She doesn’t respond to that. “Abysses was created by a goddess. Occupied by gods. A divine utopia. What if we aremeantto uncover it? What if all our pain and trauma has been forthis?”
I understand then. All at once, it crashes over me. She doesn’tthink this is a trap at all. She doesn’t think the sorcerer is maliciously guarding the heart. She thinks the gods are behind this—hergoddess—and she thinks everything in her life created her for this.
My jaw tightens. “Then I’d say the gods are fucking assholes.”
She glances up with wide eyes. Surprised. “Isn’t it part of your job description to worship your god incessantly?”
A growl reverberates through my chest. “I don’t care. If they put you through eight years of fucking torture just so you can discover some ruins, theyalldeserve to have their throats slit like any other criminal.Worsethan any other criminal. Fuck destiny and fuck them. No. No, you weren’tmeantto be tortured, Zephyra. Locked up and abused.” I shake with fury, unable to repress it when I’m already so exhausted from repressing everything else. My control frays until it’s barely hanging on by a thread. “Once we get the heart, I’m killing him, Zephyra. I’m finding the sorcerer, and I’m gutting him. Or I’m tying him up with my magic soyoucan gut him. But he’s fucking dying—suffering—one way or another.”
“Tell me how you really feel,” she teases, though her voice trembles and the silvered cord pulsates with warmth. She turns then, glances over our shoulders at the rest of the ship. The crew continues to sail along Amaya’s winds. Gavriall continues to draw his map. Vesper continues glowering at anyone who looks at her a second too long. And Amaya—she stands at the helm, lightning crackling all around her. “I never wanted him to die,” Zephyra says, so quietly I almost miss it.
“What?”
“The sorcerer.” She looks up at me, still half sitting in my lap, and clutches my arm when the ship arcs higher. Faster. “I never thought about killing him.”
That is—fucking incomprehensible to me. “Why not?”
She shrugs. “The damage is done. What would I gain from murdering him now? The worst happened. I can’t change it.” A deep breath. “I just wanted to get away. From him.Forever.I wanted to outrun it all.”
I recall her words from the cavern.But I’ve been running for so long… I don’t know how to quit.
“You can’t outrun that,” I tell her.
“I know.” She searches my gaze. For what, I don’t know. But she peers into it as if she can see my soul. “You want to kill the cult. You want revenge. That’s more admirable, isn’t it? There’s agency in anger. There’s no agency in running. Just cowardice.”
I don’t respond right away, and she starts to stand. To walk belowdecks, where she’s been taking her breaks between seas. But I grab her wrist and stop her. Her eyes drop to my hand, to the touch that burns us both.
“I don’t think any of this is about being admirable or having agency. I think what you went through… you can process it however you want. You had your life taken from you, and the choices you make now—they should beyours. Fuck what anyone else thinks.”
She eyes me warily. “So you don’t think I’m weak?”
“Zephyra, you almost killed me. Multiple times. I haven’t considered you weak since the moment we met, when you threw me on my ass.”
She grins at that. A wicked little grin that only stokes the flames between us. She’s almost killing me now. Bringing me to my gods-damned knees.
She stands, tugging me up after her so we’re in the center of the plank, storm clouds gathering around us and thunder booming across the skies. A light rain begins to dampen her hair and clothes and skin. She’s so fucking beautiful, it’skilling me.
“What if I deserved it?” she asks, her turquoise eyes brimming with indecipherable emotion. “What if I’m just as evil as the sorcerer, Arion? What if this discovery is the only thing that will makemeworth it?”
What if she’s evil? She’s a mermaid. She tried to murder me. She’s made a thousand wrong choices since we met, and she’s crass, and obnoxious, and—“I don’t care,” I say, and realize abruptly that it’s true. It’s truer than any thought I’ve had before. “I see you, Zephyra. The worst parts and the best parts. I see you, and…” I should stop speaking. I should swallow every word before I damn us—damn myself—further. This isn’t a conversation in a darkened room whileshe’s sick. This isn’t an admission that can be concealed behind sadness or pain or pity. Still…
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
I want to touch her. I want to remember this. I want to remember her.
“If you’re evil, fucking destroy me, Zephyra.”
Her gaze drops to my mouth. She licks her lips, slower this time, and I feel every second of that movement like a hook wrenched between my ribs. “We’re being watched,” she says.
“I don’t give a shit.”
Another grin. A smirk. My knees threaten to buckle as her eyes gleam. Between us, wrapped around our calves, the silvered cord thrums with her heartbeat. My heartbeat. Our aching, consuming need. I can’t take it anymore. This tension between us. I am so fucking sick of ignoring it, repressing it, and pretending I don’t need her. My knees threaten to buckle—and isn’t that exactly what I want? To drop to my knees, push up her skirt, spread her legs and feast on her?Eatuntil she’s shaking and moaning and screaming for the whole world to hear. No more phantom touches. No more magic.
Just her. Just me.
Just us.
“Leave, Zephyra,” I say, my voice as frayed as my control. Gruff and hard-edged. This is her last chance. “Walk away now.”
