming in a dead reef. Her soft pink features are the only bright spot among the white-washed corals.
A siren male wields a trident, his gills fluttering with the exertion of a fight. They wear the battle gear of the ancients, hard shells strapped around their breasts and shoulders, hardly strong enough to cover their weak points in a serious fight.
A scattering of mermaid soldiers swim behind them, picking through the debris with grim expressions. They’re battle-worn, trailing fresh blood through the water.
It’s hard to believe we beat them. There were so many of those beasts and so few of us. But Eero is a great leader, and he will be king someday.
The male, Eero, approaches Amura, with a grin stretching his cheeks. There’s a fresh cut on his cheek, slicing through his right eyebrow. His jaw is strong and sharp, flexing as he watches the female. He has bright green eyes. Golden brown skin. Long dark hair tied with a strip of leather. It’s a striking resemblance to—
I twitch my fingers, skipping the scene. I have no interest in Coral history, particularly the part of their history that banished the dredgebeasts to the Drink—to my home waters. If the beasts didn’t lurk in the inky depths, life in the Drink wouldn’t be so hard. The mermaids wouldn’t be relegated to living in Vespyr, away from the wealth and stability of the royal siren city. I wouldn’t have become a death-dealer. I wouldn’t be here, hiding in a forbidden closet, avoiding the very mermaid who taught me how to survive.
…will build a palace for me, where our family will reign forever. We found the perfect spot, warm and sunny. Our people are tired of swimming. We are ready to settle, dig our toes into the sand…
The next scene shows Eero standing on a blank sandbar, hands outstretched, as the beach ripples under his invisible magic. Large white stones sprout from the sand, twisting skyward, forming the spires and curls of a marble structure. Amura lounges in the sand with a pile of lushfruit, admiring the backside of her mate. One hand drapes across her rounded stomach, full of her future young.
This isn’t an easy read. I flit through the scenes, increasingly aware of the sheer power this King Eero possessed. Who the fuck is this male? Over the next few scenes, Eero builds the entire Coral palace, carves out the reef districts, erects the defensive wall. A few sirens join him, donating their magic, but they tire easily. Eero is like a god among them, with energy that doesn’t drain.
No wonder the Abyss didn’t fight back when he unleashed the dredgebeasts on us. We cowered in the darkness and let it happen. What would have been the alternative? Fighting a male like this?
Heart pounding, I skip forward, unsure what I’m looking for, if not an excuse to burn this whole palace down. I’m about to give up on the diary when the voice says:
… he says it’s a gift for our coronation day. A charm so that no one will hurt me again.
I pause the image, zooming in on the necklace dangling from Amura’s hand. I’ve seen it before, hiding in a velvet pouch. The pendant mimics the shape of a spiralfish shell, curling into a tight point in the center. When Amura slips the chain over her head, the shell rests against her sternum, glowing softly.
"This will keep you safe from those who intend you harm." The king cups her face, brushing his thumb over the crest of her flushing cheek. "I almost lost you. I will not do it again. I’d see this whole sea perish before I let anything place a finger on you."
"How does it work?"
The king smiles, a near copy of his descendant’s lopsided grin. "They must speak only one word to you, the slightest of sounds, and if they intend you harm, my magic will consume them body and soul."
"But you’re speaking to me now. Do you not intend me harm, my king?"
Eero’s eyes darken. Amura reaches for the king, tugging his chin into an emphatic kiss.
I drop the book with a clatter, severing its connection.
That necklace—if it’s a weapon of mass destruction—what the fuck is it doing in Soren’s desk?