Page 16 of Of Rime and Ruin (Sirens of Adria #2)
Chapter fourteen
Nahla
I cry myself to sleep. It’s not a good look for me, and the guard shifts outside my icy cage, but I don’t give two flipping fucks what he thinks.
My sobs choke me and my neck strains as my gills work to suck in enough oxygen. Tucking my tail to my chest, I hug myself and let my sadness work itself out.
I cry for Ramona. For Keen. For the freedom I won and lost too soon.
I cry for Winona—our sibling rivalry be damned.
If I knew my choices would lead me here, I wouldn’t have deserted her.
I would have married that Coral Prince. I would have thrown the best wedding the sea has ever seen, and when Winona walked me down the aisle as the reigning head of my family, I would have kissed her hands and hugged her before she gave me away to the male of her dreams.
My tears freeze in the Rime, floating to the ceiling to join the ice, until sleep finally takes me under.
When I wake, I’m met with a new face at the gate. I blink to clear the fog from my eyes. The newcomer is young. He wears a guard’s belt, and the keys are secured at his hip. The belt looks too big for him, wrapping around his waist twice.
He cocks his head, smiling.
Cutie. He has a pleasant face and broad brown eyes. A curly mop of sandy hair sprouts from his head, a sharp contrast to the blue tone of his skin and scales. His teeth are the pointed tips of a merman, his ears wide and fin-like, untouched by magic. Long, thin whiskers hang from his mouth.
“You don’t look like a spy,” he says. “You’re too pretty.”
I can’t help but smile. “Thanks, I think?”
He fiddles with the keys, dropping his gaze for a moment. “Are your scales really made of gold?”
“No. They’re regular scales.”
He’s funny. A vast improvement to the other guard.
“Huh. I don’t have those. Just a slick of blubber.
” He twists his tail, and I get a closer look.
His tail is smooth, more like a glosswhale’s hide.
The blue tone covers all of him from head to tailfin, speckled with deeper hues on his back, lighter on his stomach.
His tail is injured—half of his right fin is missing, freshly scarred.
“I bet that blubber keeps you warm,” I say. On cue, my teeth chatter.
“It does,” he says, eyeing me with pity. As quick as his expression darkened, it brightens again. “I’ve never met a Brine spy before. Aunt Deirdre says spies are dangerous, but I don’t believe her, after seeing you.”
“I’m not a spy.” Where the hell is everyone getting that from? I told them I’m a princess, didn’t I?
“My king says you are.”
I roll my eyes. That explains it. “Your king’s an asshole.”
We both stop short, staring at each other in shock. His whiskers wiggle, and I curse my lack of filter. How old is this youngling? Fifteen at most? Is he old enough for that word?
Finally, he grins. “I’m Perrin,” he says. “And I don’t mind if you curse, even if Aunt Deirdre does. But don’t call him that, though. His Majesty is a great king.”
Doubtful. Would a great king abandon all reason and trap a potential ally in a freezer? I don’t think so.
“Are you going to get in trouble visiting me?”
Perrin puffs his chest. He turns to show me the emblem on his belt, then jingles the keys. “I’m a Frost Guard.”
“Congratulations,” I say, grinning. He reminds me of the guppies back home, and my heart sinks.
“We’re not supposed to swim in the water, but…” He shrugs. “They stuck me on light duty, and we’re safe in here during the day.”
I file that information for later. Merfolk not allowed to swim? Safe during the day. What the fuck kind of place is this?
Biting back one question, I give Perrin another. “What if His Royal Asshole catches you?”
“He never comes down here.”
I lift from the floor, drifting to the front of my cage. I wrap my hands around the bars, ignoring the sting of the ice. “Why not?”
Perrin’s pupils grow. His gaze drops to my lips, and his ears quiver. “He doesn’t swim.”
“But he’s a siren. Merfolk. We all swim.” My gills ripple along my neck, excited by the thought. What is the asshole hiding? I know the Frost Kingdom to be a secretive, reclusive lot. But is there more to the rumors than bad manners?
“Aunt Deirdre says he’s just sad. I think he’s scared. But I’m not. I’m brave.” He puffs his chest and grins.
If I could fit my face through these bars, I would. I’d shove myself straight into this youngling’s brain and leech everything he knows. “Scared of what?” I whisper. Here it comes, the king’s great secret.
A low rumble tremors the water from within the larger cave.
My stomach flips. I’ve heard that growl before.
Perrin’s face falls, all bravery gone. “Of that ,” he whispers. He cowers against the wall, whiskers trembling. “I-I-I have to go. They said it’d be safe, but…”
With a hurried flap of his tail, Perrin retreats, leaving me to face the king’s greatest fear with nothing more than metal bars to protect me.
I stare down the tunnel, helpless to escape, and wait for the Beast to come.