Page 63 of She Who Was Once the Sea

I stared at the message for a long time, nothing but the sound of my breath filling the room. Then, I clenched my fist tightly, balling the note into a crumpled mess and tossing it to the ground.

I didn’t care.

I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

Caring about her—caring about this curse—wasn’t worth what I’d already lost. And I wouldn’t let her barter with more of my life.

And yet…

I looked down at my hands, at the lines crisscrossing my palms. I’d done this before, as I was deciding to leave Chicago. I’d examined my palms like a fortune teller, wondering if there was something there that would tell me whether leaving home was the right thing to do. Whether it would lead me to adventure or just leave me ruined.

I’d come to understand that those two things were not as mutually exclusive as I once believed.

I pictured the life I’d left behind—the peaceful mornings jogging along the lakeshore, evenings watching the sunset from my parents’ porch, and all the other quietly predictable moments of a life that left nothing to chance.

Why had I hated it? What, exactly, had been so terrible about peace that I’d decided to upend everything and travel across the world to put myself in mortal danger?

Because you were made for something better.

I exhaled a loud, long sigh, fighting off the urge to laugh desperately at the thought. There was nothing special about me. And now, I’d been cursed right alongside the monsters I’d come here to hunt.

My head shot up, and this time, I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. It escaped from my throat in a manic bubble as I raked my fingers through my hair.

I tried not to think about Marella doing the same thing just hours earlier…

I was cursed. I was part of the curse now.

Regardless of how I felt about Marella and her lies, the only chance I had at reclaiming my life—my freedom—was to follow through with my original task. So I stood up, pulled on my robes, picked up my knife, shoved my hands into my pockets, and started walking.

I was going to save my own life. That was the mantra that repeated over and over again in my mind. I was saving myself.

But as I walked, it was her face I kept imagining.

Chapter 28 - Marella

Lucas was at the door. I watched him through the peephole. He fidgeted beneath the sleeves of his robes, looking side to side as if worried someone might be following, wiry gray hair sticking out in all directions.

He knocked again, more forceful this time, but not like he was angry. He hit the door like he was desperate, frantic even.

"I know you’re in there," he said softly, just loud enough that I was able to hear through the heavy wood. "I have a spare key, but I’d really prefer it if you let me in. I just want to talk. I think I figured out how to break the curse, and—"

I opened the door so quickly that he nearly fell to the floor. Before he could right himself, I had ahold of him by the collar and was pulling him inside, letting the door slam shut behind him.

"Speak," I snapped, shoving him up against the wall. I'd had enough of these men and their self righteousness.

He looked down at my hands on his chest before shaking his head. "This is basically how your sister and I met." His voice was distant and reminiscent.

I loosened my grip on his cloak but didn’t respond, raising my eyebrows to encourage him to continue.

He cleared his throat. "As you know, I was basing my research on the idea that the Stone Witch thrives on drought." His eyes cut to the window, where the sun was now high in the sky and beating down upon the piazza. "But I was wrong. We figured that out together. Drought is only part of it. Ridding the city of its waterways, of your family and the other merfolk who protected the water, was just one way of creating what she truly craves…"

He trailed off, and I shook him slightly. "Continue."

"We were right. It’s hunger," he said, voice growing low once more. "Desperation. Greed. She wants the city to crave water, for the people within it to crave power and money. And when she created you, she created monsters that could spread eternal desperation: the everlasting desire to be free and to feed. And subsequently, she created the Fratelli, an organization desperately trying to destroy you. She created a cycle of violence, revenge, and hunger that poured into her dried-up heart, making her ever stronger."

I felt my mouth pull into a deep frown. "How did you figure this out?"