I ignore him. Two powerful strokes of my tail carry me across the shifting floor. My body moves with a strange, heavy grace in the unstable gravity of the moving shell. I stop inches from Vaelis, my hands hovering uselessly in the water above his shoulders. The urge to grab him, to force him back into the makeshift bed, wars with the fear that my rough hands might shatter what remains of his fragile strength.
My eyes scan him with frantic energy. I search his skin for any sign of fresh blood seeping through the white fabric. I check the tightness of the bandages, the color of his gills, the tremor in his crimson fins. Each detail is catalogued, each potential failure noted.
The heat of my scrutiny brings a flush to his face.
Pink spreads across his pale cheeks, a delicate sunrise in the dim blue glow.
"I'm fine, Kael," Vaelis murmurs, his good hand rising to rest against my chest. The warmth of his touch is a shock against my cold skin. "I wanted to get up. I'm not dying today."
I frown, my brows furrowing. I point a finger back at the nets.Sit.
"I've been lying there for three days," he argues, his voice strained. "My tail is cramping. I need to move."
I shake my head. No compromise. I point to his bandaged shoulder, then slash my own chest with my index finger.Wound. Bad.
"It's healing," Vaelis insists, his chin lifting. "Look."
He moves his injured left arm.
The pain hits him instantly. A sharp, white-hot flash contorts his face. His golden eyes water, but he forces the movementthrough the agony, his stubborn pride overriding common sense.
My eyes narrow to dangerous slits. His foolish bravery does not impress me.
My hands settle on his uninjured shoulder and his waist. I push, steady and firm. He resists for a moment, then stumbles backward as his tail hits the edge of the nets. He sits down hard, his expression a mixture of pain and frustration.
I nod once. Good.
I turn my back on his annoyed sigh. I retrieve the rusted metal shard and cross to the curved wall, wedging it deep into a crack to seal the freezing draft I noticed earlier.
His golden eyes follow my every movement, a silent weight in the warm water.
I finish wedging the metal shard into the crack and turn back to face him. I retrieve the dropped net bag from the sand.
I hold it up in the dim blue glow of Bolt's cage. It is full of large sea-slugs. They are gray, bulbous, and writhing against the woven ropes.
"Lunch," Bolt supplies from the copper cage. "Kael found a productive slime-bed out in the cold flats. They are a delicacy, provided you enjoy chewing on rotting carriage tires."
I glare at the glowing eel, a sharp burst of static my only reply.
My eyes return to Vaelis. Then I look down in deep shame at the disgusting slugs in my hand.
I know who he is. I know he is a high Prince of the Reef. I know he is used to eating fine kelp-cakes wrapped in edible gold-leaf. I know he is used to eating spiced, seared tuna served on polished mother-of-pearl plates.
I am holding a filthy bag of writhing bottom-feeder slime.
This disgusting offering is everything I have to give him. I dragged the most striking, fine creature in the ocean down intothe barren mud of the Wastes, and now I have to feed him garbage to keep him alive. I'm nothing but a trench monster.
I lower the heavy bag. I look down at the white sand floor, my broad shoulders hunching forward in profound, suffocating shame.
"Kael," Vaelis says in a soft voice.
I refuse to look up. I can't bear the disgust in his bright eyes.
"Kael, please look at me."
I lift my heavy head. My face is a vulnerable mix of shame and frustration. My dark eyes beg him for forgiveness.
"I'm hungry," Vaelis says with sincerity. "And I love eating sea-slugs."
