12. The Lie of Omission
The Lie of Omission
Sigurd
I swim alone into the contested zone, leaving Valerie safely behind in the dry fortress.
A squad of merfolk guards the perimeter ahead. The erratic green glow of their spears catches the frantic movement of their tails as they turn toward me. Then my shadow passes over them.
“Hold the line,” I rumble into the current, projecting the command through the water.
They retreat anyway, and I can’t entirely blame them. Military discipline only goes so far when a fully shifted kraken is bearing down on you.
I let them scatter and turn my attention to the jagged fissure splitting the bedrock ahead. My limbs uncoil as I approach, and two tentacles curl around the uneven rim. Their suction cups lock against the stone as the downwelling pulls at my bulk.
Every instinct tells me to descend into the ravine and find Lotan myself. Instead, I force myself to wait. The fissure drops vertically beneath me, disappearing into darkness. Cold water surges upward from somewhere far below. Fragments of pale marine growth tumble through the current.
Something shifts beneath them. “Show yourself, leviathan,” I call out into the dark.
The armored ridges of Lotan’s serpentine spine breach the edge of the ravine.
His scales grind against the bedrock with a long screech as he rises.
He coils just below me, forcing the current outward in heavy pulses.
Disturbed flora flashes along the walls of the fissure, throwing brief green light across his snout.
My mother’s treaty gives him leverage. I have something she never offered him.
“Lotan. Come out. I bring an alternative. Rakan al-Rashid is altering an oceanic basin for your brood. When his work is finished, the water will sustain your young. You take the basin. Saltweather remains untouched.”
Lotan rises higher along the ravine wall. The mention of Rakan slows him, but suspicion remains fixed in his slitted eyes.
“You offer me territory that cannot support my young and expect me to surrender a coastline already promised to me.” His voice travels through the water as a rough vibration against my hide. “That is not an alternative, Eiriksson.”
I hold his gaze through the drifting silt. “You’re correct. It is more than that. When Rakan is done, it will be a vastly superior option.”
Lotan’s armored coils shift against the ravine wall, scales grinding slowly over basalt. “You place considerable faith in the djinn.”
“I would not be here if I doubted the outcome. It is a priceless offer, and I’m working with Rakan to accommodate everyone.”
Lotan turns his head away, angling the armor of his neck toward me as he begins to sink back into the fissure.
“I don’t need your accommodations,” he says. “The matriarch and I already have a deal. The coastline is mine. I do not care about the surface-dwellers.”
I’ve spent this entire negotiation knowing exactly what happens when two creatures like us stop pretending territory can be settled politely. Hearing him dismiss Saltweather as though its people don’t matter strips away what remains of my patience.
The suction cups along my tentacles peel from the bedrock. I drive myself downward into the current and follow Lotan into the fissure before he can disappear into the dark. Water compresses around my bulk as I descend. His armored head turns back when my shadow spreads across the ravine wall.
“The coastline doesn’t belong to my mother,” I project into the freezing current.
The soundwaves strike the stone walls and return as a deep vibration. I spread my tentacles through the narrow space, blocking part of Lotan’s path without pinning him against the rock.
The markings along my hide flare brighter as my temper breaks through the last of my restraint. Blue light spills across the ravine, catching on the serrated edges of his scales and the pale debris swirling between us.
I descend until only a short stretch of dark water separates us.
“It wasn’t my mother’s job to broker deals for the surface. I control the port. You will take the heated basin, Lotan.”
Lotan goes still, but he doesn’t retreat. For the first time since he emerged from the ravine, he stops behaving as though this negotiation is already his.
He shifts deeper into the fissure, putting more distance between us without surrendering his position.
“I will consider it once I feel the heat.” Lotan’s jagged voice rasps through the water. “But tread lightly, kraken. You are not the only ancient power who commands the deep.”
It isn’t agreement, but it is the first concession he has made.
Lotan melts away into the dark, and I emerge from the ravine. As I prepare myself for the journey home, a glowing flower draws my eye at the edge of the fissure. Its fleshy petals emit a steady neon-blue glow against the dark rock.
I pull it carefully from the stone. I can’t give Valerie the truth she deserves, not yet.
The vow to my mother might no longer bind me now that Valerie is my claimed mate, but the fear of losing her keeps me silent.
If I tell her that her home is still in danger, she might leave me before the bond can truly take root.
I tuck the stem safely into a pouch on my belt and turn back toward the fortress.
After the confrontation with Lotan, returning to the fortress should have been easy. Instead, it takes more out of me than I expected. I shed the bulk of my true form in the airlock. I change into a fresh suit and retrieve the waterproof canister I took to Saltweather.
My tentacles refuse to settle completely, and tension remains locked across my shoulders. The silence of the fortress does little to help.
I reach the residential wing, and I’ve yet to calm down.
I turn the corner and nearly collide with Valerie. She stops short, sliding slightly against the stone.
The warm scent of her shampoo reaches me before I can put any distance between us.
Every instinct sharpened by the confrontation below immediately fixes on her.
I want to close the gap, pull her against my chest, and bury my face in her neck until the aggression still riding through me finally quiets.
Instead, I keep my hands at my sides. I am still withholding the truth about Saltweather. I have no intention of using this bond to draw her closer until I can be completely truthful.
“Pardon me,” I state, taking a deliberate step backward.
Valerie blinks, caught off guard by the sterile formality. She doesn’t reach out. Instead, she pulls her shoulders back and settles into the same polite, composed posture she used when she first marched into my office. “Sigurd. Hello.”
“Valerie. I trust you are finding the accommodations adequate?” I ask. “How have you been?”
The question sounds absurd the moment it leaves my mouth. I’m speaking to my claimed mate as though she were a visiting shareholder.
Valerie hesitates at the sudden distance between us, then offers me a small, diplomatic smile.
“I’ve been fine,” she replies, her tone polite. “Your mother has actually been very welcoming.”
The lie is so blatant I almost laugh aloud. Solveig doesn’t welcome humans. She interrogates them until they either prove useful or leave.
“I doubt that very much,” I reply, my voice softening, “but I’m glad you’re comfortable.”
She looks tired and a little pale. The treatments in the medical bay have stabilized her lungs, but keeping her trapped here is still wrong. She belongs in the sun, surrounded by the coastal air of her town, not buried at the bottom of the ocean because of me.
I force my attention toward something I can actually fix.
“I spoke with your friends at the fish market,” I state, keeping my tone level. “The environment there remains undisturbed. However, Mrs. Ferreira threatened to gut me if I harmed you.”
Valerie’s lips twist into a bright, genuine smile. “Marta means well. She just protects her own.”
“I noticed. She demonstrated that point with one of her talons.”
Valerie laughs, a quiet sound that carries down the stone corridor. She crosses her arms, rubbing her hands over the sleeves of her shirt.
“I really appreciate this, Sigurd. I know it may seem trivial, but it means a lot to me. I was really worried about them.”
“It’s not trivial,” I reply as I reach into my breast pocket. “It was the least I could do. And speaking of which… Your friend Ms. Nunn asked me to give you this.”
I draw out the waterproof canister and remove the folded note. Valerie stares at the damp square of lined paper before stepping closer to take it. The moment it reaches her hand, she presses it against her chest.
Her shoulders drop, and some of the tension I’ve been watching since I turned the corner finally leaves her. She exhales slowly without opening the note.
“Oh. Thank you,” she whispers, her eyes shining in the dim light. “Thank you so much, Sigurd.”
Saltweather is still there in everything she does. She holds a scrap of paper from Hattie as though it matters more than anything this fortress could offer her. I want to return that life to her intact.
The ancient part of me wants something entirely different. It screams to take her deeper, keep her close, and finish what I started at Mt. Qaf so nothing can separate us again. I refuse to let that instinct decide where she belongs.
My fingers brush against the other item in the canister. I hesitate before drawing out the flower. The bloom is small enough to disappear against my palm, its fleshy petals giving off a steady neon-blue glow. Miraculously, it has survived the journey back to the fortress.
A kraken trying to release his mate should probably know better than to bring her courting gifts. I hold the flower out to her anyway.
“I also brought you this,” I offer. “It only blooms near the deep trenches. I want you to have something beautiful while we wait for you to get better.”
Valerie looks down at the glowing petals, and her breath catches before she reaches for them.
I hesitate before releasing the damp stem. Her warm fingers brush across my cold knuckles as she takes the flower. The brief contact sends every instinct I have in the wrong direction. The blue glow reflects in her eyes when she looks up at me and takes a small step closer.
The careful distance I created between us nearly disappears. If I stay here, I’ll close what remains of it. I’ll put my hands on her waist, pull her against me, and forget every reason I have spent weeks keeping myself away.
Wanting her is not the problem. Wanting to keep her is.
I take a step backward.
“It’s beautiful,” she says, her voice softening, losing its formal edge. She draws another breath and moves into the space I just left. “Sigurd—”
“Keep the stem damp,” I cut her off, forcing my voice back into something practical. “It will sustain the bioluminescence.”
Valerie stops, her brow furrowing as she looks from the flower to me. Whatever she intended to say remains unspoken. Instead, she settles on a simple, “I’ll make sure to take care of it. Thank you.”
“Think nothing of it, Valerie,” I offer. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—I must speak with my mother.”
I turn before instinct can undo the decision. Behind me, Valerie remains in the corridor with Hattie’s note pressed against her chest and the glowing flower in her hand. Every part of me wants to stop, but I keep walking.