“Stop,” Linda hisses. “Our species don’t understand each other. Your race has to do odd things to convince them to insert their penis.” She stares at Malachi. “You do those things?”
“She means orgasm,” I mutter.
“Yes, Linda, I do those things,” Malachi says. He’s trying his best not to laugh, but he’s a tempo away from falling over.
“Fascinating,” Linda says, looking him up and down. “Can I watch?”
“Absolutely not,” I snap.
Malachi covers his mouth and shakes his head. “Sorry, Linda, everything Daphne does in the bedroom is for our ears only.”
“Our?”
“My brothers and I.”
“How many of you are there?”
“Four. And yes, we are all in love with Daphne.”
She looks me up and down with respect. “I do believe you are an icon, Daphne Stone.”
“Oh, great. Now you’re making poetry about the last Lady while I deal with a thousand poops a day,” Steve grumbles.
Linda rolls her eyes. “Frank will be here shortly to take you in to see the king. Try not to mention the bedroom incident unless he does. He was rather sore about it for a number of tides.” Sheushers her brood of tiny, very cute, giggling seahorses and her moody male toward the vast ocean.
“Well, that was different. But impressive,” Malachi mutters. “I’m not sure there’s a realm immune to your charm.”
“Wait until you meet Poseidon. Whatever you do, do not agree to any situation in a bedchamber. It will scar you for life. Even dying doesn’t burn the trauma from your brain.”
Frank appears with his trademark scowl in place.
“He’s a merman,” Malachi whispers.
“Mm-hmm.” I wave at my grumpy guide. “Hey, Frank. Long time no swim.”
“Your ocean jokes are abysmal,” Frank says in greeting.
“Yikes,” Malachi says. “Tough crowd.”
Frank jerks his head. “Follow me. Let’s get whatever this is over with.”
I smile as we follow. “What did you do to him?” Malachi wonders.
“Me? Nothing. This is actually Frank on a good diurnal.”
“No, it’s not,” Frank calls out. “Any diurnal with you in it is a bad one.”
“Tough love,” I explain to Malachi.
We pass by many sea folk who all eye us curiously.
Trumpets sound, and we stride toward the throne and the man in question, Poseidon. He leans forward and curls his fingers around his chin. We get to the bottom of the steps, and I do a weird curtsey on account of the slow ocean current.
“Thank you for seeing us,” I say.
“You brought me a knight,” Poseidon bellows. The water pulses around us with his power. Oof, that’s potent.
“You asked for the sword, and the sword is his. They’re a package deal.”
