23
Morgana
The sunken pleasure palace of Baiae was off the coast of Naples, and we traveled to the party in a royal procession. The Thálassian court and Skye drifted at the front of the group, while Edward, Finn, and I brought up the rear.
The waters here were shallower than in the deep, dark Atlantic, and we could see night falling in soft shadows across the waves. Once again, I was glad Finn was carrying Edward—it meant I could keep avoiding his wandering hands and sweet sentiments.
I just had to get through tonight. Tomorrow, I’d receive the dream at the ceremony and could set off to find the prophecy, without him.
As we swam, Edward, who seemed to have forgotten his mistrust of Finn while caught in his muscular embrace, rattled off a history lesson. “They called Baiae the ‘city of sin,’ you know.”
Finn chuckled. “Did they now?” His gaze found me, and dark butterflies took flight inmy stomach.
“Before it was swallowed by the sea, it was a place where the wealthy and powerful of the Roman Empire came to conduct their illicit affairs...” Edward waved his arms animatedly, almost smacking Finn in the jaw once or twice.
We swam quickly, and soon we had left the curated coral gardens of the Thálassian palace behind, drifting over basins, ridges, and an array of sea life as we slipped through the Strait of Messina and up the front of Italy’s boot. As we neared the outskirts of the sunken city of Baiae, crumpled ruins littered the waters.
“Don’t we need to worry about humans?” I swallowed, remembering they could see me.
Finn rubbed a hand over his jaw. “The city will be warded, like our castles.”
“Spiffing!” Edward’s eyes were alight with excitement.
Eroded brick walls covered in algae led the way into the space. Lights had been strung from broken-down arches, and floating glass orbs littered the waters above. The sand had been cleared from intricately tiled floors, their hexagon patterns shining under the illuminated spheres.
I reached the rest of the Thálassian royal party and Skye, who had paused at the outskirts of the dance floor. Finn glided up beside us, placing Edward down. My chest swelled with wonder as I took in the space.
“This isourpleasure palace, which we built in the ruins of sunken Baiae. The humans can’t see it, of course. To them, it looks as decayed as ever,” Princess Porphura explained, her violet hair billowing around her face as she turned to me.
“Come on, let’s get a wine.” Layla giggled, her many gold bangles gleaming in the turquoise light as she grabbed her wife’s hand and led her into the party.
Alexandros, Damon, and the king and queendrifted after them, and we followed cautiously behind. The remains of Roman statues depicting voluptuous women and men rose from the blue, decorated with algae and shaped by erosion, as schools of fish wove between them.
“Nymphs,” Edward said, gesturing to the statues. “This was once the emperor’s dining hall.”
Music rippled through the water in seductive notes, and Mer dancers, bare-chested and adorned with pearls, spun in hypnotic circles around the space, using kelp as ribbons. They would lean over one dining guest and then move on to the next, teasing and sultry.
My mouth fell open, and I hastily clamped it shut.
The nymph statues that surrounded the space were hung with lights, providing a magical ambiance, but beyond them, night had fallen, cloaking the sea in darkness.
Tables curved around the edges of the dance floor, laden with what I now recognized as Mer delicacies: seafood towers, kelp sushi rolls, rose-gold clams bursting with caviar, and cups of what looked like red wine. We were in the Mediterranean after all. I eyed the food gratefully; I was getting sick of wild fish.
Sweet perfumes floated like mist through the currents, stirred by flirtatious glances and brushings of dancing tails.
“What the actual fuck?” Skye whispered from beside me.
“The philosopher Seneca once said of this place, ‘Baiae is a place to be avoided. People wandering drunk along the beach. The riotous revelry of sailing parties...’” Edward gestured to the sultry Mer dancers.
Finn smirked. “This Seneca sounds like a bore.”
Mer of all colors, shapes, and sizes, and even some Sirens, were taking partners to the dance floor or sitting draped over coral lounges set around the polished tile floors, their scales glinting as they sipped from conchgoblets. Some of the females were bare-chested like the dancers, others wore shell bras, or body glitter matched to the hue of their scales.
“Your Highness.” Elias rushed forward from the merriment to bow to King Proteus. “Your table awaits.”
The herald led us to a long table at the head of the dance floor. Above us, on raised ruins, musicians strummed on harps, creating a beautiful, enticing song. Along the length of the table, sponge couches allowed the Mer to recline with ease, while at the head, carved seats accommodated sweeping tails.
“Did I mention I get it now?” Skye arched a brow, her gaze drifting over the many rippling torsos filling the space as I sat, and she slid into a sponge seat beside me.
