Page 49

O nce upon a time, Jade had dreamed of being exactly where she now stood—in the palace of the Far City, the deepest and farthest-flung of the mer’s Sunken Cities.

She’d dreamed of being here in the white-and-blue tunic of an ambassador, the Tidal Crest sewn onto it.

She’d dreamed of cataloguing each new sight and sound and smell and taste, every person she met, so that when she returned to the surface, she could not only report to her king but could regale her family.

She’d imagined the pride in Mama’s eyes. The sparkle in Papa’s. She’d imagined the way Arden would sit beside her on the couch, body angled to face her, rapt attention on her face as Jade told her tales.

She’d imagined Storm sitting so close she was all but pressed against him, one of his strong arms curled behind her on the back of the sofa like Papa’s so often did with Mama, his hand holding hers.

Tears stung Jade’s eyes, blurring the scene before her that was so very, very far from what she’d once thought she wanted. Geysers, she missed them.

Behind her, Electra pressed knuckles to Jade’s spine, urging her none-too-subtly forward.

Jade drew a shaky breath into her lungs.

She wore the green gown that Finn had selected for her, better suited to a ballroom than a midday appearance at what these people didn’t want to admit was a slap-dash court.

Maybe it looked official—there was a throne, after all, dwarfed by Prince Finn’s enormous, muscular frame.

There were attendants. Official scribes recording every conversation as mer waited their turn to appeal to him.

But there were no foreign dignitaries. No ambassadors.

No normal business. These people weren’t here to petition about taxes or legal clauses.

They were begging for their lives. For protection.

After swearing allegiance to the rebellious Black Tails and renouncing Mariana.

She glanced through the vast windows that dominated each side of the room.

A flash caught her eyes, and then she immediately regretted it.

The flashes were all outside the dome, but there were so many of them.

Tridents, or whatever other weapons they were using.

Blue lightning arcing through the water.

Training, they’d said. Preparing for when Mariana brought her army over the last stretch between the next closest city and this one.

They would meet her halfway, and the battle would begin.

Jade hadn’t taken a deep breath in the last forty-eight hours, she was sure.

How could she, when the war was about to begin?

Librus had told her the fighting wouldn’t come near the domes, that it was an unwritten rule of all mer warfare…

but how could any of them trust that? Every time she fell into an exhausted sleep, she woke again in a panic, nightmares of the dome shattering making her gasp for the breath she’d been sure wouldn’t come.

And yet morning had come and here she stood in an evening gown. Watching the man who’d threatened her smile for the subjects he now claimed as his own.

Maybe this was why diplomacy had always failed with the mer.

Not because of misunderstandings, not because of an inability to read each other’s body language.

But because these people took . Took what they wanted, never caring whether they had any right to it.

Declaring it right by the force of their magic rather than morality.

She wanted to go home. Home to the world where she didn’t have to worry about the air running out or the water crushing her. Home to Mama and Papa. Home to Arden. Home to Storm.

Had they given up looking for her yet? Did they think she was dead?

Another prod from Electra pushed Jade a few more steps forward as one supplicant bowed and backed away, weeping in gratitude at being granted sanctuary within the dome of this city despite not being Awakened, before the next family could move forward, no doubt to ask for the same thing.

So many innocent families had been displaced when the Awakened army arrived here.

Every single mer with magical blood had converged on this one dome, and apparently the mer had no laws protecting normal citizens from being ousted from their homes by the armed forces.

The only ones who hadn’t kicked a family out of their house were the royals themselves—this palace had been otherwise empty, of course.

So the room Jade now occupied at least hadn’t belonged to anyone else.

Scant comfort as she’d witnessed families forced to the streets from her window.

And it had made so little sense—the palace had not only hundreds of guest rooms, but barracks besides.

They could have housed most, perhaps even all, of the army here.

It might have required a bit of squeezing, but they could have done it.

Now Finn smiled at these Unawakened citizens, granted their requests, and somehow left them weeping in gratitude instead of resenting the fact that he’d been the one to force them to the streets in the first place.

No, even more clever—he left them feeling honored and appreciated for nobly sacrificing their own comforts during these chaotic times, and then graciously granted the gift of homes restored in exchange for their allegiance.

Clever. But cruel. “Whose idea was this?” Jade murmured toward Electra, knowing very well that the mermaid would know exactly what she meant.

Electra huffed an unamused laugh. “Try not to look so self-righteous, sander, or Finn will jettison you.”

A shiver coursed through her. She’d seen no fewer than two dozen mer loyal to Mariana jettisoned from the dome upon the arrival of Finn’s court—but it was hardly a death sentence for a mer.

They could hold their breaths long enough to swim to the next waystation.

They could even surface without the bends killing them for their attempt.

If he tossed Jade out, she’d be dead in fifteen minutes.

Electra pushed her forward another step.

She didn’t exactly like Electra—but she was better than Finn. Electra wanted to live in freedom and, yes, she would do whatever it took to achieve that. But so far as Jade had seen, she didn’t use her magic to force people into doing what she wanted.

Although she certainly looked smug enough as Jade glanced at her, and she caught no longing for a different way in her eyes as she nodded Jade forward. “Go.”

Much as she would have liked to disobey, it wouldn’t end well if she tried it. So she went. She swept forward, her aim the throne.

Finn’s gaze flicked her way, then held. A smile curved his lips, light flashed in his eyes. No doubt he was remembering their encounter the other day over this dress, and with a lot more fondness than she was.

Why not? He’d gotten his way. She was wearing the dress he’d told her to wear, and she certainly wasn’t going to do something as foolish as question him in front of all these people. Not when he could touch her and make her drown in her own bodily fluids.

Her stomach had been an aching, writhing, twisting knot of dread ever since she learned of this plan of his. He was making a statement today. And if she disappointed him, it would mean her head.

Finn stood from the throne, holding out a hand toward her. An action which drew the eye of every single mer in attendance.

And every…single…mer was in attendance who wasn’t otherwise engaged in training outside the dome. Every Awakened not drilling and keeping watch had been called to attendance, and all the Unawakened in Usquerbis who had filed a petition—which was all of them, she imagined—had been called in today.

Her gaze flicked, for one second only, past Finn and to his right, where Librus stood behind the throne. He nodded once. An encouragement, a reassurance.

Her throat felt as tight as if that hand Finn held out to her was curled around it, pressing, cutting off her air. But she kept walking until she was close enough to reach out and put her fingers into Finn’s.

The first touch was enough to flash her back to her room, to when his hand had been on the back of her neck. How he’d made her head go fuzzy and somehow cut off her air, how she’d collapsed against him.

Then he pulled her back to the present when he reached with his other hand and cradled the side of her face, his fingers in her hair.

His eyes didn’t flash a warning not to fight him—probably because he knew they didn’t have to.

He’d already issued the warning. And with his hand on her again, he could once more render her useless if he wanted.

“Just play the part,” Electra had snapped at her yesterday as she’d detailed what this court appearance would be. “And don’t do anything stupid. If he kills you after all the time I’ve invested in you, I’ll find a way to make you pay even in the afterlife.”

She could play the part today—would. Because it was the only way of getting to tomorrow. But if they seriously thought she would play this part for the rest of her life, they were in for a surprise. She didn’t know yet how she’d fight him. How she’d get free.

But she would. She would help the mer if she could. But she wouldn’t be his pawn. Wouldn’t be his wife. Wouldn’t let him bully her into using any power she had for his own purposes.

He leaned down and caressed her lips with his.

Soft, gentle, as if he cared for her. Playing his own part before the crowds, that was all.

Like the smile that lifted those lips when he pulled away.

“You’re stunning,” he murmured, gaze sweeping down her.

“No one who looks at you could doubt that you have strong magic.”

She smiled back. Because he was fool enough to think that he could unleash that “strong magic” and then be the one to control it. That she’d do whatever he said because he could make her lightheaded.