Page 48 of Stolen Magic of the Deep

I veer to the right of the spiral way, and approach a stone wall that blends seamlessly into the structure of the palace. To the left, I reach for the kelp-veined seam running along the stone. Most overlook it—appearing as part of the stone’s natural pressurization marks—but near the base, one of the kelp curls into a circle with enough room to hook a finger through it. I pull gently, and the wall releases with a soft groan.

Closing the distance between us, I lower my voice so only she can hear. “What I am about to show you cannot be discussed with anyone else.”

She tilts her head upward, one brow raised, eyes locking on mine for a long moment before she gives a single nod.

We descend into a narrow hallway, the stone pressing close as the ceiling lowers and the walls draw in. The passage is barely wide enough for us to pass single file, forcing Sarah to swim directly behind me. Darkness clings to the space, broken only by faint veins of marilume embedded in the stone, their soft glow casting rippling light across the walls.

At the end waits a crystal-infused doorway. Entry is permitted only to those of royal blood—or to anyone in direct physical contact with a member of the royal bloodline. Without hesitation, I reach for her hand. The barrier pulses once, responding to my blood, and yields.

Together, we slip through.

The last time I came down here was before I became king. The walls stretch high, lined with towering shelves packed to the edges with books. Knowledge layered so densely it could take lifetimes to absorb.

My father used this chamber for his royal duties. It was never open to anyone else. Except when he chose to teach me. History lessons. King lessons. Lessons meant to shape the ruler I would one day become.

I swim to the center of the chamber, the space being as intricate as I remember. At its heart sits a bright red coral reef desk and a high-backed chair, carved in the curved likeness of a sea serpent.

Settling into it, I remember how I used to be swallowed whole by its size. Now, I fit perfectly. My tail curls easily around the side and rests along the smooth stone floor, and when I lean back, I glance toward Sarah.

She remains near the threshold, head tilted upward, slowly turning in place—eyes tracing the towering shelves. Admiration flickers across her expression, soft and genuine.

“What do you think?” I ask, though I already knew this would be her reaction.

I don't know much about Sarah’s past, but I know she craves knowledge. She has to. Especially with the way she questions everything. Like she is trying to piece the world together one answer at a time.

“It’s wonderful. What is all of this?” she asks, her tone full of energy, despite the exhaustion she showed not long ago.

She's beaming, eyes sparkling beneath the marilume’s soft glow.

“This is the royal archives. Here lie the sacred tomes of our kingdom. In Myrrhallow, you’ll find copies of some of these, but most are redacted and hold only limited information." I gesture toward the towering shelves as I continue. “Every tome in the kingdom is marked with a preservation rune to protect it from water damage. These are the originals.” I let my tail settle against the stone. “This is where I thought I could teach you.”

“Teach me?” She swims slowly toward the lounge chaise to the left of the desk, settling on the cushions of pressed sea-silk.

The mother-of-pearl frame catches the marilume’s glow as she moves, pale and luminous as moonlight beneath waves. The cushions cradle her easily, too easily, and the sight tightens something in my chest. It was made for my mother, so she would have somewhere to read while my father attended to his duties.

“Yes,” I say. “If you want to be a trusted member of my kingdom, you will need to understand some of our history.”

She goes quiet, eyes searching mine, as if the words I spoke were in another language.

I watch her closely, curiosity flickering behind her eyes—the same spark I noticed during training. For just a moment, I remember the uncanny slip earlier, when I could have sworn I heard her voice, though her lips never moved. A coincidence, more than likely, but the sensation nags at me. Like a distant current tugs at something deep and unseen.

“If I were okay with this, what would you teach me?” Her voice cuts through the thoughts still threading their way through my mind.

“Well, I thought since I am king, it would be my duty to make sure you understand why land-dwellers are so mistrusted in my kingdom. Especially from Nyx’s perspective. Other topics can come later, depending on what you want to learn.”

She lets out a breath, leaning back slightly. “After everything you and Nyxalene just put me through, I'm not sure I would retain much right now.”

“We can start tomorrow, early in the morning,” I offer, “before the Pearlguards rotate their first shift. You would be well rested, and I can make sure breakfast is here while we go over things.”

It's not much, but I hope it's enough. She doesn't answer right away. Her gaze flickers with quiet consideration.

I take the silence as permission and glide toward one of the towering shelves, each one stretching from floor to ceiling, packed with the knowledge of generations. I swim halfway up, fingers trailing along the spines. After all these years, I can still locate any archive tome in this room.

My hand closes around the worn cover of A Historical Record of the Siren Decline. The preservation enchantment keeps it in perfect condition, as if untouched by time. I pull it free and return to the desk, the weight of it grounded in my palm. Without a word, I hand it to Sarah.

“I want to start after we rest,” I say. “Take this with you, read some of it before then, if you can. Bring it to training and ask questions.”

She takes it with both hands, holding it firmly.