Page 132 of A Sea of Fate and Starfire

“Your lungs can’t vent air properly. They’re bad,” she said at last, immune to the bright red ribbon of shame that had crested his temple. Sitting on her knees between his legs, she pushed her hand under his shirt again, feeling along his chest. He blinked, tilting his head an inch in surprise. People were rarely so forward with a crown prince. But Aitne wasn’t really people.

“Your heart is weak,” the healer continued. “I see inflamed passages, some small infections.”

“Thank you, Aitne,” Hadrian wheezed softly. He reached for her hand, limply pulling it out of his shirt.

“A high concentration of salt. And mutations in your lower core.”

The flush deepened, a furious luster under his skin. He clicked his tongue, smiling in a way that clearly indicated he didn’t know what that meant, and wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“You’re sterile,” Aitne clarified.

“Aitne,” I prompted, a hand reaching to help her to her feet. “You can stop.”

Aitne’s brows kissed as she took it. “He should know.”

“Tell him later. In private, maybe.” My stomach had folded in on itself, an acute nausea I hadn’t felt in months.

The Naiad’s eyes widened through strands of her honeycomb hair as she took in the awkward silence I lifted her away from. The way Hadrian, breath stronger and clearer, was rubbing the back of his neck. Diara had stood, the tendons in her neck tight. Dimas and Leal pretended they hadn’t heard, which was almost worse. Everyone had fucking heard.

I let the wind escape from the lowest level of my lungs, wishing Selena or Maren were here—even Cebrinne. “Humans don’t generally announce the ailments of other humans out loud.”

“He has bad lungs,” Aitne said, emphasizing the words as if it were a sufficient argument. I couldn’t even really blame her; she’d just cleared his airway. Her voice echoed oddly. Hummed inside my head. My stomach clenched even harder.

“I know,” I said, perhaps too sharply. And realized my hands were shaking.

A few feet away, Hadrian climbed to his feet, teeth hard-set against his lip as he studied the bland rock of Evenstar as if he could see the disappointing ocean underneath. “I’m done for the day.”

“Infertility is nothing to be ashamed of, human,” Olinne said, her voice surprisingly kind.

Beside her, Nori raised a shoulder. “Half the mother Naiads in the Juile Sea have a child that’s not their own.”

“That’s because they’re all female and cordaed to each other,” Aitne supplied. “They’re biologically unable to reproduce. Hadrian is sterile.”

“Everyone fucking shut it,” I snapped, my patience taking a raw tumble off the edge of the island rock. The world looked slightly green, and though the island was a stable rock in the middle of the sea, I could almost feel it tilting back and forth under my feet like a wayward ship.

“They don’t have to shut anything,” Aegir said calmly, a level edge to his voice. “They are Naiads. In my waters.”

“Technically, Aeggy,” Pheolix said, his head slanted, “according to human laws, these are also his waters.”

Aegir raised his brows, incredulous. “According to human laws? The laws of humans mean nothing here. They are the laws of parasites, the laws of flea or louse or leech. Bloodsuckers of land and water”—he turned, driving his iron gaze into mine like a long-handled spear—“always reaching beyond their means. Beyond their worth.”

Leal and Dimas stood, facing him. Diara’s eyes narrowed toward Aegir, and even Nori and Olinne viewed him almost sideways, a curl in their mouths.

I sucked down a slow, steady breath, though it was like trying to douse a wildfire with a single fucking bucket. Smoke curled in the corners of my chest, ash and dust burning as it rose through my throat like a chimney. “I didn’t realize this was a pissing contest.”

The nonchalance had simmered away from Aegir’s eyes. His jaw jutted, and he leaned against one heel, twisting his hand around his own wrist, the motion so tight the muscles in his arms bulged. “Isn’t that what it always is with humans?”

Nori had straightened almost to her feet, alarm in her copper eyes as they bounced between Aegir and me. “What’s happening?”

Aegir didn’t answer her. He continued staring at me like he was waiting for an apology, massaging his wrists and palms with his chin tilted just an inch too fucking high for my liking, until water collected to his hands like condensation.

“Nothing. Nothing’s happening,” I answered her, meeting Aegir’s eyes. The cold wind was stifling hot, cumbersome enough to throttle my senses, my fingers itching to rip my jacket off my shoulders and hurl it into a wadded pile at our feet. “Aegir’s forgotten the meaning of the word ally.”

He laughed, too tight, too sharp. “Theia take me before I ever sink so low as to offer humans an allyship.”

“Why are we here then?” I demanded. My hands wanted to shake. I forced them into my hips, along the belt where I usually stored my knife. Fuck this island and the need to reach it through rust-loving saltwater. I wondered if that’s why Aegir had suggested it, to disarm all human visitors. “If we’re so worthless, why are we letting Naiads use us as punching bags so they can learn to fight? Blindly trusting you while we travel in the water? Helping you train for a war that has nothing to do with us?”

Hand still wrapped around his wrist, he extended his arm in a long, slow stretch. “Don’t play noble. You’re here for the same reason I am.”