She stares at it in horror.
“I’m shackled to you.” Her voice falls to a whisper, cracking on that word.Shackled.She shakes her head frantically, clawing at the cord now, and I grimace at the feel of it. Each ripple foreign, unnerving. She seems to agree, pulling it tighter still. Pulling me closer. “Make—make it go away.” When I don’t immediately respond to her outburst, she hisses. “I said make it go away!Now!”
Glowering at her, I hold the cord in my hand and will it to vanish. But the magic in my blood… it doesn’t obey me this time. Confused, I try again. Now the magic scorches through me, through the bond, but instead of the cord disappearing, it only hardens to the touch. The silver gleams between us. Bright and impenetrable.
Zephyra eyes it with palpable hostility. “Why isn’t it working? Why is it stillhere?”
“It has nothing to do with my magic,” I say through gritted teeth. “This is all yours. I merely called forth physical proof of the bond, and now—”
“And now?”
I force myself to say it, loathing every word. “Now I can’t seem to put it back.”
Her jaw clenches, and decision sparks in her gaze only seconds before she moves. I don’t brace myself for it—I’ve no need. She throws herself forward and tackles me to the ground, her hands wrapping around my throat and her nails carving into my skin. Her body presses into mine. The silvered cord pulses with light, tangling us in knots as she tries to choke the life from me. As she chokes the life from us both instead.
She coughs—wheezes—where I do not. I don’t make a single fucking sound. Instead, I move my hands to her scale-infested hips, their saltwater moisture soaking into my fingers as she stiffensabove me, her gaze wild and desperate. Her hold doesn’t ease until my vision blackens and my lungs feel like bursting. Then, and only then, does she finally throw herself off me.
Collecting herself with painful breaths, she stares at me. At the unwavering cord. “There,” she announces weakly. “I could’ve killed you just then, but I didn’t. I saved you instead. The debt is repaid.”
I rub a warm hand along my throat, soothing my lungs with small bursts of magic until I can once more inhale deeply. Then, calmly as I can manage, I say, “It doesn’t seem to count if you’re the one who tried killing me.” My teeth ache as my jaw hardens once more. “That’s twice now, mermaid. If I were less benevolent, I’d punish you for it.”
She almost laughs at that. “You’d punish yourself?”
“Yes.” Without question. If Mortem’s heart weren’t at stake—ifmy lifeweren’t at stake—I’d take my time with it. I’d have her begging, screaming, for days, maybe even weeks, and I’d relish the pain.
Zephyra must understand this because she slides back an inch and looks between the sea and the silvered cord. Between the wild waves and me.
I wind the cord around my fingers once, twice, and reel her closer. “If you flee, I’ll find you.”
She touches the cord tentatively, her body trembling as another explosion of water showers her in cold, wet salt. “I’m aware.” She examines her fingers, how they glow in the cord’s silver light, before releasing it to scrub the blood from under her nails. “I’m trying to decide whether killing you is worth losing my own life.”
Though I spread my feet in preparation for a fight—she usually gives much less warning—she sighs loudly and says, “Don’t worry, warlock, I value the world too much to throw myself away. It will be a dark day for all when Zephyra of the Syl no longer exists.” She throws her hair back with a confident shake, forcing a grin. “Besides, I have a lot of enemies. I’d prefer to watch them suffer before I do so myself.”
“I’m shocked.”
She glares at me. “You’re on that list, you know.”
“I could guess.”
“Hmmph.”
“Do you always require having the last word?”
“Doyoualways require having the last word?” she parrots back at me, infuriating as ever.
Perhaps instead of choking her at the end of this, I’ll start with cutting out her tongue. I resist opening my mouth to tell her just that, instead watching as her tail flicks to a divot in the rock. To the water within it. The movement seems absent, almost lazy, as if her tail also has a mind of its own—until Zephyra’s hand slowly creeps down to join it. Though her gaze remains distant, clouded, she soaks up the salt and sea with a breathy exhale. A small sigh of contentment that I’m not even sure she heard herself.
I heard it, however.
The sight, thesound, sets my body on edge. My hands curl into fists. Even my wings contract, shifting away from her. Fresh revulsion shudders through me, followed by a flicker of something else. Somethingworse. Something I dare not name as her turquoise eyes sharpen and snap to mine, as the silvered cord pulses with sudden molten heat.Fuck.This is—unexpected. I meet her gaze unabashedly, refusing to acknowledge it. Refusing to submit to the sickening twist of shame that follows.
Zephyra of the Syl is beautiful, yes. It would be senseless to deny what anyone can see. But she is also a demon. A thief. A liar.
And—despite her breathy little sigh—she holds no power over me.
Magic still blisters under my skin, unsatisfied. Unable to stand the sight of that tail for another second, I dry the salt water from her scales one at a time—with individual, concentrated bursts of warmth, heat, and then cold—until they’re gone. Until she looks almost like a human being again. If humans grew thick, lustrous pink hair down to the sinful curve of their waist.
I scowl at the unwelcome thought.
