Three of them emerged from the shadowed ridges of a seafloor trench, their frayed clothes rippling in the swell.
Finn stiffened.
My fingers curled into fists as the Captain’s crumpled body swam into my mind.
One of the Drowned men looked up, his gaze locking with mine. I exhaled in relief—their eyes were clear, not silver-stained. But the moment they spotted us, they leered upward hungrily.
“They’ve seen us!” Skye hissed, her voice a high-pitched ribbon through the water.
“Without Mer blood to propel them, they can’t catch us. Just ignorethem and swim over.” Finn rose above the trench with Edward, and we followed. “We Mer are used to dodging brainless, blood-hungry Drowned.”
Edward let out a disgruntled huff.
Soon, the ragged Drowned disappeared into the gloom and the water lightened. Color blossomed beneath us, and more fish appeared.
I turned to Finn in a tangle of hair. “Teachie said you tortured him and he escaped...”
Finn’s eyes flashed onyx, and his jaw tightened. “He hurt you.”
My stomach flipped, my throat constricting. So Finn had found out who’d left the bruises and made it his business to take vengeance. I slowed, my breath growing ragged.
Noticing, Finn dropped back, eyes searching mine. “You okay?”
I nodded, and he linked the fingers of his free hand through mine.
“Do you two mind?” A harsh breath escaped Edward’s nose.
Finn pulled his hand back, but my fingers twitched where he’d brushed them. For once, I was grateful for Edward’s unceremonious interruption.
A trill echoed through the water. Pháos had rejoined us. The dolphin was chirping and jerking his head.
I gasped as I took in the colossal stone statue materializing out of the gloom. The remains of a Grecian-looking marble pillar jutted from the seabed, wrapped around it was a carved sea snake, its inscriptions faded beneath layers of barnacles and coral. It was split down the middle, its marbled halves leaning away from each other like lovers torn apart midembrace.
“One of the Pillars of Hercules,” Finn said, studying the ruins. “You humans think of them as two rock formations above land, but to the creatures of the sea, these are the true pillars. It is said that Hercules created this narrow passage to protect the Mediterranean from the monsters of theAtlantic.”
Algae clung to every crack, and sea fans waved like bedraggled banners from the fallen architrave. Schools of silver fish darted between the ruins, weaving through crumbled capitals and broken blocks that once towered long ago.
“Where exactly is the palace of Thálassa?” I asked as I ran my hand along the grooves of one of the ancient stones.
“Between Syracuse and Kalamata,” Finn said, gesturing in that direction. “But first, we have to pass through the Sunken Bazaar. It runs along the Moroccan coastline into the Mediterranean. The market’s full of shady characters, but it’s the safest path, warded from humans. The merchants will call out to you as we pass. Whatever they say, whatever they offer—don’t go in.”
We weaved between the crumbled Pillars of Hercules and the surrounding ruins, then onto the Strait of Gibraltar, veering toward the Moroccan coastline. The water was warmer now, and I knew that we were reaching the Mediterranean as various fish swarmed around us and corals in all colors sprouted on the seafloor below.
We had only gone a few miles past the pillars when the first stalls of the Sunken Bazaar began to appear. It was impossible to miss, like a serpentine labyrinth of bright colors beneath the waves.
Ancient stone arches, half-eaten by sea life and time, marked the entrance, draped in swaying curtains of slimy kelp veils. We slipped inside, and my gaze flicked upward. Glass lanterns of different shapes and colors bobbed overhead, casting flickers of light that danced in mosaics across the sand. As we moved deeper into the bazaar, colorful shops appeared on either side of us, but we followed the path between them, swimming just above the seabed.
“What kind of things can you buy here?” Skye asked as a Drownedman in a long tunic stepped out from his stall and brandished a glowing orb in our direction.
“Anything from cursed jewels to vials of Mer blood,” Finn spat, waving away the merchant with his free hand.
Stalls fashioned from shipwreck timber and bleached whale bone lined the winding pathway. Tattered nets were strung above them, decorated with seashells, seaweed, and flickering anglerfish trapped in glass globes.
“Pretty girl, pretty girl,” a merman called from his store, waving at Skye. He had dark hair, dark skin, and equally dark eyes. “I have a special love potion just for you. Come here and look.” He held up a glowing bottle, and Pháos trilled in disapproval.
We kept swimming, but I peered into the sprawling stalls on either side of us, where merchants of every underwater persuasion haggled with passing buyers. Mer with twitching gills, Drowned with hollow eyes, and some other aquatic creatures whose species I didn’t know. Perhaps some of them had been mentioned in the mythical creatures book.
“Drowned boy,” a woman with long, flowing ebony hair and a colorful skirt called up at Edward. Her stall was a gypsy caravan. Barnacles clung to its wood, and the structure was half-sunken in the sand. “Don’t you wish to walk upon the land once more? I can offer you that.”
