So I take her hand slowly, inch by inch, and focus on controlling my breathing. My own reckless thoughts.It’s the bond.It must be. If possible, my gut clenches tighter at the thought of the pink-haired mermaid spread beneath me. Open. Willing.
Stop it.
I force the image away, thinking hard as our hands entwine. Because if I feel this strange connection, she does too. That is something I can use to my advantage.
Zephyra is impulsive, after all. Emotional.
The bond glistens between us, brighter than ever, as her chest rises and falls against the soft fabric of my shirt. I refuse to track each breath, refuse to look at her at all, instead staring at our clasped hands. An innocent touch, but still so heated, we might as well beholding an open flame. For several long seconds, that’s all that exists—her hand, my hand, as each waits for the other to pull away. I expected her palm to feel clammy, cold, like that of her kin, but Zephyra’s skin is warm and dry. And soft.
Why is her hand so soft?
I rip mine from hers, unable to stand it for another second, and her cheeks flush a delectable shade of pink. Inwhat? Anger? Shame? Her heartbeat continues to pulsate through the cord, matching my own thunderous pulse, and I curse myself for wondering.
She isn’t the only one disgusted.
“Come along,” I demand, and I pivot on my heel without a backward glance. I continue the trek to the far side of the island, where a bridge rises over the deep blue depths of the Sel. “We can catch a carriage to Greenwood Isles. Since I’m expected to disguise us for the length of our travels, I’ll need time to rest beforehand.”
Yes. I shake my head to clear it, to plan. I can enchant a carriage for speed, perhaps tie her to a horse or Pegasus, and wake every so often to refresh the enchantment.And to ensure Zephyra hasn’t wriggled out of our deal and flown away.With a bit of magic, we can make it to the Greenwood Isles in a day or two. Maybe less.
When she doesn’t follow, however, I turn.
She watches me warily, her wide eyes torn between my face and my hand. “Last rule?” she offers. I gesture for her to get on with it. We don’t have fucking time for all this talking.
“No touching,” she says. “Whatever that was—it can’t happen again.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ZEPHYRA
Arion sits as far from me inside the carriage as possible. He leans against the door, his wings curled around him as a feathery blanket while his head lolls against the plush blue velvet interior. He’s been sleeping for almost an entire day, waking every so often to snap a finger out the window and urge the horses faster. It would be relaxing, peaceful even, while the carriage careens violently over the smooth paths of Mortia’s obsidian shorewall—except loud, roof-throttling snores pour from the warlock’s open mouth. They seem to bounce from wall to wall before burrowing inside my ears like insufferable sand crabs.
I can’t suffocate him. I can’t throw him from the carriage.
Since I don’t wish to die myself—and I really don’t want to be stuck here with himawake—I can only sit and stare, letting his snores eat away at my nerves. My stomach grumbles irritably, but I ignore it. I’ve gotten good at ignoring hunger over the years.
Peering out the window, I watch sixteen horse hooves gallop over the dark pathways carved by humans centuries ago. Weeks after Mortem’s Fall, when humankind decided merrow were the source of all evil, the remaining three gods—Lucius, Tempestas, and Hifax—worked with humans to erect massive, magical walls that still stretch from continent to continent. Roads were carved overtop them, away for humans to trade goods without daring to set sail on merrow waters. These walls divided the ocean. From one sea into four.
I gasp as the sight of the road changes beneath our feet. Without any transition, obsidian gives way to wood. “It’s… it’s made of timber.” I bend down to touch it, expecting my finger to come away with splinters. But it’s inexplicably as soft as cotton. An exhalation of awe catches in my throat. “How is that possible?”
“Gods.” Jacin wraps strong arms around my waist, and I fall happily against his chest. He pushes a pink tendril of hair behind my ear. “The human world isn’t entirely detestable. We have a few things going for us.”
“Like indoor plumbing.”
He smirks and presses a kiss to my throat. “We’re close, Zephyra. Remember what I told you. Don’t do anything with nefarious intent. Don’t think any malicious thoughts.”
I laugh at that. “I’ve never had a malicious thought in my life.”
Tearing my head from the window, I slump down on the bench, cross my arms, and frown. Arion’s snores seem to grow louder by the second. Perhaps the first thing I’ll do when I repay the debt is cut off his nose. Then his wings. Then his head.
Thick locks of chestnut brown hide his worried brow, his jaw somehow clenched even as his lips fall open on another snore. Even in sleep, he isn’t peaceful, as if the pressure of the entire world is bearing down on him, and I don’t knowhowI’m supposed to suffer the enchantments of the isle without fantasizing about decapitating the warlock. Without dreaming of severing our bond and pushing him into the sea.
Without… without thinking ofJacin.
His name cracks open my chest, and a sob almost tears from the wound. It feels as fresh as it did eight years ago.
“I can help you, my dear.” The strange merman watches from his tempestuous wave as storm clouds gather overhead. Thunder rumbles. Rain falls fat and sharp on my cheeks. Almost like tears. “I can bring him back. Thatiswhat you want, isn’t it?”
I glance down at Jacin. At his beautiful face. At his broken body. At the blood on my hands. This shouldn’t have happened. It was an accident—just one stupid fucking mistake. It’s my fault, and now he… he’s gone.
