Page 44 of Why Broken Wings Fray

Long hallways composed of that pearl-like substance surrounded us, which was a new frustration as I had planned to use a somewhat rough surface to drag my exhausted body along. Instead, I continued to paddle behind her, occasionally glancing at Killian as I went. In a way, I was sure I hated him a little bit as I saw him swimming along with ease, his muscles large and useful unlike mine. But that hate slid away and made room for something else as I watched him use his body, staring at the power at which he controlled himself.

He caught me staring at him and winked. I was glad the water was cold enough to cool my heating cheeks.

“My throne room,” Queen Tonn at last announced from where she slithered along in front of us, graceful in every way compared to the two paddling-ducks behind her. She nodded to two guards standing post outside of the throne room, both of which looked like something out of a mythology book with their exposed, toned abs and their pecks so large I could’ve buried my face in them.

Now this was where I thought Uisge was a bit cliche. That, or perhaps humans that had visited this kingdom had ghostly memories of being here once upon a time, influencing the arts and the internet. Because instead of a throne, like in Choilltean or Cluaineach, Queen Tonn lowered herself into what I wanted to call an open clam.

I know.

I know.

Just, I know.

Again, I chose to believe that modern-day cheesy movies, shows, and art were based on Uisge. On the extravagant kingdom and the magnificent throne within.

To be fair to Queen Tonn, it wasn’t entirely a shell. It was more like… a raised tomb crafted of clam-shells. A bench or bed-like shape that she settled herself on and allowed her tail to flop along.

That was why it wasn’t a full chair. Of course! How awkward would hoisting a tail be on a chair?

To my relief, there were chairs in the room, set at the round-table-like design that she had next to her throne. There were eight chairs, one missing where her throne instead had been positioned, enabling her to lean her elbows against the marbled-table.

“Come,” she commanded. “Sit.”

I didn’t want to ask how, considering my body kept wanting to float up to the ceiling. And, thankfully, I didn’t need to ask how. Because as Killian and I swam over there, I realized quite quickly that Queen Tonn had, at some point, had non-sea visitors. That’s why, when I grabbed onto the arm of the closest chair, some sort of gravity took over and allowed me to sink against it. Once in the chair, I had a feeling it would be quite a task to get out of it.

“Comfortable?” she asked, almost genuinely.

“Sure.” I was comfortable, other than the fact that everyone around me was completely naked. Or as naked as a fish-like pixie in the water could be.

I wasn’t the only one who had that thought, apparently. Except Killian was less polite with it.

His head cocked to the side. “You do not have nipples?”

“Killian!” I gasped, grabbing onto him and letting my nails bite into his forearm.

“What?” He blanched at me, then turned his attention back to her. “How then do you feed your young?”

“Ki–” smack, “li–”, smack, “an!” smack.

He didn’t make a single move as I smacked at his bicep.

I shot an apologetic look her way. “I’m so sorry.” Then I turned into him and scowled. “You’re such a brute, be quiet.”

He simply shrugged. “What? It’s a genuine question.”

“One that I don’t believe I’ll be answering,” Queen Tonn said, her voice even and giving no indication as to if she was insulted.

“I do not blame you one bit,” I snarled, my gaze furious in Killian’s direction. It was hard to remain angry with him, though, because the genuine confusion on his face made me roll my eyes.

I needed to get my task over with, ideally as soon as possible, before Killian and his Choilltean-charm sealed us both a death sentence in Uisge.

“Queen Tonn, I–”

“Ah!” she shouted, looking right over my head and in the direction that we had entered. Frowning, I turned away from her and followed her line of sight, only to see–

Oh, shit.

The first thing I saw was that wavy, seaweed-verdant hair, slicked back into neat patterns that resembled the crashing of the ocean against the shoreline. The pixie interrupted us, striding in – or swimming in – to the throne room on a tail similar to Queen Tonn’s: thick, muscular, and powerful in every way, the greenish tinge to it glinting as the lit corals in the throne room haloed him.