Chapter 15
It was fitting that Thalos had chosen this place. A broken, jagged spit of rock where the Black Sea rose up, in defiance of the sky.
That lonely spit of land where Nyxarion had pulled a drowning woman from the sea and left her marooned. Where he'd split her open and drank what spilled out, fucked her into the stone until she'd begged to be ruined. Until her lungs had given up their love of air and her body had been remade.
As his.
His precious, living flame.
Nyxarion watched from below.
Seething as Nerissa guided Kore to the surface. Preparing her for the onset of the Chain of Breath.
Muscles coiled tight, predatory instincts alight with the need to drag her back under the surface. To keep her by his side, where she belonged.
Where he could explain.
Make it right.
Instead, Serakh drifted in Kore's place at his side. Silent. Watching her sovereign through slitted eyes that saw too much.
Waiting.
"She isn't ready," he snapped, fins flicking. "Her lungs—she hasn't surfaced since—"
Sera's chin tilted back, and she looked to the surface. "No," she said at length. "She isn't." And then, in a voice laced with caution, "She may never be able to tolerate the surface again."
Ascending at a moderate pace, Nyx's gaze clung to his bride. Watching the shape of her. The bend in her spine as she kicked at Nerissa's side. The delicate curve of her belly, where she hadn't quite expelled his seed.
Out of reach.
Unable to take her pain, soothe the panic that would bloom in her chest the instant she returned to the element she'd been born into and found only rejection. Agony. Lungs remade for water would labour in the air. Blister.
It was a suffering he knew well.
A price he'd paid, over and over and over again, just to claim her.
But it was one he'd never meant for her to know.
His scales lifted in a cascade of so much impotent fury. "If she dies—"
"Give her some credit," Serakh drawled, painting a beautiful arc through the water as she twisted around him. Ascending in a controlled spiral. "Your Siren carved a victory from Thalos' scales. She's earned a breath of confidence, I think."
Nyxarion laughed, low and bitter. "It's too soon, Sera," he snapped, spines flaring. "Her lungs—"
"May never be capable of enduring the surface," Sera said again, agreeing.
Easily. "And worse," she said, "the Chain of Breath was meant to test the endurance of Pelagorn.
And even then, it favors Thalassari. Thalos," she drawled, swimming just out of reach, "is known to be able to endure above the surface for days without real strain. "
A snarl bubbled from Nyxarion's lips. "Is this your brilliant counsel?" he snapped, hands balled in fists.
"You can endure it," she added as if he hadn't spoken, "but it isn't pretty.
Oh, you can survive topside hunts. Orchestrate the odd raid with admirable proficiency…
for an Abyssari. But there's a price." She gestured at the rows of missing scales, the strips of flesh flensed by the searing hot touch of the sun.
"You'll endure because you are strong. Possessive over the girl.
But by the second hour?" She clicked her tongue. "Half-mad with oxygen starvation."
Teeth bared, voice a low warning drum, he said, "Sera…"
She ignored the tone. "But Kore? With her fragile gills?
At such a delicate point in her transformation?
" Sera sighed. "She'll be lucky to make it through the morning without suffering catastrophic damage.
And if her gills collapse while she's trying to breathe what her lungs can no longer process? Well…"
"Sera!" Nyx snarled, lashing out to catch the vicious Virelii by the back of her neck.
But she slipped away, out of reach.
"It'll be a drowning all over again. Suffocating in blood, if something ruptures in her delicate lungs."
"Say what you mean to say," Nyx snarled, scowling.
"Forfeit," Serakh returned without missing a beat. "Because—"
At this, Nyxarion laughed, low. Incredulous. "And let Thalos touch what I created?" Hissing, biolume pulsing vicious and tight, he flashed his teeth. "No."
But Sera didn't blink. "Think, Nyxarion Korrides. With your brain. Thalos will sing cheerful hymns, laughing while you hemorrhage, and she—"
"She what, Sera?" Voice dropping to a sub-audible rumble, scales lifting to vent the heat of his fury, Nyxarion made the water shiver and dance as he ascended.
"While she's left to his whims? To spread her legs and take his venom?
His seed? Shall I watch as he pumps a Thalassari brat into the womb I claimed? "
"How easy do you think it'll be to breed a dead woman?" Sera retorted, and he watched her temper flare in the light pulsing along her edges.
"No."
Fins flattening, Sera stopped. Catching her sovereign by his gills in a fist that wrapped about his throat that claimed every last whisp of his attention.
"It isn't fair," she hissed. "But you cannot win the Chain of Breath against Thalos Asterion.
And if you insist on trying, you'll kill the girl trying to prove me wrong. "
For a moment, Nyxarion merely watched the Virelii from unblinking eyes. Speechless until her touch gentled.
"One trial," she said, voice a low hum. "One tide.
A sacrifice you shouldn't have to make. Forfeit the Chain," she said, and raised her voice to bypass any rejection he might have uttered.
"Grant Thalos breeding rights. Yes. I'm sorry, yes.
But"—her fins rippled in the current—"the final trial is the only one weighted to favor Abyssari.
The Crucible of Bone is open combat. Trench strength.
A perfect cauldron for the Deep's fury."
Pulse hammering in his throat, Nyx could only watch. Listen.
"You'll win," she said. "And when you do, Kore will be yours. By law."
The moon shimmered above them, distorted through the black waters.
"One tide," Serakh murmured, fins flicking as she released his throat and propelled herself toward the surface.
"Thalos will be forced to sample your bride.
Lower himself in front of the court"—she grinned, quick and vicious—"but she'll be spared the agony of drowning on land, while you bleed yourself dry trying to prove Abyssari can endure what they were never meant to know. "
Pressing one palm to his chest, Sera offered a rare smile. "And then… you take her back. Forever."
From above, the chime that signalled the start of the trial. Crystalline and pure. A summons for Thalos and Nyxarion to beach themselves.
A tremor rippled down his spine, then.
And with a flick of his tail, mighty fluke heaving water aside, he left Sera and her preposterous logic behind.
He wouldn't give up Kore.
He'd promised.
To shield her.
Protect her.
The very idea of watching Thalos sink his perfect, porcelain cock into Kore sent a fission of possessive rage rippling through his scales.
Surging to the surface, gaining speed as he raced to reclaim his bride, Nyxarion bristled.
Thalos could gloat. Sing his paltry little songs as he sunbathed on the beach. But if he touched her…
He breached the surface with a snarl of rage. Surging onto the beach at high tide, taking the exact same path he'd used before, to breed Kore. To change her into his most precious treasure.
Tail coiling in the water, dragging himself up beside Kore, opposite Thalos, he assumed his position.
Blistering air scorched his throat. Raking his gills with an acidic fire worse than even the most caustic layer of the Black Sea, and his gills slits clamped shut. Trying to seal against the worst of it.
Knowing the sun would rise.
That he would bake, his scales would burn and flake. His skin would blister and bubble.
And Kore…
She knelt.
Trembling. Her gills splayed wide, fluttering on every brutal breath she dragged between her lips. Jaws sagging open. Sweat beaded across her brow as she heaved for breath, desperate to filter water that wasn't there.
Her body screamed for the sea.
Lounging, silver fins flicking where he lay, sleek and perfect on the golden beach, Thalos stretched in the sand.
And he smiled.
Showing teeth.
"Does it hurt, little flame?" he purred, lifting his spines to catch the moonlight. Speaking clearly, effortlessly, as if he didn't need the water in his gills like Nyx did. “My, how quickly your body forgot the land, hmm?”
Defiant, her eyes flicked up, watching him from beneath a fan of lashes. A hitching breath caught in her throat.
"Breathe," Nyxarion rasped, too harsh. Claws flexing against the sand as the words scraped over his gills. "Just… breathe."
Her eyes flicked to him. Wide. Panicked. Clinging when they landed on his face.
Nodding, he said, "That's it. Just… slow," he murmured. Voice a quiet hum when he forced his tone to steady. "I see you," he added, flexing his fluke. "Your suffering."
The beautiful pulse of her biolume shimmered before him, fragile and weak, and her breath came in short gasps. Gill slits pulsing red.
"You're stronger," he gasped with the last of his voice, "than this. Than him."
Low and sinister, Thalos laughed. "If only that were true," he crooned, stretching. Languid. Utterly at ease as he watched. "If it were—and it's not—then your mongrel bride might outlast the sun itself. Alas," he sighed. "You have stolen that option from her."
Hands pressed flat to the sand, collapsing in on herself, Kore's chest rose. Her nipples glittering in the moonlight where her scales sparkled.
Nodding, chest rattling as his gills clapped against air, ignoring the dawn as it bled across the horizon. Eyes fixed to his sweet bride, ignoring Thalos, he pressed his hand to his chest. Miming an unspoken command. Breathe. Just breathe.
For a time, it seemed that she might withstand it. The searing pain.
And then he noticed it in the way her ribs spread on every breath. Her delicate frame flexing, growing hollow as her chest heaved. As she worked to pull oxygen into her blood.