“It’s nothing serious,” I begin, but Mira cuts me off before the words even fully leave my mouth.
“Nothing serious?” she snaps, stepping closer. “You didn’t think to tell me that some washed-up mermaid floated ontoourship and gave you information? While I was what? Upstairs? In our quarters? Fifteen feet away? Ifthisis going to work, you have to tell me things, you have to be honest.”
She has every right to be seething. But all I can think about is what she said.Ourship. Gods help me, I’m obsessed with how those words sound coming from her lips. “You have nothing to worry about,” I say, keeping my voice as steady as I can. “I should’ve told you. I know that’s where I fucked up. But that night, it moved fast. Too fast to stop and explain.”
Her eyes narrow, still unrelenting. “Which night, Kai?”
I look at her, and even now, even in the thick of this, my expression softens. “The night you found your soul.”
Her shoulders drop just slightly. There it is, a flicker of realization in her eyes. That night changed everything. And whatever Adella said, whatever games she tried to play, she was just a shadow at the edge of something far greater. A spark trying to snuff out a blaze.
But of course, Adella won’t let it go. “Aww,” she shrugs mockingly, circling just beneath the surface. “You two must have such precious memories.” Her eyes flash. “Anyway, Kai,” she purrs, snapping her attention back to me, “Anya will return. She always does. She’s quite the dark mermaid, isn’t she?”
Dark mermaids. The old legends say they were once Sirens who chose blood over beauty, sacrifice over seduction. They dwell in the hadal depths, where sunlight dies, where even sea serpents fear to swim. Their fins are obsidian blades. Their voices echo with the screams of drowned men.
Anya isn’t just an ordinary dark mermaid. She might be the last true one, the kind whispered about in sea shanties and sailor prayers. The fact that she’s surfacing in broad daylight is unnatural. A sign the balance of the sea is shifting.
I rise to my feet, steel returning to my spine. “Watch your tongue, Adella,” I growl, “or I’ll cut it out and feed it to the Kraken’s soul.”
She stills. Just for a beat. Then that familiar flicker of amusement returns to her blue sea-glass eyes. “There’s the Pirate Lord I know,” she says with an all-knowing smirk. One that I know will make Mira even more pissed.
She turns to Mira, taunting with a venomous voice wrapped in silk, but I barely hear her anymore. My own emotions fade, pulled under by the weight of Mira’s anger and betrayal. Her heartbreak. It crashes into me harder than any wave, and I can’t breathe, not from the fight, not from the sea, but from her.
“Adella,” I say, voice flat but firm, “you should go. You’ve done enough.” She tilts her head, amused. “Thank you for telling me where to find her,” I add, “but she didn’t do anything for us.”
Adella swims a little closer, sunlight catching the shimmer of her tail like sparkling amethyst. “Didn’t she?” she purrs. She gestures lazily toward Mira. “She found out she can breathe underwater. Swim like a siren. That’s something, isn’t it?” Then she lets the silence stretch. Lets it sting. Lets the truth settle in like salt on a wound.
“Anyway,” she adds with a shrug, “you didn’t give her enough time to help. But it’s your trip to the locker, not mine.” Her gaze drops to the wounds on my side. “Get those gashes to clot soonor you’ll wither away, mortal man. Too bad my tears are now dried up for you.”
Then, just before vanishing, Adella cuts Mira a sharp look, her sapphire eyes gleaming cruelly. “Careful, Mira,” she calls out, silky words laced in spite. “Some souls weren’t meant to be saved.” With a final giggle and a whisper of a splash, she slips beneath the waves, gone, like she was never there at all.
Mira’s dark emerald eyes are still locked on the place Adella disappeared, burning with rage, hurt, and resolve. I reach out and gently tilt her chin, drawing her gaze back to me. There’s blood and salt and sand between us now, caked on our skin like battle paint.
She shrugs me off. “Tears, Kai. Mermaid tears.” Her voice drips with betrayal. “Do you not understand how sacred that ritual is?”
My eyes widen. “I do. I was young and reckless—I almost died, and she saved my life.”
“And now you’re bound to her.” Her eyes narrow, pure fury slicing through me. “One lucky Pirate Lord, huh? Bound to a stunning mermaidandthe new Soul?”
“It’s not like that, Mira. You have to know that.”
Her gaze doesn’t falter. “You have her inked on your skin. Skin that I will be looking at every single day for the rest of my life.”
Fair point. I draw in a breath, steadying myself. “You, of all people, know what it means to make the impossible decisions, as a captain, as a pirate. I made one of mine when I was young, naive. I wouldn’t make that choice again.”
I stop before I say something I can’t take back because somehow, I’m already fucking this up more.
“You deserve honesty, and here it is. Yes, I loved her. She was the only woman I could say I actually felt even a shred of emotion for. But then some angry pirate came up to me in a pub and smacked me across the face.” The corner of her lips fights asmile. “Ever since that night, Mira, you’ve been the center of my life. You have no competition with anyone.”
Her gaze softens, back to her usual self. “Okay.”
I narrow my eyes. “Okay? That’s all?”
“Yes,” she says. “Okay. I’m not giving you any more than that, because you don’t deserve it right now.”
I let out a dry laugh. She’s going to be the end of me. “Fair enough. We should head back to the ship,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry she spoke to you. She won’t come near us again.” I rise, muscles aching, saltwater dripping from every inch of me. The gashes from Anya still bleed freely, but I offer Mira my hand anyway.
She doesn’t look at me right away. When she finally does, her voice is flat. “Is that a promise, or just another pretty line from the Pirate Lord?” Her fingers slip into mine. A warning. A test. I don’t flinch.
