Freyja swiftly stood. “That’s because it’s outlawed.”
I glanced at the fists tight at her sides. She flexed her hand, the veins popping back into place—and I stilled. She was missing half her pinky.
“And,” Freyja retorted icily, “we protect you from being slaughtered by the whalers in return. I’d say that’s a very fine deal. No elf, but at least you get to live.”
“Ah!” The first mermaid put her hand over her heart. A mockery of sympathy. “Are we upsetting the queen’s most treasured Eye?”
I tilted my head. The term didn’t ring any bells, but I stashed it away to question them on it later—provided there would be a later.
“Oh pleeease,” the second mermaid crooned. “You know she was a daddy’s girlll.”
Was?
Freyja’s corduroy jacket flew off, her hands now making quick work of her shoes. My breath sputtered. She’d used those manicured fingers, the ones tugging off her wool socks, to threaten me with her magic earlier.
Why wasn’t she using it now?
A cluster of scar tissue gleamed along her bicep where the skin drew back, hollowed out like a bite mark. Goosebumps tickled my arms, my pulse ringing in my ears as she continued to strip, down to nothing but a camisole and leggings.
She was about to jump in. When she was teetering on what could have been no more than two inches of railing, Gunnar grabbed her by the waist.
The mermaids pointed and laughed.
Freyja thrashed against him.
I glanced at my backpack, still tucked beneath the first row of seats. If I could reach that, I could snag the dwarven dagger I’d packed. But the boat swung wildly, like a wooden pendulum. I was stuck. It was going to tip.
Water whirlpooled around us, slamming against the rudder, crashing over the bow, each hit to the hull moving in time with the mermaids as they circled the boat like frenzied sharks.
Warmth splintered off my chest, tingling down my arms. My Source. The elves weren’t calling on their powers, but maybe I could call on mine. I unfurled my fingers. The boat pitched sideways, the edge skimming the water. I swallowed a sharp gasp of air as my hands shot out to the sides, my elbows locking to keep me from going overboard.
A small, rectangular object slid across the wet planks. The tacklebox.
I lunged for it, not really sure what I’d find, or even really what I was looking for.
The top compartment snapped open, salt-crusted treasures spilling out. A ballerina figurine with a moldy tulle skirt. A rusty spoon, a silver brush, a locket with a broken hinge, dozens of bobby pins. Nothing but worn-out trinkets and trash.
Honey-beige skin and darting eyes danced in a reflection at the bottom of the box, so panicked I almost didn’t recognize them as my own. A tiny handheld mirror. I grasped the thin handle, my face pinched in the splotchy glass. Intricate swirls threaded the metal, pressing into my clammy palm. A shadow stirred behind me—a flash of smoky green.
I spun to catch what’d sped by in the reflection, but it was too late. The mermaid was clambering over the side, the wood splintering beneath her claws in preview of what she wanted to do to my flesh.
The mirror slipped from my grip, shattering on the floor.
A wave of hot, fishy stench clogged my throat.
She was singing, screaming. Whatever noise she was making, her breath was just as vicious as before; I was choking on the odor, writhing at the sound. It curdled my senses, drowning everything else out, the uncanny version of a siren’s call.
Fingers digging into my ears, I gritted my teeth, twisting to find the elves.
Slick, membranous hands wrapped around my ankle, knocking me down onto the deck. With my free foot, I kicked until my dirty sole stamped her nose and she withdrew with a hiss.
I thrust my foot out harder. A growl rent the air.
Nostrils flared, and the seal-bodied huntress hurled her upper body forward with no other motive than to crush and kill.
“River!” Gunnar, pinned beneath the blubber of the other bloodthirsty merfolk, slid the mirror my way. My fingers wrapped around the gilded handle. “Hold it up!”
Wielding the frame like a knife, I thrust it forward.
