Page 65 of Stolen Magic of the Deep

Nyx hovers outside the sparring ring, giving short commands on things Sarah could do to tighten her form, angle her dagger better, or maneuver her tail slightly to position a killing blow better.

What I don't notice right away is that she's not training alone, she's dueling . . . with Defymin.

twenty-six

Sarah

Imanaged to get a few hours of sleep, but when the guards changed shifts, the scrape of weapons and steady movements outside my room woke me. After that, rest was impossible.

I scoured the silent halls and found Nyxalene running drills in silence.

Everything in the palace was still dark, the minerals above glowing only when disturbed by movement. I enter the sparring room; the whole chamber is bright and alive, stirred by the force of her strikes. She only stops when she finishes a full spin attack, one that comes close enough to my braid that I instinctively flinch.

I linger in the doorway for a while, watching her in quiet amazement. The way she moves with the water is seamless, every strike precise, every motion powerful. She drills herself with the same intensity she demands from me during training.

Given this is my first Wave Rite, I have no one to celebrate it with. Nyxalene seems to be the same way. After all, she is down here instead of spending time with Orion.

I decide to take a chance, speaking up before I chicken out and retreat back to my room.

"Mind if I join you? I'd like to get a jumpstart on the next current, since I start tomorrow."

She gives a curt nod in response. And that's the only answer I get.

Defymin enters the sparring hall shortly after we start, still recovering from the injury he sustained during our duel. "Is there room for one more to join?" he asks.

I look at Nyxalene, puzzled.

"Nobles are always invited to stay at the palace during the holidays, and Zevrin must have extended that courtesy to the finling," she clarifies.

"I had already completed my duel from Current One earlier this week, but the Tidewarden requested I duel you anyway. You were the last one who needed to complete a duel, and with no one left to face—or better skilled to keep up with your stature—he chose me because he knew I would challenge you without overwhelming you." His explanation comes quickly, offering it before I can question him fully.

I choose to ignore it, simply nodding my head at him the same way Nyxalene did to me allow him to join us. Mainly out of guilt. His wound is my fault, after all. Not that he wants help—he works through the same drills beside us, pushing himself to recover.

Nyxalene starts me off with the usual warm-ups, only this time she layers on more. The equivalent of deep lunges that burn the upper muscles of my tail and core are meant to build strength for tight pivots in combat, awkward strikes that test my flexibility, and above all, drills for grip strength.

“Grip is everything,” she explains. “Especially now that you are training with daggers. Lose your weapon in battle, and it could cost you.”

I still haven’t been told much about Current Two. Every time I ask Orion, he only says I'd find out soon enough and not to worry about it. Easy for him to say. Every day, something new is dropped on me, and I’m still scrambling to catch up. At least Nyxalene admitted that one of the main focuses was learning how to regain your weapon after losing it in battle. But beyond that, she stayed quiet.

She’s been different with me lately. Softer, maybe. I haven’t brought it up, not after her background story before the dagger ceremony, but her patience feels earned now, like she’s starting to trust me.

After the ceremony, she escorted me back to my room and helped me piece together an outfit. We tested how far my magic could stretch when it came to attire, and I stressed about what gift to offer Mother Ocean. I eventually gave in and asked the question that had been scratching at the back of my mind since that moment in the corridor with Orion.

"What are sea mates?"

The words slipped out before I could stop them. Nyxalene froze, after her head snapped in my direction.

“Why are you asking that?”

“Orion . . .” I managed, though the rest caught in my throat.

The look Nyxalene drowned me with after I forced Orion’s name out would have killed me, if not for the fact that she clearly knew why he had mentioned it in the first place. That was when I begged her to tell me anything she knew, because Orion had avoided the subject ever since he first admitted the possibility. My curiosity has been eating me alive. I want answers so badly I’m surprised my brain hasn’t devoured itself just to get them.

We spent the rest of our time before the Rite plotting ways to test how much Orion could deflect before cracking, for dropping yet another distraction in my lap instead of keeping it to himself. Somewhere in the middle of it, we discovered I could shift my scales into whatever colors I wanted. I am basically carrying around an endless wardrobe with the flick of my wrist.

Next came the gift for the Rite. With Nyxalene’s help, I repurposed some of the old belongings I had brought with me to Virellan, molding the garments into a decadent necklace set with a single pearl. That pearl would be my offering. Small, simple, but mine.

On our way to the Rite, Nyxalene tried to ease my nerves, insisting it was impossible for me to be his sea mate because I’m human. The only answer I had for that was: magic wasn’t supposed to be real either. Yet here we are. If I were back in my penthouse, I’d already be pouring myself a heavy glass of bourbon.