Chest heaving, she blinked. Shocked. Betrayed.
Staring at the spot where he'd been and gone.
Horrified.
That he would leave her. Here. Kneeling on this wretched beach.
With Thalos.
Lungs rattling—wet and wrong—she almost laughed. Sinking into the sand. Braced on her hands and knees, she stared at the webbing, at the dainty sunset scales speckling her forearms.
That Nyxarion would dare.
That he'd breed her before an audience, name her his precious living flame—the heart of Vorynthar. Only to abandon her.
To Thalos.
Something tattered and broken bubbled over her lips, then.
A choked thing that died before it escaped her throat.
He'd abandoned her the moment she became inconvenient… just like everyone else. The priests who'd taken her maidenhead, and smeared vestal blood across an altar. The slavers who'd measured her worth in silver. And him.
Being abandoned was the only real consistent thing in her life.
"Well," Thalos hummed, snaking closer as he squinted after Nyxarion, "that's settled, then."
Gills clattering, Kore turned to look.
Thalos was perfect. Composed. The morning sunlight splintered off his scales as he slipped closer. Looming. Gleaming silver while she wheezed and crackled.
Smug, a smile tugged at the edge of his lips. "You know," he murmured, spines lifting as he turned his face into the sun, "I think I might stay. It's been an age since I had any reason to linger. Up here. In the surf." Polar eyes raked her wretched body,then. Lingering on the way her ribs hollowed out. On the spread of her gills.
She returned his smile with one that was cutting and sharp. All teeth.
And, pushing herself up, trembling, she stood on legs that had gone liquid. Her knees buckled. Wobbling and snapping as she fought for balance.
She took a step.
Locked her knees.
Claimed another.
And another.
Feet dragging across the sand, chasing the surf, she shuffled toward the sweet relief of the sea.
Thalos followed, and with a sigh, he swept her up. One arm a merciless band of strength behind her thighs. The other sending her over his shoulder as he snaked to the water's edge. "We'll call this a mercy," he said as the sea took them back. And his palm slid down her thighs as the water swallowed her knees.
Dazed, her next breath was filled with the rush of liquid relief.
Gills flaring, sweet, soothing brine flooded her chest.
And she gasped. Head lolling as the water moved over her. Through her.
A single note chimed through the sea.
Crystalline. A horn declaring Thalos the winner of the Chain of Breath.
