“Don’t worry about her. She’s in great company,” Pheolix said, appearing at the door. He leaned into the jamb, facing outside. “If you get bored standing there, you can come in, Sindri. We can trade stories. Swap cloaks. Braid each other’s hair. What’s your favorite braid?”
“We’re done,” Vouri said. “Do not pass into this hallway unless you’d like a knife in your skin.”
“You know, it might be ironic, but I think you’d look fabulous in a fishtail braid,” Pheolix mused, ignoring Vouri as she walked away. He glanced at me from over his shoulder. “Selena, wouldn’t Sinnie look pretty in a fishtail?”
I lowered my chin, glaring at him.
His gaze returned to Sindri. “She says yes.”
“Go inside,” came a rumble from down the hall.
Pheolix clasped his hands loudly. “About that. I meant to ask, how far will you let me step outside before you knife me? Is this too far?” He leaned out the door. Then pulled back just as something silver glinted in the air. It clinked sharply, embedding in the whorls of the smooth wall beside him.
“Sinnie,” Pheolix chided. “That’s going to leave a mark.”
I sighed and briefly considered flinging myself into the hallway to the fate of Sindri’s knives before wading into the pool instead. The saltwater lapped against the Venusian sea-silk dress, swallowing me an inch at a time until my head sank below the surface. Pheolix’s blabbering continued somewhere above. I let my limbs unfold along the smooth pool floor, closing my eyes against the soft blue hues around me. Without a current, my hair lifted above my shoulders, rolling in slow motion out over my head.
I stayed below as long as my lungs let me, only lifting my eyes above the surface into the quiet atmosphere twenty minutes later.
Silence came from beyond the open door, where Cebrinne sat in her room and Sindri waited outside. Pheolix lay stretched in one of the natural contours of the shell along a row of moss-green succulents. A knee bent, an elbow propped, he reclined just enough to send his knife in acrobatic flips as he stared at the ceiling.
“Done sulking?” he asked softly without looking at me.
A noise escaped me, something that scratched dissonantly against my throat.
“They’ll expect us to wait patiently until Aegir decides we’re worth dealing with. Want to raise some Darkness and force him to come?”
“No.” I crossed my arms, a stitch tightening between my brows. “I don’t want to do anything to place us in any further danger than my impulsive sister has already sentenced us to.”
“Well, that’s no fun,” he said, though the corner of his lip lifted. He tossed the knife in boredom, letting it cartwheel before catching it again by the blade. “What else could we do to pass the time?”
“Ignore each other.”
“I could count the freckles on your shoulders.”
I didn’t respond.
“Check your back for sea fleas.”
My lips flattened.
“Or we could just lean against either side of the open door and pant and moan for sweet Sinnie’s benefit.”
Silence.
“I’d even let you call out my name as loudly as you want. It’s easy to pronounce.Fee-licks.”
“You are incredibly indecent for a Naiad,” I spat, unable to help myself.
He whirled his knife in his hand. It danced across his knuckles. “Is that right? How so?”
“Naiads do not casually invite acordaefrom sirens they don’t know.”
“Invite acordae? How do you mean? And we’ve known each other for a decade. We might as well have that old deal friends make: If we’re notcorda-cruorby the time we reach the age of thirty, you’ll be mine, and I’ll be—”
“I’m twenty-six, today actually. Plenty of time for me tocordae.”
He trapped the knife in place, pausing for a moment. “Happy birthday.” The faint scent of molten iron drifted from his direction, and I wondered what about my birthday could have bothered him. Angered him. But almost as soon as I detected it, it evaporated. “Don’t worry, little hive heir. It’s a joke, not an invitation.”
