“Breath holding,” Selena clarified. Both figures were male, and she traced the human’s rib cage with a delicate finger. “Humans have two lungs. Four lobes. Their last two ribs connect with cartilage, see? They can hold their breath for one to two minutes before they drown, depending on who it is. A practiced human might make it several minutes, with a lot of training.”
Her finger slid to the Naiad body, whose legs were only an elongated spine down to two flukes that were eerily devoid of bony processes.
“Naiads have six lobes in our lungs. That’s why we have four floating ribs, to accommodate the extra lung room in Naiad form, though it makes us more susceptible to injuries to our organs. The last two lobes were flat when you were born. They’re flat now that you’re in human form. They only inflate as a Naiad, and they don’t fill with very much air, but even if you transition underwater, you’ll have enough for emergency stores. About thirty minutes, when you dive deep down. If you fallasleepunderwater, they…” She tilted her head, considering. “They…pause. Your heart slows, your core temperature drops, and the oxygen in your blood decreases. You have about two hours. Though I don’t recommend taking naps underwater. Do you know what the greatest danger is to a Naiad in the sea?”
“Plankton,” I deadpanned.
Selena exhaled, shooting me an impatient glance, though the corner of her mouth curled.
“Drowning,” came Thaan’s voice from the door.
Our gazes shot to him. My teeth clenched, and I glanced down at the table. Selena stood, meeting his gaze across the room.
“Final arrangements,” he told her as he slipped one foot back out the door. “I’ll update you tomorrow at midday. Make sure you’re home.”
She nodded once. His eyes lingered on mine, then he turned out the door. Cain followed him silently.
I listened to them through the walls as they walked away, their heartbeats disappearing as the corridor led them somewhere toward the eastern end of the secretary’s offices.
Selena’s hand curled over mine. I glanced at the elder Naiad, but her eyes remained fixed on the empty door.
“I need you to memorize something,” she breathed, so softly I barely heard.
I sat up higher, waiting.
“And you can’t ask me why.”
“What is it?” I asked, ears straining now for heartbeats in the adjacent room, making sure we were truly alone.
“Until the ocean dries up; until the moon burns out. Repeat it back to me.”
Raising an eyebrow, I did.
Selena made me repeat it again and again, until she was sure I wouldn’t forget it. Her eyes never left the door.
Part III
THE HOURGLASS
47
“Special delivery,” Diara announced as I opened the door to find her outside my rooms. She held up a satin-lined box, and my lungs inflated with dense air.
My wedding dress.
“I took the day off to help you get ready,” she said brightly, though I could see the shy caution behind her words. “If you don’t have other plans?”
“No,” I said, reaching over the threshold to pull her in. I definitely didnotstrain my ears for the sound of Kye’s heart before I snapped my door shut.
My wedding wasn’t until sunset, and there were hours to fill between now and then. Diara handed the box to me, though as I took it, she hesitated, her fingers latching onto the satin.
“Should we look at it?”
I’d been instructed tonotlook at it, to wait for the tailor to open it up and fit me in it, making any final adjustments. But we were young women, and even a girl from Leihani felt the allure of a pretty dress.
We set it down, grinning mischievously at each other. I lifted the lid and Diara gasped.
Shapeless fabric flowed out like mist over mountains, pale blues and ash grays, powdered turquoise and pastel lavender, calm white and small dashes of faint pink. Diara reached inside, feeling for the bodice, and an outpouring of chiffon and organza oozed forth. She finally lifted it out. Devoid of sleeves or straps, a heart-shaped lace corset floated from the layers of weightless organza, transparent across the waist but for the stark white boning that ran from chest to hips.
