"Why are you in there?" I ask, the question barely disturbing the warm water.
The eel's light flickers, a weary pulse against the gloom. "This is my prison. I am Bolt. And I suggest you do not touch these bars, Red, or you will regret ever being dragged into this shell."
"I'm Vaelis," I offer, the name feeling strange and foreign on my tongue.
"Vaelis," the eel crackles, the name echoing in my mind with a sharp, static hiss. "A Royal Red, named after the very glory your people traded for a cage of their own making."
My lips press into a thin line, the old bitterness souring the warm water around me. "I think that was the idea. Before I realized I wanted nothing to do with them. My parents are probably rolling over in their graves."
For a long moment, Bolt is silent, his light dimming to a soft, steady glow. "Your parents would be proud of your courage," he says, the mental words softer than I expected, stripped of their usual sharp edges. "And to see the mer you have become."
The unexpected kindness strikes me, a current of warmth that has nothing to do with the shell's heat. I watch him, this chained creature of electricity, and find myself smiling.
The kelp curtain twitches.
Kael pushes through, his broad shoulders parting the heavy strands. He freezes when my eyes meet his. The woven net he carries, heavy with fresh clams, slips from his grasp. It drifts down to land with a dull thud in the sand.
He stares. His chest heaves, the frantic pulse of exertion still evident. He's thinner now, his skin stretched tight over sharp new scars on his arms. The gash on his forehead has healed into a bright pink line against his pale gray skin. But it's his eyes that hold me captive.
Not the dead, flat eyes of a feral creature I once feared. They are wide. Vulnerable. Brimming with a relief so intense it looks painful.
"Kael," I whisper, the name barely stirring the water.
He crosses the chamber in two powerful strokes of his tail, landing beside my makeshift bed, his scarred fins sinking into the white sand. His hands hover over my chest, trembling slightly, afraid to touch and cause more pain.
I manage a weak smile, the effort pulling at my split lip. "I'm okay."
He shakes his head, a slow, deliberate motion that sends dark tendrils of hair floating around his face. The dim blue light of Bolt's prison catches the new scar on his forehead, a pink ridge against his pale skin.
"I'm fine," I lie, forcing the words through my split lip. I smooth my expression into the royal mask of composure my tutors drilled into me since childhood, though the effort sends tremors through my good hand.
Kael's dark eyes narrow, the warmth in them hardening into something sharp and knowing.
He leans closer, crowding my space against the woven netting until the heat of his body washes over my chilled skin. His heavy hand settles over my sternum, the scarred fingers pressing hard enough for him to feel the frantic, exhausted rhythm of my heart beating against his touch. He knows. The lie dissolves like salt in water. A low rumble vibrates inside his heavy chest, a sound I feel more than hear, a comfort that travels through my bones.
His rough hand wraps around my wrist, anchoring me to this moment, to this impossible sanctuary.
His finger trembles as he points to my bandaged shoulder, then traces a jagged, broken line in the water above me. The motion is clear as any spoken word.
Broken.
"I amalive," I correct him, my voice barely stirring the warm water. "I am alive because of you."
His gaze drops to the white sand between us, shame shadowing his features. He reaches into his heavy belt pouch, his movements careful and deliberate.
The silver mirror. The exact same silver hand-mirror I gave him in the vent field all those weeks ago, its surface now clouded with fingerprints and the faint scratches of his journey.
He holds it up for me to see. My own reflection stares back, unrecognizable. My warm, sun-kissed skin is deathly pale, appearing translucent in the pulsing blue light of the engine. My long crimson hair is a ruined, heavy mess, matted to my skull with dried blood and bitter salt. For the first time in my life, I look hideous. But my golden eyes are bright. Undeniably alive.
Kael turns the silver mirror so his own face is visible in the frame right next to mine.
"It was Mira," I whisper, the bitter anger returning to my voice. "She did this terrible thing to you. She used me to poison you. She betrayed me."
Kael stares at me knowingly. A single, heavy tear slips down his scarred cheek.
"I don't need a song from you, Kael," I say, my voice trembling with raw emotion. "The upper reef is full of beautiful songs. And they are lies. They sang to me while they sent me out there to die."
I lean forward. I wince at the hot pain flaring in my shoulder, but I push through it.
