Page 34 of Drown Me Gently

And not a bitter old Kraken drowning in his own skewed sense of obligation.

Auren wiped his tears with the back of his wrist, squared his shoulders, and faced the distant glow of sunrise.

Tomorrow night, he’d be in Elias’s arms. And nothing was going to stop him.

“There, that should keep you happy for a while,” Ulric murmured as he scattered strips of eel meat and halibut into the water. Iska trilled happily, her sleek body twisting with delight, none the wiser that right about now her companion would be calling for her.

“You’re a good beast,” he said, patting her side. His gaze lingered for a moment, admiring the craftsmanship along her body—proof of Auren’s work, and the second chance at life he’d given her.

He left her to her spoils and ducked into the palace. He swam down the familiar corridors, moving like a shadow through the current, until he reached his quarters.

Ulric floated perfectly still in the center of his apothecary, arms folded behind his back, jaw tight.

The room was quiet, anticipatory. As though the stone walls were also holding their breath. Waiting.

Hollowed into the seafloor and lit with suspended orbs of bioluminescence, the room shimmered with an eerie, otherworldly glow. Melted sand mirrors lined the far wall, crafted from lightning-struck beaches and volcanic glass. Each shelf was carved directly into the stone and cradled dozens of potions and tinctures. Delicate vials held fluids that shimmered in unnatural colors, swirling with enchantments that could calm fever, cure blindness, mend broken fins, or banish grief. They were sealed with stoppers Ulric designed himself, infused with a binding spell to prevent seawater from tainting the contents. Even the deepest trenches couldn’t ruin their effects.

Every inch of this place was an example of study and precision. Of the honor he carried as a magic wielder. The pride he took in his craft.

And tonight, he would break it.

A commotion outside jarred his thoughts. A chorus of shouting. A struggle. Then the guards burst into the cave, dragging someone between them.

Auren.

Ulric’s heart clenched.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Auren cried out in a panic. He thrashed in their grip, red hair wild, face flushed, muscles straining beneath shimmering green scales. To the prince’s credit, two guards were having trouble subduing him, with a third trailing behind just in case.

Ulric wanted to tear the guards off him. To pull the prince close, whisper apologies, touch his face, and swear he didn’t mean for this to happen—but he couldn’t. He had no choice.

“By order of the Queen,” Ulric said, voice like ice, “you are to receive the potion that will restrict your depth. You are not to breach the surface again.”

The words echoed like a death sentence.

Auren froze in the guards’ grip. His eyes snapped to Ulric, wide with disbelief, his face draining of color.

“You told my mother?” His voice cracked, high and furious.

Ulric didn’t answer immediately, already mourning for the flame he was about to snuff out. Auren was always beautiful, but tonight, somehow, he was even more radiant. His long red hair was woven into intricate, ceremonial knots, adorned with tiny shells and smoothed black pearls. His scales shimmered with fresh polish, catching the light like jewels. But what stopped Ulric’s heart was what adorned his braid. Both tokens from the human were woven together—a braided cord of silver and gold.

Ulric’s gut twisted.

He’s done all this to look nice for the human. He intends to meet him. Tonight.

Ulric wanted to ask if the human had dared to touch Auren. If those greedy hands had traced the ridges of his spine. If his lips had tasted the slope of Auren’s throat. The thought made his magic stir, and a foul taste coated Ulric’s tongue.

But of course, he didn’t ask. Not in front of the guards. Not with his pride clinging to him like armor.

“I let it go on,” Ulric said stiffly, “hoping you’d stop on your own. But it became clear you wouldn’t.”

His mind supplied him with the words he could never say.

I was terrified for the night you wouldn’t return.

Terrified that those humans would see you and choose not to give you back.

Back to me.