Crap.
Can't exactly tell Miss Protocol here that we're running a con to snag a key for a seriously impatient sea goddess. The whole "meeting the Queen" thing definitely wasn't in the brochure—my bad for not reading the fine print. Calypso isn't exactly known for her warm and fuzzy patience, and something tells me, "Sorry, your sea goddess-ness, we got held up at a royal meet-and-greet" won't fly.
"Look," I say, channeling my inner diva, "I know we're basically the hottest thing since sliced bread around here, but I don't have time to deal with my adoring fans right now." I quip, trying to sound more annoyed than panicked. "Can't you tell your queen we'll take a raincheck? Maybe pencil her in for next week after we've—" I catch myself before I spill the beans, "after we gather ourselves? We're kinda exhausted."
Mirella stares at me, her fire-red hair glowing in the pool's blue lights. Her expression turns almost…scared..? "I'm afraid that's not possible," her voice firm. "The Queen's summons is not a request but a command. You would be wise to heed it."
I groan, my head falling back in frustration. "Fiiiine," I grumble. "But just for the record, I'm doing this under duress. And if your queen tries to make me curtsy or some shit, I'm out."
Mirella's face relaxes like I've just offered her a lifeline, but something's still off. My empathy meter is going haywire, blaring like a five-alarm fire in my head. It's like she's radiating worry in waves, and I'm the unwitting surfboard catching every single one.
I've got a sinking feeling that we're about to dive headfirst into a whole new ocean of trouble.
Rhyland picks up on my unease through our bond—the guilt gnawing at me for dragging this poor, dutiful mermaid into our mess of lies and schemes—wraps a steadying arm around my waist. She's just doing her job, following orders from what sounds like the aquatic version of Miranda Priestly, and here we are, about to royally screw her over.
"Let's see what the Queen wants," Rhyland offers, probably saving this poor mermaid from getting her fins handed to her by her boss.
Great, looks like we're about to add 'awkward royal audience' to our growing list of shit-hitting-the-fan moments.
I nod, my jaw clenched tight. "Yeah," I mutter, trying to swallow down the guilt lodged in my throat. "Let's just hope this doesn't last all night." I force my best 'bored socialite' impression like this is just another tedious obligation rather than a potentially catastrophic wrench in our plans.
Time to play the bored-but-compliant guest and pray we don't end up in some underwater dungeon for attempted magical theft.
Mirella nods, the pearls in her hair glistening at the movement, her face impassive. "Understood," her tone clipped and professional. "Now, if you'll follow me, the Queen is waiting."
"By the way, how the hell did you find us? Not that I know where we are exactly…" I can't help but ask.
"You're in Crystal Falls," she says as if it's clearly evident. "And how I found you was one of only a few options. Now, may we go?"
I have no idea where Crystal Falls is without looking at a map, so I leave it at that.
"Uhh, just one small detail," I interject. "We fragile humans have this pesky little requirement called oxygen. You know, that thing we need to survive? I'd hate for you to forget that minor detailagainand have us drowning before we even reach Her Majesty."
Mirella's blue eyes catch the light as she expresses apology and exasperation. "Yes, I do apologize for that oversight," her tone is sincere. "Please, enter the water, and I will bestow the gift of breath upon you. It should allow you to breathe underwater until we reach the palace."
I pause, my mind processing her words. "Hold up, are you saying I can breathe underwater? Like,actuallybreathe, not just hold my breath and hope for the best?"
"Yes, the magic of theMerfolkgrants us the ability to give breath to humans, allowing them to travel underwater with ease," Mirella explains, her tone matter-of-fact. "Unlike the others…"
She says this with a clear indication that Sirens, for all their sexy singing and enchanting good looks, are lacking in the underwater breathing department.
Well, well, well, isn't that an interesting little factoid?
"Well, color me impressed," I muse, my eyebrows raised in surprise. "I suppose there's more to you, Merfolk, than just pretty faces and shiny tails, huh?"
Mirella smiles, a hint of pride glimmering in her blue eyes. "Indeed, our magic runs deep and serves many purposes. Now, shall we proceed? The Queen is not known for her patience."
She looks edgy as hell, so let's just rip off the damn Band-Aid and get this over with.
I nod, taking a deep breath and steeling myself for whatever lies ahead. "Lead the way, my finned friend. Let's see what your illustrious leader wants with little old us."
I need to invest in a wetsuit at this point. My leathers are so salt-crusted and stuck to my skin that they might as well be a second layer of epidermis. Daggers sheathed, I dive down into the crystal-clear waters, the blue crystals illuminating the area like some underwater version of the Northern Lights. It's so clear and beautiful down here that I half expect to see Poseidon's tour guide pop up with a "Welcome to Atlantis" sign.
Mirella reaches me, her movements as fluid as...well, water. She places her lips over mine, and for a moment, I'm tempted to quip about buying me dinner first. But then she breathes air into my lungs, and suddenly, it's like my need for oxygen vanishes.
I take a tentative breath, half-expecting to choke on a mouthful of seawater. But to my surprise, nothing happens. The water fills my lungs as easily as air, and I feel no discomfort. It's like my body has suddenly decided that H2O is an acceptable substitute for oxygen.
The sensation is so strange and yet so natural that I can't help but marvel at it. I take another breath, then another, each one as effortless as the last. This is not what I experienced with the Siren when being dragged down to Calypso; clearly, this is the magic only mermaids wield.
