Page 10 of A Sea of Vows and Silence (The Naiads of Juile #3)

Selena

D eep under the Venus sea, the Naiads escorted us through their colony as guests, though we hadn’t been granted an option otherwise.

I tugged my borrowed silver byssus dress, straightening the Venusian silk over my hips.

Normally, I’d have walked the winding corridors of their home with fervid enthusiasm.

It had been years since I’d last seen the spiky aero plants that furnished Naiad colonies with oxygen; the bioluminescent water fed the plants with ultraviolet rays.

I would have loved to meander the colony nest, a giant shell on the sea floor, spiraled with spikes and a soft-hued pink lining the entrance.

The markings carved into the walls were the same as the black tattoos Aegir wore, swirls and lines like cresting waves.

But as I trailed Cebrinne and Pheolix to what would likely become my final days, I found I could do little more than stare daggers into the back of my sister’s moon-forsaken head.

We'd never agreed to go off-script with Venusia.

Vouri, Aegir’s younger sister, led us through the nest. Like her brother, braids wove her chestnut hair intricately along her crown and down her back, one side of her head shaved.

She shared his green eyes as well, sharp and cold, tempestuous as a forest night.

Something about her reminded me of Cebrinne, a hard determination that stirred in her depths.

I’d usually find it endearing. But not today .

“The females will share this room,” she said, stopping at an open door made of wide shell.

“The gnat can sleep across the hall.” I studied the chiseled symbols that lined the top of the doorway.

Ancient Naiad text that locked an outsider’s blood inside the room until a colony member invited them out.

They’d labeled us guests with their mouths. But the waiting room called me something else.

Prisoner.

“I’m not staying in the same room as her,” I spat.

I’d spent the last hour fantasizing about all the lethally edged words I’d say to my twin the moment we were left alone, but suddenly fire leapt from my throat at the mere thought of sharing anything with her.

The way she’d callously tossed our cover story at Aegir’s feet…

Naiads weren’t often allowed to live when they trespassed into a rival colony’s waters without permission. She sentenced us to death the moment she admitted she belonged to Thaan.

Cebrinne turned around, brows raised in surprise.

I seethed as our eyes met. “I’d rather stay with the gnat.”

Vouri ignored my venom, though interest tugged her gaze between Cebrinne and me. She swept her arm toward Pheolix’s room, gesturing for me to enter.

“Senna,” Cebrinne called in a voice that accused me of overreaction, watching me disappear inside.

I stepped around the fluorescent pool of water in the center of the room, sitting on a bench constructed of smooth shell instead.

Crossed one knee over the other, laced my arms over my chest, and flared my vision into the nearest wall with enough heat to combust it.

“You do realize this room won’t hold me in any more than your water-call could hurt me?” Pheolix asked Vouri from outside. An exasperated sigh followed, and the soft ruffle of Cebrinne’s silver silk dress betrayed her steps as she padded into her room .

Vouri waited for a beat before answering, “Yes. That’s why we have Sindri guarding your rooms. He’s the fastest knife-thrower in the colony, and his blades have been tipped in the ash of shield weed. If you’d like to try your luck against him, by all means, be our guest.”

I’d seen the tall, quiet Naiad following us. Long braids fell down his back, as black as a moonless night. One side of his head shaved as well, tattooed patterns blurred by the short regrowth of his roots.

“Hello, Sindri,” Pheolix said casually, as though Vouri hadn’t just threatened his life.

“Maybe we can chat about form later. Do you prefer blade-heavy or handle-heavy knives? I like handle-heavy myself, something about holding a sharp edge between my fingers and flinging it toward a face— mmm .” He clicked his tongue appreciatively. “Warms my blood in the morning.”

Silence weighted with stagnant impatience trailed his words, then Vouri called through my door, “Are you certain you don’t want to stay in the other room?”

I didn’t answer. The sound of Pheolix’s moon-born voice made me want to boil my damn ears off, but the sight of Cebrinne conjured more violent thoughts in my mind, and the idea of being trapped in a room with her threw a blazing fire up my throat.

I rolled it away with a stretch between my shoulders.

“Don’t worry about her. She’s in great company,” Pheolix said, appearing at the door. He leaned into the jamb, facing outside. “If you get bored standing there, you can come in, Sindri. We can trade stories. Swap cloaks. Braid each other’s hair. What’s your favorite braid?”

“We’re done,” Vouri said. “Do not pass into this hallway unless you’d like a knife in your skin.”

“You know, it might be ironic, but I think you’d look fabulous in a fishtail braid,” Pheolix mused, ignoring Vouri as she walked away. He glanced at me from over his shoulder. “Selena, wouldn’t Sinnie look pretty in a fishtail? ”

I lowered my chin, glaring at him.

His gaze returned to Sindri. “She says yes.”

“Go inside,” came a rumble from down the hall.

Pheolix clasped his hands loudly. “About that. I meant to ask, how far will you let me step outside before you knife me? Is this too far?” He leaned out the door. Then pulled back just as something silver glinted in the air. It clinked sharply, embedding in the whorls of the smooth wall beside him.

“Sinnie,” Pheolix chided. “That’s going to leave a mark.”

I sighed and briefly considered flinging myself into the hallway to the fate of Sindri’s knives before wading into the pool instead.

The saltwater lapped against the Venusian sea-silk dress, swallowing me an inch at a time until my head sank below the surface.

Pheolix’s blabbering continued somewhere above.

I let my limbs unfold along the smooth pool floor, closing my eyes against the soft blue hues around me.

Without a current, my hair lifted above my shoulders, rolling in slow motion out over my head.

I stayed below as long as my lungs let me, only lifting my eyes above the surface into the quiet atmosphere twenty minutes later.

Silence came from beyond the open door, where Cebrinne sat in her room and Sindri waited outside.

Pheolix lay stretched in one of the natural contours of the shell along a row of moss-green succulents.

A knee bent, an elbow propped, he reclined just enough to send his knife in acrobatic flips as he stared at the ceiling.

“Done sulking?” he asked softly without looking at me.

A noise escaped me, something that scratched dissonantly against my throat.

“They’ll expect us to wait patiently until Aegir decides we’re worth dealing with. Want to raise some Darkness and force him to come?”

“No.” I crossed my arms, a stitch tightening between my brows. “I don’t want to do anything to place us in any further danger than my impulsive sister has already sentenced us to. ”

“Well, that’s no fun,” he said, though the corner of his lip lifted. He tossed the knife in boredom, letting it cartwheel before catching it again by the blade. “What else could we do to pass the time?”

“Ignore each other.”

“I could count the freckles on your shoulders.”

I didn’t respond.

“Check your back for sea fleas.”

My lips flattened.

“Or we could just lean against either side of the open door and pant and moan for sweet Sinnie’s benefit.”

Silence.

“I’d even let you call out my name as loudly as you want. It’s easy to pronounce. Fee-licks .”

“You are incredibly indecent for a Naiad,” I spat, unable to help myself.

He whirled his knife in his hand. It danced across his knuckles. “Is that right? How so?”

“Naiads do not casually invite a cordae from sirens they don’t know.”

“Invite a cordae ? How do you mean? And we’ve known each other for a decade. We might as well have that old deal friends make: If we’re not corda-cruor by the time we reach the age of thirty, you’ll be mine, and I’ll be—”

“I’m twenty-six, today actually. Plenty of time for me to cordae .”

He trapped the knife in place, pausing for a moment.

“Happy birthday.” The faint scent of molten iron drifted from his direction, and I wondered what about my birthday could have bothered him.

Angered him. But almost as soon as I detected it, it evaporated.

“Don’t worry, little hive heir. It’s a joke, not an invitation. ”

I glowered at his profile.

A smile crinkled into the side of his cheek.

Not the taunting smile he’d used on the beach or to Aegir’s face.

A real, genuine smile. Despite the youth and vigor of his frame, subtle crow’s feet embedded at the corners of his eyes.

Against my will, a small spark of warmth bloomed in my chest. I tamped it down before he glanced my way, wrestling a sudden unexpected frustration at its appearance.

“You speak as if you’ve done the act,” I said, letting condescension drip between my words.

He snorted under his breath. “ The act. Naiads are so proper. You make mating with someone new sound final.”

My response shot through my teeth. “It is final.”

He shrugged. “It will be for you, heiress. Someday. With the right Naiad.” He flicked his knife with thinly veiled disinterest, eyes set into the ceiling.

Curiosity warred with the indignation vibrating in my chest. “So, you’ve done it. You’re cordaed .”

Pheolix angled his head to study me, and across the illuminated pool, the slate-gray of his eyes quietly glittered. “Why? Are you interested?”

I rolled my eyes in vague nausea.

“No? Are you sure?” The edge of white teeth hinted under his slashed mouth. “Your heart just sped.”

Rolling my shoulders, I readjusted my crossed arms, sending my gaze anywhere but the annoying sparkle that tugged at me across the other side of the water.

“Hear it?” Pheolix continued. “It’s very soft. But fast. Like the patter of rain.”

“Do you shut up?”

“Pitter-patter, pitter-patter,” he chanted under his breath. “Adorable.”

My jaw clenched, fine muscles flexing all the way into my neck.

“To answer your question, the act and cordaeing are separate things to a gnat.”

My eyes closed.

Damn him. Damn him to the moon and beyond. To every star between here and Perpetuum and every wisp of darkness between them. An inquisitive mind is a curse, and he seemed to know mine, even as I sat at the edge of the gleaming blue pool with simmering impatience set into my bones.

How could that be true? Mating and cordaeing were one and the same.

The question burned within me, creeping up my lungs like a fire that crawls below the ashes, seeking a warm bed and tinder before igniting to life.

I stuffed it down, stifling it with the sand in my throat, clamping my mouth tightly closed.

Pheolix dropped the side of his jaw into his fist, inviting restless strands of his red-brown hair to fall from his bun and into his eyes.

His skin gleamed even in the dim lighting, hard muscle tugging at the lines of his cloak, the silver silk infuriatingly bright against the deeply tanned canvas of his body.

He waited, his smile slowly growing. “Don’t give yourself a seizure. It’s okay to ask.”

I refused to weave any questions involving his sexual history into a spool of acknowledged thought. “Isn’t the term gnat derogatory?”

The grin suddenly exploded across his face, as though he found me so thoroughly amusing he could no longer hide his entertainment. Something about it fizzled into my skin, swirling in my head.

That he felt free enough to own a smile that wide.

“Gnat. Bug. Weevil. Germ. The mere existence of a drone is derogatory to all Naiads. Why should I care what they call me?”

I stared icily at him. “You should care out of a sense of dignity.”

“Ah. Do I seem like a dignified siren to you?”

I scoffed my answer. Gray eyes glittered. And the curiosity in my head continued its creep, the slow burn for knowledge unobtained. “Breeding drones is an outdated custom.”

“Drones aren’t bred. We’re made,” he said, knife twirling slowly in his fingers. “But as far as outdated, that would be why Thaan keeps us swept under the rug, wouldn’t it?”

“Us? There’s more of you? ”

“Around thirty or forty, if I were to guess. I don’t know for sure these days. He doesn’t let us hold custard-cream socials anymore.”

I scowled in the opposite direction, unamused. Pheolix tossed his knife. “We’re the ones he brought to take you from Cypria. He always sends drones when initiating new Naiads into his Domus , in case one of them has a powerful water-call they can’t control that needs neutralizing.”

I hadn’t expected that. But I disguised my surprise, narrowing my eyes. “I keep Thaan’s personal library. There’s very little recorded information about drones.”

He barked a laugh under his breath. “Do you not know the history of drones?”

“No, I suppose I don’t,” I grumbled. “I know you have no water-calling abilities. That you repel the power of other Naiads for short periods of time.”

“Only when we’re uninjured and healthy.” Pheolix sat fully upright, swinging his legs off the side of the contoured shell to face me straight-on.

“Other than our tails and sharper sensories, we’re essentially human.

Drones were created to be quick guards. Easily disposed of.

Pleasure servants for Videres and Prizivac Vodes who had lost a mate.

It’s not just water-calling, heiress. We don’t cordae . ”