Amaya stands with a dagger held to Vesper’s throat.
My stomach plummets. The princess’s lightning impales the floor in front of Zephyra, a weak strike but sizzling regardless. The threat isn’t necessary, however. I know Zephyra. Threatening Vesper’s life is more than enough to stop her. Immediately, Zephyra raises her hands. “Amaya, what are you doing?”
Amaya isn’t listening. Her gaze continues to dart to the corpses of Tempest men and women—hermen and women—and her storm-gray eyes pulse with wild yellow veins. Tears drip down her cheeks like rain. “They weren’t supposed to die,” she says, voice shaking as she turns her gaze to the Death Lord. “You weren’t supposed tokill them! That was… they were my crew. Myfamily.” Fury rumbles underfoot, but it’s as if she won’t—or can’t—access more power than that. No hurricane winds. No tornados. Just a small lightning strike and the deep, simmering rumble of thunder. Blood seeps from beneath her dagger, trickling down Vesper’s neck. “This wasn’t the fucking deal!”
The deal.
The words crash through me like a boulder, snapping ribs as understanding travels straight to my heart.
This wasn’t the fucking deal!
“What are you talking about?” Zephyra asks, her eyes narrowed and her hands trembling. “Let… let Vesper go.”
Vesper struggles, but Amaya’s grip is rigid as stone. She is a demigoddess, and we cannot fight her.
She is a demigoddess, and she hasbetrayed us.
I know it even before the Death Lord says, “Daughter of Tempestas, the deal is what we make it. Your kingdom will prosper, and you will live. So long as youobey.”
Obey. Obey. Obey.
I can’t help the magic that explodes from my chest at those words, at their condemnation. Blue smoke catches Amaya by the wrists and hauls her against the wall, even as my legs threaten to collapse. As my vision edges with gray. “What thefuckdo you mean, you made a deal with them?”
Vesper falls to her knees, clutching her throat, while Zephyra rushes to her side. Even Gavriall checks on the bleeding mermaid. But Vesper will survive. The cut is shallow.
Amaya, on the other hand, won’t be so gods-damned lucky. A sliver of magic, two tendrils of smoke, hold her in place, the rest of the world falling away as my magic solidifies into lethal shadows. To hurt her. To maim her. I’m not in control anymore. I don’t even feel as if I’m in my own body.
“You betrayed us,” I spit. “After everything—”
“After everything, I’m saving my people.” She lifts her chin, her gaze burning with righteous fury before it flicks, unbidden, to her fallen crew. Hateful tears glint in her eyes at the sight. “I will not let Tempest fall to ash and ruin. The cult found me not long after you fled for the sea, and we—we made a deal. They are going to save us. They are going to save Tempest.”
Something sickening clenches my organs in a tight fist.
And all her previous words, all those stories she told us on her ship, roll through me on an ice-cold wave.
Tempest sent infantry—spies—into Mortia years ago to excavate your mountains. Your northern cities are bare, void of almost any life at all. My infantry couldn’t understand why—until they dug too deep and stumbled upon a vicious cult. Only one survived to tell me about it. He was missing a leg.
The cult gnawed it off at the knee.
The realization pummels me, enough that my knees threaten to buckle. Enough that my vision spots with my exertion, and my heart palpitates painfully. “This isn’t your first dealing with them.”
Amaya smiles softly, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I told you—we found them. Members of my crew found their cave.”
“Did you think we would really free intruders?” the Death Lord asks behind me. Directly behind me. I whirl around, but I’m not fast enough to stop him from grabbing me by the wings and throwing me to the floor. The surprise slams through me as much as the actual impact, and at the distraction, Amaya drops to the floor too, palming at the granite with clammy hands as she tries desperately to catch her breath. The cult ignores her. They all move in around me.
The Death Lord crouches, its sickle slicing through a lock of my hair. Then my brow. Blood drips over my left eye. “Did you think we would ever let anyone go? Tempest owed us a favor, and we have come to collect. She brought you here. She performed her job beautifully. You never suspected her for a second.” The mask groans, the Death Lord’s porcelain lips twisting into an eerie grin. “Did you really believe she found you by coincidence? Did you really believe you stumbled upon all this byyourself?” It braces its blade over my back.
It moves to stab—but I move faster, rolling out of the way and leaping to my feet.
Across from me, Zephyra, Vesper, and Gavriall brace themselves for a fight, but Amaya stumbles down the steps. She collapses in front of her crew, digging hands through their gore with a scream of anguish. I couldn’t care less. Not about her or her grief.
Her betrayal stokes the embers of magic—oflife—inside me, and I have no choice but to let them flame.
I shouldn’t have fucking trusted her. I should have known it was too convenient she retrieved us after merely hearing about our visit to Lucia.Shewrenched us from the waters.Shefed us the information that brought us here.
And thenshefed us to the fucking sharks.
“You—you fuckingdick,” Zephyra snarls. “How could you? We could have helped you! Wewerehelping you!”
