8. Mermaid Ballet & Downhill Roll
Aleiraah
The eleventh anniversary of our marriage is approaching fast and things have been strained between me and my husbands for a while.
I’ve been subconsciously distancing myself from them after 'certain' inclinations have slowly come to light. Things have been going on behind my back and I’ve been willfully blind I think.
Makes me wonder if I've been too loath to rock our marriage. They say the tenth year is the mark when the rose-colored glasses come off. And I already feel disillusioned.
As their mate, I’ve tried my best to be understanding and supportive, but I’m not sure how much longer I can remain patient. I had hoped time and again that my husbands would come clean but as days go by, the future seems bleaker. And my heart turns heavier.
To make matters worse, weird dreams that augur nothing well, have been draining me mentally.
Zien had come back home with clear gray eyes two days back, after leaving with blood-red ones and been strategically avoiding me. He’s a fool if he thinks I wouldn’t notice. Since then, I’ve barely spoken a word to him. It hurts that he consumed blood from someone else.
I’m using work as an excuse to stay up late and then sleep by myself in my study. I even rebuffed their advances citing tiredness, but it can only go so far.
To get me out of my funk, Archie made puppy eyes and wrangled me into this impromptu date and here we are at the Opaline Tides Amphitheater.
Aqua-Naturals has debuted a popular new mermaid water ballet. I’d hesitated, unsure whether we were still close enough for something so romantic, but his excitement won us over. We hardly ever go out together like this anymore.
As we walk through the entrance, a glittering, open-air aquatic arena carved into a cliffside opens up before us.
Rainbow shells adorn the walls and the seating area arches around a deep cerulean lagoon.
Pearlescent lights shimmer beneath the water, casting dreamy hues as tiny enchanted sea creatures swim overhead in translucent bubbles.
I boop a bubble with my finger and the sea anemone inside flutters.
Archie grabs my hand taking me to the shell-shaped lounges nestled into tiers of coral stone. I take my seat in the middle and my husbands surround me, some at my back and the rest sitting in front, almost in a petal formation.
And the kicker is that instead of feeling protected, I feel stifled. Things certainly have changed.
The ballet is called song of sirens—so unoriginal that I roll my eyes and offer Archie a wry expression. He scratches his head and offers a goofy smile instead.
The water ballet doesn’t feature true sirens—without siren-cancellation charms, their songs would overwhelm the audience.
Instead, a walrus shifter announces that synchronized mermaids will take the stage, their acrobatics and choreography unfolding beneath the waves.
Mermaid tails flash through the water like living gemstones.
The show opens with a trippy song and a burst of lively motion. I’m happily absorbed, munching sea-salted caramel popcorn Baz bought, when a purple orca named Maelstrom vaults skyward and drenches the front rows in a massive splash. There are shrieks of delight from the tiny people in the audience.
An hour in, the performance shifts into a beautifully tragic mermaid aria, and I lean forward, spellbound—until Maelstrom hurls a rogue splash straight at our row.
I shield myself on instinct, but my mates aren’t so lucky.
Instantly soaked, hair dripping, shirts clinging, they look salty as hell.
I snicker and point. Serves them right for half-sleeping through such a poignant song.
Ignoring the six sources of grumbles—because Azael never stoops to grumbling—I stuff my mouth full of cloud-candy that literally resembles fluffy pink clouds. Sugar is afterall my only source of happiness now.
During the interlude, a bronze-skinned merman with white-blond hair, wearing sea-glass earrings swims over to the edge of the pool near our seats.
He flips dramatically out of the water showing his shimmering turquoise tail and offers me a glittering kelp-rose with a cheeky wink.
“Fair maiden! Are you sure you’re not a siren?
Because I could listen to you sing forever. ”
Twirling the shining kelp-rose between my fingers I giggle at the absurdity of that cheesy line. But my husbands go still like a pack of apex predators.
Silas snarls under his breath. Archie and Zien subtly reach for their daggers.
Azael casually creates a ball of angel fire on his palm.
Rinn snatches the rose and crushes it within his fist. Baz whips out a kerchief and wipes my hand as if I’ve dirtied it.
And Alistair, of course, smiles sweetly while icing the merman’s tail with literal frost so he sinks into the water with a yelp.
“Bog sprite’s bathwater! Why did you have to sink him like that? He's kidding!” I’m appalled by their antics.
In response, all I hear is open disdain and irrational ire, souring my mood.
“He crossed a line.”
“No respect for his own life.”
“Shameless merman with cheap pick-up lines.”
“How did he even dare to come close with us guarding you?”
“Should’ve roasted him instead.”
“Who even makes a rose out of kelp?”
“Why did you have to smile at him?”
“What did you just say?” I snap, feeling indignant. “It was harmless flirting, and I found it funny. In case you’re blind, a few other mermen were also offering roses to the audience!”
Standing abruptly, I try to head out, but Archie grabs hold of me.
“Come on, Moon!” He massages my stiff shoulders. “Cheer up! We can catch the next show if you’d like?” He asks hopefully.
“No, I’d like to go home.” I shrug off his hands. That’s when I notice the Fae Queen, Raine and her court minions waving at us, or specifically beckoning Alistair to where they are seated.
A visceral rage burns through my veins at her audacity.
I place my palm on Alistair’s arm who looks rigid and uncomfortable. “Shall we leave? We can—”
He steps away on a reflex, making my words die in my throat, adding a crack to my already crumbling heart.
“No. You all go ahead, I’ll handle it.” He says without looking at us and then marches toward their seats. I watch him go with a heavy heart. I’m about to follow when a nasally voice calls out Silas’s name.
“Silas! Oh, Alpha Silas! What are you doing here? If I’d known I’d have joined you!” Sierra––a pantheress from Silas’s pack sashays toward us wearing a skimpy outfit and promptly loops her arm through Silas’s.
As if I’m not standing right here. As if I don’t know that she’s scent marking him.
“Are you here for the show?” She asks in a breathy voice, flashing a saccharine smile.
What else will he be here for, you dumb bitch?
Silas nods, looking nervous. He shoots me a quick glance but doesn’t untangle her hands from his elbow.
Really? I can’t accept a fucking kelp-rose from a showman and here is Miss-Obnoxiously-Clingy-Whore latching onto him like a fucking octopus!
I remember her introducing herself on the packlands as Sierra Nightgleam with special emphasis on the last name, as if she had a legal tie to Silas even though every member shared it.
She had clung to Silas then as well. And my husband had not moved away immediately.
Later on when confronted, he had made excuses about pack dynamics and shifters being touchy-feely in general.
I’m tempted to wrench off her arm and bitch-slap Silas with it.
Right then, a group of hell harlots pass us and whistle at Rinn. I hear him mutter—“What are they doing here?”—as he rubs the back of his neck in frustration.
Oh, he’s frustrated, is he? Must be such a chore to see the tramps who drool over him.
My gut burns with fury and I feel like smashing Rinn’s handsome face on a nearby wall.
Suddenly a tall, slender dragoness glides over to us and addresses Baz with a big smile, “It’s so good to see you, Bazrosh! We didn’t finish catching up last time I visited the Emberfang flight.”
Fuck my life! This is like an opera filled with multiple other-females, reaching a crescendo!
Baz looks panicked for a moment but then smoothens his expression. He murmurs something too low for me to hear to the dragoness then takes her aside. My patience snaps.
With my arms crossed across my chest, I whirl on my husbands, sneering, “Are there more females you’re expecting to crawl out of the woodworks and slobber over you?”
They look shocked at my outburst, but I don’t have any self-restraint left. When they remain silent, I straighten my spine and announce that I’m leaving. They can follow or not, I simply don’t care.
“Oh, and Archie,”—I turn and cock my eyebrow at him—“this date was shit!”
His face falls and I walk out at a fast clip weaving through the crowd, ignoring the shouts from my mates as a throng of ballet-goers separate us.
I take a portal home and lock myself in my study that night, fuming at the blatant disrespect from my husbands.
They’ve been disregarding me for a while but not openly like this.
It’s time I finally accepted that I deserve better.
Later, they knock on my door taking turns, but I activate a spell preventing them from breaking through. Thankfully, they leave me alone after a few hours of incessant knocking and poor excuses.
Over the next several weeks they try to woo me with gifts and desserts but the situation only becomes more dire. More things come to light that bruise my heart to a point of no return.
Everything’s on a downhill roll.