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Raziel sat up and followed the feline’s gaze and blinked slowly.

A Sirenidae bustled through the village below.

A familiar one with short hair.

The queen.

Raziel was on his feet, sprinting down the hillside before he knew what was happening. She had been playing tricks. All this time, she’d been hiding out in the village while everyone had been worried about her safety.

He stormed into the village after Mer, who walked toward the pyre. When he got his hands on her, Raz was going to kill her.

Catching up to her right before the fire, he caught her elbow and spun her around. Mer’s eyes rounded as he grabbed her other bicep.

“Where the devil have you been?” he exploded.

Her shock disappeared, and in its place rose an anger to match his own.

“Let go of me!” She yanked her left arm out of his grip as if to escape him, soiled linens falling to the ground.

“Oh no, you don’t!” The king caught her around the waist and pulled her against his chest. “Do you know how long you’ve been gone? The whole kingdom has been looking for you.I’vebeen looking for you!”

She braced her left hand against his chest and leaned away, yanking her mask down and baring her teeth at him. “How dare you speak to me that way!”

“How dare I?” he hissed, leaning into her space until they were almost nose to nose. His wine-colored hair fell around their faces, creating a curtain of sorts. “I am the king, and you are my wife. You were sold to me, Mer. By all accounts, you belong to me.” The ugly words came out, but he didn’t take them back fast enough.

Her gaze flattened, and her nails dug into his chest. Instead of leaning away, she pressed into him, a wicked smile on her lips. Raziel blinked, feeling the power shift as she brushed her lips against his own. He’d expected them to be cold, but they were warm and plush andsinful.

Raziel kept his mask of disgust on his face as she pulled back. He arched a brow at her. “Was that your pathetic attempt at an apology?”

She flat-out grinned at him. “Never. Just sharing what I’ve been given.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, feeling a trap closing in on him. “What?”

Mer nodded to the soiled linens at their feet. “Someone vomited all over me and themselves.”

Realization dawned, and his hand twitched against the base of her spine. The plague village. The new strain.

“Welcome to hell, my lord. I hope you get sick.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

MER

Mer scoopedup the linens and walked away from the king with victory in her soul.

But her smugness didn’t last long as the scent of burning bodies became almost overwhelming when she reached the pyre. She handed the linens off to the nearest man, whose face was covered in sweat and ash. She backed away from the raging heat, feeling sick to her stomach.

The men handling the bodies had all stopped wearing masks, feeling as if it were a futile form of protection. Mer scraped her hand through her hair and jogged away from the village to the sea. The tide was coming in, the waves crashing hard against the black sand.

She wiggled her toes into the wet sand, rooting herself. A gasp flew past her lips as the cold water rushed past her legs, rising to mid-calf. In the time since she’d stumbled into the village of Vierla, she’d aged years.

Sickness ran rampant among the people.

Fevers, delusions, vomiting, and sores.

Then came the convulsions and eventually death.

Mer dropped to a crouch as the water receded, breathing hard, head hanging between her knees. The disease moved quickly. Once contracted, in five days someone could be dead. She stood as the next wave rolled in, staring at the darkening sky. They’d already lost a Sirenidae healer.