Chapter 14 #2
"Is this what you wanted?" I demand, turning back to Mira's paralyzed form. "Was this worth betraying your prince? Was this worth poisoning the one creature who showed you mercy?"
I spit the words at her, each one a small, sharp piece of shrapnel aimed at the heart of her frozen consciousness. The silence that follows is heavy, broken only by the steady thrum of Bolt's engine and the slow, rhythmic sigh of Mira's stolen breaths.
Inhale.
A full minute of suffocating silence passes.
Exhale.
The sound is a chilling reminder of the price she paid for her misguided quest—a life measured in stolen moments between the crushing darkness and the suffocating silence of her own making.
I grab her rigid shoulder, the hardened leather cold beneath my fingers.
"Is there an antidote?" I demand, my voice sharp as broken glass. "Blink once if there is. Twice if you're a liar."
Her frozen eyes remain fixed on the ceiling, unblinking in the dim blue glow. The draught holds her captive, a prisoner in her own skull.
"Blink your eyes, damn you!" I scream, my fingers digging into her hardened shoulder. I shake her rigid body, the movement useless against the magical paralysis.
Kael's hand closes around my wrist, his grip gentle yet unbreakable as the iron pipes of the engine cage. He pulls my hand away from the soldier's stiff body.
He shakes his heavy head, his dark eyes filled with a silent plea. Not like this.
"She knows the answer, Kael!" I shout, fighting against his protective grip. "She knows how to fix your throat!"
Kael pulls my body closer until our faces are inches apart. He forces me to look into his dark, calm eyes, the turmoil in my own reflection staring back at me.
He lifts his scarred hand, making slow, deliberate gestures.
She is frozen, he signs. We wait.
"We don't have time to wait!" I argue, my voice cracking with desperation. "The magical draught she used on you could last for days. It could last forever. We need answers now."
Kael releases my arm, ignoring my frantic anger. He turns his attention to the leather pouch I dropped in the white sand. His scarred fingers search through the contents I had scattered.
He pulls out a jagged piece of wax.
The broken fragment smells of rotting meat and dark, forbidden magic.
He holds the wax up to the green light of the engine. Bolt shifts his coils in the copper cage, his electric eyes narrowing at the sight of the object.
"That's a witch's mark," the eel says, his voice a low, dangerous hum that vibrates through the water. "It seals the darkest poisons in the Silt District."
"Explain the mark," I demand, my eyes fixed on the wax fragment.
"The wax," Bolt continues, "indicates a heavy pact. A broken seal requires a sacrifice. Only one hag uses that specific wax."
Bolt flares a bright, blinding blue, his coils tightening around the copper piston. "Oona."
The name hangs in the water like a death sentence. Oona.
Mira's rigid body betrays her. A violent tremor ripples through her paralyzed form, a single, desperate shudder of pure terror.
Her wide pupils dilate, the black expanding to swallow the irises completely before contracting back to their unnatural size.
The movement lasts less than a second, but I see it.
I see the raw fear flash through her eyes before the draught freezes it in place.
"Oona," I repeat, savoring the sound of her terror. "You actually found her, didn't you?"
I don't need an answer. The lingering terror in her unblinking eyes is confession enough. The witch who deals in dark magic. The witch who trades in suffering. The witch who holds the antidote.
I push away from her rigid form, my tail fin stirring the white sand into a small cloud. My heart hammers against my ribs, a frantic, desperate rhythm that drowns out the engine's steady hum.
"We have to go back," I say.
The words strike the water with the force of a physical blow. The silence that follows is heavy.
Kael freezes mid-motion, his scarred hands hovering over the leather pouch. Bolt's electric hum dies completely, his yellow light dimming to a faint glow.
"Go back?" The eel's voice crackles with disbelief, his coils tightening around the copper piston.
"Soryn is not a warrior, Red. He is a politician.
And politicians do not kill the things that annoy them.
They silence them. They lock them in the dark and siphon their energy until there is nothing left but a ghost. That is exactly what he will do to you. "
"The Council believes I'm dead," I say, my voice firm despite the tremor in my hands. "They will not hunt a ghost."
"They will hunt him," Bolt points a sparking tail directly at Kael. "He is the terrifying monster who devoured the beloved Prince. If he shows his gray fin within a single mile of the city boundary, the Guard will turn his flesh into soup."
"We'll avoid the upper boundary," I say, my tactical mind already racing through the possibilities. "We will navigate the lower Silt District. We will use the forgotten maintenance tunnels. It is the realm of the outcasts. I'm sure we'll find the witch there."
I turn to Kael, searching his face for any sign of objection. He watches me with an intense, quiet focus, his dark eyes unreadable in the dim blue light. He's weighing the immense risk, his body still as a statue carved from abyssal stone.
"We can fix this," I tell him, my voice trembling with rising hope. "We can steal your voice back from the dark. You can speak my name again. You can tell me to shut my mouth."
A small, silent smile moves through Kael's lips.
His dark eyes shift from the wicked glass dart in my hand to the polished mirror lying face down in the white sand.
It's the same mirror he used to reveal his tragic silence to me.
He retrieves the heavy glass, his scarred fingers wrapping around the frame.
He places it in my hands, the metal cool and solid against my palm.
You lead, he signs. He turns his heavy head away, presenting me with the harsh profile of his jaw.
He is self-conscious of the jagged new scars the battle left there.
I reach out, pressing my palm flat against his sandpaper skin.
Kael goes rigid, his heart thumping a frantic rhythm against his dense ribs as he expects me to recoil from the sharp texture.
Instead, I trace the raised edge of the silver scar with my thumb.
A ragged exhale escapes him, and he leans into my touch.
The quiet surrender shatters the remaining walls between us.
My breath catches in my throat.
Despite the Council's betrayal, the horrific injury, and his brutal exile into the Wastes, he is trusting a Reef Prince to guide the ship back into the waiting jaws of the enemy. He is trusting me.
I grip the edges of the mirror, my knuckles white. I study my reflection in the silver glass. I look fierce. I look like a survivor.
"Bolt," I say, turning to the copper cage. "Turn the ship around."
"I hate the pair of you," Bolt grumbles, the coils in his cage beginning to glow a brighter yellow. "The Silt District is filthy water. The smog is going to clog my pristine filters, and I am tired."
"Bolt!" I snap.
"Fine. I require a nap first. Wake my coils when we hit the lower smog layer."
Bolt's bright light dims, dropping the mechanical hum of the cage to a whisper in the water. The shell goes dark, leaving the faint green glow of the ceiling moss as our only illumination.
We are alone.
The adrenaline of our reckless choice burns in my veins, a fizzing carbonation of danger and desperation. I cant remain still on the woven nets. I turn my head to look at Kael.
He watches me, his dark eyes reflecting the green moss-light like twin pools of abyssal water. He looks at the wicked glass dart I still clutch in my trembling fingers, then returns to my flushed face.
He swims closer, his body displacing the water with deliberate grace. He reaches out, his scarred fingers wrapping around the dart. He takes the weapon from my grasp and places it on a high salvage shelf, far from Mira's rigid body and far from our reach.
Turning back to me, he invades my space. He doesn't touch me, not yet, but his presence is a heavy weight in the warm water, a gravitational pull I can never resist. He remains silent, but his eyes speak a primal hunger.
"What is it?" I whisper, the sound barely stirring the water between us.
He offers no signed response, his scarred hands still at his sides as he comes closer.
He closes the distance until his broad chest brushes against my torn mesh vest. The intense friction of his rough shark-skin against the delicate fabric sends a jolt of heat straight through my core, a lightning strike of sensation that steals my breath.
His hands find my hips, resting heavy, territorial, and possessive. He pulls my body flush against his solid frame, forcing a gasp from my throat at the sudden, overwhelming contact.
"Kael," I manage, my voice a breathless rush of air. "We need to plan our way to the witch."
He shakes his heavy head, a slow, deliberate motion. No.
He leans down, pressing his solid forehead against my own.
Frustration vibrates off his rigid muscles in chaotic waves.
He has a powerful voice trapped deep in his throat, desperate words he can't say, a primal roar he can't release into the water.
A lethal predator with his mouth sewn shut by dark magic, he needs to scream his devotion into the crushing dark.
He kisses me.
This is no gentle exploration. It's pure, starving desperation. He devours my mouth, his lips scorching hot as his sharp, serrated teeth lightly graze my sensitive lower lip. He kisses me with the terrifying energy.
My fingers dig into the rough, scarred skin of his broad shoulders. I pull him closer, my body arching into the raw heat of his.
I pour all my lingering fear, all my boiling anger at Mira, and all my desperate hope for the magical antidote into the friction of our mouths.
A low, frustrated groan starts in his chest, the heavy rumble vibrating against my own ribs. He wraps his arms around my waist, lifting my body up from the sand.
My tail leaves the floor as he pins my back against the curved calcium wall of the shell. The cold stone presses against my spine while the scorching heat of the shark presses against my front.
I wrap my arms around his neck, his name a moan against his open mouth.
He pulls back a single inch, his dark eyes wild and blown wide. He can't tell me his desires, can't speak the words of love, so he chooses to show me the truth.
He grinds his heavy hips against my own, creating a raw, shocking physical friction. His hands roam over my flushed body, rough and demanding. He traces the fine line of my spine, grips the curve of my tail, mapping my body in the dark, claiming my soul for his own.
I arch my spine into his heat, a desperate plea whispered into the charged air. "Yes. Yes."
I want this consumption. I want the crushing silence of the Wastes filled with this specific heat. If we're sailing back to the treacherous Reef, if we are going to die in the smog of the Silt District, I want to know the feeling of absolute surrender. I want to be his.
He kisses the sensitive curve of my neck, sucking at the soft skin under my jaw. A gasp tears from my throat as my head falls back against the cold wall.
His scarred hand moves lower, finding the frayed edge of my tunic and slipping his rough palm inside the fabric. The touch against my bare skin is pure lightning. I open my mouth to beg him to take more, to take everything I possess.
Spark.
A sharp crack of blue electricity splits the humid air.
"For the love of the deep ocean," Bolt groans from the copper cage. "I said I was taking a nap. I am not dead. Can you keep the grinding to a minimum? The acoustics in this calcium shell are terrible."
Kael freezes in place.
He rests his damp forehead against the cold wall right next to my head, panting, his heart hammering against my chest like a war drum. He closes his dark eyes, taking a shuddering breath before pulling his hand out of my tunic and floating back from my body.
He studies my flushed face, his lips swollen from the kiss and his eyes pitch-black voids of unmet desire. He looks frustrated enough to punch a hole straight through the iron hull, turning to glare at the glowing cage.
If a dark glare possessed the power to kill, we would be dining on a roasted eel for supper.
He turns his attention back to me, reaching out to fix the rumpled fabric of my tunic, smoothing the material over my chest. His heavy hands linger against my beating heart for a second too long.
Later, he signs in the dim light.
The single word hangs in the humid air, heavy with a dark, scorching promise.
I nod, my tail trembling with adrenaline.
"Later," I agree.
Kael turns from the wall, his broad movements stiff with frustrated energy.
He swims toward the humming copper cage, his heavy tail displacing the warm water in a deliberate, powerful sweep.
His rough, sandpaper skin drags against the current right in front of me, a sensory reminder of his presence that sends shivers through my entire body.
My breath catches in my throat.
I slide down the curved wall until my tail fin sinks into the soft white sand below.
My attention moves across the room to Mira's rigid form.
She remains frozen in place, her unblinking eyes fixed on the ceiling moss as if in silent prayer.
I wonder if she witnessed our raw display, if she comprehends the brutal irony of it all.
The terrifying monster she tried to execute is now the only creature keeping my soul alive in this crushing darkness.
"You've had your nap. Turn the ship around, Bolt," I say, my voice steady despite the fever heat flushing my skin.
"I am turning," Bolt grumbles, sending a fresh spark into the iron gears. "But if you two start making lovesick eyes at each other again, I'll shock the floorboards. And for the record, I prefer my naps longer and with less debauchery."
The hydro-engine roars to life, its vibration traveling through the floor and up my spine. We head for the smog of the Silt District. We sail toward Oona.
We sail to steal back the voice that will allow him to finish what he started against the wall.