Page 14 of Cruel Tides (Queen of Tridents #2)

14

Leander

W hy were they opening the warehouse so early? There’s no way Father would be awake unless—

“Whose car is that?” Claira whispered, peeling off the arms I’d fixed around her. She rose to get a better look.

“A car?” I straightened up on my feet to squint at the warehouse in the distance as well. Although sound had made it clear that the rolling doors were open, the lights inside were off, and I couldn’t make out whatever she saw.

Fuck. This wasn’t good.

“No clue.” I swung in front of her, breaking her focus, and hiked up the netting around my hips. “But I’ll go check, so you stay here.” It wasn’t a suggestion. I needed to see who was here before they discovered her first and—

“ Pfft. ” Claira brushed past me, her fiery head cocked high in defiance. Clipped words trailed behind her in a rapid stream. “Afraid of what the others might think? Their perfect prince returning in the middle of the night next to Poseidon’s reject?” Her tone shifted to an annoyed grumble. “It’s not my fault you lost your clothes. Well, not entirely.”

I watched the dismissive sway of her hips as she stalked away and frowned. She was wrong. That wasn’t the reason at all, but how could I explain? If there really was a car out there, then a shark bite would pale in comparison to the dangerous waters we were treading now.

“I wrote the other kingdoms first,” I blurted, and Claira staggered mid-step. “Before I wrote your letter. Not to tell them about you—I swear it—but to see if they’d come across another mer unchanged by the curse.”

I’d been an idiot to trust that fucking gull. If the other kingdoms knew about Claira, it would be that much harder to guarantee her safety. I’d already broken her trust once. I’d die before breaking it again.

“There are four other kingdoms, so I thought there’d be others out there. Others like you. I don’t know if those letters ever made it, but either way, I’m sure my father was eager to let the other rulers know the Atlantic will be the first to reclaim its trident.”

“Well, that’s cute.” Claira huffed under her breath as I came up beside her. “So, the entire ocean wants to see the circus freak.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant, but my heart strained at the wounded tone in her voice. I wrapped my hand around hers without thinking, letting my fingers press into the warmth of her palm.

She didn’t deserve this pain. To be cast out, only to be dragged back in.

I’d practically tortured myself over the last month trying to let her go again. To let her live a life above the waves without my interference. But fate had intervened, and here she was next to me, close and bold enough to steal kisses from me under the moonlight.

Even through all the pain I’d caused her, some dark, twisted part of me felt immense satisfaction at her touch. Like I was gratified, awakened, accepted whenever she was near.

Before she could pull away, I closed the distance between us by pressing a hard kiss on her forehead. “This is my fault.” Salt from her damp hair coated my lips, and I reveled in the flavor, remembering how deliciously sweet her tongue had tasted on mine. “So, I’ll handle it. Just promise me you’ll stay behind me for now.”

She chewed at her lip before giving a tight nod. “All right, but I hope King Eamon doesn’t blame you for my escape.”

“Oh? And when did you start worrying about me?” I half-heartedly teased, hoping to put her at ease. I angled myself between her and the warehouse and guided her by the hand behind me. The netting around my hips sagged with each step, but my appearance was the least of my worries.

“I guess you were right,” I mumbled as a parked car in front of the warehouse came into view. Compact and as dark as a sea cave, I wondered how she’d seen it from such a long way out.

The warehouse light flicked to life at our approach, instantly illuminating two figures standing next to the car. Dozens of onlookers poked their heads out of their homes, their eyes swollen and sleepy, unsure of whether to focus on me, their king, or the two outsiders.

An intense gaze seized me all the way from the center platform, and I froze abruptly just outside of the door, sending Claira running into the middle of my back. Everything seemed to dissolve around me as that paralyzing stare held me in its imperious grip. Ice slid down my spine, and it wasn’t until a hand squeezed mine that I realized I’d forgotten to breathe.

“Lee?” Claira’s sweet voice whispered up into my ear. “Are you all right?”

I —

“Prince Leander.” My father’s voice thundered from where he perched on his makeshift throne. It wasn’t until his gaze cut over to the two visitors that I managed to pull in a quick breath. “Honored guests. We welcome you to the Kingdom of the Atlantic. We appreciate your swift arrival, though regret that it is under such…” My father’s glacial stare, numbing and merciless, cut back to me. “… disappointing circumstances.”

Terror shook through me, but I wouldn’t let it show. Couldn’t . Not while he was still looking at me. Not when I had to shield the delicate mermaid behind me from the nightmare sitting in front of us.

“Before we receive you both, we have a slight matter to attend to with our crown prince. Our captains shall receive you in our absence.”

Shit. Not now. Please, not now.

My father rose from his throne, and I swallowed back a mouthful of bile.

His shoulders turned, releasing me from his fiendish hold, and it was like waking from a trance. Suddenly, I noticed the crowd forming around us, and I caught sight of one of the Turbula twins. Sickly pale, I recognized her as the one that always slunk around, hidden in her sister’s shadow. Eyes wide with inquiry trailed down my hips, then over to Claira behind me, and a red stain rose over her face. She darted into the shadows like a mermaid on a mission, her mouth pinched in outrage.

Aleena’s pointed, manipulative lips flashed into my mind, and I suppressed a shudder. Even with mermaid glamour soaking her grin, she could never hide her true nature. Her lust for power was almost palpable.

I glanced down at the net around my hips, then back to sweet Claira behind me and cringed. This was definitely going to bite me in the ass later.

“Do you think the king wants you to follow him?” Claira said, her eyes trailing my father’s movements as he disappeared into one of the storerooms.

Storeroom 2B.

“I…” My jaw seized, and I settled on nodding instead. I pulled her into the warehouse behind me, unable to focus on the familiar faces moving around us. With each light step I took down the rows of fabric, my stomach sank deeper, and I focused on the sensation, like diving into an endless abyss.

Then a cheerful dolphin greeted me, and I absently traced a finger over the wide line of its smile before throwing open the curtain. I needed… clothes or something. What did I need?

My mind was muddled, and I rolled out my neck, wondering what it was I was supposed to be doing.

“Uh…” My eyes jumped between my box of clothes and my bedroll.

What did I come in here for again?

“Oh my goodness, Lee, you’re shaking.” Claira’s voice snapped me out of my stupor, and she eased the curtain closed behind us. Her brows arched in concern. “I’m not sure you should keep King Eamon waiting, but if you need me—”

“Stay here,” I said, suddenly remembering why I’d come to my room. I let the netting drop from my hips and began digging through my box of clothes.

Claira was right. I couldn’t keep my father waiting. Any second I was late would be an extra second of—

“Your hands are trembling. Do you want me to go with you? I can tell him it wasn’t your fault and—”

“No!” I shot back more forcefully than I’d meant to. “No, just… please .”

I slid on a pair of pants and slipped through the curtain. After pulling on a shirt, I glanced back, just to make sure Claira hadn’t followed behind me.

The walk through the warehouse felt like being lost in a fog, but my feet knew the way, and when my eyes focused again, I was standing in front of a flat metal door.

Storeroom 2B. The only room with a lock.

My hand fell on the knob, and I turned it slowly, mechanically, making sure to straighten my shoulders before crossing the threshold.

A fist greeted me, and it swung wildly, connecting with my chest and sending me rearing back against the door, slamming it the rest of the way shut behind me.

“What do you think you’re doing, sneaking off with some mermaid while my trident is lost?” Another punch, and my spine clapped against the doorframe. “Our kingdom is wasting away on the bottom of the damned sea!” he spat, the kingly authority in his voice distorting to a biting hiss. His left hand came next, coiling around my throat before casting me down to the floor with a violent thrash of his arm. My head collided with the ground, and it took everything in me not to curl up on the cold concrete. Not to show him my fear.

“So, you’re taking your punishment like a real merman this time,” he taunted, his heavy footsteps stalking to the place where he kept his new favorite tool now that he’d lost his trident. I could hear, practically feel, the metal scraping as he lifted it.

“You know what comes next,” he said, his voice eerily calm, and I bit down hard, letting my teeth sink into my tongue. I needed something, anything, to keep the screams from coming out.

My eyes were blurry, but I watched the dark head of the mallet as he raised it, his icy eyes wide with madness. Wicked satisfaction spread over his lips. “It’s the only way you learn.”

The mallet came crashing down, and I choked on my tongue as the metal connected. I could feel the bones in my leg splinter, and my mind roared to run, to plead, to turn the mallet back on him, but I held it all back.

“And the other,” he grunted, taking in a long breath as he lifted the mallet back in the air. Blood sputtered from my mouth, muffling my whimpers as the dull, flattened head struck me again, shattering my other leg in one swing.

My father’s body hovered above me in cold, savage silence. Only when he seemed sure I would not cry out did he let the heavy tool rest on the ground. His lips were moving again, the low rumble of his voice reaching my ears, but the buzzing sound of my pulse drowned out everything around me. The room was wheeling and spinning circles, but I didn’t dare close my eyes. I stared up at my father’s face, grounding myself with it as everything else spun.

Then I saw it—the bottle he held in his hand—and a familiar desperation hit me.

“You won’t fail me again.” I read the words on his lips and forced my neck to shake in agreement as enthusiastically as he’d trained me to. “That’s right,” he spat.

He threw the bottle at my feet, and it shattered the moment it hit, sending a shower of water and glass pouring over my legs.

Pop.

The relief was instant as the transformation overtook me, morphing and reforming my bones. I was trapped, helpless, and suffocating in my shirt for the second time today, but I was still beyond thankful for my cursed fish form. A shadow moved over me, and suddenly I was at the mercy of the bottom of my father’s heel.

“You think I won’t do it,” he growled, and I didn’t dare move a single gill. “But soon you’ll learn there’s nothing I wouldn’t do.” His heel retreated, and I felt sickening vibrations as he dragged the mallet back to its usual hidden spot.

Pop.

My bones creaked and grated as they snapped back into their original place. Even with the injuries healed, I knew the phantom pain would linger for hours, radiating deep from the bones as my body recovered from the shock.

“Get yourself cleaned up,” my father spat, and his foot delivered one last parting blow to my ribs.

A rasp barely escaped my throat from the impact, and fear paralyzed me as my mind raced, wondering if he’d heard it. The storeroom door squeaked open and slammed back shut with a hard thunk .

Staring down at what was left of the clothes at my feet, soiled and covered in glass shards, I finally let myself take a breath.