69. Maren
Maren
Aegir shrieked as the serrated edge of the ancient shark tooth broke my skin.
He flung my hands from his. Then shoved me away as dust and shell crumbled from the walls.
A spray of vibrant red freckled his arms as the tooth broke loose, dropping to the floor.
Fear clung to his eyes, and he turned to flee, falling to a knee instead.
I hadn’t planned to stab myself until the moment was there, the tooth within reach, Kye’s vow hanging in my ears.
Swear Maren will never be hurt by your hand.
Foam gathered in the crook of Aegir’s mouth. His skin marbled red and gold, and he clutched his chest as he gathered a trembling breath, eyes peeling wide as though it scalded his lungs. Blood trickled from his ears, then his nose and mouth, simmering with tiny bubbles.
“You…” he gasped. But what he meant to say next never came. Silver dust sparkled over him so quickly I might have missed it had I not once ran alongside Death. And then his body relaxed with a final exhale and the faint scent of burnt flesh.
The colony floor rolled under my feet like a wave lurching under a ship. I snatched the goblet Aegir had drunk from, still full of silvery wine, a hint of golden luster around the edges. Then swiped a finger through the blood running down Aegir’s chin, swirling it in the glass.
“Kye,” I said, falling to my knees and pulling him back over my thighs.
The glow under his skin had faded into a sickly pale yellow, but his golden eyes fluttered drunkenly at the sound of his name.
My heart hammered, my hands shook. “Drink,” I ordered, tilting the wine to his lips. It spilled from the corners of his mouth, overflowing.
He was cold. But he’d given away his Sola blood—he shouldn’t have been cold to me.
Kye’s throat twitched, the smallest flicker of movement, veiled under gooseflesh and the shadow of dark stubble. Under his skin, a drop of gold gilded the hollow center of his throat, brightening as it grew. Until it rippled wide, disappearing as it reached his hands.
His fingers ticked.
The Naiads in the throne room with us had fled, but Aitne swept in beside me, taking Kye’s arm to find his gold-laced cut. His blood smeared metallic under her thumb, but the cut sealed.
Nori, Olinne, and Cebrinne stood over me, waiting. Every stroke of my heart panged under my flesh. Seconds unfurled like years, but the shaking walls of the colony had settled into stillness.
Kye’s mouth gave the faintest, smallest quirk. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“You idiot,” I fumed, watching the hue of his skin brighten. “You dumb, foolish, reckless tree-trunk of a man. I hate you and I hope to never see your stupid face again.”
The words spilled out, ragged on my breath.
He smiled pathetically at me, reaching to wipe one of the tracks from under my eyes.
Or maybe I was the pathetic one, dissolving into the vibrance behind his eyes.
His scent washed over me, mint and herbs and thunderstorms and promises made under the stars.
I tried to smile back, but it was watery.
“I didn’t think you could follow me here. ”
His thumb tracked my jaw, shifting across my chin. “There’s no corner of the world where my steps won’t follow yours.”
Aitne cleared her throat, reluctantly. “My Queen,” she said, “may I look at your wound?”
I’d forgotten the small gash in my stomach. It hadn’t hurt at all, but at her reminder I leaned away to look down at it, my teeth clenching at the sting.
“Come on, filthy traitor,” Nori said, though her voice was almost affectionate as she stooped to pull Kye’s arm over her head, helping him to his feet to give Aitne a proper view.
He stumbled as his legs straightened, but slowly he eased into his own weight, standing tall enough on his own that she had to drop her arm away and steadied his chest instead.
“I’m all right, Nori,” he said. My Oculos gave a small nod before stepping in close to Olinne, her eyes trained on him in case he fell.
A small gasp came from the tunnel.
Its ceiling had rented into two halves, one side of the wall tilted awkwardly into the other. The Naiad wandered out from the tunnel, nervous determination stolen over her hard mouth. I recognized her; she’d been one of Aegir’s grand council. She stared at Aegir’s body, strewn over the floor.
“Who drank his blood?” she asked.
Our gazes swerved to Kye. He blinked in surprise, running a hand over his mouth. “I did,” he said, breathless.
She nodded. If she was shocked by the idea of a human consuming Aegir’s blood, she didn’t let it show. “And your name?”
“Nikolaos Laurier.”
The Naiad reached for the spiked leaf of a nearby Aero plant, crimson blooming from her fingertip as she slid it over the thin barbs. Hands clasped, eyes closed, she bowed her head.
“Nikolaos Laurier, Videre of the Venusian Sea. Today I vow to you my blood and loyalty.”
Diara’s face was the first I saw, waiting at the low-hanging rocks of the cliff. She bounded to her feet when our eyes met, dashing to the edge. “He did it,” she said, waiting for me to climb over the ledge before cradling my face between her hands. “I knew he would do it. I knew he would—YOU.”
Kye’s eyes flicked up at the accusing tone in her voice. He flinched to the side as she whirled on him, beating him with the back of her hand.
“You-left-without-me-you-insufferable-horrible-rotten—"
“I’m sorry,” he blurted, angling himself against my back as if it would protect him.
Aitne caught Diara’s hand, seawater streaming from her long hair. “Abuse him tomorrow. I don’t want to heal anyone else tonight.”
Diara’s jaw jutted. She held out her hand for me, a small golden ring in the center of her palm. Then turned on her heel, green skirts rustling as she stalked back to her place along the ledge beside Pheolix and my father.
The drone’s gaze was sharp, aware and alert behind the worried clouds in his eyes. “Did you bring her back?”
I crossed the ledge, fitting my ring back on my finger before taking his hand in mine. “I’m here.”
His fingers pulsed, a slick shine coating his irises.
My throat narrowed, and I swallowed the feeling down, knowing he was thinking of the other Naiad stolen from these palace grounds.
The one we had not yet brought back. My attention drifted to Ano, who was watching me with a sense of unwilling caution, as though he wanted to snatch me up but worried he might overwhelm me.
“I’m fine, Makua,” I said, exhaustion unraveling at the sound of my own voice.
Pheolix’s eyes widened. “You cordaed.”
“Yes.” I shifted as the cliffs grew quiet against the rhythmic tide. “Kye traded his life for mine.”
Hadrian had already embraced Kye, was walking him toward the wine-grower’s son, murmuring softly.
He glanced at me over his shoulder before his focus slipped to Aitne, waiting with an open hand to help Cebrinne climb out of the water.
Something in his gaze made my stomach cramp, my mouth suddenly dry.
Soft, heavy fabric slid into my hand. Cebrinne stepped away, the water from her hair and dress slowly evaporating, my pocket in the center of my palm. I rolled the stones together through the satin, ensuring they were both inside.
Aegir had landed on a hip when his blood turned toxic in his veins, and my mother had kicked him with the flat of her foot to retrieve the stones, ignoring the shocked breaths from the members of his council only moments after the colony had sworn their loyalty to a pale and disbelieving Kye in the colosseum of the main colony room.
The scent of dread had followed him since, sweet and acrid against the seaside wind, leaving a twinge of guilt between my shoulders.
The man who had run from a fate as King, only to wind up the Videre of a colony he barely understood and couldn’t even reach without help.
A splash chased us onto shore. Metal whispered, human knives and blades unsheathing and pointing toward the dark ledge, where Sindri climbed a moment later, pulling his cloak over his shoulders.
He ignored the open threat, finding Kye among our faces.
“Apologies, my Videre. You left before naming an Oculos, so we had no other way to ask—”
Our stares swiveled to Kye, alarm threaded in the other human’s expressions. Kye’s throat tightened. “What is it?”
“We are assessing damage to the colony, but the ammonite caretakers have deemed the structure unsound. The colony will need to seek refuge elsewhere.”
“They are welcome in Juile,” I said, my fingers creeping along the inside of Kye’s arm, weaving through his. He grasped them back, squeezing. “The colony is large enough to house them. Olinne, please let Aoede know the Venusians are coming.”
“Of course, my Queen,” the Naiad said, sweeping her pale curls behind her shoulders to offer me a small bow before diving into the water.
Sindri stepped closer. I stiffened, and Kye shifted me behind him. But Sindri merely bowed the same way Olinne had, hands together. “I’ll alert the colony,” he said before slipping between the waves.
For a moment, no one spoke. We stared at the dark ocean, letting the wind crawl through our hair and clothes. Sindri’s face blurred in my mind, a blade tipped with the ash of shield weed in his hand, a burn humming into my arm.
“Maren.” Diara had pulled in close to me, her hand on my arm. I started, looking up at her. At Hadrian standing directly behind her. “Is Aegir dead?”
Water drenched my dress, gooseflesh canvasing my skin where the sea licked the heat from my body.
“Yes.” I raised a hand, attempting to call the water away.
Nothing happened, as I suspected it wouldn’t.
The pain of Sindri’s shallow cut had ebbed, but the ash was alive in my blood.
It would be a few days before I could call to water again.
“Aitne,” Kye called softly. The healer glanced up, apprehensive at the caution in his tone.
A latch in my chest tightened as she crossed to him, hands wringing together in uncertainty.
Diara watched too, sympathy wrapping around the curve of her shoulders. “What happened to the Venusian colony?”
“It’s crumbling.” I gazed at the stones in my hand, unable to say more as Aitne sucked a raw lungful of air from the mist. How could I truly explain to Diara what had happened in Venusia?
That Kye had traded his existence for mine at the peril of his own, preserving my life and invoking a new corda-cruor.
That, in the same moment, he had almost died.
Again.
My thoughts drifted to the Sylus Mountains.
To deep snow and frigid winter, a hundred black dresses and a single man at the bottom of a slope, gazing up at me until a blade carved life from his chest. How that mountainside had ruptured, how I’d called the sky to wail and the stars to flash and molten rock to fly, swallowing that mountainside and the screams of the enemy.
All because that cordae had been broken.
Divided into two.
“We found him in your tower,” Diara said. The familiar tartness of her voice had smoothed, and I wondered if she knew I’d think it my own fault.
“I know how you found him.” My throat threatened to fold as the image of Leal, throat torn open, surfaced in my mind.
I tore my gaze from Aitne, who stood with her face in her hands, weeping softly against Dimas’s shoulder.
My attention returned to the stones, two small weights in my hand. Thaan’s heart, divided into two stones.
The divide.
“Maren?” Diara said.
My fingers wrapped around the stones, the moon’s words drifting through my head. “I know where Selena is.”