“Of course not,” Nerissa smiled, reaching to press two fingers to Kore’s throat. Prodding her gills. “Why bother explaining when he might simply rut and leave you to discover theconsequences of his actions without guidance?” She clicked her tongue, frowning at Kore’s gill slits. “Still raw, as I suspected. He rushed the change, the foolish boy.” And then, collecting Kore’s hands, she turned her palms up, inspecting the thin webbing between her fingers. “Scale growth uneven. Abyssari patterning, yes, but fragile. Not yet hardened off.” A faint click of disapproval. “Too much venom, not enough patience. Typical.”
A surprised huff of bubbles escaped her then, and Kore laughed. Emitting a squawk of sound.
Despite her obvious suffering, Nerissa’s grin was quick. “They are all fools,” she murmured, as if sharing some poisonous secret. “Males of any species—Thalassari, Abyssari, human, beast—every last one thinks only of the next chance to empty his balls.” Shifting, gills flashing crimson with effort to simply breathe on the bottom, he said, “They spend centuries perfecting the art of conquest. Strategy. Resonance. Spears and blades and pretty words.”
Fingers tracing idle patterns through the water, Nerissa flicked her tail and took a sip of breath directly from the polyps.
“But ask them to explain what they’ve done? To consider the female left drowning in their venom, alone and terrified?” Nerissa’s pale eyes glinted with something dangerous. “No. That requires thought beyond their cocks.”
Guiding her to spin, the Tide Mother continued her examination. Her touch gentle when it tested the spread of her fins.
“The Spiral is our oldest law,” she murmured. “Older than the Accord. Than the war that split the seas.” Voice growing steadier with every passing beat, gaining strength, she said, “It’s a contest between suitors. A challenge for breeding rights, three trials to determine the worthiest bloodline.”
At the mention of breeding, Kore’s fingers curled into a fist. And she took a trembling breath in a desperate bid to distract from the ache.
“It’s exceedingly rare for a Thalassari to call the Spiral for an Abyssari,” she murmured and her touch moved to the scales dimpling Kore’s hips. “But to hear one called for a Siren?” The ancient Virelii laughed, low and rich. “It’s never been done.”
Kore turned to look, glancing over her shoulder, one brow lifted in a silent question.
“The first trial begins with the changing of the tide. It is a maze. A contest of speed and agility. You, precious daughter, shall be held in the center. A prize at the heart of the maze. Whomever reaches you first, shall claim breeding rights for one full tide.”
Gills flaring as she gasped, Kore strained to process the horror of that statement.
“The second trial tests endurance,” Nerissa said. “The third, combat.” The Tide Mother’s smile turned brittle. “By the end, one sovereign will have earned you. The other will watch you swell with his enemy’s spawn.”
Kore’s hands flew to the empty cradle between her hips.
Horrified.
Shocked and appalled.
Nerissa dragged her closer, then. Something wicked and desperate flickering behind her ancient eyes, when she said, “I remember, child. When the seas were loud with your kind. Before the war. Before the Accord and the genocide that purged the last Sirens from our waters.” Her grip grew tight and painful against Kore’s skin for a moment. “Sirens were everything. Born of two worlds. The bridge between both.”
Breath catching as she stared at the other female, Kore blinked luminous eyes.
Held rapt.
Shocked.
“The Thalassari feared what you might be—evolution beyond our control,” Nerissa whispered. “So they went to war to destroy and regulate. Slaughtering every Siren they could find, and forced the Abyssari into treaties that starved them into submission.” Nerissa leaned closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “But I saw them, Kore. Saw what they could do. What they could be.”
Exhaling, slow and controlled, managing the pain, she rolled her wrist. “Thalos Asterion,” she began, her voice weaving through the current, “is the sea’s chosen heir. Swift and sure as the tides themselves, born with the cunning of a leviathan. Every scale, every fin and spine, is bred for dominion.” Her fins flared, catching the dim light, casting prismatic shadows across Kore’s face. “He will win the Spiral. Crush Nyxarion, and…”
Fins flicking, the name alone was enough to make Kore cringe.
Thalos. The king who’d looked at her with such abject disgust. Repulsed by what she was.
Not unkind, Nerissa’s voice dropped an octave when she murmured, “He means to claim you, little Siren. Not as Nyxarion does—with brute force and venom—but with precision. In the name of our law. And when he does, he will end you. Not because he understands this blood feud that’s older than he is, but because the Accord demands it. The Hollow Court will sing his name as he spills your blood onto the currents.”
It was a declaration.
A prediction that should have had Kore swimming for the surface, to get away from these games played in the Deep.
But something in Nerissa’s tone bade her slow. Listen.
“Thalos will win the first two challenges,” Nerissa murmured, “for he alone is the master of the sea, young as he is. And when the time comes, you must show him what you are.For the King of Caelith Mare has never known a Siren. You must show him.”
Mind racing, panic flashing clearly on her skin, Kore clung to her every word.
