Her eyes lock with mine, wide, merciless, and hungry. She grins. Another slash. This one across my side. She’s too fast. Down here, she’s not a woman, but a shadow with teeth.
I grit against the pain, my lungs already aching for air, and yank my knife from its sheath. The same blade I once buried in a siren’s side when I was just a boy. I survived that siren attack. I'll survive her.
She comes again, lightning quick. But this time, I’m ready. I twist mid-strike, driving the blade into her side. Black blood erupts around us, thick and inky. She shrieks, a sound like a banshee’s scream muffled the water. But she doesn’t stop. She never backs off.
My vision blurs. The burn in my chest becomes an inferno. I stretch out my hand, grasping for anything. I pour every ounce of magic I have into the water, and the sea listens. A violent current bursts from my palm, a force so strong it knocks her backward, slamming her against the rock of her own throne like a ragdoll. The lagoon shudders. I feel it in every bone.
I may not belong to the ocean. But I can still make it obey me. I am its lord after all.
The black blood spills from her, swirling like tar through the saltwater. Her scream shatters the water, a shriek so raw and violent it rattles my bones. It stabs through my ears, sharp enough to draw blood, even down here. My lungs burn. Every second drags razor-thin. I kick toward the surface, desperate for air, but then she’s there again. Her claws clamp around my ankle and yank me down into the dark. I thrash, twist, kick at her face with everything I have left.
And then, Mira is there, glowing and radiant, moving like she was born in the ocean, slicing through the water with terrifying grace.
Then she slams into Anya, full force. The impact sends her flying off me like a cannon blast.
I don’t wait. I surge upward, breaking through the surface, and latch onto the nearest rock, the throne. Hauling myself onto it, I cough up seawater from my lungs, every breath scraping my throat like broken glass. Salt stings the gashes that carve into my skin, blood seeping from more places than I can count. But none of it matters.
Because Mira surfaces beside me, radiant, alive, and whole. Water streams down her face and arms as she climbs up next to me.
“Are you okay?” she asks, her voice trembling, eyes scanning every inch of me as she pulls herself up onto the throne to sit beside me.
I can’t answer, not at first. I’m too busy staring at her. Breathing. Glowing like the sea has chosen her all over again. “I am now,” I say finally, my voice raw. “Where is she?”
Mira turns, scanning the water. Then her gaze comes back to mine, steady but dark. “She swam off when I hit her,” she says quietly. “But…” Her jaw tightens. “I don’t think we’ve seen the last of her.”
“You can breathe underwater?” I ask, still gasping for air.
Mira nods slowly, a crease forming between her brows. “I can,” she says, her voice low. “I didn’t know until just now.” She glances out at the lagoon, eyes distant. “I think this place is sacred. I feel connected to everything inside it. Like it’s part of me. Like I’m home.”
I stare at her, trying to wrap my head around what I’d just seen. “And you can swim that fast? As fast as a mermaid? A siren?” She looks back at me, her expression unreadable at first. Then she gives a small, hesitant nod. “I can now. I didn’t even try. My body just knew what to do.”
Gods. She’s extraordinary. Her emerald eyes shimmer in the light, golden flecks dancing like sunlit waves. Wet sand clings to her lashes, and her soaked hair drips onto her shoulders, onto mine.
“You must have unlocked something when the ocean blessed you,” I murmur, staring at her like she is a myth come to life.
“I didn’t have any of these abilities before,” she whispers. I can feel the anxiety rolling off her in waves, so much confusion, so much power she never asked for. I can hear her heart pounding in my ears. She starts to pick at the sides of her nails.
I reach out, brushing my fingertips beneath her chin, gently tilting her face toward mine. “We’ll figure it out,” I say. “You’re not alone. Whatever this is, we’ll face it together.” The ocean is beautiful, but dangerous too. Mira is both.
What will it do to her, being the Soul of the Ocean, carrying siren blood? The thought surges like a tide and just as quickly, slips away.
“Hello, Kai.” A voice drifts from the water like silk, familiar, mocking. I turn, instantly on guard. Adella.
She glides closer with effortless grace, that smug smile already pulling at her lips. “You don’t take advice very well, do you?” she purrs. Her eyes slide to Mira. “Is this your pet? She’s very pretty. I can see why you didn’t listen.” The words are sweet, but the snicker behind them has malicious intent.
I look at Mira and feel it, the fury radiating off her like heat from black sand, her anger barely leashed. Her face is flushed, fists clenching at her sides. Water drips from her skin, trailing down her arms and hissing where it hits the warm stone beneath us.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Mira snaps. Adella laughs. A cruel, melodic sound as she circles us lazily like a shark that’s already won its catch.
“Oh, he didn’t tell you?” Adella’s gaze flicks from Mira to me and back again, savoring every second. Mira turns toward me, eyes blazing.
She’s more than livid, she’s gutted. Betrayed. I know her well enough to understand what that means. Mira doesn’t just hate secrets. She hates being blindsided. She hates me knowing mermaids at all. This secret might cut too deep.
Adella, of course, doesn’t miss a beat. “I’m sorry,” she coos, all mock innocence. “Looks like he left out a few details. I mean, how did you think he knew where to find Anya? You believed that clever little Pirate Lord brain of his figured it out all on its own?” She clucks her tongue. “Seems like while you’re sleeping—”
“Adella,” I cut in. “Enough.” She giggles. A light, cruel sound that once used to drag me under now coils like a hook in my chest. That sound doesn’t lure me anymore. It repulses me.
Mira turns to me fully, her voice shaking. “You talked to her?” Her face is unreadable, but betrayal and disbelief reveal themselves in her voice. “And you didn’t tell me?” she demands. “What the fuck, Kai?”
