17. Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen
Closer Than Necessary
SADIE
We leave the training grounds in silence, slipping through the outer edges of the city while the currents hum softly around us. Kyros is quiet, more pensive than usual.
I suppose I didn’t realize just how dire the situation with the Great Current is. These people are going to die if I don’t destroy the black siphon, and they’re running out of time. It’s a terrifying realization.
When we reach the tunnel system that leads to the prison cavern I’ve been assigned, Kyros veers sideways, taking us deeper into the city.
I frown, kicking harder to keep up. “You missed a turn.”
“I did not.”
What game is he playing? I stop swimming, the water rippling around me. Kyros notices immediately. He slows and looks at me over his shoulder, his crimson tail slashing through the water beneath him. When I raise a brow, he lets out a sigh.
I’m not moving until I have answers.
“I’m relocating you,” he finally explains.
I raise a brow. “Excuse me?”
Kyros resumes swimming. “The red bloom is beginning to plume near the eastern reefs. Early traces of it might start drifting in, and it’s not safe for you to be alone when it does.”
The distance between us grows, and I scramble to catch up. He’s just so damned fast. I fear I’ll never be able to keep up.
“Not safe?” I ask. “Explain.”
Kyros ignores me, which is becoming a common theme.
“If so much as a single merman tries to touch me,” I threaten, “I’ll rip out his fins.”
Kyros spares me a glance. “I should hope you do.”
We pass through narrower corridors of spiraling, white stone. The structures here are more intricate than the ones in the outer city. It’s less open, more…lived in. The few Mer we pass glance at Kyros with immediate recognition.
“We’re not animals,” Kyros says. “But the red bloom can make males aggressive. If any approach you in an unwelcome way, I should hope you’ll defend yourself.”
He shoots me another look, then tilts his head to expose the fins beside his ear.
He taps them. “Secondary breathing. Shove your fingers into them if need be. It’ll neutralize any Mer.”
We reach the large estate that Kyros first brought me to. The massive arched entryway is carved directly into white stone, absolutely stunning. I try not to gawk as Kyros leads me inside. He dragged me through corridor after corridor last time, too fast for me to get my bearings.
This time, he doesn’t hurry.
Kyros moves slowly, allowing me time to take in the elaborate carvings that span the walls and the grand architecture. Dad would have loved this place.
My throat tightens.
I clear it.
Kyros stops in front of a curved wall of pale coral, then presses his hand against a seam in the structure. A narrow opening reveals itself between the ridges. What is this? A hidden room?
Kyros gestures for me to enter first. Slim chance of that happening.
I gesture with a hand. “After you.”
Kyros makes a clicking noise, probably insulting me in his language, before slipping through the opening. I swim in after.
The room is smaller than I expected. A shallow alcove carved into stone, with a smooth platform bed built on one side. The walls curve slightly, lined with faint strands of glowing algae. Everything is cast in a soft, green light.
It’s quiet. Private.
Perhaps even cozy… Not that I’d ever admit to that.
“What is this?” I ask.
“My cove.”
I pause. Did I hear him correctly? “Yours?”
“Yes.”
I have no words. Of all the places in the city, he brought me here? I was expecting another prison. At the very least, a guarded chamber.
Definitely not his cove.
I turn slowly, taking it in again. This is where the terrifying, murderous, crown-wearing leader of the Tideborn pod sleeps? It feels too simple. I expected grandeur.
Kyros moves past me and settles near the back wall, his tail curling as he watches me in his quiet, assessing way.
“You’ll stay here,” he says.
“With you?”
“Yes.”
I blink at him. “I would rather sleep with sharks.”
Kyros doesn’t react to my insult. Naturally.
I drift toward the stone platform and press a hand against it. It’s smooth and slightly worn, and it’s entirely underwater. I’ve never slept underwater. The thought seems frightening.
“Am I truly in that much danger?” I ask.
Kyros shrugs. “I don’t care to take the risk. You can barely swim.” He hesitates, then continues. “I also don’t trust Seraya.”
That’s one thing we can agree on.
I exhale slowly and sit on the edge of the platform, folding my legs beneath me. There’s enough water pressure to keep me stable, weighing down my limbs and preventing me from floating away.
Kyros continues to watch me, never looking away. It’s a lot.
“So,” I say, shoving my hair out of my face, “walk me through this suicide mission.”
“It’s not a suicide mission.”
“It sure sounds like one.”
Kyros shifts slightly, his expression sharpening. “The siphon is anchored within a trench,” he starts. “It draws from the Great Current at a point where pressure shifts rapidly between upper and lower layers.”
I blink. “Meaning?”
“Meaning the water pressure is unstable.”
I blink again.
“You won’t be exposed to it for long,” Kyros continues. “I’ll travel with you into the trench, as far as a full-blooded Mer can safely go. From there, you’ll proceed alone.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
I stare at him. “You’re joking.”
“I am not.”
“Let me get this straight,” I say, ticking points off on my fingers. “You’re going to swim me to a death trench, drop me off, and then I’m supposed to just…what? Wander in and break this mysterious siphon?”
“You’ll target the core structure.”
“Okay. With what?”
“You won’t require tools.” Kyros’s gaze darts briefly to my hands. “Your bare hands will do.”
I let out a humorless laugh. This is absolutely absurd. “And I have to hope to do all of this before a trench monster sees me and decides that I look like a delicious midday meal.”
“Yes.”
I stare at Kyros. He stares back.
I look away first. “You’re insane.”
“You’ll survive.”
I lean back slightly on my hands, studying Kyros. Why am I even considering this? Why should I go out of my way to help him and his people? I should let him and his entire pod die.
Survival of the fittest.
Some might argue that’s the natural way of life. It would serve him right.
“I’ll wait for you,” Kyros promises. “No matter how long it takes.” Two crimson lines shoot up his ribcage, then disappear just as quickly. “I’m the quickest in my pod. I’ll collect you as soon as you return to a depth that’s safe for me to travel. The deepweaver will not touch you.”
But even with the black siphon destroyed, I’m still marked for death. Daros and Seraya have made it abundantly clear that they’d rather see me dead than let me return to the surface.
I chew at my bottom lip, studying Kyros more closely. How did I ever believe he was a human? I knew from the beginning that there was something off about him, but I didn’t trust my instincts.
“So,” I start, “after I destroy the siphon…” Kyros’s gaze lifts to mine. “What happens to me? Are you going to kill me?”
Kyros stares into my eyes, the crimson specks in his catching the swaying algae light. “I’ll return you to the surface.”
“Alive?”
“Alive.”
I hold his gaze. “Give me your word.”
“Do you even trust it?”
“I don’t have a lot of options,” I admit. “But, yes, I do.”
The words surprise us both. Kyros goes still, and so do I.
But I do trust him. I’ve learned a lot about Kyros these past few days, and I don’t think he’s a liar. If he gives me his word, I trust that he’ll honor it. I have to hope so, at least.
The faintest ghost of a smile touches Kyros’s mouth before disappearing.
He straightens up. “You have my word.”
Believing him is probably a mistake, but it’s one I’m choosing to make.
In another lifetime, I’d love to explore this part of myself. Who is my mother? Did Dad know? I mean, he must’ve known something. I have so many questions, most of which I suspect I’ll never have answers to.
Kyros’s tail twitches, vibrant scales catching the light. I can’t bring myself to look away as I examine the entire length of it. It’s longer than his legs were, and it tapers toward the tip before ending with large fins. I wonder if he can move them independently, like toes.
My gaze lingers around his hips. Nothing but smooth scales. Huh.
“You know,” I say casually, “for a species that stemmed from humans but now reproduces underwater, I have a lot of questions.”
Kyros goes still, his eyes narrowing.
I fight the urge to smile. “Do you”—I gesture vaguely—“have one?”
Kyros blinks. Blinks again. Blinks for a third time.
I almost laugh.
“That’s not relevant,” he says.
“Oh, I think it is. You keep talking about instincts and mating seasons and—”
“It’s not relevant,” he repeats, sharper this time.
I lean forward slightly. “Do your instincts act up around me? Should I be prepared to shove my fingers into your fins when the red bloom hits?”
Kyros crinkles his nose, and the muscles along his abdomen tense along with a flare of red veining. “I intend to bring you to the black siphon and return you to the surface well before the red bloom begins.”
I hum softly. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Kyros glares at the ground, clearly offended by my probing. I don’t care. Let him be uncomfortable.
“I won’t hurt you, Sadie,” he finally says. “I am in control.”
Is he?
He pushes off the stone and turns toward the exit. “Stay here. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
I startle. “You’re leaving?”
“I have matters to attend to.” He looks over me once more, sharp and assessing, before he rounds his shoulders and blows out a breath. “I must meet with the council to discuss the current rerouting and new patrol orders.”
He drags a hand across his face. For a second, he appears fifteen years older. Worn down. But then he straightens himself back out, hiding the momentary slip.
He turns and disappears through the narrow exit, the water shifting in his wake. The cove goes quiet without him, and I stare blankly at the wall. Then I exhale and lean back onto the stone slab.
This is where he sleeps. The realization is heavier when I’m alone. I look around, taking in the room in more detail.
There are faint marks scratched into the wall above the bed, but they aren’t decorative. It looks like something has brushed against the stone hundreds, if not thousands, of times over the years. His tail?
The rest of the cove is simple. There’s no excess.
I drag a hand over my face and close my eyes. I should be planning—plotting an escape and thinking of ways to avoid this entire situation. Instead, I find myself wondering how often Kyros sleeps. The answer is probably not much.
Time passes. I don’t know how long. The dim light in the cove doesn’t change, and there’s no sun movement to track. Just the slow, steady pulse of the ocean around me.
When the water shifts near the entrance, I sit up.
Kyros returns with food. He sets it on the edge of the stone slab without a word, then sits beside me. We’re not touching, but we’re not exactly far apart, either. I can practically feel him beside me. The heat of his body, even through the water, and the subtle shift of his tail whenever he moves.
I eye the food. Fish, kelp, and a cracked shell filled with more green. There’s enough for two.
“Still trying to poison me, I see.”
Kyros doesn’t seem to enjoy my joke. He glares at the side of my head, then gestures to the food. “Eat.”
“Fine.”
We eat in silence, but it’s not necessarily uncomfortable. We seem to have a mutual, temporary truce. When I finish, I set the empty shell aside.
“So,” I say, “what now?”
Kyros stares at his tail. “Now we sleep.”
I quirk a brow. “We?”
“Yes. Mer do require sleep, too.”
I look at the slab. Then at Kyros. Then back at the slab.
“You’re serious?” I ask. “There’s no room nearby for me to sleep in?”
“Yes, I am serious. And no, there is no other room for you to sleep in.”
I pause, waiting for him to relent, before shifting awkwardly and lowering myself onto my side. There’s not a lot of room, especially when Kyros settles beside me a moment later. He leaves a careful gap between our bodies.
It’s not enough. I can still feel him.
“I’ll remain on my side,” he says.
I swallow. “Good.”
His tail shifts slightly behind him, his fin brushing against my calf. We both freeze. The contact is brief and clearly accidental, but the memory of his touch lingers even when he moves away. Neither of us acknowledges it.
The silence stretches.
I keep my eyes fixed on the wall. Kyros keeps his fixed on…something. I don’t know. The ceiling, maybe. The algae. His own misery.
Anything but me.
Good. I prefer it that way.
The cove is quiet enough that I can hear every shift of water around us. Every slow inhale and exhale. Even the steady rhythm of his breathing settles into the background, impossible to ignore once I notice it.
It’s annoyingly calming.
I shift onto my side, trying to put a little more distance between us, but there isn’t any room to move. The slab is small.
A few seconds later, Kyros shifts as well. His tail brushes my ankle. Again. The contact is brief, a soft drag of scales before he immediately pulls away.
I stare harder at the wall, the silence becoming unbearable. I can’t stand this.
I clear my throat. “So…”
Kyros makes a low sound. I take that as permission to continue.
“Do all Mer sleep in caves?”
“No.” After several seconds of silence, Kyros sighs. “Some prefer communal sleeping chambers.”
I blink. “Communal?”
“Large groups sleeping together.”
“I know what communal means,” I snap. “I’m just surprised, is all.”
I turn my head, peering over my shoulder at Kyros. He’s lying on his back staring at the ceiling, both his hands clasped together on his chest. He’s lying like a fucking corpse.
“You look dead.”
Kyros blinks slowly, his chest rising and falling with a deep breath. “Thank you.”
When we first met, this was not how I imagined ending up in bed with him.
I look away, shifting my attention to the glowing algae weaving across the walls. They cast drifting shadows against the stone, the repetitive motion almost soothing. My thoughts drift to Dad, then to the black siphon.
They eventually land on Kyros.
He’s promised to return me to the surface, and despite myself, I believe him. I probably shouldn’t. I definitely shouldn’t.
My eyelids grow heavy, and I catch myself dozing before jerking back awake. Beside me, Kyros shifts again, the movement sending a faint current across my skin.
He’s having trouble getting comfortable.
I let that knowledge lull me to sleep.