Page 34

The Abyssal Fortress

Valerie

My eyelids stick together. The air sliding down my throat is dense with moisture, coating my tongue with the taste of salt and medicinal iodine. I pry my eyes open.

A gray stone vault stretches above my head, and my fingers dig into the damp sheets beneath me. A memory crashes over me. The emerald banquet table, the blinding heat of Sigurd’s mouth, the incredible way he’d felt inside me. Then comes the terrifying suffocation. My lungs refusing to take in air no matter how hard I try.

I’ve got you, Valerie. I’m getting you to the water. Do not leave me, he had begged.

I jerk upright with a ragged gasp and drag the saturated air into my lungs. My throat burns, but the breath comes easily this time. I don’t know exactly what went wrong after Sigurd bit me, but I remember enough to know none of it was something he planned.

As I try to get my bearings, I realize I’m not alone. A woman sits in a low chair beside my bed and turns toward me when I move. Three delicate slits flutter open along the pale skin of her neck before closing again. Gills.

“Breathe easy,” the woman says. Her voice is a calm, melodic murmur in the quiet room. “Don’t fight the air. Give your body a moment to adjust to the moisture.”

I force my mouth closed and inhale through my nose. The air is thick, but it no longer burns my throat like acid. I can breathe, and for several seconds that’s the only thing that matters.

“Where’s Sigurd?” My throat is so raw the words barely come out. “Where am I?”

The woman reaches for a bedside table and lifts a small stone cup. She offers it to me without moving any closer. “Drink first. I’m Ysra.”

I don’t reach for the water. I stare at her until she nudges the cup closer.

“You’re in the healing chamber of the Abyssal Fortress, at the bottom of the ocean,” she says. “Mr. Eiriksson brought you here. You’re safe.”

I take the cup. The bottom of the ocean. The abyssal trenches. My hand shakes hard enough for water to slosh over the rim and spill freezing drops onto the sheets.

Hattie and Marta have no idea where I am. They know I left to confront the Eiriksson CEO, and now I’ve vanished without a word. My house, my library, my entire life are miles above my head.

“The abyss?” I stare at the spilled water instead of drinking. “I need to go back to the surface. I can’t stay here.”

Ysra watches me with the same maddening calm. “The claiming ritual requires the pressure of the deep ocean to stabilize. When Mr. Eiriksson initiated the bond on the surface, your body began changing without the environment the magic required.”

I bring the stone cup to my lips and take a measured sip. The water slides over my bruised throat, soothing some of the rawness left by those frantic attempts to breathe.

“So I just live in a fish tank now?” I ask, my voice rough.

“For now, the deep-water pressure is keeping your body stable,” Ysra says. “Your lungs aren’t ready for the surface yet.”

I grip the cup more tightly. I fought a billion-dollar corporation just to keep my grandmother’s cottage on a rainy cliff. That house is my home, and I built a life in Saltweather that belongs to me. Now my own lungs are keeping me at the bottom of the ocean, dependent on Sigurd’s world just to breathe.

“You can’t survive on the surface right now, Valerie,” Ysra says softly. “Until your body recovers and the claiming magic settles, you need to remain here in the deep.”

“Remain in the deep?” I lower the cup and set it on the bedside table. “I belong in Saltweather.”

I grab the blankets and shove them off before swinging my legs over the edge of the mattress. Ysra stands immediately, but she steps backward instead of reaching for me.

I tighten my grip on the bedding and look down at myself. I’m wearing gray lounge pants and a loose cotton shirt instead of the emerald silk dress Madame Eleni tailored for me.

“Who changed my clothes?”

“The female staff,” Ysra replies. “Your dress was ruined, and we needed to monitor your breathing without anything constricting your chest.”

The explanation makes sense, but that doesn’t make me like it. Strangers handled me while I was unconscious, after my body had already stopped belonging entirely to me.

I push myself off the bed and plant my bare feet on the floor. The freezing bite of the stone shoots up my calves, clearing some of the lingering fog from my head. A low hum vibrates through the floor beneath me, steady and mechanical.

Ysra shifts to block my path, though she makes no move to physically restrain me. “You should rest. Your body has endured too much.”