Chapter 12
PLAYING CHICKEN WITH CLAMS
RUNE
The cenote yawns open like the mouth of the earth—dark, deep, and still.
Jagged, moss-covered stone walls rise high above, veined with roots that hang like skeletal fingers, sucking greedily from the damp.
From the rim, small waterfalls spill over the edge, silver streams tumbling into the pool.
Their constant trickle echoes through the cavern, soft but unrelenting, like breath through clenched teeth.
The water does little to hide my siren form. No doubt by the time I rise back to the top, Odi will know that I, too, can shift my shape.
For a moment I allow my body to adjust to the temperature of the water, its cooling properties doing wonders for my aching bones and dry skin.
I’d been prepared for a monster attack, the riddle had warned us, but I hadn’t been prepared for the sheer enormity of the creature.
All those legs and feet tearing through the forest, and my crew.
I shudder at the thought of the three brave crewmen who’d lost their lives fighting for the mission that I’d thrown them into, risking it all for the slightest hope of finding answers about my mother.
I’d already asked too much, so there was no way I was allowing anyone to enter this cenote and swim to the very depths and collect whatever lay at the bottom, even though I know Elio and Tavi are going to be pissed that I didn’t give them a chance to follow me down here.
Being a prince has its pros and cons. Most of the time, I’m able to do as I please, but the price I pay is having someone breathing down my neck every five seconds.
It's Elio’s job to protect me at all costs, and Tavi takes it upon herself to protect the entire crew without the paycheck to match.
Secretly, I think she likes to know Elio’s whereabouts too.
They’ve been eye fucking each other for weeks now.
I don’t know why they don’t just get at it. There is certainly no qualms on my end.
Salty ocean water, and fresh spring water mix together, turning it a brackish green.
I propel downwards, through the narrow opening that beckons at me from below.
Tiny rays of sunlight pierce the murk, sending golden beams around me as I swim deeper.
My eyes stay fixed on my surroundings. The last thing I need is to be surprised by another creature.
I grip my bone sword tighter as shadows form into mysterious shapes.
Seaweed. That’s all it is.
In this form, my sight is good enough to make out the shadowed details as I near. My shoulders drop, bubbles escaping the vents behind my ears where I breathe while submerged.
The water’s cooler down here, darker too. Each stroke pulls me deeper into the blue hush, the weight of the water pressing in on all sides. I’ve been swimming for a few minutes but I still haven’t reached the bottom.
My thoughts travel to Odelia. I’d been so hesitant to allow her to carry a weapon.
What if she tore through my crew—or me—or simply shifted and bounded off into the island forest without a second glance?
It would have been foolish to allow it, but then she went and found an axe, ripping through the creature with the litheness of an eel through water.
And instead of waiting and watching me die, she’d saved me.
I didn’t like this familiar ache that kept making itself known each time the image of wild, chocolate tresses, and umber eyes formed in my mind.
Odi was making it quite difficult to hate her.
Especially when she smiled. Salted seas.
What I’d give to see her smile at me like I was more than just a means to an end.
I shake my head. Light blue strands of hair swirl around me as I try to free my thoughts of a certain pirate-whom-I-despise-with-my-whole-being . . . right?
The seabed thickens with dark growth—tangles of slick, ribboning plants unfurling like fingers. Sticky, swaying things that curl up from below, reaching for skin and scales alike. One wraps around my tail. I flick hard, shaking it loose, but another brushes my side, clinging like it’s alive.
I push forwards, scanning the area for something. I didn’t even know what I was meant to be looking for? A chest? A key? Neither?
Perhaps I’d be searching down here forever. I shove the thought aside before it takes root. That’s not an option. We’ve already been on the island too long. Who knows what lurks out here under the blanket of darkness. I’m certainly not going to stick around and find out.
The cenote opens into a wider cavern on the sea bed.
The flash of silver scales to my right draws attention.
A school of minnows dart into the shadows, concealing themselves amongst colourful coral and sea anemones.
I’d do well to avoid them. Sirens in the past learnt pretty quickly the sting of an anemone.
I brush past the cavern wall as I swim into the centre.
Two barbed plants catch my fins like hooks, their thin, jagged spines digging into the webbing with every movement.
I manage to pull them free, but not without a sharp sting blooming across my tail.
Scarlet blood slips into the water—thin, dark threads trailing behind me like a warning.
Shit.
If there are any predators down here, they’ll taste my blood before I see them. I need to move faster.
As I dart through the open space, the ground winks up at me. It’s made of white sand, stone, and scattered shells glinting like silver teeth. That’s when I see it. Nestled on the seabed, surrounded by a commune of large clams sits a tiny stone box covered in old runes that seem familiar.
I swim for it, gathering it into my hands. It’s locked. Of course it is. So where is the key? I glance around trying to see if there is another box stashed away somewhere, but I find none.
If I can’t find this piece then all of this was for nothing.
The box is weighted in my hands. I try forcing the lid open, squeezing the sides as I tug it apart. There’s no point, it’s sealed tight. Perhaps I can smash it on something? Though brute force would likely result in harming whatever lay inside, so I’d better not.
Pearl coloured clams, covered in algae and wide open mouths turn to face me.
My movements trigger their senses. I float too close to one.
It snaps shut with a crack loud enough to thrum through my chest. I jerk back, narrowly avoiding losing a fin.
The thing’s the size of a barrel, its ridged shell dusted in crusty sea scum.
Another to my right yawns, and that’s when I see it. On its large, slime covered pink tongue rests a key. Iron. Rusted but whole. No doubt the one I’m after.
How the fuck am I meant to get that.
I hate clams almost as much as I hate pirates.
Dash and I used to play chicken with them as boys—diving down to the reef to the west of the palace, daring each other to see who could get closest before one snapped.
Bravery, stupidity—there wasn’t much difference between the two when we were young.
Mother would scold us, but there was always a glint in her eye when she did, like she knew that we wouldn’t listen to her reprimands anyway.
My brow pinches as I glance around, trying to find something to keep the clam from snapping my arm off clean through the bone when I attempt to retrieve the key. I need leverage.
Without too much thought, I place the box down, my sword joining it on the seabed as I swim around, searching for something I can use. I spot a jagged stone—sort of square in shape, heavy enough. It would have to do.
A wave of nausea passes over me, causing my vision to blur at the sides. Surely my body hasn’t grown so accustomed to the world above that it’s rejecting the sea. I shake my head, focussing as I lift the rock into my arms.
I ease forwards, slow and careful. The clam stirs, shell creaking as if it senses me. One wrong twitch and it’ll snap shut on bone.
Very slowly, I raise the rock and jam it between the shell’s gaping halves.
Crack.
It slams down with enough force to rattle my arm, but the stone holds, wedged just deep enough. I don’t wait. My hand darts in, fast and sure. Cold slime coats my knuckles as my fingers close around the key.
Got it.
As I dart for the box, and my sword, something blue in the corner of my eye catches my attention. I didn’t notice it before. Blue kelp, the kind my mother carried on her wedding day. I would remember it anywhere. Father used to fill the palace with it every anniversary. It only flowers once a year.
The sight of it tugs a thread in my chest. A thread that is tethered to the memory of her, but I don’t have time to visit that place. I have a crew up top who are waiting for me, expecting me to come back in one piece before sundown.
As I head up towards the narrow opening, another barb from the olive green sea foliage catches in my scales, sending a sharp pain through my hip. I tug free but the barb comes with it. My hands are too full to bother with it now, I’ll remove it once I break the surface.
I flick my tail into motion, forcing myself up. Thankfully the only creatures I’ve come across were fish. Otto would be disappointed that I didn’t bring him back something he could experiment on. He’ll have to be satisfied with the bag full of creatures' legs that he’s collected.
Shadows melt into shapes. Ugly ones. Creatures with yellow eyes, and red gleaming teeth. Cold water enters my mouth and exits my gills as I suck in, filling my lungs with oxygen. I’m seeing things, but why?
Something’s wrong.
The water pulses too loud in my ears, like a drumbeat from inside my skull. My limbs feel heavy—slow, like they’ve forgotten how to belong to me. Every stroke takes more effort than it should, and my vision’s starting to smear at the edges again.
Seconds feel like minutes, and minutes feel like hours, but I know I’m nearly at the top. I can see the orange glow from the setting sun seeping into the thin layer of murkiness above me, so I push harder. I break the surface with a gasp that sounds more like a choke.
The sunlight above glares down, too bright, too far. But I see them—my crew, their shapes clustered at the rim of the cenote. A rope already swings down towards me, coiled like a lifeline.
From above, Odi’s gaze finds mine and I swear I see her pinched brow relax.
“Grab the rope, Rune!” Tavi calls out.
I clamp the iron key between my teeth, tucking the box under the arm that holds my sword.
Cursing under my breath, I grab the rope before my strength gives out completely.
Then I see it. Tentacle sucker marks ring my left forearm, the skin raised and welted, raw like something tried to taste me alive.
“Pull me up!” I manage to yell through gritted teeth.
As I ascend from the cenote, my siren form flickers, the shimmer of magic slipping like wet cloth off my skin. No one wants to see me half naked, half fish, so I let the shift happen, my trouser covered legs forming just before I’m hauled completely into the open air.
My limbs feel heavy after all that time in the water. It would take me a minute to find my feet again on the dry land. The rope jerks, and I rise. Every shift of the climb is a scream in my muscles, but I keep my grip. I keep the box. I keep breathing.
Barely.
Soon, I’m grabbing the edge of the rim, the box, my sword, and the key tumbling onto the grass.
Elio doesn’t waste any time, he reaches my side and drags me onto solid ground.
I lay there on my back for a moment, catching my breath.
A white braid, threaded with tiny bones and gold rings appears above me.
“You don’t look so good,” Tavi grunts, her brow pinched together.
I sit up, then shift to all fours as I slowly push off the ground to stand upright. Many sets of eyes just stare at me, wide eyed, like they know something I don’t.
Water slips off my body, pooling at my feet. “I’m totally fine.”
Tavi shakes her head. “No, you’re not.”
Elio steps beside me. “He has barbs in his skin.”
I shrug them all off. It’s nothing. I just need to find my land legs. “I said I’m fine, let’s head back.”
“Rune—”
“Where’s my shirt?”
The crew that have gathered around me part down the middle as Odi takes a step forwards.
The usual scowl on her face is softer. I can’t stop the smile tugging at the corner of my mouth as I look down at her.
She really is beautiful. Her fingers brush mine as I reach for my shirt.
The thrill of it mixes with the blood coursing through my heaving chest, muffling the world around us, narrowing my focus on her lips so hard my vision darkens at the edges.
“I think you should sit down.” Her voice is a gentle command more than it is a suggestion.
Shaking my head, I pull my shirt up and over.
The ringing in my ears grows sharper, louder, and the figures before me blur, blending together in a heap of colours and textures.
The world tilts once, then twice. After that, it doesn’t bother righting itself.
My knees go weak, and suddenly the ground seems closer than it was before.
“It's poison.” Otto’s voice is distorted. “He’s going down!”
My hand shoots out, as I try to find my balance. “Fuck.”