“I don’t want to be rude to these people… What do you mean flat on my back?”I want answers from my bonded God. All I get in response is a sort of lightness down the bond, like the bastard is enjoying himself, playing his mind games with me.
I push my annoyance down the bond thread.
“Dove?” Moyries calls to me.
She is motioning to me with her technicoloured hand, trying to get my attention, the colours changing when she shifts her fingers into the light filtering through the open windows behind her.
“Yes, we are mates. In the fae kingdom, it’s called God-bonded,” I respond to her earlier question.
The princess tries the words on for size, rolling them around her lips. I take a sip of my drink while she mulls it over. “That means you wish to have his young, correct?”
I almost spit the green substance out in her confused face. “Young?”
“Children?”
“Children. Oh, Gods, I suppose one day. But what it really means is that our hearts belong to each other. He cannot marry you. It will kill him.” I take the conversation away from offspring and into an area that makes sense. Well, to me anyway.
Rivern can not be with another. It will irrevocably harm him. It’s a sense I have within the bond.
“You are his betrothed?” She moves her eyes from my face down to the dip in my dress.
“Yes, you could say that. I’m here because I’m hoping we can come to an arrangement.” An arrangement that will need to solidify Moyrie’s help in freeing Fury and nullify her betrothal to Rivern.Maybe the Seraph bit will buy me more leverage?“I’m hoping we can provide a trade. My God needs your help. He is imprisoned, and we require original blooded offspring from each of the Gods to free him—a fae, a silver and a mer.”
On mentioning the mers, the two silvers before me hiss loudly.
“The mers,” she all but spits, “are our enemy.”
Great.I inwardly deflate.This is going swimmingly.
“Tell me what my God can do for you? Anything in exchange for you releasing Rivern from his betrothal and your help with freeing my God.”
Moyrie’s features are still bunched, her small fingers drumming on the edge of her cup. “Do you know the prophecy of the Seraph?” she asks. I shake my head, urging her to continue. “It is told that Osear will send an angel from the stars who will usher in a new world. They will tame the great beasts and bring peace.”
Moyrie is so serious as she tells her story, my hands shake.I’m no Seraph. She’s mistaken.I take a heavy swig of my green drink.
“The red dragon chose you. Once you complete our final test, I will happily go with you and give Rivern up as my betrothed.”
Final test?“What final test?” I ask.
The male next to Moyrie whispers in her ear low enough that only she can hear. He has not spoken this whole time, instead letting the princess of the silvers speak. It’s a dynamic I’m not used to, considering the men of Haven never deflect to the women.
Pulling away from the older male, she addresses me. “In fact, there is one thing we would appreciate your help with, especially regarding the mers. With your affinity for creatures”—she waves her hand at Gideon and Rivern—“you may be able to garner some knowledge into the disappearance of a special substance we hold dear within the Silver Sands.”
I look on, confused and unsure where she’s taking our conversation. “What substance?”
“They grow in the water under the city. We call them our jewels of the sea. The clams in which they grow have not been fruitful in some time. We believe the mers might be stealing them.”
“Jewels? You wear them?” I ask.
“No, we eat them. When the tide rises within the cave they are housed in, they repopulate, but that hasn’t been the case for centuries.”
Jewels they can eat? Surely, I’ve heard everything.No doubt with my luck, though, this is only the beginning, especially if our next leg of this journey is towards an unknown civilisation—one the silvers say is home to their enemies.
“If you are our guide to the mers, I will ask them of your jewels, and I will owe you one more favour if you help us free my God from his island prison.”
She mulls it over with the man next to her, communicating in hushed tones. While they are discussing, I quickly relay the information back to my two protectors.
“Which God is helping you?” Rivern raises his wheat-coloured brows, the golden lines over his forehead creasing a little.
