Between bites and laughter, she started asking me questions. Not about what I could do, or what my magic might mean, but about me.
“How many siblings do you have?” she asked, tipping her mug toward me. “One,” I said, surprised at how easily the answer came. “A sister.”
“And where’s home, really?.”
I hesitated, then shrugged. “The sea, I guess. By upbringing, but… I don’t know if I could ever call it home.”
She nodded like she understood. She didn’t rush me, didn’t fill the quiet with noise. She just sipped her drink, unhurried and steady, as if we had all the time in the world. As if the gods themselves weren’t watching from the carved beams overhead.
At one point, her head tilted. “What was it like?” I hesitated.
Once, I would’ve called it beautiful. Golden. A place of wonder I never quite fit into—a gilded cage, lovely but confining.
But that was before the truth. Before I saw the chains beneath the pearl-polished halls.
“It used to feel like a dream,” I said slowly. “Endless coral spires, sea-glass windows that caught every glint of the sun. Music in the currents. Beauty everywhere.”
“But now?” she asked gently.
“Now it feels like a lie plated in gold.” The words scraped something raw, and I couldn’t stop myself. “I am unlike any other mermaid in Thalassia. I always thought they were guarding me. Protecting me. But they were draining me. My power. My life. Even my mother…” My voice trailed off, bitter curling beneath my ribs.
To my surprise, Eira didn’t press. She only nodded once, letting the silence be enough—settling between us without demand,without expectation. Eira didn’t want to know what I was. She wanted to knowwhoI was.
Eira blinked. “Wait—you’re a mermaid?”
I froze, caught off guard. Then gave the smallest nod. I waited for the recoil. For fear.
“Gods,” she laughed, shaking her head in wonder. “Veyrion must have forgotten to mention that.”
She looked at me like I’d just told her I once wrestled the kraken. But there was no fear in her expression—only curiosity. Fascination, even.
“You’re full of surprises,” she said, grinning as she leaned back against the booth cushions. “I knew there was something otherworldly about you.”
Relief flashed across my face.
She took another sip of her drink, then leaned forward slightly, voice soft but certain. “You know you’re safe here, right? Poaching has been illegal in Ymirskald for centuries. It violates the Promise of the North. Break it, and the punishment is death.”
I blinked, caught off guard by the steel in her tone. “That’s… unexpected. Considering I’ve seen what Veyrion and the Covenant do.”
Her brows knit, confusion flickering across her face. “The Covenant was built to hunt those who prey on the supernatural. Balance—that’s their purpose.”
“Balance?” The word burned in my throat. I could still see blood in the surf, smell salt thick with iron. “That’s not the word I’d use.”
She met my eyes. “Then maybe you’ve been told only part of the truth.”
The tavern’s fervor seemed to press in, stifling. My lips parted, but no words came. I wasn’t sure I believed her. I wanted to. But belief was brittle as glass, and every time I tried to hold it, it cut.
I set my mug down, curling my fingers around the warmth it left behind. “Then tell me the right story.”
She leaned back, mouth tugging into a wry smile. “Veyrion is… complicated. Loyal to a fault. He carries more than anyone should, but he won’t speak of it. He never has. Even as a boy, he thought the world was his to keep from falling apart.” Her eyes softened. “But he’s also brave. Fiercely protective. And under all that frost? There’s fire.”
I didn’t know what to do with that. But I trusted her. And maybe that was the most dangerous part.
“I saw the wreckage of one of their raids,” I said. The sight burned into my mind. “A siren split open, her scales stripped from her body like she was nothing but spoils. Cages littered the sea—sea serpents, tidehawks, creatures who belonged to thedeep trapped and bleeding in rusted iron. That is notbalance.” My voice cracked, but I didn’t stop. “Don’t try to tell me what your brother is or isn’t.”
Eira didn’t flinch. “Then maybe,” she said quietly, “you were shown what someone wanted you to see. Maybe the story you were given isn’t the truth at all.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but she went on, voice softening with something like regret. “Sometimes the Covenant is late. Sometimes the creatures they find… can’t be saved. Not every wound heals, not every chain comes off clean. Some have to be left behind, and gods, those are the hardest. But the ones they can save, are saved—Heill húsgørð.”
