For a moment, I thought I might manage it.
Then my knees buckled.
I crashed to the floor, the impact jarring, pain shooting up my hips. I lay there stunned, breathless, as shame curled around me like a net. But if I could survive the Veil, I could survive this.
I had to.
Slowly, stubbornly, I tried again—using the edge of the bed to hoist myself up. My legs trembled, balance uncertain, but I found my footing long enough to take one step.
Then another. And another.
I stumbled, catching myself against the wall with a hiss. I dragged myself forward, each movement shaky and wrong. Finally, I reached the desk. My fingers wrapped around the edge like a lifeline, and I leaned there, panting. My entire body burned with exertion, but I was upright.
Standing. Alive.
My fingers brushed over the scattered maps on the desk before pausing on a glass decanter half-filled with a thick, crimson liquid.
Lanternlight flickered over it, making the red glisten like rubies in the dark.
Unease curled in my gut. Wine? Medicine? The way the liquid clung to the glass made my throat tighten.
Why did he have something like this?
Before I could examine it further, the door creaked open again. I snatched my hand back as Alaric reappeared, balancing a bundle of clothes in one hand and a steaming basin of water in the other. His stormy eyes flicked between my trembling legs, the desk, and—just for a moment—the decanter. A knowing smirk touched his mouth, but he said nothing.
Instead, he lowered the basin with uncharacteristic softness. “The cook heated this for you,” he said, tone measured, curiosity threaded through it.
He held out the clothes—a plain linen shirt and breeches, clearly borrowed from the crew. “They’re not exactly your size, but it’s all I could find.”
I stared at the offering, acutely aware he was watching. Embarrassment flared again, but I forced my chin high. “Thanks,” I muttered, reaching for them.
He didn’t move immediately, eyes flicking to the shake in my legs. “You’re stubborn, I’ll give you that,” he said, softer than before. Then, without waiting for a response, he pulled the chair out for me. “But maybe sit down before you fall flat on your face.”
Reluctantly, I listened. The basin’s warmth tempted me, but exhaustion won. Sitting—at least the way humans did—was strange. Mermaids tucked their tails beneath them, anchored and balanced by the curve of fin.
Humans sat with limbs folded and exposed.
I tried to imitate it, lowering myself carefully onto the chair. My new legs didn’t fold right; my hips ached, muscles straining in ways they never had. The surface was hard, unyielding—nothing like water’s gentle buoyancy. I gripped the desk for balance, forcing myself to stay still through the discomfort, half afraid that if I moved wrong, my legs might simply give up.
I caught Alaric staring at me again. Watching.
“What?” I snapped, narrowing my eyes. “Haven’t you ever seen legs before?” He blinked, then gave a crooked smile. “Yes. Just not on a mermaid.”
I arched my brow. “Well, congratulations. You’ve witnessed history.”
“I’m not sure whether to be impressed… or very, very concerned,” he murmured.
“Right back at you,” I said, but the bite in my voice didn’t hide the tremor underneath.
He chuckled again, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
I held his gaze a heartbeat too long, then looked away—afraid he might see how close I was to unraveling. My chest felt too tight. My skin didn’t feel like mine. My voice barely belonged to me. I was scared. Confused. Still bleeding on the inside from a change I didn’t ask for and didn’t know how to survive.
I focused on the basin, watching steam rise as warmth began to chase the cold from my skin. Alaric lingered another moment, his expression unreadable, before stepping back toward the door.
When it clicked shut, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
Slowly, I reached for the cloth beside the basin and dipped it into steaming water. The heat stung my fingers at first—asudden shock against the numb cold under my skin—then softened intosomething almost soothing. I ran the cloth over my arms, grime and salt washing away in streaks. Each pass brought a small measure of relief, easing the ache in my muscles.
