Page 75 of Stolen Magic of the Deep

Oh come on, human. Talk to me. Out loud. I dare you, she smirks, her eyes narrowing in a testing glare.

Focusing my energy on my thoughts, I throw everything into my next thought, but frame it as words I would speak directly to someone.

Mind. Your. Business.

I can feel my words echo through my mind, against the walls of my penthouse. I mentally shut and lock the elevator doors—closing her out, temporarily.

“What’s next?” I start. “Nyra and I can communicate now as needed. I would prefer to keep her away from my personal thoughts, though. Is there a way to lock those away fully when I allow her into my mind?”

If Nyra can hear me because of our bond . . . What about him? Wouldn’t the sea mates bond work the same way? My pulse quickens at the thought. Carefully, I reach for the tether in my mind and push a thought toward him instead of Nyra.

Can you hear me?

Nothing. But his mouth curves, barely, like he knows exactly what I tried. Heat simmers in my stomach.

Orion doesn’t answer my question immediately. His gaze remains on Nyra, lifting to me a few moments later, his voice softer than before, threaded with something that makes my skin prickle. “Your mind is your sanctuary, Snapdragon. If you don't wish for anyone to slip inside, you'll have to remember to lock it tight.”

thirty

Sarah

The sea day is well over by the time I return to Drekaris. The trench is hushed, the only movement coming from the finlings standing watch along the gates. I assume it’s part of their training—learning vigilance long before their currents are complete.

Orion and I swim back together, though he peels away as we approach the gate. Our practice session for the mind speaking didn’t last much longer. After Nyra, he had me test my new ability on Ildrina, deciding it was best to keep the skill hidden. Every skill, actually. Apparently, knowledge of us being mates could be used against him. Against us. Though I’m still not sure I fully believe being mates is possible. It sounds too much like a fantasy story.

Nyra has to stay outside the gate, according to Ildrina. The Snapdragons aren’t allowed in Drekaris territory. She and I will continue to strengthen our bond when I train my magic with Orion.

Defymin waits on a stone bench right inside the entrance. He looks more alert than I feel as I drift closer. “What are you still doing awake?”

“Tidewarden gave me the task of escorting you to your quarters.” His tone is clipped, before softening with curiosity. “Where did the king take you?”

“He was training my magic. Teaching me new skills.” My instinct is to share every detail with Defymin, him being a reminder of my friendship with Leo. A tangle of knots hangs low in my stomach. Call it betrayal, call it intuition, or call it obeying the orders of a king. Whatever the fact, sharing this moment of success feels like a stab in the back to Leo, so I hold my tongue.

We glide side by side into the trench, past rows of carved dwellings hollowed into the walls. The deeper we go, the quieter it gets, until he leads me to the section set aside for me, the space carved wider than most, accommodating my size. I drift inside, my body grateful for the stillness.

Defymin lingers near the threshold. “Sounds interesting.”

“It was infuriating,” I murmur.

“I can imagine. What magic did you work on?” he asks, his curiosity slipping from him.

“It wasn’t really magic,” I say, masking the truth with a tired shrug. “More like . . . learning how to think differently. Exhausting, not glamorous.”

Defymin hums, but there’s something in the sound that lingers, like he expected more of an answer. His gaze holds mine a moment longer than necessary before he finally looks away. “I wouldn't know. Very few of my kind are born with powers. Mother Ocean has never seen us as the race that can handle it.”

He doesn’t press after his statement. Instead, he drifts closer to the opening and draws the seaweed back into place, allowing me to have privacy.

Before the strands fully settle, Defymin turns and swims away. I catch only a brief glimpse of his fin—but it’s enough.

While we practiced battle sequences during the holiday, I hadn’t looked closely. Hadn’t allowed myself to. Now there’s no avoiding it. The fin that was once whole is torn clean through, the current pulling it apart as he swims. He compensates without thinking. It’s his tail doing the work now, carrying the weight of every movement.

He'll carry this for the rest of his life. And it's because of me. The thought causes my heart to ache as I force myself to return my attention to where I'll rest.

The space consists of two things—a stone-carved bed and a seaweed blanket. Cozy.

The well-rested person I usually am would normally find these circumstances to be a form of torture, but my body and mind are so tired, I don’t give the situation another thought before I lie down and drift into an endless sleep.

A blaring noise rips through the water like the horn of a ship, jolting me awake. My heart pounds as I scramble upright on the stone bed, seaweed blanket tangling around my tail.