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Prologue

MER

Sirenidae weren’t supposedto drown.

Mer kicked toward the surface of the ocean, cannon fire lighting the water above in splashes of orange and gold paint. She gagged as blood, oil, and the scent of death filtered through her gills. Shards of wood bit at her skin, stinging like jellyfish.

Only a little bit farther.

With a sharp burst of movement, Mer broke the surface. The silence of the depths below shattered as a cannon impacted an Aermian warship. The explosion rocked the ship, the waves tossing Mer sideways. She swiped the water from her eyes and blinked hard into the stormy night.

Lightning streaked across the dark sky, followed by bone-shaking thunder and the screams of cannons. She gritted her teeth as the change overtook her body. Her lungs seized, forcing the water out through her gills before they sealed, and she took her first full breath.

Fatigue rode her hard as waves battered her, trying to force Mer below. As much as she wanted to sink into the cool embraceof the sea, the battle raging around her demanded she fight. She swam toward the Aermian ship that was hanging on by a limb. Its sides were pockmarked and riddled with burns, but it still held. Thick rope ladders hung from the deck down to the waves, a welcoming gesture for the siren allies.

She dodged a body and tried not to look too closely at the pale face, her heart pounding. Now was no time to balk. This was war and that meant casualties. Mer seized the dark wet ladder that dangled in the water. She hooked her right arm through the rope and sagged, her legs limp. Just one little break and then she’d join the soldiers above.

As Mer caught her breath, she observed the madness of the battle around them.

Black powder scented the air. Broken ships bobbed in the harsh stormy waters. The clash of steel against steel cut through the air.

Their mortal enemy would not relent.

No matter how many Scythians the Aermians and their allies cut down, there were always more berserker monsters to replace them.

Lightning zigzagged through the night once again, highlighting the shapes offiileeand their riders bravely attacking from the angry-looking sky. Her breath caught, and the scales along her arms lifted slightly as one of the flying felines was hit with a bolt and fell from the sky.

Her gaze latched onto the largest feline that tucked its wings and dove, its rider practically lying on its back. She shivered as they plunged toward their fallen comrade. The rider on the deadfiileeyanked frantically at their harness. Mer gasped when the rider launched off the back of their mount into the air. The largefiileeswooped below him and caught him before they hit the water, the dead mount crashing into the waves with a mighty splash before the ocean hungrily claimed her prize.

Mer mourned for the feline. The Methian aerial riders bonded with their mounts for life.

It was another dead to lay at the Scythians’ feet.

Her heart slowed, and her breathing evened out. She wanted to crawl into a hole and sleep to regain her strength, but every moment she dallied was another life lost. Mer prepared to throw herself back into the water when the largefiileedove from the sky. The massive feline landed on the nearest Aermian ship, both riders sliding from its wet back in one smooth movement.

A flash of lightning illuminated the riders.

She’d know his wine-colored hair anywhere. Her lips parted.

The Methian prince, Raziel.

She’d heard of the handsome Methian prince and had even caught glimpses of him in the last several weeks as he launched aerial attacks on the Scythian fleet, but she’d never been this close to him. Her gaze narrowed when thefiileeflared its leathery wings and knocked two Scythian warriors from the ship. Raziel launched an attack and she cursed, noting that the ship wasn’t just fighting the storm but an influx of Scythian warriors. How had the scoundrels boarded it in this weather? She’d barely managed it.

We cannot lose that ship.

Lightning lit up the night sky in consecutive bursts as if the storm wanted Mer to have a better look at the hulking Prince Raziel. His clothing was soaking wet, clinging to his body, and the sharp lines of his face twisted with effort as he fought with a dark figure. They turned, and she gasped when she recognized his adversary.

A familiar shock of silver hair caught her gaze.

Ream, her husband.

Her brain scrambled to understand why allies would be fighting each other.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Her husband slipped beneath the prince’s guard and stabbed him in the back.

“No!” she shouted. What was Ream thinking?