Kael's heavy voice emerges perfectly in my memory.It makes you a signal. It says: I am here. I am dangerous. I am burning.
"I understand my duty," I say quietly. The words are a bitter taste in my mouth.
I retreat, dissolving back into the shifting mass of bodies.
A frantic hand grabs my bare arm from behind, a tight, desperate grip. I turn around.
It's Mira.
She looks pale. The color has drained from her face. Her eyes are wide, pools of pure terror.
"Don't go," she whispers, pulling me backward, her voice a strained hiss against the crowd's roar. "I'll talk to the captain. I'll get you a medical exemption for your grief. You can't go back to the shelf."
My eyes drop to her hand gripping my arm. I look at the dark patrol sash across her chest, the woven kelp fibers stark against her pale skin. The faint, ghostly scent of the Hush-Urchin venom still clings to it, a rotting perfume of betrayal.
"You did this," I say. My voice is devoid of emotion.
Mira flinches, her fingers tightening like a vise. "What? No, Vaelis, the High Elders drew the list... I had nothing to do with this."
"You poisoned him," I say, the words a slow, deliberate drop of acid. I get closer to her, my golden eyes locked onto hers, pinning her in place. "You snuck into my quarters. You laced the fruit I picked. You made me hand him a weapon, and you let me think he abandoned me."
All the blood drains from what little color was left in Mira's face. Her mouth opens and closes, a useless, gasping fish.
Her exposed secret breaks her.
"I did it to save your life," she chokes out, tears spilling down her cheeks, mixing with the salt water. "He was vibrating your mind! He was a monster!"
"You made me a murderer," I hiss, ripping my arm out of her grip with a violent twist. "You are the only monster in this ocean."
I turn my back on her for the final time.
Elder Soryn's amplified voice cuts through the chaos, commanding the formation. The water churns with the movement of bodies as we are herded into designated squads. I swim up to the raised dais, my movements stiff and mechanical, and take my assigned place in the line of doomed recruits. I lock my spine rigid, flex my broad shoulders, and let the harsh plaza lights catch every blazing flash of red on my body—a signal in the bright water.
I look out at the large crowd. They're cheering again. Their faces are masks of fierce patriotism and blind terror. They are cheering for the brave soldiers, for the glorious defense of their shallow paradise.
They're cheering for the bait.
I look at my own trembling hands. The water around them feels suffocating. I accept this violent fate. I welcome the draft with open arms. It will take me directly back to the crushing dark of the continental shelf. It will take me exactly where I desperately need to be.
Because if I am a brightly burning target in the dark, Kael might spot me.
And if the deep claims me in the coming war, I can only hope it is his teeth finding me first. At least then, my very last breath will be spent begging him for forgiveness.
Chapter 10
Brighter than the Sun
Vaelis
ElderSoryninterceptsmebefore I can follow the drafted soldiers into the armory. His ancient, gnarled hand grips my shoulder, the touch suffocating.
"You understand your role in this glorious campaign, Vaelis," Soryn says. His amplified voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, dripping with false reverence. "We do not send a Royal to the front lines to thrust a common spear. We send you to be a beacon."
He gestures dismissively toward my crimson fins, the very color Kael had called a signal in the dark.
"The deep trench is pitch black," Soryn continues, his ancient eyes sweeping over my blazing color with predatory approval. "The Vanguard requires a rallying point. Your vibrant color will cut through the gloom. You will be the shining star our brave soldiers look toward in the dark. It is the ultimate honor for your bloodline. You are finally fulfilling the prophecy of your name."
I stare at his polite, smiling face, a mask of ancient stone and calculated cruelty. The horrific truth settles heavy in my stomach, a cold stone sinking into my guts. He is sending me to die. My brilliant, dangerous red is not a signal of strength; it is a target painted on my chest. A lure to draw the teeth of the deep away from the more valuable soldiers.
