Chapter 26
The ocean floor loomed into view outside the castle, each step immersing me deeper into the dark sea as Nixie guided me down a sloping hall into the belly of the castle. Rolling my shoulders, I tried to shake the anxiety scuttling up my spine.
Another strange siren event. Another situation where I was entering the lions’ den.
This also meant there would be no war council with Hylos and Raylik. Even though I had so many questions for them both. Like, what would someone even want with sirens? What could Cedric’s city on the sea possibly have to do with their disappearance? How does one even take a siren?
“I’m surprised you agreed to come,” Nixie said, her glossy red dress swishing with each graceful step, the translucent lace of the drop waist revealing the hard lines of her stomach.
She offered a gentle smile, colored with apology.
“Especially after the last event you attended.” When Calypstra revealed my identity.
The gauzy dress I wore was a lovely shade of green and felt light, its tendrils flitting with each step.
“I’m curious.” I shrugged in response. It wasn’t a lie.
I was curious about the location of the strange, magical painting of a woman, which was an actual passage out of Naiadon.
I was also curious about what I could learn of these creatures.
About what I could tell my father to stop them and ultimately protect Oakhaven.
The hall poured us out into a large space, its walls stretching for seemingly endless miles above.
A cool air wafted from the wet, cavernous walls that smelled of saturated stone.
At the center of the expansive room was a giant, black, swirling pool that made my blood run cold.
Onyx-colored water vortexed down, down, down, begging me to plunge into its depths and succumb to its blackness.
Around the pool, the Circle leaders stood leisurely, their faces familiar from the dinner we shared the other night.
All apparently too busy measuring one another to bother with me now.
“You said this is an offering ceremony, right?” I asked Nixie.
We had similar traditions on land. The Guardians were greedy, so we’d leave an orange on a doorstep for Terragos or coal beside the hearth for Helionyx.
All to keep them content and ward off ill intentions for us mere mortals.
It all seemed like rubbish. But I once thought the same of sirens.
“Yes, we offer things we cherish to Nymphaea to seek her blessing for a bountiful year and the hopes of a fertile mating during Hydroxia,” Nixie said coolly as we neared the endless black pit.
“We call this a swallow. There are multiple across the sea floor. They say they are sacred portals to the Mother herself.” Portals.
Like the paintings from the journal. Was this another way out of Naiadon?
“Do people ever go through it or come out of it?” I asked.
“Some have offered themselves to it, or others, but they never return,” Nixie said as she pinched her pink eyebrows, telling me it wasn’t recommended.
Hylos walked out onto a platform that protruded over the swallow, making me uneasy.
One wrong step and he would vanish into the black, roiling water.
He was dressed plainly, with white fabric wrapped around his lower body.
I could make out the dark-blue lines that marked his body from here.
“I sincerely thank you, once again, for celebrating Hydroxia here with me. We will begin the ceremony shortly,” he called loudly, his voice amplified by the swell of siren song.
“Did we have a choice in the matter?” a voice in the crowd muttered. It was Raylik’s uncle, dressed in layers of blood orange.
Nixie cleared her throat.
He turned and looked down at her, his murder-red gaze filled with hatred. “A disgrace for you wear those colors. Made.” He said the word like a curse.
“I merely wear the color of my mate’s scales for Hydroxia. As is tradition. Melquin, Leader of Mariscal Circle.” Red, for Raylik.
“Another disgrace to my Circle. My brother’s only son wastes his seed on a barren made siren.” He spat at her webbed feet.
Nixie scowled angrily, but I could see the hurt there too.
“The only disgrace is your ill manners,” I said, too quickly for my own good.
The siren towering above me, who could likely break me in half, glowered.
“Hylos keeps such poor company. But what else would one expect from a mongrel?” Melquin said with precision.
I knew discontent when I heard it. Well, I had read enough about it to spot it. Hylos did not have a grip on his vassals.
“Hylos is your king regent,” Nixie said quickly. “And I suggest you remember you are in his domain before a member of his inner circle. Made or not. Raylik is also a member of that inner circle, in case you forgot. I don’t believe he has challenged anyone to the Jawro competition, yet.”
She narrowed her pink eyes at him. “I have a feeling if he heard you speak in such a manner about both his leader and mate in the same breath, he would likely challenge you in a heartbeat. And lest you forget, Melquin of Mariscal Circle, the only reason you sit on the throne of Raylik’s birthright is because Aegir cut down his father for you. We all know you are no great warrior.”
Her words were swift, sharp, and out for blood.
The fear quivering Melquin’s lower lip told me he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Raylik’s rage. Nor would I.
Nixie’s sugary-sweet smile returned in a flash. “Oh, and happy Hydroxia to you!” She tipped her head politely, looped her arm into mine, and we moved onward through the crowd.
“That was bloody amazing,” I said.
“He just about shit himself,” Nixie said with a wry smile.
What a strange contrast she was. Kind yet fierce. Small but mighty.
“The Jawro competition. Calypstra spoke of it the other day as well, what is it?” I asked as we made our way closer to the swallow, still arm in arm.
“Essentially, two sirens fight. It’s brutal. Also, it’s an opportunity to challenge another for their spot in a Circle or to have the hand of a mate for Hydroxia. Really, it could be a challenge for anything. Even just for honor.”
“Ah, so you have pissing matches here too, then?”
“Hey, sometimes you just need to bash someone’s head in to prove a point.”
“Melquin fears Raylik would challenge him and take his throne?”
Nixie nodded. “I wish he would, to silence that damned fool. But if he did, he would have to go there to lead, and he would never leave Naiadon.”
“He’d never leave you,” I said.
Nixie looked at me sidelong. “Yes. Or Hylos. Especially not with all that’s going on with Oakhaven.”
War against my country.
I slipped out of Nixie’s grip, realizing that I was walking literally arm in arm with my enemy. What a strong contrast that was too. Because she felt so much like a friend.
Hylos’s voice boomed over our heads. “Today we offer what we may to the Mother herself, hopeful she will continue to bless us with fertility and bounty for another year. For my offering I give to the great Mother three gifts. First …” He took a large woven basket from a servant behind him and emptied it into the black water.
“Gold, from my treasury.” The coins splattered into the pit and disappeared into the void.
“Second, my song.” He raised his arms. From the tips of his fingers, water formed and an intense low-pitched sound thundered forward, a baritone voice riding throughout that sang, Mother of sea, I give to you as you give to me.
“Finally,” he said, picking up a knife. He held his hand over the swallow and sliced into the heart of his palm. “A blood oath.” He squeezed his hand and his blood dripped into the water. “To defend these seas and my people. Now and forever.”
The crowd cheered loudly, the sirens’ song roaring with it in trills or booms. I wondered just how ardently Melquin cheered.
Or others like him who were displeased with their leader.
Hylos had his work cut out for him. Before he could convince these people to join in his battle, he would need to gain their respect, which he apparently didn’t have.
Hylos continued, “Please come and make your offerings. Praise be to Nymphaea!” he boomed, and the crowd echoed his words.
“Have you thought of what you will offer?” Nixie asked me as we shuffled with the gathering, making our way to the stone steps up to the overhang.
I’d given it some thought, but I had little to offer.
Lumina explained the gifts were all mostly symbolic, so I would give the only thing I had arrived with.
“I asked Lumina to bring the dress I was found in.” The fine wool petticoat of the ornate gown my father gifted me. I wouldn’t miss it.
“Why did you select that?” Nixie asked.
“Eh, it’s a terrible color on me,” I answered.
Nixie snickered. “Maybe keep that part to yourself. You’re meant to offer something of value to you.”
Sirens dressed in long white tunics, eyes swiped with black from temple to temple, wove through the crowd with trays of slender, long-stemmed chalices. Nixie declined, but I took the last drink from the tray of a lavender-colored siren.
“What about you?” I returned the question as I took a sip of the drink. The bubbles sizzled on my tongue like champagne, but with a faint bitter taste.
“Before you arrived, my hair was very long. Down past my waist. I cut it to be my offering.”
The line shifted forward as the sirens stood atop the perch above the swallow and dropped their offerings into the pit, each declaring the gift and its meaning.
“Why?” The question flew from my mouth unexpectedly, like the drink had bubbled it out.