My hands shot to my earlobes. “Why?”
Her slate gaze pinned me as if I were an unruly child, but she only smirked in reply.
“The mermaids,” Gunnar finally supplied.
Mermaids?!
“They’re attracted to shiny things.” Freyja unclasped her own white-gold chain from around her wrist, then unclipped the many hoops from her ears. “Wouldn’t want to get pulled under. Now hand it over.”
Hesitantly, I pulled off my rings and plucked out my studs.
Curling her hand around the goods, she reached for a tackle box nestled under an overstuffed duffel beneath the first row of seats.
The boat rocked as I sat down, the wood creaking. “What are you doing with them?”
“Keeping them out of sight.” She shut the lid. “And keeping us safe.”
My muscles trembled, anxious, unspent energy zinging through me.
Gunnar took his position by the motor. “You ready?”
Whether I was ready or not, he reversed us away from the shore. We headed into the lagoon, away from the ocean, towards the glacier.
The air thinned, chilled. My cheeks turned numb, my lashes froze, and my nose felt pretty much nonexistent. Resting my elbow on the edge, I peered into the turquoise water, my reflection broken up by pieces of floating ice.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Freyja murmured.
The mirror image of myself pursed her lips. “And why’s that?”
“So we don’t have a catastrophe, I’ll repeat myself: they love shiny things, and your eyes are as bright as a royal jewel.”
My shoulders stiffened, but I refused to let the concern slip into my voice. “Oh please, as if they’d actually rip my eyes out of their sockets.”
I shook my head, but instinct stirred within me. I so badly wanted to prove her words didn’t bother me, that violent mermaids were just a creative story meant to scare me…
A shadow flickered just beneath the surface.
Then a splash on the starboard side.
I whipped around, heart hammering. Rippled rings disturbed the water, but that was probably from a piece of ice or our boat or a fish.
Probably.
Freyja leaned back on her hands at the bow. Her long neck arced, braid trailing to her waist. A thin scar ran along her jaw, so faint I would’ve never noticed if her golden-brown face wasn’t kindled by the hues of dusk.
“See something you like?” she taunted, eyes closed.
“No!” It came out a touch too loud, drawing a smirk out of her. Cheeks searing, I turned to the water, just in time to catch the spotted head of a seal dip under. “So, are we going to talk about what happened back there?”
“Hmm?”
“At the lighthouse?”
“What about it?”
I twisted to face her. “You cornered me, accused me of trespassing, and pulled a knife on me?!”
“Mm-hmm, right.” Why did it sound like she was half-asleep?
