Page 27 of Stolen Magic of the Deep

I’m a scientist. A marine biologist. I analyze facts, data, and ecosystems. I don’t do prophecies or talk to oracles who can see the future.

Yet here I am, about to swim to some mystical archseer with a sea king who speaks like he knows me better than I know myself. Every instinct I’ve trained over the years is screaming to run, to find something solid and familiar, something real.

I glance over at Orion, his expression still unreadable, always unreadable. His movements are fluid and confident, like the water obeys him. It could.

And maybe the thing that scares me the most with all this craziness . . . is that maybe, just maybe, magic is real.

twelve

Orion

The water is quiet. That rare kind of stillness only the open sea knows, where even silence has pressure, and you can feel it against your bones.

Sarah swims slightly behind me, arms slicing through the current. She’s still adjusting to the drag and flow of the deeper, underwater currents. But she seems persistent. Every motion becomes stronger than the last. Her legs don’t kick as wildly anymore. She’s adapting, like the sea’s already starting to claim her. But she still falls behind very often.

So often in fact, that I threw her over my shoulders just a mere moment ago. My patience was wearing thin.

She kicks and flails against me as we continue the swim to Myrrhallow.

Nyxalene does not pay me any mind. She glides ahead, leading us along the trench walls toward the village, her silhouette sharp against the dappled light filtering through layers of coral towers. The trench we follow spirals into darker territory.

An escort of Pearlguards fans out behind us, silent bodies with tridents at their sides.

But I am not watching them as close as I am watching her.

Sarah’s hair drifts like ribbons of burgundy ink, streaked with brown that catches the bioluminescence from the reef overhead. She’s radiant in a way she probably doesn’t even notice. Her skin is faintly glowing and I wonder if that glow is her or the newest addition. Like the shimmer of moonlight over dark water, impossible not to follow.

She has not said much since we left the palace, other than the small fight she gave after placing her over my shoulder. Our last conversation holds the ocean captive.

I swim smoother, just enough to make her position slightly more comfortable.

“I was doing fine on my own. I didn’t need your help!” she exclaims. Her voice carries easily through the water.

My gaze flicks behind me somewhat, getting a quick glance at her face. “You were falling behind, Snapdragon. We cannot risk losing you or my father’s magic to the rough currents.”

She huffs in response. Her hair still flows as she places her elbow onto my back.

I chuckle under my breath. “Is there a way we could start over?” I ask hesitantly, my voice becoming serious.

The current curls lazily around us as I swim past a ridge of ancient stone, its face carved with markings nearly lost to time. Her aura shifts—curious, but guarded. She keeps herself wrapped in layers, and I doubt she will shed them anytime soon.

“Start over?” she asks, tilting her head, exhaling a trail of bubbles. “If I could start this all over, I wouldn’t have ever entered that room, saving me from this entire situation.”

Her hands fidget with each other as she turns her head away from me, those emerald eyes gone as she refuses to look my way now.

We are strangers. Nothing more. But something inside me is telling me to protect her. Seeing her like this, knowing she wishes this never happened to her, it consumes me. A fire—or desire—burns in my chest to understand her from here on out, instead of pushing her away.

“I hope your room was at least comfortable,” I offer. “I thought it best that I give you some space after the day we had yesterday.”

She locks eyes with me again, a look of surprise on her face. “You could’ve at least told me the room was dry . . . Falling flat on my face was definitely the most human thing I have done since all of this happened to me.”

I stopped swimming for half a beat. “You are right. That was on me. I did not think to warn you,” I admit. “I . . . needed space. To clear my head.”

She glances at me again, slower this time. Not quite wary. Just searching.

“Why’d you ask your guards to do it?” she asks. “The room. Why for me?”

“I had them embed the room with some of our crystals to keep it dry because I wanted you to have something familiar. Something safe,” I confess, running my free hand through my hair. “I can only imagine how overwhelming it can be learning to live underwater as a human.” I pause. “The first time I came onto land and shifted to human form, I felt out of place. Unwelcome. I figured giving you this one temporary thing would help you out until we can return you to the surface.”