Page 41 of Stolen Magic of the Deep

“Not exactly a hardship,” I add, with a faint smile.

“You can stay,” she says softly, her eyes shifting away. “I’m not the type to kick someone out of their own room.”

Her words are composed, but the water between us betrays her. I feel the ripple of emotions stirring beneath her voice. A flicker of conflict as her emotions battle each other. And for a brief, foolish moment, I wonder if it is because of me.

I glance away, my tongue forcefully rubbing against my teeth. She has no idea I can sense her feelings—and I have no idea what those feelings actually mean. However, the thought still lingers. The water between us is laced with something, unspoken and persistent.

“Is there anything you want to discuss?” I ask, careful to keep my tone light, like I don't already feel it pulling at me through the current.

She doesn't answer right away. Just traces another slow, absent line along the edge of the bed beside her.

“It’s stupid,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know I need rest, but . . .” Her shoulders shift, tension rippling across her skin. “I hate not knowing how to control it . . . the shifting. Would it be possible to try once before I sleep?”

That honestly was not what I was expecting. Are my senses off, or is Sarah just that hard to read?

I smirk, letting a softer edge slip into my voice, forgetting the concern of fully understanding her right now.

“We can try however many times you want, Snapdragon.”

She's been trying to shift for hours now, well into the sea’s night.

Below us, the Pearlguards have made their rounds twice, their silhouettes gliding through the palace currents like silver shadows.

I tried suggesting a break, but she refused. She has managed to shift the scales from her hips to just beneath her ribs, but the rest above her chest resist change. Each attempt brings her closer, but the tension in her brow grows stronger with every failure.

“Sarah,” I say gently, moving toward her. “You're trying to bend it to your will. That's not how it works.”

She doesn't answer, just exhales sharply and flexes her fingers.

“You cannot command magic like it is something separate from you. It is you.”

I coil my tail and drop down beside her, voice lower now, softer—like speaking about something sacred.

“You have to listen to it. Call to it, yes, but not with force. Let it rise. Let it speak back. Then guide it, not with control, but with trust.” Her gaze flicks to mine as she wrinkles her forehead. “You're not pulling the ocean,” I continue. “You're moving with it. Let your thoughts shape the current, but let your heart set the rhythm.”

She swallows hard, nods once, and tries again.

In one swift motion, she draws in a deep breath. As she exhales, a soft glow builds at her fingertips.

She lifts her hands slowly, fingers trailing up along her torso. The scales shimmer beneath her touch, then recede, dissolving into light.

The glow follows the path of her shift—up, over her abdomen, her ribs—fading gradually as the transformation completes.

“I did it!” she gasps, breathless with disbelief and pride.

And that is when I notice.

Oh. Oh.

Her chest is completely bare.

My breath catches, and heat rises in my face. I turn away instantly, so fast I nearly catch a fin on the nearby wall.

I completely forgot the same thing happens to me when I shift to human form. I didn't mean to look. I hadn't planned to, but for a half second, I did.

And it's seared into my brain now. Not just the way she looked, but the quiet, breathtaking beauty of seeing her like that. A moment that felt more than physical. Not to mention the glimpse of a small birthmark she has on her left breast.

It was instinct that made me turn away. Respect. But the image is already there, etched into memory with ruthless clarity.