“Yes, we know,” Gavriall snaps. “You’ve said it a hundred times in the last hour. You may be the least inspired cursed skull I have ever had the displeasure of speaking to—”
The ship sways then. A little too far to the left. I manage to steady myself, my wings anchoring me as my boots root to the floor, but Gavriall isn’t so lucky. He trips over the corner of a hastily strewn violet rug, and the skull begins to careen off the platter. She catches herself by snapping her jaws on the long sleeve of his new shirt. Gavriall stares at the dangling skull. Then he looks to the princess in front of us. “There’s no chance she hasn’t torn through the linen, is there?”
Amaya glances at him over her shoulder, her lips twisting into a rather indulgent feline smile. “Oh, you’ll be lucky if she hasn’t drawn blood.”
The skull peers up at Gavriall and, through clenched teeth, says, “I would say I’m sorry, but you rather taste of saury.”
Gavriall gasps. “Did she just—did she just compare the taste of me to that of a fish?”
The princess simply says, “Yes.”
He tries to buck the skull from his shirt, only managing to tear the linen more in the process. Sighing, I peel the cursed queen off him before passing her to Amaya. Gavriall seethes. But I can’t bring myself to care.
The silvered cord ripples in front of me, tautening as it leads deeper and deeper into the ship. Zephyra is near. And I’m not stopping to listen to another round of fucking bickering. It’s been hours. Hours since I woke up on that bed. Hours since Amaya began talking and talking and talking.
Half the time, I wasn’t even listening.
The cord glows like moonlight, even though I still can’t feel Zephyra. I can’t feel her, sense her, smell her—anything. The absence knots tension up my spine until my muscles begin to ache. Bruise. Nothing else matters. I need to find her.
Princess Amaya Frost leads us past the cargo hold. She ignores Gavriall’s complaints when the ship pitches right and a barrel of half-molded oranges tips over in our path. We maneuver around a hall of baskets and tanks of floating crustaceans, until finally—finally—the princess swings open a creaking door and beckons us inside the brig.
My wings brush against crooked walls, feathers bristling with instant disgust. Blood stains the floorboards. An empty row of cages lines the leftmost wall. It is wet. It is scant. It is just about the same as any other prison I’ve ever seen.
Glass-blown lanterns flicker orange flames, casting long shadows on the dark floor, and I recall a dozen nightmares from my youth. Locked up. Maimed. Tortured by the Death Lord. My jaw clenches. I shoulder past the others.
I just need to find my fucking mermaid.
The cord, however, does not lead to her. It does not lead to anything. Silver passes through a thick wall of fog across from the cages, as if traveling through the very sides of the ship.
As if Zephyra is gone.
Suddenly, I’m too tense. My composure frays like a rope stretchedto its limit, and I whirl on the princess. “Where thefuckis my mermaid?”
Amaya blinks in confusion. She stares at a completely empty row of cells. I crack my knuckles, and the princess raises two weapons in defense—a knife and that cursed skull. But I don’t care. I’ll use the last of my magic to find Zephyra. I can’t think of anything else. Just pink and turquoise andher. The cord lures me deeper into the room. Deeper.
“We had a deal,” I say darkly, the air charged as magic sears through my veins. “You would take us to the mermaids. We would tell you about our treasure.”
“I assure you; they are here.” Amaya glances around as if she’s simply misplaced a kitchen towel. “They can’t have escaped. My soldiers outnumber you ten to one on this ship. I—I…” The princess turns with a soft curse. “Ericson? Maia?” Her voice cracks, and all her fury leaks through with the force of a sudden cyclone. “Where in Tempestas are they?”
At that, a groan sounds through the fog, and a man’s body tumbles from the wall of murky wet.
He hits the floor with a thud, his mouth agape and his head oozing blood. Amaya stiffens, but I push closer, my wings stretching wide to prepare for an imminent attack. I kneel down to examine the man, and it doesn’t take long to realize—it’s not blood. It’sfruit. Watermelon juices trickle down his scalp, the pulp stuck to his short brown hair. Rinds litter the floor.
Someone incapacitated him with a gods-damnedmelon.
“What the—” Gavriall begins.
Before he can finish the curse, two other bodies leap out from behind the supernatural fog. Pink hair flashes, then silver—but I don’t care. I don’t care about the other mermaid. I only have eyes for Zephyra. Pink and turquoise andher. The cord glows brighter, relaxes as my muscles ease, and just like that—
The bond between us returns in a wave of her emotions. It should nauseate me. Disorient me. But somehow… those messy, disastrous parts of her have begun to feel like home. And for the first time in hours, I can finally breathe again.
Zephyra charges forward, seizes the princess by her collar, and throws Amaya into the nearest barrel with a dagger pressed to her throat. Before a single second can pass, Vesper begins to sing. Another siren song. I don’t know to prepare for it. I can’t cover my ears. But this one—it doesn’t affect me. It doesn’t affect Gavriall either.
It only affects the princess.
Amaya doesn’t scream or struggle away from Zephyra’s blade. Her gray eyes simply widen, and her body sways softly to the haunting melody. “I… I love her,” Amaya murmurs instantly. “Please”—she bats thick lashes at Zephyra—“please let me go to her.”
“Have at it.” Zephyra releases Amaya, and the princess scurries toward Vesper like an eager hound.
