Page 64 of Of Rime and Ruin (Sirens of Adria #2)

Chapter sixty-one

Aethan

Nahla slips out of my embrace and swims right up to the beast. I kick my legs, trying to swim, trying to reach her and pull her out of its grasp in time. I fail, fingers slipping on the slick edge of her tailfin.

The clawbeast must be a lying trickster, and Nahla falls right into its trap. That beast can’t be my mother. It’s impossible. I was there the day she died. I saw my own claws rake through her soft face. I swam in her blood.

I’d rather be sliced apart than let that beast within a scale’s breadth of Nahlani of the Brine. I want to fold her into my body until every inch of my being shields her from its claws.

I thrash in the water, drawing closer. Almost within reach.

My soft-skinned form is fucking useless.

Instead of cutting the water with ease, my fingers slip through it, unable to find purchase.

My legs kick, pathetic and clunky without a tail to steer my path. Why the fuck did I get rid of my Beast?

I draw within myself, searching the reaches of my mind for any sign of him. Maybe Lucas’s magic isn’t permanent. Maybe, if I beg him, he’ll come out of hiding. But there’s nothing there, only the echo of my desperation. My Beast is gone.

“No!” I shout. If I can’t reach Nahla, maybe she’ll listen to me. I can convince her to see reason.

She ignores my protests, reaches out, and places her hand on its fucking stomach.

If I can snare her waist, I can pull her away before the beast attacks. I can save her from its deadly grasp.

Nahla sings. Her magic releases, and the beast grows still as ice. Its eyes glass over, staring straight through me. It does not lash out, does not fight. Only crouches, motionless, as Nahla’s song fills the cave.

The beast is letting her touch its stomach.

Nahla’s song takes on a melancholic quality, rolling like a lullaby. The beast curls its tail around its feet and settles to the floor, like a frostcat before a fire. Its eyelids droop closed. I stop short and stare in disbelief. What the fuck is happening right now?

Is she charming it?

Nahla has always been powerful. She thawed my frozen heart, after all. I’ve seen her work on the hunting trip, enchanting a whole herd of woollygoats at once. She’s more powerful than I’ll ever be; her talents are more useful to my kingdom than I could dream of.

A clawbeast whisperer—Nahla is two for two.

The beast chirps. A smile spreads over its face. Gently, it takes her into its arms, cradling her like she’s a newly hatched guppy while Nahla continues to sing.

A lump hardens in my throat. Such a tender touch from a dreadful creature. Is this part of the trap? Or is the beast somehow sincere?

Maybe…

I cock my head, studying the beast from a new angle. There’s a slight curve to its waist I didn’t notice before. A feminine flare to the shape of its cheeks and mouth. Long, white eyelashes. The jagged pull of the scar on its eyelid where I marred her that day.

“She’s been stuck in this form for more than a decade,” Nahla says.

“After a while, she lost herself and became fully animal. She said she’s been trying to draw attention, leaving gifts at the castle to entice someone to come after her.

” Nahla turns to look at me, her eyebrows knitting. “Does this mean anything to you?”

“Gifts,” I murmur.

All the killings were hers. The corpses appeared on my shore with the same pattern of scars, never a missing limb. Each one laid out like a present on Yuletide. Like she wanted them to be found. Why else wouldn’t she eat them?

I close my eyes against the truth as it hits me.

The curse of the clawbeast is generational.

I have it. My mother has it. I should have guessed this could happen.

I should have known better, should have studied harder, worked harder to solve the mystery.

If I had realized it sooner, many of my people could be alive.

I could have rescued her. She needed me, and I didn’t save her.

Twelve years.

Trapped in her animal mind, stripped of her memories. She was trying to reach me in the only way she knew how. And I, too full of self-loathing to realize, took the blame.

I’ve been so focused on destroying myself, consumed with my hatred and rage, to realize the truth. And Lucas fucking sat there and watched.

He must have known. How could he not? He’s been the royal healer longer than I’ve been alive.

Nausea rolls through me, washing away all desire to fight.

I’ve been deceived.

The beast is watching me. Her head is bowed, her eyes sparkling beneath thick lashes. Waiting to see what I’ll do.

It’s the same way my mother used to look at me when I was up to no good. The same mix of pride and irritation, the same witty glint. A sly curl to her mouth.

Fuck.

“I thought I killed you,” I whisper.

My mother snorts, and bubbles stream from her nose. Nahla laughs. She leans into her mental connection, scrunching her nose with humor.

I let my shoulders drop. My muscles pinch along my neck as tension uncoils and drains. She’s laughing.

She’s okay.

“She said, ‘Fat chance,’” Nahla says. “I like her.”

“Yeah.” My mouth tugs in an answering smile. “Me too.” Slowly, I reach out to her. She lifts her hand, and I tentatively trace the curve of her claw. It’s smooth. Sharp. She blinks, eyes crinkling at the corners.

A low moan emanates from the back of the cave, where a dark shape curls against the floor. In the chaos, I’d forgotten about Perrin.

How could I have forgotten? My stomach twists with fresh guilt.

He sits up, wobbling upright. With groggy eyes, he squints into the light of the glowmites. “Shit, did we win?”

The lucky guppy lives.

He rubs the top of his head, and fresh blood trickles into the water. When he spots my mother, his face pales.

“You’re bleeding!” Nahla darts to his side, frantic. “Any pain? Where does it hurt?”

“There’s a clawbeast behind you,” he whispers.

“She’s fine. I’ll tell you about it later.” Her hands flutter as she assesses the damage, careful not to jostle him. “Where does it hurt? What’s your name?”

“Just my head, Nahla.”

“Wrong. That’s my name. Yours is Perrin.”

He gives her a toothy grin. “Nice one.”

“Watch.” She holds up two fingers, and he tracks them slowly with his eyes. “Concussion, likely. Nothing permanent. We need to get you to the surface and Lucas can—” She bites her lip, glancing at me. “We’ll get you sorted, okay?”

She pulls him into her arms and faces my mother. “Can you lead us out of here?”