"Is it poison?" she whispers.
I almost laugh at the sheer audacity of the question.
No,a thought forms, my jaw tightening.You are the one who poisons innocent things. I am the one who feeds them.
I take a slow, deep sip from the skin to show her the water is safe. Then I offer it to her again.
She hesitates for an agonizing moment. Her physical thirst wins the internal battle.
I guide her head upward, sliding my rough palm beneath her brittle neck. The effort is minimal for me, but her head feels impossibly light, a fragile thing that might fall away without support. She drinks from the water-skin, her throat working with a desperate, parched rhythm. The warmed water spills from her lips, tracing pale rivers down her chin to darken the salvaged sailcloth beneath her.
When she finishes, she slumps back against the sand with a soft sigh, her body trembling from the exertion of a few simple swallows. The effort leaves her breathless, her chest rising and falling in shallow, painful-looking movements.
"Where," she coughs, the sound like grinding stones, "where are we?"
Vaelis materializes from the shadows of the shell, his body cutting through the water with the effortless grace of a predator.He positions himself between her and the rest of our makeshift home, a living barrier. His crimson fins catch the blue light of the engine, glowing like embers in the darkness. He is clean, radiant, and his golden eyes burn with a cold fire.
"We are in the belly of the beast, Mira," Vaelis says, his voice sharp as broken glass. "We're riding inside the very shell you tried to annihilate us in."
Mira's milky eyes flutter, struggling to focus on his luminous face. "Vaelis? You're still alive."
"Disappointed?" he asks, the question a thin blade of ice.
"No," she whispers, the word barely disturbing the water. A single tear escapes her eye, cutting a clean path through the grime on her cheek. "You're safe. Thank the currents, you're safe."
"Don't thank the currents," Vaelis snaps, crossing his arms over his chest. "My own people left me to be torn apart on the ridge. They saw the swarm descend and they swam away. You know the Commander's orders. You were there."
Mira flinches, her body curling inward as if struck by an invisible spear. "I had to follow orders, Vaelis. They made me. I had to fall back." Her voice cracks, thin and desperate. "But I came back. I came into the dark to find you. To bring you home."
"This is my home now," Vaelis says, his golden eyes blazing with a fury that makes the engine's heat feel like a dying ember. "And the first thing you did to betray me was poison the mer who saved my life. You stole his voice."
"I was trying to save you from him!" Mira's voice rises, old and shrill, vibrating with a panic that seems to shake her brittle bones. "He has you magically charmed! Look at yourself, Vaelis! You're defending the enemy! You're domesticating yourself to feed him!"
Her look shifts, raw hatred blazing in her milky eyes as she glares up at me.
"He is amonster," she spits, the words like acid in the warm water.
The ugly word doesn't touch me. It's what the glittering light has always called the dark. I have heard it since my first breath in the trench.
But Vaelis reacts.
He swims forward, his striking face darkening with a fierce, protective rage I have never witnessed before. His hand moves to the small, sharp dagger strapped to his belt.
"Do notevercall him that word again," Vaelis warns her, his voice a lethal, vibrating threat.
I straighten up, swimming close to Vaelis. I place my hand flat against his chest. His heart races beneath my palm, a frantic drumbeat of righteous fury. I push him backward, wedging my broad body between him and the broken old mer on the floor.
Stop, I sign with my free hand, the movement sharp and commanding.
Vaelis looks up at me, his golden eyes wide with anger. "She is ungrateful for your mercy, Kael. She is unrepentant."
She is broken,I sign, my movements sharp.Look closely at her, Vaelis.
Vaelis takes a deep, shuddering breath and finally looks down.
He registers the sickly gray skin that mimics crumbling stone. He registers her frail, shaking hands that cannot even lift a simple water-skin. He registers the pathetic way she huddles deep in the sand like a discarded, empty shell, her brittle body curled in on itself.
His protective anger falters, replaced by a heavy, reluctant pity.
