Page 76

V ahly’s eyes opened to a hazy world of deep blue and green. Her throat convulsed, and her hand went to her neck, feeling gills.

“Right,” she croaked out, fighting the sickness of fear and grief with sharp-edged humor. “I’ve become my enemy. Waking nightmare, check.”

The sea kynd had tied her to a stone shelf where her changed body with its thick skin and heaviness rested as if she were on land without the shift and lift of water all around. Her boots were gone, and she moved her toes, sickened by the webbing that spanned between them.

Panic rose like a scream around Vahly’s pounding heart. Her soul longed for Kyril’s warmth, Arc’s strength, and Nix’s smile. The earth magic inside Vahly pined for the Lost Valley, pushing at her with a power weakened by the sea but insistent nonetheless.

What was Kyril thinking right now?

That she was gone for good?

She imagined him keening and circling the coastline, refusing to rest, falling into the churning tides…

Vahly’s chest shook and she gritted her teeth, forcing herself to remain calm.

Shrieking and thrashing wouldn’t fix this.

She had to use what a life of cons and thievery had taught her and create a plan.

Fisting her grimy—and now webbed—fingers, she focused on moving forward instead of allowing the situation to drown her, both figuratively and literally.

Her magic tugged at her middle, urging her, pleading with her to leave at once for the Lost Valley, for the place of her birth.

She had to stand with Kyril there and recite something.

A spell perhaps. Or an oath. The words flitted through her thoughts like nearly transparent moths. She had to get out of here. Now.

Three walls made of the same sooty rock of her bed-like shelf rose closely around her.

A row of tightly bunched, black coral created the fourth wall, and a door had been set into the center, complete with what looked like a lock.

The floor didn’t provide any errant sticks or slim metal pieces to pick said lock. It was only sand and—

Vahly jerked against her bindings. That was it.

Sand might mean she was at the bottom of the sea.

Maybe if she planted her palms against the bedrock, beneath the sand, her magic would answer her call.

As she’d done earlier, she scraped her wrist bindings against the rock, trying to cut herself free.

But this time, the stuff they’d used as ties was rubbery, and the rock didn’t affect it.

How much water was above her head? Miles of it? How many miles?

She held her breath. How was she ever going to escape? And what was happening with Arc, Kyril, and Nix? Had they been attacked? Did they think she was dead?

Stop it, she told herself. Stop it right now. Focus.

The stone wasn’t going to cut the bindings, but maybe her new claw-like nails could.

Curling her hands so that her middle two fingers brushed the rubbery material that gripped her wrists, she dug with her nails.

Pain flared where the nails scratched her skin, but this new flesh didn’t break as easily.

Hands spasming with the strain on her muscles and tendons, she managed to clip the outer edge of one tie.

Finally, she had to relax her hands. It was too much.

And all she’d accomplished was a tiny cut in one of her four bindings.

Time to try another tactic.

Lifting up as best she could, bound as she was, she strained to see if anyone was outside her cell guarding her. But all was dim and quiet, aside from the constant shush of water in her ears and the insistent drum of her heart.

Maybe if she faked some sort of incident, someone would come. At least then she’d have more options.

“Guards! I can’t breathe! If I die, the queen won’t be able to question me!” She coughed violently. That part was incredibly easy to fake because her transformation still felt so wrong.

A male sea kynd wearing the same uniform as her captor, Ryton, swam up to the coral bars.

He wore loose trousers—fitted above the ankle to allow use of the fin that ran along the back of the ankle and heel—and had a bare chest. He too had a coral spear, although his was far shorter.

Water foamed around the weapon’s tip, magic hissing and ready.

The sea kynd cocked his head of bright orange hair and studied Vahly.

She coughed again before going limp like she’d slipped into unconsciousness.

It worked.

Through one slitted eye, Vahly watched him touch his spear to the lock.

The door sprang open, and he rushed to her side.

He pressed a hand to her gills and then set his palm on her chest, just below her throat.

His chilly touch sent unpleasant shivers down Vahly’s torso.

He whispered four words in the sea kynd tongue, and Vahly’s body rose an inch from its resting spot.

Her eyes flew open as energy surged through her veins.

The sea kynd raised his ginger eyebrows as if in question.

Now was the moment. She had to think of some way to get out of these bindings so she could access the bedrock.

Giving the male doe eyes, Vahly thanked him. “Could I please just sit up?” Hopefully, he understood the language of dragons. Ryton and Astraea had used it in front of her for part of their conversation, so perhaps they all knew it. “I think I’ll have trouble again if I am forced to lie flat.”

The guard glanced to the open door, then back. “The queen will be here very soon. Do not try to escape. You will only suffer more for disobedience. Our queen does not show mercy to enemies.”

Vahly nodded, trying to look weak even though she actually felt strong.

The guard untied her ankles, then one wrist, helping her to sit on the rock shelf.

Vahly gave him a smile of thanks as he walked directly to the door and locked it.

As soon as he was out of sight, she stretched a foot to touch the sandy ground.

Tugging at the tie that held her wrist on the shelf nearly up against the wall, she pushed the grit aside, toes searching for hard earth.

A smooth surface cooled the ball of her foot. She’d reached it.

But her magic didn’t rise, drumming and echoing with power like it normally did when she touched the earth with bare flesh or personal weapon. She squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating, trying to feel the earth, the magic, the power.

Nothing.

Squinting toward the ground, she saw glittering pieces of white stone, gold, and pale green shells.

She scattered more of the sand. It was an old mosaic floor, worn and patchy in places.

Maybe this cell was a part of an older palace or domicile.

Regardless, she wouldn’t be touching any bedrock here.

She blew out a frustrated breath, forgetting for a moment that she was underwater. The gust came out in waves of sound and force, her gills vibrating and tickling her neck. She was a sea kynd now. Hopefully, not forever. Stones and Blackwater, please, not forever.

A thought occurred to her. She straightened.

She was a finned, thick-fleshed, water-breathing sea kynd.

Perhaps she had their magic.

Desperate to find some kind of defense before the queen arrived, Vahly tried to recall the spell the guard had spoken over her, the one that gave energy.

“Na gemísei me sthénos,” she whispered.

A bolt of strength surged through her, pounding in her blood as the sound of crashing waves echoed in her ears. Her fins tingled with the feel of…what?

Magic.

Had to be.

This was water kynd’s power. Through spells spoken in their language and the sea’s essence in their blood, they could swim like the swiftest fish, throw their spears into the hearts of their foes, and call back the weapons at will.

And now Vahly could do that too.

Well, if she could learn more spells. She sagged. Hope had lit her up, but now she realized learning more spellwork would be anything but an easy solution. The guard had been a fool to speak so loudly and clearly in front of her. When Ryton had worked his magic, he’d whispered, his words inaudible.

Vahly raised her head to call the foolish guard back, to get more from him, but a haunting voice annihilated that plan.

“So glad you’re awake, little Earth Queen.” Astraea had arrived.