Sigurd’s golden eyes are bright in the gloom. “Ah, there are very few worlds that can contain me.”
“You are the master at answering a question with flannel,” I inform him, smiling at his laughter. “So why walk on the path if you don’t need to?”
He directs an astonished look at me. “Why, because you are there, Cary,” he says, and it’s such a startled, honest reaction—as if the truth should be completely obvious. I raise his hand and kiss his fingers, watching the way his eyes slide shut for a moment. Then I pull back and we continue down the endless maze of corridors.
“So, we’re about to meet the Kraken?” I ask.
“Yes, but only the world of myths and legends names her so. Down here, she is the Lady of the Deep.”
“Right now, I’m remembering all the old films I saw where a huge scaly leviathan appeared out of the waves, usually carrying a virgin off to its lair.”
Marin draws nearer and snorts. “It would be hard to find one of those here. Especially around my father.” I laugh, and he grins at me. “If you had a lifetime to speculate, you still could not anticipate her.”
“Why did your mother send us to her?” I ask tentatively.
Sigurd’s arm tightens on my shoulders.
Marin just gives me a small smile. “My mother never operates on one level, Cary. In this instance I believe she wanted to protect you both.”
“How would this help?”
“You were attracting too much attention. Down here, Arista’s power grows as her influence over my father intensifies. Arista’s daughter’s disappearance is being used as leverage. She is testing her powers by demanding more from the king than any, save my mother, ever dare.”
“And Arista’s husband?”
“His only concern is the wealth of their family. Arista could fuck a million Mer, and he would just look to his coffers.” His young voice drips with disgust.
“Is he not worried about his daughter?”
He shrugs. “Melusine is a pawn to Delmar, and his family have never been friends of the humans. If a thousand humans were to die in a freak tidal wave, the event would only exist for Arista to prove that her influence is strong.”
“Would your father…?”
“Cast aside my mother?”
I nod.
“Nay, there is no danger of that. They are as fascinated by each other as they ever were. There is a pull between them that is as strong as the tide and just as inevitable. Besides, he may be king, but she still has power derived from my grandmother. If my grandmother had the idea to crush him, she could, and my mother likes to taunt him with that knowledge. He is prone to fancies that are like summer storms—intense, but always short in duration. My mother knows this and tolerates it because she has her own companions, but woe betide anyone who steps near her throne. She will not countenance that. As such, throwing you and Sigurd at my grandmother fulfils another function for her.” He watches me steadily. “She has thrown a lightning bolt into the air on a whim to see what happens. If you succeed in finding Melusine and happen to humiliate Arista in the process, my mother will be content. If not, there is no harm done.”
I marvel at the fact that, with parents such as his, he’s obviously a warm man concerned with other people’s safety, but I don’t say this out loud. I just nod.
Sigurd stirs. “Have a care of Arista, though, Marin. She is more dangerous than you know. Dismissing her would be a foolish move.”
Marin waves a casual hand, but I can’t help but think that Sigurd is right. I got the impression of cold depths in Arista.
We’ve been moving steadily downward as we talk, and the corridors are gloomy. The walls are made of dark grey stone, and the few lights available glow a sickly green. Marin comes to a wooden door. He looks at Sigurd and me. “Are you ready?”
Nerves wash over me, but Sigurd draws me closer, his warmth steadying. I look at him gratefully, and he drops a kiss on my nose. “Are you ready? We will not move until you are.”
I draw myself up. “I’m ready,” I say firmly. My reward is his look of pride.
Marin taps, and the door swings open. I look for the guards who seem to operate the doors, but there’s no one there. “Well, this isn’t creepy at all,” I whisper, and Sigurd snorts.
We move into the room, and I’m startled when I look down at my feet. We’re standing on a stone-flagged floor. “Oh my god, where’s the path?” I grab Sigurd’s arm. “There’s no path.”
“Peace,” he says, his fingers cool on my skin. “We need no path here.”
“Why?”
