Pháos jerked his head, asking us to follow, then dove in a wide arc before flickering off across the seabed. Finn swam after him, still holding Edward.
Skye gripped my arm with her dainty clawed hand. “Don’t tell me he can talk to the dolphin.”
“It seems that way.” I shrugged as we followed after them.
We reached a patch of rippling seaweed, where cries of distress echoedfrom within. Pháos trilled urgently, snapping his snout toward the tangled strands. With a flick of his emerald tail, Finn set Edward down and rushed forward, parting the green tendrils with his hands.
My breath hitched at the sight of the injured dolphin. The skin on its back and fins was a lighter gray than Pháos’s, fading to a pale belly, its short beak opening and closing with desperate pleas. A black fishing net bound its body, tightening with each panicked thrash. Deep gashes scored its flank where the fibers had sliced through flesh.
Skye gasped beside me, and Pháos trilled louder, darting in frantic circles.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Finn said softly, touching the injured dolphin’s forehead. “I’m going to get you out, but you need to stay still.”
The creature quieted. Its dark eyes, set just behind the curve of its mouth, locked on Finn, who reached for one of the blades strapped to his back and began slicing through the coarse net.
“Let me help,” I breathed, drawing my dagger. Parting the seaweed, I knelt on the dolphin’s other side.
I carefully sliced through the netting, my stomach sinking as more of the dolphin’s body was revealed. Deep gashes marred its smooth skin. I glanced up at Finn; his jaw was clenched, his expression shadowed as his eyes lingered on mine for a moment. The dolphin remained still as instructed, letting out the occasional soft click, as if in thanks.
It took us the better part of half an hour, working slowly to avoid worsening the wounds, but at last, the creature was free. It spiraled upward when we cut the final bond, the shredded net slipping from its body as it clicked joyfully, but then it faltered. Blood from the gashes seeped into the water, and the animal swayed, listing to one side. Pháos began circling, chirping a frantic call of distress.
“No.” Skye sobbed, bringing her hands to her mouth.
I glanced at Finn, whose features were pained.
“Shhh. Let me try something,” he told the dolphin as he drifted toward it, his emerald tail swishing to stay level, brows lowered with focus. He reached out with webbed fingers, murmuring in the ancient tongue of the sea. “Sozo hos ti fractos.”
As his palms hovered over the creature’s wounds, light bloomed from them, and the gashes began to close, torn flesh sealing with a gleam before fading back to its natural silver gray.
Skye sucked in a breath and gripped my arm again with her clawed fingers. At this rate, her clutching was bound to leave a mark.
Finn exhaled, his face etched with tenderness as he brushed the dolphin’s dorsal fin. “There you go, little one,” he whispered.
The animal chirped, nuzzling into his touch, then Pháos and his newly healed friend circled one another before they swooped off to celebrate. Their happy clicks echoed through the waters as they disappeared into the blue.
I turned to Finn. “What was that?”
“My healing magic.” He stared at his hands. “I thought I’d lost it years ago, but I felt its tug just now... I-I think it’s back.”
When his eyes met mine, awe and joy lit his features, and my stomach tightened. Did he think his feelings for me had brought it back?
No—it couldn’t be. I shook the thought away, but when I glanced at Finn again, he was still watching me like I was the miracle.
I rolled my shoulders, shaking away his gaze.
If the Neptunus castle had been dark and magnificent in a twisted, eerie way, the Kingdom of Thálassa was its radiant opposite. The water here sparkled alight aqua, sunlight streaming through its depths. It bathed the Corinthian pillars lining the path to the palace, which stretched through beds of coral, in a glow, offering the impression of having been blessed by some high god.
Beyond the pillars, a towering stone structure rose from the seabed. Its square perimeter was lined with arched openings, each corner crowned with a flat rooftop, where lilac-tailed Mer guards stood watch.
As we drew closer to the castle, a set of vast stone steps appeared, at their top more marble columns supported the entrance—crimson ones topped with cerulean-blue capitals. Behind them, a mural of bright dolphins danced above the doorway.
They stirred something in my memory. At first, I couldn’t place it, until I recalled the vision I’d had in the bookstore with Louisa. This ancient architecture was similar to the designs I’d seen adorning Thera’s shores, where the human sailor version of Manannán had lived long ago. These columns must have stood since the Days of the Gods. The thought sent a shiver rippling through the fine fur on my arms.
Beside me, Edward and Skye were taking in the structure with the same wonder.
“Prince Aigéan.” A lilac-tailed merman—presumably the Thálassian herald—drifted out to greet us. “King Proteus awaits you in the throne room.”
“Thank you, Elias.” Finn nodded at the herald.
