Chapter 3
Tides of intrigue
LORIEN
The salt hangs thick in the air, a briny tang that clings to my tongue as I prowl the gold and obsidian throne room.
The currents here are restless, dragging debris and whispers of the ocean into my domain.
Something is amiss. I feel it in the pulsing rhythm of the tides, in the shift of power that echoes through my veins like the turning of the moon.
And then I smell it.
Human.
The scent is faint, diluted by seawater, but unmistakable.
My claws extend, curling into the grooves of my armrest as I sink back into my throne.
It’s been decades—no, centuries—since a human dared cross into my kingdom.
They’ve grown lazy, complacent in their arrogance.
Yet one of them is here, sullying my waters with their stench.
My soldiers approach, carrying the golden cage between them. Inside, a limp, sodden figure sits, hunched in a ball as if he’s sleeping. The human’s head hangs low, his dark, soaked hair plastered to his face, his breathing shallow but steady. Even unconscious, his very existence offends me.
“Why,” I growl, my voice reverberating through the chamber, “is there a human in my kingdom?”
The guards flinch but recover quickly, one stepping forward to explain.
“The kelpies came.”
My jaw tightens and the guards flinch, aware my mood has soured.
“Helena died, and he’s her nephew, Sire.”
My rage intensifies, thrumming through me like a violent undertow.
This was not the deal we struck. This wasn’t the bargain I made with that witch.
The peace we’d brokered had been fragile, but it had existed for the past fifty years, and it was almost time to claim her life. Instead, I’d been brought this thing.
“One of the moirai realized they were going to claim him for themselves.” The guard’s voice trembles despite himself, and he’s afraid of my wrath. “Apparently, he fought the passage. We found him on the reef, Your Majesty. Near the shattered spine.”
“And where is the witch?” I ask.
The guard looks at the others before he finds the courage to meet my gaze. “Dead. We assume that’s why the kelpies tried to claim him.”
I stare at the pathetic creature lying in the golden cage, surrounded by bars that are far too good for such a filthy thing.
He reeks of mortality, of fragility, of the soft things humans cling to like armor.
He smells of hope, defiance, and love. The faintest shimmer of magic lingers around him like a residue, though its source is faint, nearly gone.
It’s an outrage. An abomination.
They always come here, digging their filthy hands into what does not belong to them. My waters. My power. My kingdom.
“You’re telling me,” I hiss, descending the dais with a speed that conveys my fury, “that this... this thing, survived on its own, and is now, unfortunately, very much alive?”
“Yes, my King,” the soldier confirms. “He fought the pull of the current. Survived longer than he should have.”
That alone catches my attention.
I move closer, my claws scraping against the marble floor, a sound like the grinding of bones.
The chamber is silent for the soft ripple of water as the ocean laps against its marble floor.
It’s waiting to consume what it’s been denied, and I’m in the mood to feed them this pathetic specimen and be done with this debacle.
I crouch before the human, gripping his chin with cold, wet fingers, forcing his head up. His skin is warm beneath my touch, unnervingly so, and I suppress a snarl as I study his face.
Strong jawline. A mouth that looks like it’s used to smiling. A scar just above his left brow, pale against his flushed skin, and the faint stubble on his jaw. But it’s his eyes, fluttering open and half-focused, that make me pause.
They’re as blue as the deepest ocean and filled with something I can’t quite place. Defiance, perhaps. Or desperation.
But there’s no fear in them. Not a single drop. Not yet.
“You trespass,” I murmur, my voice low and venomous. “Do you know where you are?”
The human blinks, his lips parting, but no sound escapes him.
“Answer me!” My voice cracks like a whip, and the chamber quakes with my fury.
But there’s no response.
His head lolls to the side, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. The only sound is the faint drip of water from his soaked clothes pooling beneath the cage.
I release his chin with a disgusted snarl, flexing my claws as I rise. “Unconscious,” I mutter, pacing in front of the cage like a predator circling prey. “Pathetic.”
Yet my irritation only grows. The sight of him, his fragile mortality, his warmth—it stirs something primal in me, a revulsion so sharp it borders on intrigue.
This human has no business surviving the journey here, no business resisting the kelpies’ pull.
And yet here he is, breathing, alive, disrupting the fragile balance of my kingdom with his mere existence.
I whirl to face my guards. “You said he’s Helena’s nephew.”
“Yes, Majesty,” the soldier nearest the cage says, his voice still trembling slightly. “He’s the last of her bloodline.”
“Explain.”
The soldier hesitates, glancing at his companions for support, but none meet his gaze.
“The kelpies came because Helena died. The wards her magic created have been weakening and they must have thought the storm was the time to test them. The moirai sensed them and rose to guard your borders, and we assume they found him instead of her.”
I tap my foot, and the guard stutters a breath.
“The moirai attempted to drown him, but he seems to have escaped. Somehow. When we found him, the kelpies were circling again, waiting to drag him under.”
My lips curl into a sneer. “And you thought it wise to bring him here?”
“We… we couldn’t leave him,” the soldier stammers. “The kelpies were fighting over him. It was unnatural. They claimed the debt passed to him upon her death.”
The debt. The bargain. My claws twitch as the memory claws its way to the surface.
Helena. The witch with fire in her eyes and a voice like venom.
She’d come to me decades ago, desperate and arrogant, striking a deal that bound her life, and her magic, to the safety of her bloodline.
I’d allowed it, amused by her audacity and confident in my ability to collect when the time came.
She’d been clever, dangerous even, but in the end, her life had been mine to claim.
Except now she’d cheated me.
The thought sends a fresh wave of fury coursing through me.
“What did she tell you?” I demand, my voice low and cold. “Before her death. What warnings did she leave behind?”
The guard falters. “None, Sire. The cottage was empty, save for human relics. Her magic was gone.”
Gone.
My gaze flickers back to the unconscious human. His face, slack with exhaustion, betrays no hint of the power I can still feel radiating faintly from his skin. If Helena’s magic is gone, there are only a few places she could have hidden it, and I’m guessing the answer sits before me.
It’s trapped in golden bars that shimmer faintly in the dim light.
“She passed it to him,” I say, more to myself than my guards. “Her power. Her debt. She knew what was coming and tethered it to him.”
A flicker of motion draws my attention. The human’s fingers twitch, his head shifting slightly as though caught in some half-formed dream. My lips curl back into a snarl.
“Get him out of my sight,” I command, gesturing to the shadowed alcove where the cells lie buried beneath coral and bone. “I want him alive, but barely. Leave the cage locked. He doesn’t set foot in these waters without my leave.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The soldiers rush to obey, dragging the golden cage toward the alcove. The human remains limp, his breathing shallow but steady, oblivious to the sharp scrape of the cage against the marble floor.
I watch them take him away from my throne, my thoughts a tempest of rage and calculation.
Helena’s death has upended the balance of my kingdom. The kelpies, the tides, even the whispers of the ocean itself all shift around this man as though he’s the eye of a storm. He doesn’t know it yet, but his very existence is a threat to my dominion.
And threats must be dealt with.
A cruel smile tugs at the corners of my lips.
Helena thought she could cheat me, but she was wrong. Whatever magic she left behind, whatever power she buried in her nephew, it belongs to me now.
“Mine to break,” I murmur to the empty chamber, the words echoing like a promise.
Mine to use. Mine to destroy.
And then he groans.
Tides, it’s a sound unlike any I’ve heard in centuries. Deep and rasping, filled with raw need, want, and desperation. It’s the sound of a man teetering on the edge of some primal abyss, unaware of how close he is to falling.
And it sends a pulse straight to my cock.
Fuck. It’s been a while since something caught my attention with so little effort.
I pause, claws still flexing at my sides, my gaze fixed on the cage being dragged toward the shadows. The human doesn’t stir again, his head slumping forward as the soldiers struggle to lift the bars over the uneven floor. But that sound lingers in the air, coiling around me like a serpent.
I shouldn’t care.
I shouldn’t want to hear it again.
Yet, I do.
“Wait.”
The soldiers freeze, their hands tightening on the cage as they glance at each other nervously.
“Bring him back.”
“Sire?”
My claws scrape against the armrest of my throne as I sit down slowly, stretching my legs out in front of me with deliberate nonchalance. “Did I stutter? Bring him back here.”
They hurry to obey, dragging the cage back to the center of my throne room. The golden bars glint in the dim light, a sharp contrast to the human’s soaked, crumpled form. I lean forward, elbows resting on my knees, and study him more closely.
Up close, the smell of him is stronger. There’s salt, sweat, and something else entirely. Something earthly. Something human, and almost tantalizing.
It’s revolting.