36. 36 #2
I continue to survey my surroundings. There's no visible entrance or exit.
The walls are ordinary cave stone, like any you would find on the surface.
Around the pool, the sand is dazzling white, flecked with tiny specks of blue dust, which might simply be the reflection of the glowing ceiling above.
As my mind catches up with being alert, sensations capture my full attention. I feel water coursing over my skin. My legs are separate. I'm in human form.
The mermaid turns her head, her beauty breathtaking. Her skin resembles Leo’s rich chocolate tone, and her hair is white as snow, cascading down her back like silk. Her cool, sapphire eyes mirror the bioluminescence above—and land directly on me, taking in my naked body.
Her voice echoes through the small space as she swims closer. “Sire, I request your dismissal from this spring at once so I may tend to your mate.”
I gulp at the word. That single word carries weight—implication. A bond I’ve not fully confronted. It lingers in my mind consistently, twisting my thoughts. And then there’s a gnawing, unsettling question I can’t shake.
Has Orion already seen me like this? I don’t know. I can’t know. I don't want to know. The uncertainty presses against me, and I realize I may never fully get over that one word.
“My lady, Sarah. You've healed quite nicely. And faster than I originally envisioned. The king knew you would be quick, but his worry still left him sitting by your side while you were being tended to,” the mermaid adds energetically, as if trying to ease the tension between us.
Shit. So Orion has seen me naked, twice now, or one and a half times, if you count the first time, when it was only my upper half. Not to mention the kiss we shared. Or rather the one that he forced upon me.
My thoughts are scattered, but the first question that escapes my lips surprises me. “Where am I?”
“Why, my dear, you're in Coravaluné,” the mermaid replies. “A serene village of mermaid healers. Some stronger than others. My skills primarily focus on those on the brink of death. Though I suspect the king would have brought you to me regardless.”
“What am I in?” I ask, my eyes scanning the pool. I know it’s water, but something about it feels . . . alive.
“This is my healing spring. Each major healer in Coravaluné has one, tailored to their particular skills.
Hence, the color of the bioluminescence above us.
The spring you're in draws magic from above as I tend to you, allowing your body to continue healing even in my absence—which, fortunately, is rare. The king insisted on constant vigilance.”
“How long have I been here, like . . . this?” The last word slips out.
The sudden awareness that I’m completely bare in front of someone I barely know, and possibly Orion.
I want to gesture to my body, to make the question clearer, but my limbs feel too heavy to move, the ache of my injuries rooting me in place.
The mermaid’s sapphire eyes soften with understanding, and I get the sense she knows exactly what I mean.
“The battle ended a little over a sea day ago,” she says gently. “Immediately after, your wounds were too severe for your own healing abilities to keep up, so I recommended that you be brought to my spring. He's refused to leave your side since.”
“Wouldn’t it help the healing process for me to stay in serpent form?” I ask, still not understanding the position I’ve been placed in.
“Well, no, actually,” she replies, gently. “After your injury, your healing process was disrupted, and your magic went dormant. That’s why you reverted to human form.”
So my magic isn’t as strong as I thought it was.
“It should only take a few more days for you to fully recover,” she continues. “Your magic will return on its own. I strongly recommend not fretting; it will only slow your progress.”
She seems completely unfazed by my human form, her actions razor-focused, as though this sort of situation is perfectly ordinary for her.
“I apologize for all the questions,” I say quietly.
“And . . . thank you again for your help.” The words feel small compared to what she’s done.
If not for her, I’d be dead—though something tells me Orion wouldn’t have allowed that either way.
“And I hate to admit this, but I can’t remember your name. ”
“Oh, no problem at all, Miss Sarah,” she replies warmly.
“It has been my pleasure. And believe me, after treating so many of the kingdom’s warriors, I've forgotten more faces than I would like to admit.” Her lips quirk in a light smile.
“I am Lady Naeryss. I remember our brief conversation at your dagger ceremony, though with all the commotion that day, it's a blur even for me. I serve on the kingdom’s council and attend most royal events—like your challenge yesterday.”
Our conversation fades into silence as she continues working.
Her hands hover just above my abdomen, palms aglow with a soft, blue light that pulses in rhythm with my heartbeat.
Her magic seeps into me. At first, the heat intensely spreads through every nerve like fire spilling into my veins.
The burn isn’t on my skin; it’s deeper. Internal.
It snakes through my muscles, winding into the bruised tissue and torn edges of my magic.
My back arches involuntarily, the water rippling beneath me as I gasp.
My body recognizes the pain even though my mind knows it’s healing me.
The sensation borders on unbearable—satisfying in the smallest, strangest way—but my human body rebels against it.
My muscles spasm beneath her touch, my legs twitching and curling.
Squirming under the pull of it, I fight the urge to move away from her hands.
Small, breathless apologies slip from my mouth as I try to hold still, my fingers gripping at the soft sand beneath the surface to anchor myself while the burning magic continues to course through me.
The session stretches longer than my body can handle, and finally, I feel her magic ebbing, retreating from every hidden corner inside my bones. “Short bursts are the key to faster recovery,” she explains. “Too much at once could put your human body at risk of rejection.”
I draw in long, trembling breaths, trying to calm the residual heat that still burns through me. “Wonderful . . . so how often . . . um . . . will you . . . do this?” The words stumble out in a stutter, my body shivering from the intensity of the brief, punishing session.
“I've been here seven times so far to provide consistent treatment,” she replies. “The king respectfully leaves during every session. After the first, he confessed he couldn't bear witnessing your body struggle under my magic, because even in your stupor, you fought against it.”
The answers she gives are helpful, though I can’t help but wish she would leave Orion out of them. “Why do you mention the king in most of your responses to my questions, Lady Naeryss?” I ask.
It’s a fair question. Normally, I would reach out with my magic to gauge her emotions, but with it being dormant, even that fails me.
“My apologies, miss,” she says, eyes drifting away from mine, as if her thoughts are elsewhere.
“The king informed me of the bond you two hold, and I cannot help but be envious. I once had someone I loved—not a bond, but a choice. We were meant to bind our lives together until the day came, and he never showed. My heart yearns for a sea mate, but little is known of them. So much that the idea has become a myth.”
My chest tightens for her. I understand her longing, though my own heart aches differently. I tried love once, and it wasn’t meant to be. I gave up on it long ago.
I can sympathize with her envy, but she misunderstands. Orion is of the sea, and I'm a sea enthusiast. Not the same . . . Not at all.
“To be mated is the greatest gift Mother Ocean can give,” she adds, her tone carrying both reverence and quiet ache.
“I know it must all be a lot to take in, but the king has nothing but deep love for you.
He said he has since the first moment he laid eyes on you, though he did mention he was hesitant.
I'm a true believer in love at first sight.” Her gaze drifts back to me, curious. “Do you feel the same for him?”
This is absolutely not the kind of conversation I want to be having while fully naked and floating in a glowing pool, so I give the best answer I can. “I’m currently just trying not to die in your world . . .”
“My apologies, Miss Sarah. I shouldn't have overstepped.” She draws back slowly, her posture softening almost reverently. “Sometimes I forget my place. Please forgive me.”
She leaves without another word and returns a few hours later to do another healing session, but no words are spoken. And that is how it continues for the remainder of the sea day.