I want your soul, Zephyra of the Syl. I wantyou.
Every bone in my body begs me to flee this. This conversation. This table. Thisship. They’re staring again. Everyone except Arion. Enemies. Strangers. And I—I don’t want to say it aloud. I don’t want to sayanyof this, but… running isn’t feasible anymore, and I’m tired. So fucking tired.
“Six months.”
Arion’s gaze snaps back to mine, and his jaw hardens as he searches my face, incredulous. I can feel his fury building with his power; it smothers the cord, overwhelming my senses. I expect him to say something, but instead it’s Gavriall who speaks. “It’s only been six months?” He exhales heavily, blinking once. Twice. “Are you… sure you want to do this? To return?”
I refuse to cower, to shrink, beneath the question. Beneath their pitying stares. Because I can’t stand their pity. I don’t deserve it—not after everything I’ve done. Everyone I’ve hurt. Killed. My skin crawls with regret, but there is nothing I can do to fix it now. Tightening my arms across my chest, I turn away from them all and struggle to collect myself. “Of course not. But what choice do we have?”
No one answers that, and I can’t blame them.
Because Arion is right. The High Sorcerer of the Four Seas never leaves his castle unless he has something to gain—a deal, orme. Even if we risked the former, it wouldn’t buy us the time we need to search for the heart. Which means… “It’s me,” I whisper, almost too softly to be heard above the storm. Arion still hears, however. When I turn back to face him, he’s moved closer without me realizing it, his expression blazing. My throat constricts to a knifepoint, but I force the words out anyway, placing a trembling hand on his chest. “We need to lure the sorcerer out with me.”
“No.” He shakes his head fiercely. “Not a fucking chance.”
“If what Zephyra says is true,” Amaya disagrees, “this is ouronlyfucking chance. It cannot be coincidence that you found her, Warlock Stone—this one merrow at the center of everything. You. The sorcerer. Abysses and the heart. She is the moon, and you are the tides. We would be idiots to throw away such an opportunity.” She spears Arion with a keen look. “It will not come again.”
Arion tenses beneath my fingers, his muscles coiling as if ready to do something rash. He cannot tear his eyes away from mine, and through the bond, I can almost feel Amaya’s words echoing:She is the moon, and you are the tides.The princess is undeniably wrong. I have never been the center of anything. I’m just a fool. A goddess-damned fool who was caught in the wrong place at the wrong time and made every wrong choice. But Arion—for a second, he makes me believe it. Something dark and fathomless shifts in his gaze, and it makes my face hot.
He is a warlock. I am a mermaid.
What are wedoing?
He should look away. He needs to look away, but before he can do so—before he realizes I’m not the moon, but the darkness shrouding it—Vesper scoffs and pushes away from the table, turning to stride belowdecks. “You’re already fucking idiots,” she says, “and if you work with her, you’re doomed.”
At a flick of Amaya’s wrist, one of the guards draws a sword to block Vesper’s path, but Vesper shoves past it without hesitation. I don’t hesitate either. With a quick, reassuring glance at Amaya, Ifollow Vesper down the stairs and through a hall, where she pushes into a door on our left. A swift glance around reveals a galley. A large iron stove dominates the small room, and copper pots hang before a fogged porthole, along with strands of drying herbs. The cook—a tall, balding man with knobby knees and a thin mustache—whirls when we enter, his beady eyes widening at the sight of our hair. “Merrow,” he growls, waving a spoon at us as if brandishing a sword. “Get out! Get out of my kitchen—”
Vesper hums in response, a single melodic note, and the man stills. His expression empties. Without another word, he scampers from the room, leaving the two of us alone. I peer hopefully into the pot the man had been stirring—chunks of dead fish floating in a watery broth. My nose wrinkles, and I recoil instantly. Shoulders stiff, Vesper picks up an apple, sinking her teeth into it before turning to face me. “Go away, Zephyra. I’ve had enough of you for a lifetime.”
I refuse to flinch at the words, instead plucking an orange from the nearest basket. “They’re going to kill you. As soon as we reach the trench, and they realize you’re not on our side—”
“As if you care.”
My heart aches. “I do.”
“Sure, Zephyra.” Vesper laughs bitterly at that. “As soon as we reach the trench, you’re all as good as dead anyway.”
“It doesn’t have to be like that.”
“We both know there’s only one way this ends. He’s not going to stop. The sorcerer is going to find you. He’s going to claim you, and there’s nothing you”—she jerks her chin above us—“or your warlock can do about it.”
Claim me.I force these words away too, shivering, and focus on her face. Her eyes. The same eyes she shared with Eos. The same eyes I stared into night after night on the streets of Crestfall. My heart aches, but I embrace each agonizing stutter. We’ve shared too much—losttoo much together. “Help us, then.”
The apple stills halfway to her mouth. “What?”
“With your siren abilities, we could enchant the guards. We would have a better chance at searching the castle, finding Abysses and the heart. It doesn’thaveto end that way. Help us.”
“Zephyra,” she says, lowering the apple and enunciating each word slowly, carefully, “I wouldn’t help you if you were the last merrow in all four seas. Let alone risk mysisterto saveyou.”
I shake my head swiftly. “I don’t want you to risk Eos. If Arion has the heart, he can bring her back. I swear it. His power is unlike anything we’ve seen… with the extra strength and magic—he can do it. We can bring Eos back, and then—then we’ll kill the sorcerer. We’ll undo both our bargains.Forever.” Dropping the orange back into the basket without peeling it, I step closer and resist the urge to seize her shoulders. To shake her. “We’re better together. I might be a liability, but I’m also fast on my feet. You’re grounded. You never lose your cool. You’re an asset in a fight, and we need you.Ineed you. Please—please help us. Please don’t sabotage us.”
“Why?” Her fingers tighten around the apple, bruising its red flesh. She doesn’t seem to notice, her gaze fixed upon mine. Searching. “Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because we’re going to the sorcerer’s castle.” Conviction strengthens my voice. “Because if we fail even with your help, you still succeed. Like you said, he’ll find us. He’ll claim me. Either way, no matter what, you can’t lose.” I take another step closer, imploring her to see reason. Tolisten. When she doesn’t respond, I grit my teeth and say, “I don’t want you to die, Vesper. No matter what you think, I’ve never wanted anyone to die.” I don’t say her sister’s name. I don’t remind Vesper what she’s lost already. I don’t need to—Eos will haunt us both for the rest of our lives. Even if—when—we bring her back, her death will poison us forever. “Her death will always be one of my greatest regrets,” I admit softly. And because I can’t help it, I add, “I’m so sorry.”
Without warning, Vesper hurls her half-eaten apple at the wall across the room. The force of its impact dents the wood. Its juice oozes like blood down temple steps. Like tears. Raking a hand through her silver hair, she snarls, “Fine. I’ll help you, Zephyra. I’ll join your merry band of idiots, and I’ll pretend we might even succeed.” My heart leaps at her words—shock coursing through me, relief—and it must show in my expression because she shakes her head, silver hair rippling. “Not for you. This is what Eos would havewanted. Forher, I’ll let you try. And when this fails”—now she leans closer, baring her teeth—“I’ll be here to collect. Right. Here.”
I hold her gaze, unable to look away.Because she means it.Though it breaks my heart, she means it, so after a long, tense moment, I dip my chin in a nod. “I understand.”
