“Don’t I? Tell me, Alaric—why did you save me that night? Why bring a mermaid aboard a pirate ship if there wasno place for her?”
Fire and ice in her eyes. Demanding. Unrelenting.
Saints—I wanted to lie. Wanted to tell her it was because she mattered. Because she’d always mattered. “I was desperate.”
A confession I could never take back. The potion’s edge was already thinning, turning heat into pressure, and it stripped the lie right off my tongue.
My throat burned. “Because when I saw your light—your mark—it matched the quartz I found,” My voice caught. “I thought you could free me from this curse.”
She went rigid in my arms like I’d struck her. The hall blurred—laughter and music pressing close—but I only saw her. The way her eyes widened, full of disbelief. The way her lips parted without sound. The way her breath hitched. Saints. The look she gave me—like I’d broken something fragile in her that I could never mend.
I hated myself in that moment. Hated that I’d said it. Hated that it was true. I had dragged her from the sea not out of love, not out of some noble instinct—out of desperation. And somewhere along the way… It had become so much more.
“Nerina.” My voice cracked, low and raw, pitched only for her. “I was selfish. I was drowning in a curse I couldn’t break, and I thought you were my way out. But then—”.
She shook her head, but I saw the conflict there. Saints—she wanted to hate me. Sheshoulddespise me.
“Nerina—” I opened my mouth—desperate to tell her everything.
“Is there anything about you that wasn’t a lie?” She snapped before she tore herself from my arms.
Whispers followed her retreat like smoke—sharp, curious, cruel. The space she left was colder than the sea. The borrowed heat in my veins faltered—and hunger rushed in to fill the gap. I stood there, stunned, every drumbeat pounding through my chest like a hammer. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Eira break from a knot of dancers. Her grin was gone. Brow furrowed, she shoved her way after Nerina, skirts swishing, braid snapping behind her like a banner of war. I felt it—eyes on me.
Veyrion hadn’t gone far. Of course he hadn’t. He leaned against a carved pillar like a predator waiting for the hunt to begin, watching the whole damn thing with infuriating calm. His expression was unreadable—but the glint in his eyes told me he’d enjoyed every second. He pushed off the pillar and crossed the space between us, too steady, his presence carrying the weight of the hall. He stopped just short of me, red cloak brushing the floor, a faint grin lingering at his mouth.
“I think it’s time you leave,” he said—not raising his voice, because he didn’t need to.
I couldn’t tell if he meant the hall… Or Nerina.
I straightened, grip tightening on my cloak, forcing myself not to bare fangs in the middle of his hall. “You don’t get to tell me when to leave her,” I growled.
“You think I didn’t see her face when she looked at you?” His eyes gleamed—steel in the firelight. “Like she’d just realized what you were. Another chain. Another thief of her power.” His voice dipped, dangerous. “Do you truly want to argue who she trusts less right now?”
I took a step forward, crowd noise roaring in my ears. “I’ve bled for her. Protected her when no one else would. You?” I spat. “You’re only circling because you smell weakness.”
Veyrion didn’t flinch. He leaned in, voice a low rumble. “She is anything but weak. You don’t understand her nearly as well as you think.”
“And you do?” I hissed.
His smile returned, slow and cutting. “I don’t have to cage her to keep her here.” His eyes flicked—briefly—toward the doorway she’d disappeared through. “You should ask yourself why.”
The words snapped something in me. A snarl tore loose—low and guttural—echoing through the hall. My fangs bared, glinting in the firelight before I could stop it. Gasps rippled. Laughter faltered. I felt eyes on us—warriors, elders, children—watching as something feral surfaced beneath my skin. I wanted blood. Wanted to tear that grin from his face and make him choke on his certainty. Veyrion didn’t flinch. He only smiled wider, head tilting like he’d been waiting for this.
I almost lunged. The crowd’s eyes held me in place—whispers already spreading. And I knew: if I moved, if I struck him now, I’d lose her for good.
Veyrion stepped back just enough to leave me burning where I stood. There was no surprise in his eyes. Only confirmation.
This wasn’t over. Not by a long damn mile.
The drums thundered. Voices rose again. The space between us was silent.
And though I didn’t back down, I knew one thing with cold certainty—Veyrion and I were already at war.
49
Nerina
Skeldrhall, Ymirskald
