19. Chapter Nineteen #2
I glance at him, trying to decide if he’s being genuine. Why is he offering? I’ve already agreed to go into the stupid trench and destroy the siphon.
Kyros tilts his head slightly. “I’m asking a lot of you, Sadie. You should understand what you’re trying to save.”
I worry my bottom lip between my teeth, my mind racing. Dad would never have passed up this opportunity. He’d have been ecstatic, practically vibrating with excitement. He’d have wanted me to accept the offer, too.
“Okay,” I say. “I’d love to.”
We travel into the heart of the city together. Kyros moves more slowly than usual, his tail not snapping with the sharp efficiency I’ve grown familiar with. I’m sure it’s for my benefit.
Glowing coral and drifting gardens capture my interest, as do the children who weave through the currents in effortless loops. The city stretches around us—beautiful in a way that feels almost cruel.
Dad and Tipper were killed to protect this place, and admiring it brings about a sense of crushing guilt. I place a hand against my chest and blow out a breath, bubbles erupting.
Kyros gestures to a stream of fast-moving water. “This is the western current lane. It feeds into the lower gardens.” He lowers his voice. “The current is weaker than it should be.”
Of course it is. Every current here is weaker than it should be. This place is dying, and everyone here knows it. Everyone except the children, apparently.
We move on, heading toward a cluster of coral beds lined with kelp.
“This is one of the food gardens.” Kyros frowns as he looks it over. There are gaps, empty patches where something used to grow. “They were full a week ago.”
My stomach tightens. It tightens further when a group of children darts through a nearby current. A little boy with a lime-green tail spots me, his eyes growing wide just moments before he tumbles into the little boy beside him.
They spiral through the water. Then the lime-green tailed boy points.
“The leg girl!”
Several heads whip in my direction, and before I can react, Kyros and I are being swarmed. The children are like gnats, swirling around me without a hint of shame. Their tiny tails slam against my legs when they get too close, and it’s surprisingly painful.
Their questions come in fast and without hesitation.
“Are they real?”
“Can you bend them backward?”
“Why don’t you have scales?”
“Can you wiggle your toes?”
Kyros looks upward, like he’s praying for relief. His budding smile betrays him, though. He likes the children, and judging by the way they’re crowding around him, they like him, too. They’re comfortable with him, at the very least.
I’d almost prefer not to know this information.
“Will you please—” Kyros pauses, his eyes narrowing. I turn, following his line of sight. A familiar tail cuts through the current on our right. Seraya. She’s swimming over, her accusatory gaze darting between Kyros and me.
Kyros turns back to the children. He nudges the one closest to me away.
“Shoo,” he says. “Get back to class.”
The children don’t move.
“That wasn’t a suggestion.”
The lime-green-tailed boy lets out a dramatic groan and grumbles something under his breath. He looks annoyed with Kyros, his eyes rolling before he backs away, his friends quickly following. The last of them disappears just as Seraya reaches us.
“A stroll with the hybrid?” she asks. “Do you not have more important business to attend to?”
Kyros raises a brow. “Not currently, no. Restoring the Great Current is my priority.”
Seraya glides closer, inserting herself at Kyros’s side as if she belongs there. Does she? I’m having a hard time getting a read on these two. Kyros doesn’t seem interested, but she sure seems comfortable beside him. She’s been there before.
Many times.
“This is unwise,” she says.
Kyros hums. “I’m aware of the risks.”
“Are you?” she asks quietly. “Because it doesn’t look like it.”
The tension between them is thick enough to cut. I look between them, acutely aware that I’m standing in the middle of something I don’t fully understand.
“Hybrids are dangerous,” Seraya continues. Her gaze stays locked on Kyros. “If you fall, Tideborn falls with you.”
Kyros doesn’t respond, but his tail snaps angrily beneath him.
I clasp my hands together, then freeze. What. The. Fuck. I drop my head, horrified as I catch sight of my fingers. Thin, pale skin stretches between them. Webbing. There’s not much of it, but more than there should be. More than there was yesterday.
I spread my fingers, my stomach dropping.
No. No, no, no.
It’s real.
“Shit,” I whisper.
Kyros turns instantly. “What?”
I hold up my hand, showing the newest development. When I spread my fingers, the skin stretches.
Kyros doesn’t look nearly as concerned as I feel.
“You’re adapting,” he says. “Good.”
Seraya watches the exchange with quiet interest.
“It’ll worsen,” she says. “Perhaps even your legs will fuse together.”
Kyros places himself between us, but his eyes remain on me. “Don’t listen to Seraya. I’ve been reading the ancient texts. Webbing between fingers is normal, and there are no recorded accounts of legs fusing.”
I glare at Seraya over Kyros’s shoulder.
She shrugs. “You don’t deserve to be comforted.”
God, I hate her. I clench my hands into fists and lower them to my sides, trying not to think about the webbing. I don’t want to know what comes next. Will I grow fins? Will I even recognize myself when this is all said and done?
A bronze-tailed man approaches from the left, his gaze fixed on me. He seems curious, his eyes flickering over my exposed legs. They linger at my knees, as they always do. These people have a strange fascination with my knees.
“I’ve never seen legs,” he says.
Fantastic. Glad to be his first.
He drifts closer.
“No—” Kyros finishes his sentence with three sharp clicks, the switch so rapid, I suspect it’s because he forgot the English words.
The meaning appears in my mind.
Mind your distance!
The man ignores the order, inching closer.
Kyros shivers, a tremble running down the length of his spine, before seemingly losing his damned mind. He moves without warning, slamming into the other male and sending him spiraling into a large wall of coral. It cracks, and the entire plaza goes still as a red plume erupts from it.
What the—
Kyros turns to me, his eyes wide and nostrils flared. He doesn’t quite look panicked—the great crown-wearing Oshea of Tideborn would never panic—but he sure looks unnerved. His gaze flickers between me and the growing plume of red.
“What is that?” I ask. My voice is weak.
I suspect I already know. I’d wager the pollen Kyros and the council are so fearful of looks an awful lot like this.