“I need to go,” I say, rising from the bed and swimming towards the door. But Sade stops me with a hand on my arm.
“This is for you.” Reaching into her bag, she pulls out a sheathed dagger, its opalescent hilt reflecting the small crystals in Lyre’s room. When I’m reluctant to take it, confused why Sade is giving it to me, she grumbles something under her breath and forces my fingers to wrap around the hilt. “Every siren should have a blade of their own to defend themselves. This one is made in the same style of weapons before the war. Keep it close at hand and practice with it.”
Gripping the handle, I slide the thin silver blade free of its covering, marveling over how light it feels in my hand. So different from the fae dagger I had found and claimed as mine. The timing of this gift could not be more perfect, and I tightly swallow the pressure that threatens to release as I look at her.
“Thank you.”
She shrugs with nonchalance, but I don’t miss the way her lips quirk. “Now, go off to your secret meeting and, for the love of all the gods, please make sure you aren’t being followed.”
Hours later, I arrive at the cavern, rising out of the sea only to shiver against the bitter cold air.
I spent the entire swim here replaying what I am going to say to Myla in my head. This will be our eighth meeting—ten weeks having passed since we made the life debt—and somehow, I’m more nervous about this meeting than I was for our first. Trudging onto the sand, I squeeze the excess water from my hair before draping it over my shoulders to cover my chest when a deep rumbling sound halts my steps, my head snapping up to the opposite end of the cavern where a pair of yellow glowing eyes surrounded by black scales are peering through theopening. My heart lodges in my throat, a sound crossed between a whimper and a scream joining it as I stumble backwards.
“She is not going to hurt you.” Myla’s smooth voice echoes against the stone, and I scan the cavern as a cold sweat drips down my back.
“Doessheknow that?”
Myla chuckles and finally steps into the open beside the dragon’s head, the pair making quite the menacing duo with the all black they both wear. “I’ve let her know that you are…nota snack.” The corners of her mouth curl, and it does nothing to temper the odd beating of my heart. “At least, not yet.”
“Comforting,” I rasp, resuming my steps towards the center of the cavern where I wait for Myla to meet me. “Is sheyourdragon?”
Myla stops a few feet away from me, looking over her shoulder at the beast who waits just beyond the large archway. “She is.” When she turns back, any follow-up questions I have about dragons and why she has one vanish at the look on her face. She’s…smiling. And not a smile tainted in cruelty or mockery. It’s a genuine one. One that lifts her cheeks and makes her eyes squint. I’m acutely aware that I’m staring at her, that I’m sure there is a stunned look on my face, yet I can’t force myself to look away. Myla meets my fascination with an arched brow, her smile slowly falling until her lips are a flat line. “Little Siren,” she says, warning laced in her low tone.
I catch the tunic she tosses my way but don’t put it on, instead reaching a hand into the bag strapped across my chest. “I have something for you,” I tell her, forcing my breaths to come in evenly as I grip the smooth hilt of the dragon bone dagger. Pulling it out, I lift my head to find Myla watching me curiously, her hand pressed into the side of her thigh where her curved blade is strapped. “This,” I say, taking a step towards her withthe dagger resting in the palm of my outstretched hand, “belongs to you.”
Myla stares at my hand for a long moment before her eyes narrow. “As I recall, you won the ownership of that dagger in a rather ruthless display if I do say so myself.”
A soft laugh tumbles from me, but I again take another step towards her. “I did. But this blade is yours. Or, at the very least, your father’s. It should be wielded by fae alone. So take it.”
When she again makes no effort to grab the weapon, looking at me like she’s trying to figure out the trap in my words, I exhale sharply and throw my other hand in the air. “This isn’t some kind of weird exchange or bargain, Myla. Take the dagger!”
“Why aren’t you keeping it for yourself?”
“Why are you not taking it when I know you want it?” I counter.
She smiles again, though this one is all jagged edges. “Let’s fight for it—”
“Oh mygods.No!” Marching towards her, I reach for her hand, like Sade had done to me, only for her to latch on to my wrist and twist my arm until I’m forced to spin and give her my back. Then she tugs me close, her scent overwhelming me as the heat of her body radiates over the bare skin at my back. “What are you doing?”
Her cheek brushes mine as she lowers her head. “Fight me,” she says, the caress of her voice sending a shiver down my spine. I send the elbow of my free arm back into her torso, just as she taught me last week. Only she dodges it, becauseof courseshe does, and then has the audacity to laugh in my ear. “Why are you trying to give me the dagger?”
“Because it isyours!” I grit out, lifting my leg and kicking it back towards her shin. My bare foot slides against the outside of her leg, and the growl that leaves me is nearly animalistic.
“You weresoadamant that it was yours only a few weeks ago, Aria. What changed your mind?”
“Does it matter?”Damn fae and her need to turn everything into some sort of exchange!
“It shouldn’t matter,” she says like a confession, her tone making me pause. “And yet…” Myla’s hold on me relaxes slightly, as if she’s just realized our proximity to each other. Or the fact that I haven’t dressed in the tunic she gave me, leaving me naked in her hands. I hear her throat work with a swallow, her next inhale painfully slow. “Yet it does. I want to knowwhy, Aria, and I find that fact entirely too infuriating to examine closely. Do you understand what it is like to have someone show up in your head despite your best efforts to push them out?”
Yes, I want to say.I do. With you. But instead, I finally remember how to get out of the hold she has me in. I go limp, turning into dead weight and dragging us both down. Myla curses, using her quick reflexes to turn us at the last second so her back hits the ground first and I land on top of her. Facing her, I brace my weight on my knees as they bracket her hips, keeping space between our bodies as I angle the edge of the dagger over her throat. “Will you take the dagger now?” I ask through heaving breaths, her closeness making my skin tingle with awareness.
“Tell me why.”
I groan in frustration, moving to push away from her when she grabs my wrist more gently than before. Her eyes search mine, something desperate and edged staring back at me from their dark depths.
“Tell me.” This time, it comes out as a plea.
“Myla—”
