Page 22 of Making Out With Mermaids (Haven Ever After #6)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

AMATHEIA

T his is a disaster. I thought I had another hour or two to gird my proverbial loins before we went to see Caralorn.

We walk down Sycamore Street toward the lake, Thatraeia stiff and silent to my left. She grips my hand so tightly, I can’t feel the tips of my fingers. To my right, Betmal saunters as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. He keeps one arm slung low around my waist, his fingers curled through the belt loops of my short skirt.

Malakat leads the King’s Guard who walk in a stiff, awkward circle around us.

As we pass over Main Street, our group catches the attention of monsters frequenting the businesses at our crossroads. I see Morgan and Abemet sitting in front of Higher Grounds, two drinks on the table between them. Morgan’s gray eyes flash to mine and widen in concern.

I want to sink into the ground and die of embarrassment.

Abemet rises from the table and walks toward us as we pass. “Father, need a little help?”

Betmal shakes his head. “Not unless I comm you, darling. Dinner soon?”

Abemet watches us go, eyes narrowed to slits as he observes the guard surrounding us. Whispers and hushed murmurings echo around us as my cheeks heat. I keep my head lifted high. I won’t allow the King’s Guard to get me down, no matter how mortified I am inside.

I can’t fathom how this is going to go with Betmal joining us in the lake, but I have to trust that if he thinks it’ll be fine, it’ll be fine. This was his initial plan, after all.

But by the time we reach the lakeshore, I’m a bundle of nerves. Even if he can go without breathing for a long time, what if that’s only a few minutes? What if Caralorn locks him up, and he drowns? What if?—

“Ma siréne.” He slides his fingers along my jawline and pulls me to face him. “This is good. One way or another, everything will be out in the open. I’ll be by your side the entire time. This will go our way. You’ll see.”

“It’s not my side I’m worried about.” I cradle his hand with mine, rubbing my cheek against his palm. “This is a risk, Betmal, no matter how confident you may feel.”

He gives me a surprised look even though his lips curve into a wicked smile. “You wound me, darling.” He kicks off his shoes and strides into the lake, holding on to my hand. “Shall we?”

I notice he doesn’t call me mate, and I wonder if it’s because he thinks I don’t want to tell my cousins or the guards.

But fuck this.

They aren’t in charge of my life.

“After you, mate ,” I say loudly, clearly.

Malakat swings around from her position ahead of us, nostrils flared as the tips of her ears twitch in fury. She says nothing but schools her face back to neutral and spins, morphing into merfolk form and disappearing beneath the lake’s surface.

Thatraeia follows her, along with the guards in front of us. Several still stand at our back as I come to Betmal’s side and smile up at him.

“That was a nice touch,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Shall we go ruffle more fins, darling?”

“Let’s,” I say simply, pulling him farther into the water.

As the water reaches his thighs, he starts to breathe in deeply. Then, he smiles at me and dives gracefully into the water. Shocked anew at his confidence, I take my prosthetic off and set it on the beach before I dive after him, transitioning my legs into a tail.

Betmal waits below the surface for me, hovering in the water. I reach for him, holding his hand. He allows me to pull him along into the lake. I can’t resist checking on him every few minutes, but he seems absolutely fine, focused on Malakat and the guard, barely visible ahead of us. Thatraeia glides cautiously by his side.

We swim quickly toward the lake’s center, then down toward the city. Betmal’s fine.

He’s fine.

I keep telling myself that as we pass two hundred feet and most of the light emanates from the city itself.

It shocks me how I don’t feel like I’m home despite the pretty pink castle off in the distance. I feel like I’m visiting a prison.

That sentiment settles in deep as we approach the city but bypass the main swimming lanes and head deep into the catacombs. They link to my uncle’s chambers. I stress about the idea of Betmal swimming in closed spaces, but he doesn’t slow as we enter the rounded stone gate and head into the depths of the castle’s belly.

Ten minutes later, he still seems comfortable as we rise out of the catacombs and glide along empty shell-encrusted hallways toward Caralorn’s personal meeting room.

That can be the only place they’re taking us to. I thought he wanted to publicly humiliate me, but it seems a private humiliation is plenty to start with. In a way, that’s good, because it means we don’t have to fight in front of the entire clan.

Two King’s Guards swim ahead and grab the big doors that separate Caralorn’s private suite from the rest of the castle. We enter, and my blood runs cold at seeing my uncle seated on his suite throne, both muscular forearms resting on the chair as he looks at us with a completely neutral expression.

“Out, everyone,” Mala commands, waving her spear toward the door.

Thatraeia whimpers as she glances between me and Malakat. “I want to stay with you,” she whispers.

Betmal wraps an arm around both of us, his fingers resting lightly on my cousin’s shoulder. She gives no sign she notices other than pressing closer to me and sucking in a deep gulp of water. The guards leave but Mala doesn’t force Thatraeia to join them.

My eldest cousin bows deeply. “Father, Amatheia, as requested. Unfortunately, we?—”

“Silence,” Caralorn hisses without looking at her.

Although she says nothing, I notice how the fins along the back of Malakat’s tail stiffen and stand in frustration.

“Uncle,” I begin, swimming slightly forward. “I?—”

“I said silence!” he roars, rising from his throne and balling both fists at his sides.

Malakat swims to her father’s side and matches his furious glare.

Caralorn glances at the three of us, eyes narrowing on Betmal as he bares his fangs. “I don’t know what possessed you to come down here. I ordered Malakat to retrieve Amatheia.” He shoots Malakat a withering look. “It seems she was unable to complete even that simple task.” Dark eyes move back to us. “Whatever it is you think you’ve been doing with my charge, it stops right now.”

Not niece, charge .

Because that’s all I am to him—a burden, a responsibility.

Balling my fists, I glare back.

Betmal chuckles, the sound watery. “That doesn’t work for Ama and me, Caralorn.” He stands confidently as I marvel that he’s able to speak underwater. Tiny air bubbles leave his nose and burble toward the ceiling. I’ll question him about that later, assuming we make it out of here in one piece.

“He’s my mate,” I add. “He’s my mate , Uncle, something I never could have expected, but it’s true. I begged and pleaded with you to let me go, and this is why.”

“He isn’t,” Caralorn growls. “I made her a promise, and I will not see you wed to a vampire.”

Hearing him speak of his promise to my mother shreds my heart. She wouldn’t have cared what Betmal was. She’d have loved him. I know that.

Betmal takes a step forward. “While you’ve been primarily concerned with how to crush Ama under the weight of your power and this so-called promise, I’ve been focused on loving her the way she deserves. I do that because she’s mine, and I hers, and there is not a force in this world that can stop us, not you or the arcane laws you cling to like long dead fish bones.”

Caralorn’s nostrils flare, and he’s across the room in a second, halting just before Betmal.

Betmal doesn’t bother to move, smiling at my uncle as a chuckle leaves his throat. “I’m going to say this once and only once. What Amatheia wants, I will ensure she gets, up to and including freedom from you and this entire kingdom, if that is what she wishes. Do not come to my home again and threaten her or anyone else, or I can promise you will regret it.”

Love for Betmal wells inside me. It could only ever have gone like this. It was always going to be a fight, and I think that’s why I avoided this topic for so long, keeping Betmal hidden like a little secret. But he doesn’t deserve that, and I don’t either.

I float in front of my uncle, offering a half smile as I raise my hands. “Uncle, I don’t want to be a reject from this kingdom. I want to come and go, to visit Thatraeia and see my people. I’d like to still spend time at the Sovereign Sip. I’d like to be of occasional service. But I cannot live here any longer. I want something different for my life. Can you understand that? You can be free of me.”

Malakat sneaks slowly and quietly off the dais, spear pointed toward Betmal.

“You’ve got precisely three seconds to get out of my face, Caralorn,” Betmal says quietly, bringing a hand up to examine his nails. Crimson eyes flick to my uncle. “If you do not back up and acquiesce to Ama’s request that you stop ruling over her like a little lordling, I will take her freedom from you. And then I will stain this lake red with your blood and take her back home anyhow.” His smile grows sinister, reminding me of the way he looked at his former mates in Arcadia. “Two seconds.”

Malakat moves first, sluicing through the air toward us with her spear raised. Thatraeia shrieks and grabs my hand as I lurch toward her sister.

Everything happens in a blur as Betmal shoots through the water toward Malakat. He grabs the tip of her spear and yanks her to him, executes a flip and snatches her by the braids, hauling her against his chest.

Before I can warn him about the knife she keeps at her waist, pain lances down my spine. Caralorn drags me into his arms, sharp nails pressed to the front of my neck.

Thatraeia screams, and then everything goes still as Caralorn digs his claws into my flesh, the tips pricking through the sensitive skin beneath my chin.

Eyes wide, I stare at Betmal. I don’t recognize the male I see. He wears a bored expression as he grips both of Malakat’s hands in one of his, his other around the front of her neck.

“Let go of my mate,” he says evenly. “Or I will take her from you.”

I scratch at Caralorn’s hands, struggling against his grip. “Uncle, please! We just want?—”

“I do not care,” he hisses, squeezing tighter. “Stefan is here in this castle promising treasure and support and we will have it. Not to mention I’d be fulfilling your mother’s dying wish. Two birds, one stone and all of that.”

The pain from his nails pulls a whimper from my throat, blood wafting from the wound. It’s nothing to the fresh pain from my uncle’s words. To him, I’m a pawn and nothing more. Not a person deserving of love whose opinion should be heard.

Across from us, Betmal’s eyes narrow.

“You’re hurting her,” he says coolly. His second eyelid flashes white, and he shoves Malakat, floating slowly away from her even as he eyes my uncle. “Let go of my mate, Caralorn.” His tone is strange, flat and neutral.

I’ve heard that tone before, when he used his power of influence in Arcadia.

Caralorn’s fingers loosen on my throat, and I use that moment to flit away from him to Betmal’s side.

“Behind me, darling,” he says quietly.

In front of us, Caralorn’s eyes spring wide as the skin underneath them twitches. The corners of his mouth pull up into a sneer, like he’s trying to move but can’t.

Malakat is frozen watching her father claw at his throat as if he’s desperate to speak but can’t do that either. Her hair floats wide around her, her green eyes flashing between Betmal and Caralorn.

Betmal turns to her and cocks his head to one side, utterly focused on my cousin.

“Kill him,” Betmal commands.

I gasp, scratching at the back of his shirt. “Betmal, no, please.”

But he doesn’t respond, except to pull my hand around to his stomach, laying his over mine.

“Kill your father,” he commands Malakat again. “Stick that blade into his gills and watch him bleed out. Now.”

Malakat screams but moves slowly across the space between her and Caralorn. She growls as she lifts the spear, muscles trembling as she seemingly tries to hold back.

“Nooo,” Caralorn wails. “St-stop it this instant!”

Malakat lifts the spear higher, chest heaving.

I scream when she slices down through the water.

“Stop,” Betmal commands.

The point of Malakat’s spear stops at the very edges of her father’s neck gills. She flashes us a desperate look. “Please,” she pleads.

I scratch at Betmal’s stomach. “Mate, please!”

He squeezes my fingers, never looking away from my cousin and uncle.

“We can do this easily, or we can do this very easily,” he croons. “I can kill you now, although I’d prefer not to have quite that much blood on my hands. Or you can let us go and stop this nonsense with Amatheia. You’ve just gotten the barest taste of my power. I will decimate this kingdom for her if I need to. Ama is not your property. Are we clear?”

Caralorn’s eyes narrow, but he says nothing.

“Stay where you are, both of you,” Betmal commands, moving my hand aside and gently pushing me toward Thatraeia. My cousin floats wordlessly near the dais, eyes wide as she stares at the unfolding scene.

Betmal glides to my uncle and cousin and grabs Malakat’s knife from the holster around her thigh. Thalassa below, I don’t want him to kill Caralorn. That’s not how this should have gone down, but if I know anything about Betmal, it’s that he would kill for me.

I never want him to have to.

“Betmal.” I start toward him, one hand lifted.

He moves to Caralorn, and in one swift move, slips Malakat’s knife deep into the outer section of my uncle’s tail.

Caralorn screams, and Malakat shouts to the guard for help.

Thatraeia is frozen, and even I halt in place, shocked that Betmal stabbed him.

“That’s for her leg,” he growls. “For letting her be in pain for fucking years . For not helping her when that’s all you should have done…had the decency to be kind to a child.” He yanks the knife out, and Caralorn whimpers, grabbing Malakat’s shoulder and squeezing.

She grunts, seemingly unable to lift a hand to help him.

Betmal drops the knife, my uncle’s blood wafting away in the slight current. “I’m taking my mate and Thatraeia, and we are leaving now. Do not attempt to stop us and do not follow us. In fact, do not come near us. If I see you again, I will take this further. Are we clear?”

When Caralorn does nothing but glare, struggling to bring his free hand down to cover his wound, Betmal growls and gets in his face, snapping his fangs at Caralorn’s neck. “Are. We. Clear?” He bites out each word like it’s another stab of the knife.

A clipped nod is my uncle’s only answer.

Betmal floats backward, reaching for me and putting an arm around Thatraeia.

“In ten minutes, you will have bodily control again. We will be long gone. Remember that we tried to speak with you as adults. Remember that all we asked for was kindness. And then remember my warning because I will not hesitate to harm you in the future.”

I’m quiet as we head for the door. Caralorn roars behind us, but neither he nor my cousin make any movement in our direction when I look.

At the door, the King’s Guard float, frozen in the water.

Betmal looks at them. “In ten minutes, you will be free to assist your king. He’s bleeding from a wound I gave him, but he’ll be fine.”

The guard closest to us tries to say something but chokes around the words, brows furrowed in apparent anger.

As we move up the hall, Betmal’s jaw goes tight.

“He needs air,” Thatraeia says.

“I’ll…be fine,” Betmal insists, even as his movements slow.

Terror overtakes me. “Thatraeia, help me!”

She takes one hand, and I take the other as we power through the corridors and out of the nearest exit.

“Ama,” Betmal moans. Then his head lolls forward and bubbles exit his nose.

I scream as Thatraeia and I bullet through the city as fast as we can, heading for the surface.

The moment we break it, I shove him as high toward the sky as I can, shaking him. He splashes back into the water, falling against Thatraeia and me.

“Drag him to shore!” she shouts. “We’ve got to get out of the water in case they come for us.”

Ten minutes. We had ten minutes. If they’re going to follow us, we’ve only got a few minutes to get him up and moving. Oh Thalassa, bless us please. Don’t let him die now.