“Much as I hate to dim your voice, Cary, mayhap that would be wise.”
“You look worried.” He’s starting to scare me. He’s not been this serious with me before.
He takes hold of my hips and stares down at me. “I would not have you scared for all of a dragon’s riches, but sometimes it is wise to be cautious. I will be with you. I have visited this land many times, and my friend, who now waits for us on the other side, is a high-ranking member of the court. Everything will be fine. Just be on your guard, yes?”
I nod, and he bends, taking my mouth in a hard kiss. Then he steps back and sets his hand on the painting again.
For a second, there’s only the distant booming of the sea and the wail of the wind. Then the picture starts to rotate, turning faster and faster until it’s spinning wildly. A hole begins to open up inside it, like a vortex. It grows larger, and a wind rises that’s fierce enough to blow our hair back. The whole cave has gone dim, the walls full of dimpling shadows, and there’s a strong smell of the sea.
The scent intensifies, and Sigurd reaches down to grab my hand. “Ready?”
Nerves squirm in my belly like a nest of snakes, but a heady excitement is there too. “Yes,” I say steadily.
“Then come.” He leads me into the vortex.
We remain still, even as the vortex spins crazily around us, tugging at our clothes, blowing our hair. There’s a whirring, crackling noise, and when I grow dizzy, I lean into Sigurd, who puts his arm around me, steering me clear of the vortex’s edge. The sound of wind and the booming sea is so strong I can’t think. I realise with horror that the lights are fading, and soon I can’t see at all.
“Sigurd?” I shout.
“I am here,” he says, his voice steady. “Ouch! Bloody thing.”
“What is it?” I ask wildly, trying to peer through the gloom. “Are you okay?” I gasp as the ground beneath us starts to move. It’s like being on a moving escalator at the airport, and my feet obey the command.
When it comes to a sudden stop, it’s jarring, and I would have fallen if it weren’t for Sigurd’s steady hand. There’s a glimmer of light ahead, and I watch open-mouthed as Sigurd reaches out and pulls back a curtain. It’s tattered as though it’s been under the sea for a long time, and it sways in the tide. I blink. Thetide?
Chapter Ten
We’re standing on a path of golden sand that stretches far into the distance. To my right is a deep dip—almost like a valley on land, although the green down here is seaweed floating lazily in the current. Fish swim by, their colours neon bright.
When I look up, all I can see is water and a faint light. Water surrounds me—I can feel it on my hands and face, and my hair lifts in the current. It’s cool but not cold. I raise my hand and watch as it trails through the water silkily, and all the while I breathe without any trouble.
Sigurd watches me, water tugging at his long red-blond hair, his eyes a deep gold in the murky sea light.
“How is this possible that I’m breathing?” I ask. I swallow and take another breath. “How can I even be talking underwater? Why haven’t I drowned?”
“Because you are on the path.”
I look down at the sandy path again and realise that it’s lined by shells that gleam with a faint phosphorescence.
“It is magic,” he continues. “If you were to stray from the path, you would drown. The Mer enchanted the path so humans could visit. In the old days, humans and the Mer shared many ideas during the peaceful times.”
“Not anymore?”
“You are the first human to be here in many years. Maybe a century.” He must see worry in my eyes, because he cups my face in his big hand. “I promised you safe passage.”
“I know.” I gaze up at him and then notice a red mark on his forehead. “Oh, you’ve cut your head. Are you okay?”
I reach up, smoothing my fingers gently over the scrape. He leans into my touch like a big dog, and I stroke carefully, momentarily forgetting the strangeness of the situation as I appreciate his unique charm.
“Bumped your head again, dragon?” comes a lazy, accented voice from behind me.
I spin around and gasp when I see a merman floating in the water just beyond the path.
Sigurd displays no such astonishment. “That door needs to be raised,” he grumbles.
“Why? No Cornish giants visit here. Only puny six-foot-five dragons.”
Sigurd laughs and steps forward to embrace the merman in a hug. I realise this must be the friend he mentioned would accompany us. I look at him curiously. He’s beautiful in an otherworldly sort of way. His hair is long and black, and his eyes are a deep midnight blue. His lean body is tightly muscled, and his tail is covered in blue, silver, and white scales, sparkling as he moves.
