Though I can’t see the wretched hue Arion used to disguise my merrow hair, the pink Gerald chose matches the real shade exactly. Soft material glides over my hips and down my thighs in a delicate train, while the pearl bodice lifts my cleavage to the skies. Other than the fresh scar on my neck, which Gerald hides with a gold necklace of woven bramble, I look… pretty. Perhaps notradiating vitality, but much better than when I was sleeping on the streets, sharing a tent with Vesper and Eos and—
Stavros.
The name shudders through me, and I realize all this started only days ago.Dayssince a man I’ve known for months died. Because of me. I stare at my reflection until it blurs into something monstrous.
Maybe Arion is right. Maybe I am evil.
I press a hand to my stomach, suddenly nauseated, and Gerald pauses in lacing pink ribbons through the bodice to peer up at me.Calm down calm down calm down.
“Is that why you have returned?” Gerald asks. “You were seeking Abysses?”
“We were sailing on our honeymoon,” Arion interjects quickly—probably before I can say the wrong thing again. “It was a topic we discussed often while out at sea. My…wifeheard the silliest story that Abysses might have been under the water somewhere. Nonsense, of course, but our darling Zephyra is inclined to believe many foolish things.”
“You are a husband yourself! Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Harold clears his throat. “Not many dare venture onto the waves. Even we islanders try not to touch the shore unless it’s absolutely necessary. A lot of merrow out there of whom to be wary.”
“I like the adventure.” I flash a pretty smile, lying through my teeth. “And I’ve heard merrow aren’t so bad.”
All three men stare at me as if I’ve grown five heads.
“As I said,manyfoolish things,” Arion interjects smoothly. “We never should’ve risked the ocean. Our boat capsized in a storm just off the coast, and I nearly drowned.” He pins me with a pointed stare. “It was the worst day of my life.”
With a sage nod, Harold says, “Which would explain your lack of attire.”
Gerald snorts indelicately. “It was their honeymoon, sweet.”
“That, it was.” My grin turns catlike, and I ignore the flutter of heat low in my belly. I ignore the bond as well, how it pulses between us as if Arion feels it too. “Our own fault, really. Mydearhusband needed a bit more guidancebelowdecks”—I waggle my brows pointedly—“than I expected, and the storm snuck up on us.”
Both Gerald and Harold cackle at the lie. “Really?” the former asks, instantly intrigued. He considers Arion anew, both brows lifting in surprise. “You never can tell, can you? How unexpectedlydelightful.”
If Arion’s expression is any indication, he doesn’t find it delightful. He doesn’t find it delightful atall. No, he looks ready to commit bodily harm, and at that muscle feathering in his cheek, I can’t help it—I cackle too.
“That isn’t quite how I remember it,” he says through gritted teeth as the vines overhead begin creeping toward him. He forces a smile in response, and it looks physically painful. “Wife.”
“Arion, there’s no need for petty insecurities here.” I gesture to Gerald and Harold, who both nod a little too enthusiastically, before sweeping my arms wide to encompass the entire shoppe. “This is a safe place—”
“I think what youmeantto say, Zephyra, is we were distracted—”
“Oh, come on, there’s no need to be so formal. What was it you called me last night?” I tap my chin, pretending to consider and enjoying this entirely too much. I don’t think about what happened here all those years ago, what will happen again when we leave this shoppe. Instead, I immerse myself fully in the present. In this one, delicious moment where I can pretend to be someone else, someone better—that, and annoy the shit out of Arion. “Oh, I remember now—‘the divine goddess of your heart.’”
Harold claps his hands together. “Oh, to blaspheme in the name of love!”
“‘Goddess’?” Arion’s eyes flash like molten lava.
I bat my lashes sweetly, blowing him a kiss, before hastily turning back to the mirror when a literal spark flies from Arion’s fingers.Right.There’s a difference between poking a shark and bludgeoning it with a stick. Still, I cannot help winking and add to Gerald, “Forgive my husband. He’s not always the brightest.”
“Handsome men rarely are,” Gerald laments, and Harold nods his understanding.
When I risk a glance at Arion in the mirror, he still glowers at me. A bee darts toward him—stinger raised—but he flicks it away without even glancing at it.Happy thoughts, I mouth to him.
“You know,” Gerald says, tearing my attention from the warlock, “I do believe I’ve heard a tale or two about Abysses being swallowed by the sea. Perhaps that’s what you heard as well.”
My gaze sharpens on his face.Not a chance.“Perhaps.”
“Where did that happen?” Arion asks, gullible as the rest of humankind. “Did the tales ever say?”
“No, no.” Harold dips his fingers inside a jar of beeswax and then runs them through Arion’s hair, styling it in a careless way that should make him look unkempt and failing miserably. I allow myself to examine the hard lines of his jaw, his neck, his shoulders, for only a second—okay,three—before forcing myself to look away.
Over my reflection’s shoulder, Arion’s eyes go half lidded as the cord pulses again, and that muscle in his cheek jumps.
