Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
ABBY
T he dining hall seems far larger than necessary. It’s central, as if it’s the heart of the city and the sirens and dragons that move through it are the lifeblood that keeps this place alive.
Scattered rectangular tables populate the room, and judging by the number of sirens we’ve seen, not even if every single one of them was in this room at the same time would every chair be filled. Though I have no idea how many are out at sea.
Just like Teagan.
Petra sits alone at one of the tables. The other dragons—save for Merrick, who must still be with Jade, and Rhett, who is hopefully back in bed—sit at the table next to hers. She stares out at the empty waters, perking her head up whenever a siren whooshes by, dragging behind them a tail of shimmering scales.
I know how she feels. Being separated from your mate can be agony, and although her bond with Teagan is still intact, that distance will weigh on them. I just hope they’re still communicating through their bond. That thought has me wondering again how important a binding ceremony is. I doubt there’s been one for Teagan and Petra, so how long can they stay apart before their bond snaps?
Before I can ask Quinn, I feel his hand grip mine and gently tug me in the opposite direction. It only takes a second for me to see why. Aurelia is across the room, seated at a table with two other sirens, though she isn’t speaking to them. There’s a distinct disconnect, and it’s clear she’s eating her food alone.
That is, until Merrick enters from the entrance on that side of the room and claims the seat beside her. He leans in close, whispering furiously, so that only she can hear. His voice raises as we reach them, just loud enough for me to make out a single hissed sentence. “You have to tell them!”
“Tell us what?” Quinn asks before I can. It’s not like him to intrude like this, but there’s been something off about him all day. I’d thought it was the exhaustion or the reforging of our bond, but there’s something else weighing on his mind.
Aurelia looks up from her greyish food; her plate surprisingly empty and more fishbone than anything else. Is there a food shortage or is she just not hungry? I glance around at the plates on nearby tables and they all look just as meagre.
When I turn my gaze back to Aurelia, her eyes are shooting daggers up at us. “So this is how you look not covered in dirt and blood.” The statement was for Quinn, and there’s a weight to her words and her stare. Quinn must feel it too, because he seems to falter under it for just a moment before steeling himself again.
“What was that shaking?”
Merrick’s eyes meet mine for a fraction of a second, and with a slight shake of his head, turns and walks away to join his own kind. I can’t be certain if there was meaning behind the gesture or if I’m reading too far into things. If I’m being honest, I’m probably overtired and could use another few hours of sleep. Not that I’m eager to face the nightmares again.
Annoyance and something else flickers across Aurelia’s face. Worry, perhaps? “Nothing that concerns you.” She waves a hand to the center of the room where a man is clearly preparing and distributing plates of food. “Brin will give you each a plate. Choose a table away from others. Keep your heads down and do not draw attention. Sit with the dragons if they will have you. Many here will not.”
No, she’s not going to just dismiss us like that. “If we’re in danger here, we deserve to know. What was that shaking?” As if to emphasize my question, the entire room rocks. The smooth waters churn outside of the glass dome that encases us, and what was clear turns white with the force. Small fish dart out from bits of coral and swim, as if frightened and regretting their decision of choosing a home so close.
When the shaking ceases once more, it seems every pair of siren eyes is on us.
No. On Quinn .
Deep scowls etched into faces that were never quite friendly to begin with, fill the room and bear down on the man next to me. But he doesn’t waver. Quinn meets each and every one of their stares for just a moment before turning back to Aurelia.
“Why is everyone looking at me like that was my fault?” The question is emotionless, as if he were asking about the weather rather than the reason a room full of strangers want to tear into him more than the scraps of fish on their plates.
Aurelia drops a coral fork and dusts off her fingers, the only one not looking at Quinn. “This is not the place. Do as I told you before you make things worse.”
Before either of us can press her, the sound of a chair screeching against the glass floor breaks through the tension in the room. My eyes snap to the source, where Petra has leapt upwards with a gasp. “She’s back!”
Just on the other side of the glass wall, is Teagan. Floating behind her is a gorgeous tail with what must be at least eight long, flowing fins of pinks and purples. I’m not used to seeing her as anything other than human, but there’s no denying she was made for this form. Even the gills along the sides of her neck look as if they were always meant to be there, as do the near-translucent bits of skin connecting each of her fingers as she presses a hand against the glass.
Petra does the same, and although they’re separated by glass that has to be at least three inches thick, I’m certain the energy between mates is passing through them.
Excitement bubbles in my stomach at the sight of my best friend this way. She’s finally found her way home. And she’s very much alive.
“You need to leave. Now.” Aurelia’s hushed but forceful voice draws my attention back to her. She was annoyed before, but now? Either I’m crazy, or that’s genuine fear in her eyes.
“Leave?” I ask, stunned that she would banish us from Marein now of all times.
“To your chambers. Go!” That was definitely fear adding a quaver to her tone.
I take Quinn’s hand in mine and pull him toward the nearest exit. If something has Aurelia spooked, I’m not sticking around to find out what it is. I’ve already lost Quinn once. I’m not going to lose him again.
We only get a few steps before there’s a shift in the air. A towering man strides into the room, dripping wet and spear in hand. A sizeable fish dangles from the three prongs at the spear’s tip, and although it’s not large, the cheers that break out among the sirens have me thinking this is the largest fish they’ve seen in some time. If that’s the case, they might very well be struggling as much as Lunae to feed their own. The only difference I’ve seen is that the people here all seem to divide what little food they have equally.
“Go,” Aurelia says again, this time in a whisper that’s almost pleading.
The man doesn’t notice us as he moves to the center of the room and tears the fish off his spear—which is most definitely harder than he makes it look—and flops it down on the cooking table in front of Brin. The two men shake hands before Brin sets about preparing what is sure to be our next meal.
Various people move to greet the stranger. They clasp his hand or pat him on the back until one woman has to stand on the very tips of her toes to whisper something in his ear.
The joy on his face melts into something that can only be described as a look of pure hatred as his eyes scan the room, only stopping once they find Quinn. Before he can even finish taking a single step in our direction, the two other sirens seated at the table with Aurelia abandon their plates and scramble away. Only Aurelia remains in her chair.
“You look so much like Evander,” the man says to Quinn, his voice as cold as his eyes. “Tell me. What did my whore wife call you?”
Wife?
Quinn lets go of my hand and takes a step forward. “My name is Quinn. And you must be the man who forced my mother into marriage.”
He laughs loudly, but there’s no humour in it. “Is that what she told you?”
Before Quinn can respond, Aurelia rises from her chair and moves between them. “Enough, Erwyn. It is not the boy’s fault.”
Erwyn spits. “Because he is your nephew, you defend him blindly. Familial ties have no place here. Not anymore.”
Nephew?! So Aurelia is Sierra’s sister. Quinn’s aunt.
By the flowers.
“He has passed a trial. He fought by our side against Imelda and earned a place among us.”
Erwyn’s face pales as he glances around the room. When he speaks, his voice has lowered. “How many did we lose?”
“Twenty-nine.”
Oh, shit. I knew there were loses, but almost thirty sirens died last night and who knows how many Guardians. And it would have been much, much worse had Jade not done what he did.
“Have they been returned to the sea?”
Aurelia stands with her back to us so I can’t see her face, but the muscles in her back tense. “They have not.”
“Why not?” Erwyn says each word slowly and forcefully. There’s a measure of control to his tone, but I can tell he’s close to snapping.
We shouldn’t be here. Whatever argument this is about to turn in to doesn’t involve us.
I reach for Quinn’s hand and give it a subtle tug, but the only movement he makes is the soft stroking of his thumb over the back of my hand.
“There is no rush.”
“They must be lain to rest before the second moon, otherwise—”
“The wraiths have already fed upon the fallen.”
My face pales. I hadn’t thought about that. I knew the veil wraiths fed upon souls, but I hadn’t considered what that would mean for those who gave their lives to defend against Imelda and the Guardians, or even what it means for the soul. That person would no longer exist in any form. When we die, we must pass through the veil and into the afterlife, where we will exist in some form we cannot begin to understand. But if a soul is devoured before it can make the journey, it’s as if that person never existed. Their body remains, as does their memory, but they will never live again in the next life. I imagine to be consumed by a wraith is to die twice, and it’s not a fate I would wish for anyone.
Except perhaps Imelda. She does not deserve a second chance.
Erwyn spits at Aurelia’s feet and lets out a string of curses. “I should have never left. I would not have stood for any of this. I would have—”
“You would have what? You know you cannot refuse her. The wraiths came during the battle. The fallen could not have been spared their fate.”
“Is the witch dead?”
“She lives. And so does her son. Lunalissa’s Chosen.”
He scoffs, seemingly more angered by that than the total loss of twenty-nine members of their colony. The waves churn again, seemingly with his rage, and if Quinn had not been gripping my hand, I might have stumbled forward into the argument.
Erwyn’s gaze settles on Quinn and his eyes narrow into slits. “Chosen.” The word comes out as a growl. When his eyes flick to me, understanding and anger flares across his features. “Lunalissa and Terranous have chosen. Inferna is dead. And Tideus?” His eyes slide to back Quinn. “Where is your mother?” There’s enough venom in those words to kill.
“Dead.” Quinn says the word as if it is a simple fact, but I feel the flip his stomach makes as if it were my own.
The man lets out a roar and flips the closest table to him. “Dead?!” Then to Aurelia, he says, “Do you know what this means? Everything we have bled for was for nothing!”
‘He’s losing control. Get back.’ Quinn’s voice fills my mind, and I feel the urgency there as if it were something physical.
‘Quinn—’
‘I’ll be fine. Trust me.’
I release his hand and take a step back, but I’m not moving any farther than that unless I absolutely have to. I don’t know who this man is, but he’s a threat and I am not willing to lose anything else.
I expect Quinn to tense offensively, but his body remains relaxed, arms loose at his sides and hands weaponless. “You’re angry,” he says, his words calm, “and you have every right to be. My mother left you, betrayed your people, and I am the product of that. That said, I didn’t ask to be born, so I’m not going to accept whatever blame you’re trying to put on me. I’m not your enemy.” He looks to Aurelia. “It seems I’m your family.”
“We had a chance!” Erwyn bellows, rushing forward.
Aurelia and I back away from the charging man, and I will Quinn to do the same, but he remains as still and relaxed as ever. A faint, ‘Trust me,’ flits through my mind again, as if he knew I would need to hear it.
When Erwyn is almost upon Quinn, spear raised and glistening with the blood of his fish, Quinn side-steps at the last moment. He grabs the back of a chair and swings wide. The end of the spear hooks onto it and is sent sideways, causing Erwyn to nearly lose his grip.
He tries to recover as Quinn lurches sideways again. The move should have been easy for Quinn, but he’s not as spry as he would be without the injury to his thigh. Even with the absence of pain, the wound slows him and leaves him fractionally more unbalanced on his feet.
Erwyn brings his spear down again in a wide arch, the chair still hooked onto it. Unable to dodge this time, Quinn flips the table onto its side and ducks behind it. The spear connects with it, the barbed end getting stuck in the wood with an explosion of splinters.
Perhaps that was Quinn’s plan all along because when Erwyn tugs at his weapon, it won’t come free. ‘That was unnecessarily risky,’ I hiss through the bond.
‘It worked, didn’t it?’
What no one could have predicted is the long knife that may as well be a short sword he pulls from his belt. His lips curl back into a sneer and I know he’s envisioning how it would look painted in a fresh coat of Quinn’s blood.
‘What’s your plan for this?’
‘Haven’t thought that far.’ Quinn jumps back, the blade missing him by only an inch.
I scan the room, desperately searching for anything he can use as a weapon. The sirens gather around us in a wide circle, and not a single one of them looks willing to intervene. Even if Aurelia wanted to, I don’t see any weapons on her, and if she had something tucked away, I’m almost certain she would have already provided it.
I spot Merrick standing behind the crowd of onlookers, a disapproving expression smeared across his face. I try to remember if I’d seen a weapon sheathed at his side, but I’m distracted from that thought as Quinn dodges another blow and nearly stumbles as the blade arcs for him again.
Fuck it.
“Merrick!” I call to him, and his head jerks in my direction. “Sword!”
He nods once, drawing his blade and forcing his way through the crowd.
Quinn dodges a swipe that was far too close to his throat. He swipes his leg in an attempt to trip Erwyn, but he can’t reach wide enough without tearing open the wound to his thigh.
If it’s clear to me this man is trained in combat, then it must have been clear to Quinn before the fight even began. He’d likely considered him a worthy opponent if the circumstances were different. Then again, I can almost swear there’s the faintest upturn to one side of Quinn’s mouth. Of course he’s enjoying this on some level. Even in the face of danger, it’s just like him to find some pleasure in it.
Merrick breaks through the last of the sirens and comes to a stop at the edge of the circle, his eyes glued to Quinn. ‘On your right,’ I say through the bond. ‘Get ready to catch.’
Quinn ducks under the blade poised for his head and jumps backwards three paces to put distance between him and his attacker. Quinn looks to Merrick, but the man moves far too fast and is on him again before the weapon can be tossed to him.
‘Fuck,’ Quinn growls, bringing his focus back to the towering man, determined to end his life. ‘I need you to be my eyes.’
He can’t be serious.
‘I can distract him if I—’
‘No.’ That one word leaves no room for argument, and doing so will only put Quinn more at risk. He’s tiring, so the sooner he finishes this, the better. ‘I trust you.’
That makes one of us.
Before I can agree, Quinn’s mouth opens. “Merrick, now!”
There’s not even a second of hesitation from the dragon before his sword launches into the air, rapidly closing the distance between him and my mate.
Please don’t hit him, please don’t hit him, please don’t hit him.
‘Now!’
Quinn ducks under a swing, rolls to the right, and then reaches a blind hand up—trusting me entirely. If I’ve timed this wrong, Merrick’s blade could slice his hand clean off! I doubt even Tess would be skilled enough to reattach a limb if she were here.
I hold my breath and send up a silent prayer to any God who will listen that this works. When Quinn’s hand closes around the hilt of the blade—eyes never once leaving his opponent—I can breathe again.
The action cost Quinn and the knife comes down. He’s only just quick enough to raise the sword to the air above him and block. Sparks fly as metal bites into metal, and this battle quickly becomes one of strength rather than speed.
It wouldn’t take a genius to know that Erwyn is the stronger man here. Muscles ripple in his arms as he bears down while Quinn struggles to push back against the weight of the long knife.
Beads of sweat form on Quinn’s forehead and trickle down his face. “Why?” he says as he groans against the force of his attacker. “What will my death accomplish?”
Quinn moves to the side, releasing his blade and darting out of the reach of another blow. He jumps atop a table, putting him about the same height as the massive man. The man has to block Quinn’s blow this time, Quinn no longer just playing defence.
“Not a thing,” the man spits back, his voice menacing and full of a thirst for revenge.
“I want to help your people. Our people.”
The man roars and swings fast. If his blade had been any longer, he might have clipped Quinn’s other leg. “You are not one of us!”
“Enough!” Aurelia calls from the crowd, putting as much authority in her voice as she can. “Stop this!” But the man ignores her. Others in the crowd watch, some looking as if they want to join in. Quinn is barely holding his own now.
I close my eyes and reach inside myself, looking to summon even an ounce of the powers Terranous gave me—but nothing happens. No life grows inside this air bubble city. I’m powerless here and, for the first time, I realize this might be both the safest and deadliest place for us. We’re safe from Imelda beneath the waves, but the trade is my powers. I’m useless, just as I was before.
“You do not rule us!” Erwyn shouts at Aurelia. Clearly they’re not done arguing.
“Neither do you!”
Quinn dodges another too-close blow, and I feel a sting of pain in my arm. Quinn was hit, but not badly. He doesn’t even seem to notice.
“I’ll kill you!” Erwyn says to Quinn this time.
“Then fucking do it!” Quinn shouts back, more of a taunt than an actual death wish.
He swings wide—too wide—and Quinn moves as if he was expecting this. The rage made him too reactive. Quinn switches the sword into his left hand and puts all his strength into a one-handed swing to push the knife aside. He swings with his right hand, connecting his fist into the jaw of his attacker. It’s not enough to knock him back entirely, but he falls back a step.
Quinn has a chance to bring his sword down on him and do some actual damage, but he takes a step back. “I’m not your enemy.” He repeats the words he’d spoken before this fight broke out.
The man is panting hard, but it’s more rage than fatigue. Still, he doesn’t move to attack. He brings a hand to his chin and rubs at the spot Quinn hit him. “You may not be our enemy, but you are our downfall.”
Quinn seems unsurprised by his words and I know it’s because he’s been picking up on hints ever since the ground first shook. “Tell me why.”
The man scoffs, but lowers his sword. “I did not force your mother to marry me. We were prophesied to have a child that would become Tideus’ Chosen. Our child was to reclaim the ocean and bring balance once more. Our child was to save our kind. Sierra failed to give me that child because she was too busy fucking your father. We had a chance at salvation and instead we got you and your useless brother. Your mother’s betrayal did not start with her abandoning her home to war. It began with her children.”
Quinn breaks eye contact with the man and looks out over the gathered crowd. It seems like every siren is present, none of them wanting to meet his gaze. I see it on their faces now. The emotion I couldn’t place.
Hopelessness.
The ocean is dying for reasons I can’t understand, and they had a chance to save it.
“I won’t apologize for existing,” Quinn says, dropping his sword. He jumps down from his table and moves to my side, taking my hand. “We can leave or you can let us help you in any way we can. I may not be Tideus’ Chosen, but I’m bonded to Terranous’. I’m done fighting. If you want to kill me, fine, but I don’t believe my life is worth the wrath of Terranous.”
The man curses and points a finger at Quinn. “Stay away from me or I might just risk it.” Without another word, he turns away and storms out of the room.
The loud sound Aurelia’s hands make when she clasps them together cuts through the silent tension and makes me jump. “Enough! Get this place cleaned up!” Her people obey, muttering their disappointment at possibly the outcome or just the end of the show. Quinn moves to bend to flip up the table, but Aurelia grabs his arm. “We need to speak. Alone .”
He plants his feet. “Whatever you have to say to me, you can say to my mate.”
She rolls her eyes. “I understand the need to be with each other while the bond is fresh, but you will survive an hour apart.”
“It’s fine,” I tell him, though I really don’t want to be away from him either. Even the thought of it has me feeling physically sick, but I know it’s just an effect of the magic weaving between us. It will settle, and Aurelia is right. We will survive. “Talk to her. And bandage that arm before you bleed all over the floor again.”
He looks down at his arm as if only just realizing it’s bleeding and puts a hand over it. ‘Be safe.’
I laugh, though nothing about this is funny. ‘I’m not the one making enemies everywhere I go.’
‘I’ve been awake longer than you. Give it time.’
“Are you two finished?” Aurelia sounds annoyed.
“Never,” Quinn says with a wink, then turns back to his aunt. “Lead the way.”
I watch them go until they disappear from sight, leaving me alone in a room of sirens who just might hate me as much as they do Quinn.