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Mer rubbed at her abused wrists, noting how her left still bled. They’d trussed her up like a common criminal.

Isn’t that what you’ve become?

Scythian bodies flashed through her mind.

She shoved the thought down and gently probed at her temple. Her fingers came away bloody. The king was hardheaded, it seemed. If the headache and nausea were anything to go by, he may have given her a concussion.

Depths below, she hated him.

Goosebumps prickled across her arms, raising both the fine hair and small iridescent scales that ran along her skin in patches. Mer hated the cold, and while she had never minded being wet before, right now all she wanted was to be warm and dry.

She held her arms closer to her body to conserve heat.

No one offered her another cloak. Not that she would have taken it.

Don’t show weakness.

Mer forced herself to straighten and sauntered toward the nearest tree. She leaned against the rough bark, watching the king’s entourage confer with each other. She studied the man standing to the right of the Methian king, his strong jaw tight, but his fingers were gently combing through the orange-and-black fur of hisfiileehovering right behind him.

He was tender with the animal despite his outward anger.

A man who harbored strength and tenderness. A dangerous combination. She’d have to watch out for him, or perhaps she could use it to her advantage. Only time would tell.

The group broke apart, and the king finally faced her, seeming to swell in size. Her nose wrinkled. Sirenidae men were strong but svelte. The Methian king was built like a mountain—huge, sharp, and brutally beautiful.

She scowled at the thought. There wasn’t anything beautiful about the beastly man.

He sneered right at her, and then his gaze shifted.

Mer followed his line of sight and stiffened, her scowl sliding right off her face.

The largestfiileehad crept up on her, its sharp eyes assessing. A hum formed in the back of her throat, but she swallowed it quickly. This was no sea creature she could soothe with her song.

“I won’t taste good,” she murmured, holding the predator’s eyes. Its ears perked at her words and crept another soundless step closer. If Mer reached out, she would have been able to touch the feline’s whiskers. “Begone, beastie. I don’t concern you.”

Thefiileeignored her and took another step, shoving its pink nose against her side. Mer’s heart galloped as she stared down at the top of thefiilee’shead. It was huge. If the beast wanted, it could rip out her whole side with one bite.

“Easy,” she whispered. “If you bite me, my scales will cut up your gums.”

Thefiileesnuffed her, unconcerned, huffing warm air against the wet silk of her dress.

A whistle followed by three clicks caught thefiilee’sattention. It abandoned its exploration of her side and prowled toward the king; its long wing briefly brushed her leg. She blinked as the beast knocked its large head into his chest, and he pressed his forehead between the feline’s ears before giving the creature rough scratches.

From the outside, it looked wholesome, but Mer knew better.

Bile rose up her throat at the display of affection. How could he act so kindly with a beast and yet act like such a savage to Ream?

Because he sees your worth to be less than that of an animal.

The anger that permanently had taken up residence in her chest burned brightly at the reminder.

The Methian king would pay. Mer blew out a breath. She’d have to extract her revenge carefully.

The king released his hold on thefiileeand stalked in her direction. Mer braced herself for a fight, but he hesitated just out of reach and then held his hand out silently.

She stared at his large, calloused palm and then raised her brows. “What do you expect me to do with that?”

“Take my hand.” A clear command. “We are leaving this place.”