Page 18 of Cruel Tides (Queen of Tridents #2)

18

Claira

I awoke with a groan, peeling my drool-slicked arm from my face. How long had I been asleep? Ugh. And why was everything so bright?

My eyes burned in protest as I blinked up at the unfamiliar lines of metal spanning the ceiling. What the heck?

I rolled over, half expecting to bury my face into the cool side of a cupcake-printed pillowcase and saw only a lumpy, off-white thing . A heavy, masculine scent caught in my nostrils, instantly bombarding me with a rush of memories from the night before. The water. The boat. The press of lips against mine.

“… Oh.”

I wasn’t going to find any cupcakes or unicorns here. Just a few mismatched blankets and a flattened pillow that might have actually been scraps of old material stuffed inside a graying pillowcase. Heat bubbled up from the pit of my stomach as I thought about whose bed I was cozied up in. Whose bed I would be expected to stay in until this whole trident-retrieving mess was over with.

Blankets fell away as I shot up and squinted around Leander’s tiny makeshift room as I waited for my eyes to adjust. Although I was alone, something about the atmosphere felt different from before I’d lain down. My eyes settled on the topmost blanket.

Running a hand over the velvety blue fabric, I frowned. It was easy enough to recognize as the blanket Leander had brought me earlier, back when I was first thrown in King Eamon’s crappy pallet cage. Only now, instead of sitting where I’d strategically left it—tightly wound up with a knife safely concealed in its center—the blanket was draped over me, its ends neatly tucked under the foot of Leander’s bedroll. It was heavier than the two threadbare sheets I’d originally slipped underneath, which puzzled me further. Why would a prince offer a prisoner something better than what he had for himself? It suddenly occurred to me that maybe the blanket he’d offered had been taken from his own bed.

Before I could process the twinge of emotion that thought kicked up, I caught sight of the knife sitting atop the box next to my feet. Beside it, a pouch of tuna had been laid out like an offering.

The affectionate flutter in my belly quickly turned into an insistent rumble at the sight of food. How many hours had it been since I’d eaten a proper meal? Sure, I’d practically inhaled two slices of bread while looting the storehouse for knives, but those hardly counted. I’d eyed the pouches of tuna in the storeroom earlier—as well as numerous cans of lump crab meat—but digging into them in the middle of the night hadn’t seemed practical, especially if there were merfolk nearby as overly sensitive to the scent of sea fare as I was.

Picking up the knife, I turned it over in my hand. It certainly was one of the better knives I’d scavenged, with a heavy handle and a sharp, serrated blade that would have worked well if I found my hands bound by ropes again. Leaning forward, I slid the knife under the foot of the sleeping mat and patted the top of the blankets in satisfaction. There might have been a rule about entering Leander’s room, but I didn’t trust merfolk and their rules. The last thing I needed was to be weaponless if some ornery mermaid tried to test her luck with her prince, only to find me dozing in his bed instead.

My stomach groaned impatiently, and I went for the pouch and found a second one stacked underneath it. There was a conversation going on outside, and I tuned into the deeper voices as I slid out from under the blankets and got to my feet. King Eamon was arguing about something so pointedly it was easy to imagine bursts of venom rolling off his tongue accompanying his words. Had I somehow slept through hours of this? My body bristled when a loud stomp punctuated the end of one of his outbursts, and I nearly dropped my precious meal.

Peeling both of the pouch’s tops open at the same time, I sucked at their corners, working bits of the tuna into my mouth as I listened. Better to eat in here than out there. Whatever King Eamon was so upset about, chances were it had something to do with me.

When I’d emptied the last of the tuna, the conversation only seemed to grow more heated. Unsure of what to do next, I paced a tight circle, feeling like a goldfish stuck in a bowl much too small for its size.

A goldfish that really needed to pee.

Releasing a sigh, I drew back the curtain to survey the dreaded platform. Three captains—thankfully all unrelated to me—a crown prince, and their king seemed to be stuck in the middle of some endless argument. An older gentleman cowered at King Eamon’s feet, looking rather shaken as he fumbled through a collection of papers with a quivering, ink-stained thumb. Gentleman? I shook my head, remembering that these weren’t humans I was dealing with. With how thin and weathered the old merman looked, he could have easily been two or even three hundred years my senior.

I felt my lips pull into a frown as I stared at the dark splotches dotting his shriveled hands. He was clutching those papers like his survival depended on it. The merman’s eyes were wide with an anxious confusion, as if he was unaware of why he’d been summoned or how to quell the anger King Eamon projected down at him.

With all eyes focused on the old merman, at least no one would notice me heading for the bathroom. I glanced at the back of Leander’s stiff shoulders, and when he shifted uncomfortably on his feet, my eyes gravitated down to his legs, watching the curves of his ass flex through his jeans.

“Mmph,” I breathed out, catching myself as I drew in my bottom lip.

Why was I like this? I didn’t have time for ogling.

Slipping through the curtain, I darted along the line of mismatched fabric as I headed to the back of the warehouse. When I got to the curtain that led to the cage, I swung left and immediately ran into the line leading to the one solitary bathroom. Six bodies deep. Fantastic.

My feet shuffled underneath me as I waited, and when my turn finally came, I was beyond thankful the merfolk had wound up in a warehouse equipped with a bathroom that offered some actual privacy.

“But where do they shower?” I mumbled aloud as I lathered my hands with a squirt of laundry detergent. It wasn’t what my hands were used to, but I wasn’t about to complain. I’d eat and drink their meals easier knowing they were at least washing their hands with some type of soap.

I casually glanced at the mirror as I rinsed my hands, and— Poseidon’s crusted cucumber —the image reflected at me was horrifying. My hair looked like some slimy algae bloom that a net had accidentally skimmed off the bottom of the seafloor. A fist pounded on the door, pulling me out of my daze.

“Almost done,” I croaked after swallowing down a lump in my throat. There was nothing to dry my hands with, so I ran them down the front of my shirt with a defeated sigh. When I swung the door open, Leander was on the other side, leaning against the doorframe like he’d been waiting for me.

My eyes rolled right past him to the line of irate faces belonging to the merfolk he’d cut in front of. “I guess royalty gets a fast pass to the front of the line, huh?” I said, sliding right underneath the arm he had braced against the top of the doorframe. Gesturing an exaggerated welcome, I forged a sweet smile. “It’s all yours, my prince.”

“Well, you seem to be in a better mood,” he chuckled, catching one of my arms with his. In an instant, he’d whirled us around, leading us away from the bathroom. “Walk with me,” he said, and I had to double the length of my stride just to keep beside him.

I cut a glance over at the platform as we passed it, swallowing my nerves. The captains had closed in tighter around the old merman, and King Eamon hadn’t seemed to be finished relaying his sentiments yet. The last thing I wanted was for him to turn his rage on us. “I don’t like the way your father is yelling at that old man. Is everything okay?”

“Don’t worry about that,” he said, and his powerful arm pulled me in a new direction. “I don’t have a lot of time before I’m expected back, but I’m glad I saw you when you left my bedchamber. That red hair sure stands out.”

“My hair?” I winced, recalling what I’d seen reflected in the mirror, and hurried to smooth the tangles of hair out of my face as we walked. “Well, I’m glad it was you who noticed me and not your father. So, what’s the plan?”

We came to an open doorway, and Leander stopped. There were only two places in the entire warehouse I hadn’t scoped out: the locked storeroom and the room in front of us now. Although the door had been wide open last night, the guards posted inside the room had kept me from creeping near it. The same curiosity I’d felt then filled me once more. What were they guarding in there?

I took a step forward, but Leander held me back. “Just a second,” he said, veering us away from the door. I let him draw my body against his and had to hold my breath when his warm scent brought clarity to whose covers I was just wrapped up in. It was surreal having him stand so close, his striking blue eyes focusing only on me. Like this entire ordeal had somehow turned into a beautiful dream. These feelings he coaxed out of me with just a brush of his skin against mine were so wondrous. So intense. Almost like magic . How could any of it be real?

A warm hand cocked my chin up, raising my vision up to a pair of eyes as they puzzled over my face. “Claira? Are you listening?”

Snapping back from my thoughts, I gave a slight nod, and Leander’s palms settled on my shoulders. “Listen, you can trust Barren, okay? As long as he’s nearby, he’ll make sure you don’t get hurt. But I need you to watch out for the short one. Don’t get too close to him.” Leander scowled through his next words like they put an unpleasant taste in his mouth. “I don’t trust him.”

“The short one,” I repeated, watching his lips soften like he thought I was about to agree with his appraisal. “He’s like an inch taller than me, and I’m not short.”

Leander snorted to suppress a chuckle. “Yeah, okay.”

“Hey, now! I used to be taller than you, remember?” I wasn’t that short. Sure, my boots gave me an extra inch or two, but he didn’t need to be reminded of that.

“Yeah, when we were eight.” His lips pulled into that sinful smirk of his, and I could tell he thought he was right. Damn cocky prince!

Bouncing up on my tiptoes, I captured his lips with my own just to prove how wrong he was. Our mouths met, but the blissful satisfaction was short-lived as gravity brought me sliding right back down. But sturdy arms caught me before I could fully slip away, sliding down around my waist and pulling me back into the kiss.

Leander’s stupid grin was more prevalent than ever as a deep chuckle vibrated through his chest. The stupidity must have been contagious, because I couldn’t stop myself from grinning, too.

“Ahem.” A throat cleared from somewhere beyond the doorway we were idling in front of, but the arms holding me up only fastened around me tighter. “May we be of service to you, Your Royal Highness?”

“Fuck,” Leander breathed out the moment my lips retreated.

“See, I’m not so short after all,” I whispered up at him with a confidence I hoped wasn’t countered by the fiery blush spreading across my face.

“You sure? You still seem short to me,” he mumbled back. One of his eyebrows lifted as he pressed our hips back together like he’d already forgotten about the guards who were waiting for his answer. “I think we need to measure again, just to be sure…”

“Your Royal Highness?” The voice came again, and an impatient breath shot through Leander’s nose like he was fighting to restrain his temper.

“I guess this isn’t the right time or place to tease you. Sorry,” I said, pulling away from him. I gave the closest guard a nod, but his face was red as well, only with indignation instead of embarrassment. “Are you gonna show me what they’re guarding, or did you just want to talk to me about the other princes?”

“Oh, did you want to see what we keep in here?” he asked, offering for me to step through the doorway first.

Of course I wanted to see. I moved past him without a second thought, but the guard closest to me stepped forward, cutting off my path with a swish of a long wooden pole. He brandished the heavy rod like he was wielding a spear, sweeping it through the air and stopping just short of slamming it against my chest. Rows of bristles gave away its true nature—a worn-out push broom that was likely once tasked with keeping the concrete floor clean.

“Let her pass.” Leander stepped beside me, easily shoving the rod away with a single press of his palm. “She isn’t our prisoner. Claira is my guest, and you will show my guests proper respect.”

“But sir, I do not think—”

The guard furthest from us beat the end of his broom handle on the floor—two quick strikes—and the merman standing before me straightened up like a bolt. In an instant, he’d pulled his own broom close to his body in some sort of military-taught maneuver. Lips tightly sealed, he shot me a heated look before marching a step away, letting me get a full view of what he’d been tasked with guarding.

Aside from one table, the room was completely empty. Someone had pushed a rickety card table up against the far wall, balancing it up on three legs and a dented filing cabinet that was a few inches too short to keep everything level. Twin white cords sat across the surface in a neat line, their long lengths trailing off the edge and cascading down, likely ending at an electrical outlet hidden underneath the table.

No way. They couldn’t be what I thought they were. My mouth gaped as I threw Leander a questioning look.

Yes way. Leander was already reaching back, sliding a phone out of his back pocket. “You’d better stay back, Claira. This will only take a minute.” He moved up to the table, and I leaned forward as well. Oh, I had to see this.

The guards’ shoulders inched closer, their legs straining to keep them at attention as they pretended not to be interested in what their prince was doing. It was a good show, but their eyes betrayed them. Both pairs grew wide as they watched with bated breath as Leander ever so gently picked up the end of one cord, his fingers careful not to touch the little metal bit at the end. He held down a gulp of air in the same nervous concentration I’d imagine an electrician had when surveying a live wire. Steadying his hands, he held both the plug and phone high in the air, slowly inching them together until… click.

The pieces connected, and all eyes were on the phone’s dark screen. Two seconds passed and light flickered out from the phone, illuminating a familiar icon of a charging battery. Three sets of lungs released an elongated sigh of relief.

Were they serious?

Leander sat the phone down on the table at a precise angle and gave a little bow of thanks to… the table? Or maybe the charger? Then he carefully straightened out the length of both cords, looking a little too satisfied with himself for doing something so damn simple.

“This is where we bring the phones when they need to be reluminated,” he explained, glancing back at me with a smug look that said he was ready and waiting to hear some high praise. Too bad I couldn’t come up with any.

“Oh, um, wow.” That was all I could say. Pallet cages, shower curtain buildings, and beach chair thrones were one thing. But this?

They had really stationed merfolk here day and night in a tiny room just to guard some sort of shrine altar they’d made for their phone chargers?

And reluminated? Did Leander really think that cell phones were anything like the magic lit lamps they used back in the palace? Sure, those had needed reluminating at night, but that was a ritual the guards had performed with actual magic. This was just wires and electricity—but then again, how would merfolk know the difference? This could very well be some sort of land magic to them.

I bit my tongue to keep from saying something foolish. I already knew at least one guard didn’t like me, and I didn’t need to berate his duties right in front of him. No need to give him a reason to strike me over the head with his broom handle.

With a bright smile, Leander drew a hand through his hair before taking hold of my arm once again. “I’m glad my father needed me to reluminate his phone. Gave me an excuse to follow you.” Aiming a stiff nod to each guard, he led us back out of the room.

I stole a quick glance back, watching both guards tighten up their stances in front of the card table, forming a barricade of angled arms and broom handles. At least King Eamon wouldn’t have to worry about someone stealing his phone.

Leander kept close to me as we walked, his chin lifting in tight movements to greet each mer we passed. “My father spent the last few hours trying to figure out how to summon King Darias’s voice over the phone. Its lumination drained before he succeeded. Not that I’m too fucking surprised. Neither of us knows how cryptograms work.” His head shook, and I bit back a snicker. Cryptograms? “If he keeps up like this, he is going to start a fucking war. He already wants to strangle that Pacific prince, and he’ll end up doing it if I don’t keep King Darias’s son out of here.”

A war between the merfolk on land? Something told me it wouldn’t last very long. Even if one side could afford the plane tickets, they would need to branch out their weaponry to include vacuums and mops or get their hands on a whole lot of brooms.

“Kai, you mean? Why would your father strangle him?”

Leander’s mouth tightened into a scowl. “Well, let’s just say he managed to annoy him.” We reached the corner leading back to the king’s platform, but Leander’s arm held me back. “Listen, Claira. Remember what I said earlier? You can trust Barren.”

Tucking an errant strand of hair off my cheek, he dropped his voice down as soft as he could manage. “We discussed a lot of things while you were asleep, and while our scribe is trying his best to find some sort of loophole, the other kingdoms see you as a free mermaid. They’ve decided we can’t hold on to you, that we can’t hold you here against your will. The Pacific and the Indian Oceans both want your help, and my father has decided, for now, to let them think you’ll help them.”

Wait, what?

“Help them how? ” My jaw unhinged as I stared up at him, but he made no move to elaborate. “Lee… You know I can’t swim.”

“And that’s what I told both of them,” he shot back, and my anxiety eased. “But they both said they think they’ll be able to teach you.”

Now why did that sound familiar?

“Oh, so they’re gonna take me out, too, then?” I could feel the anxiety bubbling right back up. “But what if they find out about—”

Leander’s finger snapped up to my lips, and I swallowed the words back down. His eyes cut sharply to the left and to the right, and I nodded, easily understanding his meaning. It wasn’t hard to see that these merfolk were desperate to get back into the water. No one else needed to know what my touch could do.

He seized my hand, and his long fingers spread mine apart to weave into the spaces between them. The comfort the warmth of his palm brought was unexpected. As soon as the thought drew my attention down to our clasped hands, he spoke, and his velvety voice drew me right back up to him. “Promise me you won’t let Barren or Kai or anyone else find out.”

I bit at my lip as I thought. “I mean, I’ll try not to.”

It wasn’t like it was my fault Leander had ended up in the ocean with me. It had been stupid of him to follow me into the water, even if it was to save me. Luck was the only reason either of us had made it out of that situation alive. If something else happened, how could I guarantee Barren or Kai wouldn’t act just as foolhardy?

“Claira, I need you to promise.”

Swimming without someone to hold on to was going to be difficult for me. Impossible, even. But what choice did I have? What choice had I had in any of this?

“I promise.”

His face softened with relief, but my pulse hammered at the thought of going back into the water without him. Suddenly worried, I brought our joined hands up to press a kiss against his knuckles as my thoughts wandered back to the two princes I’d left locked up in the gas station. Could either of them really teach me how to swim? How could I even trust them not to let me drown? Through the string of questions, I was only certain about one thing.

This wasn’t going to be an easy promise to keep.