21. Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-One
Warning Signs
SADIE
Morning comes too quickly.
I wake to Kyros hovering above me, his hand outstretched only inches from my face. He pulls back as my eyes open, his hand darting back to his side as if he’s been caught. I narrow my eyes, but I don’t acknowledge his weirdness.
I suppose I should be relieved it’s not his tail waking me up.
My hair floats into my face as I sit up.
“What time is it?” I ask.
“Early.”
“I’ve gathered that.” I shove my hair back and rub my eyes. They don’t burn today. “But what time?”
Kyros pushes off the stone slab and drifts across the room, his tail curling beneath him. He’s being weird this morning.
“I need to meet with Daros and Seraya,” he says. “Somebody will stop by shortly with food. Eat it. We have a long day ahead of us, and you’ll need your strength.”
He’s gone before I can respond, darting out of the room with one hard snap of his tail. His exit is so abrupt, it leaves ripples.
I’m just finishing the last bites of my meal when Kyros returns. He eyes my few remains, then gives a nod of approval.
“Everything is set,” he says. “Let’s go.”
I cock my head. “What needed to be set?”
I follow Kyros through the empty corridors and into the open ocean. Swimming is becoming easier, and keeping up with Kyros is no longer such a challenge. The webbing between my fingers is exceptionally helpful. When I push forward with my arms, I catch more water than before.
I’m gliding.
My eyesight is continually improving, too. Things I could barely make out yesterday are clear to me today. The currents that sweep between buildings are easy to spot, even in the areas where the glowing algae is sparse.
“We’ll exit through the western reef,” Kyros explains. “The patrols have confirmed there are no Coveborn in the area.”
He leads me through the pod, past dying kelp fields and drifting gardens. The pod has yet to wake, and I take this opportunity to admire it without watchful eyes. If things were different, I’d love to spend time here.
Dad and Tipper would have lost their minds over this place—Dad especially.
Although…maybe he already had. If my mother were truly a mermaid, surely Dad knew. Or at least suspected. It kills me that I’ll never know, not for certain. He’s dead, as are any answers he’d be able to provide.
My gaze drifts toward Kyros.
It’s because of him.
Is my mother dead, too? Why did she leave?
Kyros guides me toward the western reef. The coral here is pale, almost bleached. It stretches out in uneven ridges, broken in places where something large has passed through.
Kyros slows.
“Stay here.”
He darts away, a blur of crimson. I watch his tail push against the water, driving him forward. Then I follow him, directly ignoring his order. I’m tired of being told what to do.
I’m doing Tideborn a favor, not the other way around.
Kyros twists around the pale coral structures, smoothly navigating in and out of the natural currents that weave between them. I do the same, but I’m significantly less graceful. Still, I manage to keep up with Kyros, following him toward a garden bed filled with wilted, dying plants.
He stops before a tall, wide stone, his tail snapping harshly beneath him.
A strange, uneasy feeling crawls up my spine as I swim closer. The pale stone is about as tall as me, and it’s several feet wide.
Kyros tilts his head to the side, looking at me. “I told you to stay back.”
“And I didn’t listen.”
There are several lines carved into the smooth front surface of the stone. The grooves are deep, cut cleanly through coral and rock. A pattern. They’re too straight and deliberate to be natural.
My stomach roils.
“No,” I whisper.
I don’t remember moving, but suddenly, I’m closer. My fingers hover just above the carving, trembling slightly as I trace the lines without touching them.
I know this design.
It was on Dad’s gallery wall. Smack dab in the center of all his photos was a hand-drawn sketch of this symbol.
I asked him about it once. I must’ve been about sixteen.
He went quiet, and the drawing was gone the next day, replaced with another anatomical diagram of a Mer tail.
I didn’t think anything of it. I hardly even noticed.
He knew something. And he kept it from me.
Anger bubbles, mixing painfully with the grief and loneliness coiling in my gut. Why wouldn’t he tell me? How many other secrets was he keeping?
“Dad had a sketch of this symbol.” I turn toward Kyros, searching his face. “What does it mean?”
He looks at the carving for a long, quiet moment.
“Kyros…”
“It means you’ve been seen.”
A cold weight settles in my stomach.
“Seen?” I ask. “By who?”
Kyros drags a hand through his hair, pushing back the strands. He’s not wearing his crown today. He scans the open water beyond the reef, his shoulders tight.
“Coveborn,” he says. “This is the symbol of a hybrid. They know we’re harboring one.”
Harboring. Like I’m some sort of contraband.
“Are they here?” I look out, suddenly hyper-aware of how open the ocean beyond the city is. We’re exposed. Anything could be watching. “Maybe we should postpone…”
“We’re out of time.” Kyros straightens his spine. “Let’s go.”
I don’t want to.
I turn, my heart pounding as Kyros swims away. His broad shoulders are taut, the muscles flexing with every movement. He looks strong, but can he realistically protect us from an attack?
I don’t know.
But I don’t have a choice. At the end of the day, I’m their captive.
I give the carving one last look, then push off the reef and follow Kyros into the open water.
The trench is farther than I expected. Kyros wasn’t exaggerating when he said it would be a long, rough journey. The water grows colder the deeper we go, the light thinning until everything takes on a dim, muted quality. It grows heavier, too, pressure weighing me down.
My arms burn within the first hour. My legs follow shortly after. I’m practically panting into the water between us, dragging in deep lungfuls.
The water fights me, and the stronger currents threaten to drag me away. Every movement feels heavier. Slower. I grit my teeth and keep moving, refusing to fall behind. Not when the Coveborn might be lurking.
I refuse to give Kyros another reason to look at me like a nuisance, but the farther we go, the slower I become. After several hours, I’m hardly moving. My shoulders shake with every stroke, and the muscles in my calves cramp so badly, I nearly cry out.
Kyros turns toward me, his eyes sweeping over me in one quick, assessing scan.
I straighten up. “I’m fine.”
“Mm.”
That’s all he says before reaching for me, wrapping his hand around my bicep.
“Hey—”
I don’t get the rest out.
Kyros pulls me against him with an ease that’s almost insulting, one arm locking around my waist as his tail coils beneath us. Before I can react, he pushes off and we’re moving again—faster this time. Much faster.
“What’re you doing?” I snap.
“Saving time.”
“I can swim.”
“You’re slowing us down.” He shoots me a look. “And you need your strength for the trench.”
I open my mouth to argue, then snap it shut. He’s not wrong.
I let myself be held, but I’m rigid—painfully aware of the way our bodies are pressed together. Kyros’s arm is firm around my waist, his grip unyielding as he cuts through the water.
I can feel every shift of muscle and every movement of his tail.
It’s…a lot.
I swallow hard and look away, focusing on the empty stretch of water ahead of us. Are the Coveborn out there, watching and waiting for the right time to attack?
Kyros shifts, pulling me closer.
This is fine. He’s only being practical.
I try not to notice the warmth of him, or the way the water feels calmer when he’s the one moving us through it. He works with the ocean, not against it.
I definitely try not to notice how easy it would be to lean into him.
That would be insane.
I curl my hands into fists, then shift slightly, trying to create some space between us. Kyros doesn’t allow that. His arm tightens, pulling me back into place.
“Stop,” he says.
“I’m just—”
I don’t bother finishing my sentence. It doesn’t matter.
We travel like this for a while. Long enough for the tension between us to settle into something strange and heavy. Despite myself, I find myself leaning into Kyros.
His arms are comfortable. I feel safe in them.
I shift slightly, trying to ignore the warmth pressed against my side. It’s an impossible task. Every movement reminds me that Kyros is there, his arms around my waist and his chest against my shoulder. I even notice the steady rhythm of his breathing.
At some point, I stop holding myself rigid.
The ocean gets darker the deeper we travel, and the currents grow almost violent. I’m convinced every shadow is a Coveborn…or a deepweaver. I’m on high alert, panicking at every noise.
I shift closer to Kyros. His arm tightens slightly around my waist.
A rough current slams into us from the side, but Kyros adjusts quickly. He weaves through the water, effortless in his movements.
“I have a question,” I say, breaking the silence. It’s grown too comfortable.
Kyros hums. “Ask it.”
“Seraya.”
His jaw ticks, and his smooth swimming startles for the briefest second. She’s a touchy subject, but I’m dying to know.
“What about her?” Kyros asks.
“What’s your relationship with her?”
Kyros doesn’t immediately answer. He stares straight ahead, his eyes scanning the dark water as he propels us toward the death trench. Is he not going to answer? I wouldn’t be surprised. He loves to ignore me.
“We were involved,” he finally says. “It ended a while ago, but emotions remain high.”
The words are blunt and unemotional, but something sharp still twists low in my stomach. I knew it.
“How involved?” I ask.
“That’s not your concern.”
Kyros finally looks at me, his gaze darting over my face like he’s trying to figure something out. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, then looks away.
“Do you plan to be with her during the red bloom?” I pry.
I immediately regret asking.
But the words are already out.
Kyros goes very still. He continues to push us forward, his tail cutting through the water with heavy, even strokes, but his upper body is unmoving.
He visibly hesitates, then shrugs.
“I haven’t decided. She hopes for me to.”
I stare straight ahead, my jaw tightening. Haven’t decided. That shouldn’t bother me. It doesn’t. It definitely doesn’t. I don’t care whom Kyros sleeps with.
I’m not jealous.
Absolutely not.
That’s not what this sharp pinch in my stomach is.
Kyros has turned my entire life into a living nightmare, for fuck’s sake. I refuse to be…jealous. The thought makes me sick, and I fight the urge to shove away from him.
Kyros swallows, the column of his throat bobbing.
“Why does it matter?” he asks.
“It doesn’t.”
Kyros opens his mouth, looking like he wants to say more. After a long pause, he drops the subject. We continue moving, heading toward my imminent death. I’m terrified.