Page 37 of Drown Me Gently

“I don’t belong down here,” he whispered hoarsely into the sand. “I never did.”

Tears stung his eyes and trailed upward through the water. He pressed his face into the earth, curling into himself.

Elias wouldn’t have done this.

Elias looked at him with wonder, not caution. He’d smiled without guilt. Touched Auren’s cheek like he mattered. Like he meant something.

He saw me. He saw me.

Ulric didn’t see him. Not really. Or worse—he did and still chose duty over him. Maybe Auren was never meant to be sea-born. Maybe he belonged on the land. With Elias. Auren was angry. Angry at his own helplessness. At the pathetic way he could do nothing.

“I’m so sorry, Elias. I’m sorry.”

He whispered into the fronds of grass, miserable as a passing crustacean nibbled at his tail. He flicked it away with an irritated jerk. What Auren would give to feel the sun. To be free of this burden and never have to return to the water⁠—

His heart stopped, and a powerful jolt sent shockwaves through his body as though he’d been struck by an electric eel. He sat up in the grass, his mind buzzing with clarity.

“How could I be so stupid?”

Hadn’t that bastard given him the answer? Ulric said he’d been to the surface. Seen the greed of humans. He’d meant to use that information to fight Auren, but the bitter Kraken had given Auren exactly what he needed. Ulric had gills, same as any Merfolk. He couldn’t breathe air.

There is a way.

Auren realized. If Ulric was spending hours, even days, on the surface, there was a way to do it. A way he transformed his gills to tolerate human air. Or perhaps a potion that stopped the need for breath altogether? Auren didn’t know; all he knew was that he would find it.

And take it.

Grief was swept aside by purpose. Hope surged through him like a breaking wave. He would talk to Elias. Tell him everything. Be with him, in all the ways two beings of flesh and blood could.

Auren knew what he had to do.

Elias, wait for me.

He waited over a week.

No word from Ulric. No summons from his mother. The guards thinned, pulled away by the Queen’s command. There was a political summit between courts, an emergency gathering of magical delegates.

Perfect.

Auren bided his time. He smiled at the right nobles, nodded when spoken to, and feigned the interest expected of a prince. But tonight, as the tides receded and the palace sank into its usual ebb and flow of courtly pomp and posturing, he slipped away.

The path to Ulric’s apothecary was darker than usual, the blue bubble flames dimming to barely a glimmer. The private quarters in the palace were almost completely unguarded. Almost.

Two eelhounds patrolled the mouth of the apothecary. Grotesque things with coiled, rippling bodies like undulating sea snakes. Their underbites protruded viciously, exposing rows of serrated teeth.

They hissed low in their throats, sensing him immediately.

Shit.

Auren ducked behind a statue of Poseidon, racking his brain.

Think, dammit.

He dug through the pouch at his side and pulled free a few strips of sea-urchin nuggets. He thanked his lucky stars for having grabbed a few morsels from the feast in the ballroom. Auren tossed the bits of flesh to the left of the corridor entrance, where they caught in a drifting current and tumbled down the hall. The eelhounds snapped their heads toward it instantly, their serpentine bodies streaking after the scent, all slashing teeth and whip-like speed.

Auren slipped inside the apothecary, closing the door behind him just as the beasts vanished into the darkness. His pulse roared in his ears. But he was in. And no one was going to stop him now.

The air was thick with crushed herbs, burnt coral, salt, and something more arcane, like magic ozone. Vials floated on shelves made of driftwood and stone. Tinctures glowed in shades of blue and green, bobbing up and down in the soft current.