Page 59 of Stolen Magic of the Deep

Right. As if hurting someone is the worst thing that’ll ever happen.

I laugh in his arms, ugly and manic. Snot leaks from my nose and onto his chest. I flinch and pull back slightly, letting the water wash it away.

“Will he actually be okay?” I ask. Defymin’s wound still hangs heavy in my mind—the image of blood trailing from his fin, spiraling endlessly in the water like it’s wrapped around my throat, choking me.

Orion hesitates. “He will live, yes. But he probably will not be able to swim long distances again. Not without help.”

His eyes dart away from mine, regret flickering across his features, as if lying might have been the kinder thing.

Guilt tears through my chest all over again. I didn’t think my blades would strike him that hard. I didn’t even think they’d land at all.

I keep doubting my abilities, and I still can’t decide if that’s a strength or a flaw.

Even though I’m required to attend the ceremony later tonight, for my daggers, I skip dinner. After how close Orion and I got earlier, I needed to escape. I keep myself locked in my room until I’ve had time to process everything that happened today.

I finally resurface and make my way down to the dining hall. I pass several Neravyn guards posted along the corridors. They continue their duties without even glancing my way, but that doesn’t mean I’m not looking. I inspect every single one of them as I pass. And I see things I hadn’t noticed before.

They all bear scars. Some more severe than others. One stationed outside my door has a thin scar tracing from his ear to the curve of his lip. Another, positioned near the bottom of the spiral way that leads to my quarters, has a long, jagged mark running the length of her arm. The skin is raised, uneven, appearing as if it never fully healed. And the final one, the guard standing just inside the dining hall, holding a deep blue coral tray, is missing an eye.

This kingdom may not believe in killing its warriors to prove their strength, but forceful blows clearly carry weight.

I got lucky. Defymin only managed to land a small nick on my tail. I couldn’t even tell you where he struck me, because it was healed by the end of the fight. Regeneration abilities and all that, apparently. But him? He’s going to suffer for the rest of his life. According to Orion, that fin won’t ever heal properly.

The dining hall table is still covered with the remnants of what was served. I spot Orion and Nyxalene from across the room and head over.

“. . . give me a private . . .” I catch part of Orion’s words, and they stop entirely once I swim all the way up to them.

“Sorry for missing the meal,” I say, looking down.

“We understand.” That comes from Nyxalene, and it catches me off guard.

I wasn’t expecting her to understand anything I do . . . or feel.

“When I lost my family,” she shares, her voice steady, “I got stuck in the ship wreckage from the humans after my clan took it down. Through the massacre, I watched them die off one by one. By being trapped, I was safe. Until I wasn’t.

“A human found me, pulled me out, and tried bringing me to the surface. We were only a few feet away when I dug my nails into his throat. I was only eighteen sea years, practically a baby, but fear and adrenaline made every decision for me. That human died a slow, painful death. He bled out and suffocated. I watched. I followed his body back to the ocean floor as his life slipped away, right along with the rest of my kin. I stayed beside him for days.

“That’s when Thaldrin found me. I was scared, convinced he was there to hurt me too. I didn’t go down without a fight. Not until he explained why he was there. Word had spread of a human attack on sirens in the warm Pacific waters, and Thaldrin had come to rescue anyone left after the wreckage. After only finding me, he decided to take me in and teach me how to defend myself, and how to defend those I love, so I’d never have to feel that kind of defenselessness again.

“Killing was never something I intended to do. But I had to. I had to survive. Because who knows what that human planned to do to me. Killing or harming something isn’t easy—not by any means—but sometimes you have to weigh the lesser evil. I know I’ve been rough on you, and though my trust in you is still questionable, I want you to know that I know how you feel. And I will do what I can to make sure you learn how to fight for the ones you love. Especially yourself.” She finishes the story, and I have no words.

I stare at her for a moment, completely dumbfounded. I avoid the entire story to spare her from having to explain anything else in detail, and focus on something that’s confusing me.

“Did you say eighteen sea years?” I ask, my eyebrows drawing together.

Nyxalene answers promptly. “Time moves much faster in Virellan. A year in your world is about three beneath the tides.”

That sends my thoughts spiraling. If that’s true . . . Orion and Nyxalene both look my age, though.

I ask the only thing that comes to mind. “Wait . . . How old does that make you?”

Nyxalene smirks. “Twenty-eight, technically. In mortal years.”

“So, like . . . my age?” Still confused, especially since she just said eighteen sea years and practically a baby in the same sentence.

Orion speaks this time, his voice gentle. “Not quite. Time passes differently underwater, like Nyx said. So when she says twenty-eight in mortal years . . . that is closer to eighty-four in ours.”

“But you look so young . . .” I say. For someone with a bachelor’s degree in a very difficult field, I’m not sure my IQ is fully grasping the extent of what they’re saying.