Page 9 of Of Rime and Ruin (Sirens of Adria #2)

Chapter seven

Aethan

My chamber is black as the night. Thick furs hang over the walls to cut the chill of the ice that clings to every iron pore. It’s late. The candle on my mantel burned out long ago, its smoke lingering in the room like a stale guest.

My ass is sore from sitting in this chair too long. When I tilt my head, my neck cracks and a series of pops break the silence.

I should sleep. Resign myself to the creature comforts of the soft furs on my bed. Any sane person would have given up the chase by now.

But I must stay vigilant if I’m to catch the clawbeast. It’s the only thing that will prove my innocence.

So I dip my fingers again into a shallow bowl on my desk, its water cool and clear. As I hum the activation spell, it creates a mirrored pool, glowing awake and casting a blue hue into the darkness. I peer into an enchanted replica of my frozen domain.

My Voice deepens, directing the spell. On the surface of the pool, the conjured image narrows and dives into the Rime.

I grip the bowl, transfixed by the moving image.

The seafloor slants away from the beach.

Shale gives way to a sprawl of dark, jagged rock.

Silverfish flick their tails in unison, forming a tight unit of flashing scales.

Glacierweed sways in the slow currents, the curly tendrils clinging to pockets of stone.

Then the floor drops. Steep ice walls plummet to the darkest reaches, swallowed by the blue.

I alter my spell, and the image plunges into the depths, speeding through the trench and scanning for signs of struggle. Claw marks in the ice, or a molted scale. Bones on the seafloor. Anything to prove the existence of another clawbeast living in the deep.

The knot in my stomach hardens, sharp as a knife.

There’s nothing here.

Slowly, my vision rises, floating toward the surface for a final wide-angle view.

I’ve searched the Rime for over a decade, and the bitter truth remains the same: I am the sole cause of my people’s suffering.

And unless I can find a cure soon, I will need to abdicate my throne.

I’ve already broken tradition—a young king with dead parents, I took the throne unmarried.

A scandal I’ve done nothing to remedy. Twelve years later, without a prospect or an heir in sight, I can’t preserve my lies much longer.

The stone bowl creaks under the strength of my grip. I blink, partly withdrawing my attention from the pool. My knuckles stain blue. But before I can sever my spell, a light catches my eye.

Somewhere, in the crystal blue expanse of the Rime, a bright flash of color. I intensify my spell, zooming in on the spot.

Scales, not light. Bright golden scales shimmer in a monochromatic sea. And they belong to a mermaid.

My stomach flips over.

She’s beautiful.

She executes a somersault, arching her back and tucking head over tail.

The signs of magical lineage are there—features smoothed by magic, earth-toned skin blending into a colorful tail.

Long, dark hair fans around her. Two starfish cover her ample breasts, the planes of her stomach soft and bare.

Her tail, brilliant as the sun, ends in feathered yellow fins, flowing like a sunfish.

Her petite hands are clasped above her head, driving her dive.

As her face circles into view, I catch her smile. Sweet, plump lips. Her eyes pop open. Two brown orbs, flashing with mischief beneath thick, dark lashes.

My stomach bottoms out. It’s like she’s looking right at me. But I grip the bowl, rooting myself in my chair. I’m safe at home. It’s a fluke. A coincidence. She can’t see me.

A pod of glosswhales rises from the deep, pumping toward the surface. Bubbles churn in a path behind them as their slick gray bodies cut the water with ease.

Her mouth opens, and bubbles escape. The sight-pool silences her song as her lips quiver, forming a Voice I cannot hear. A siren.

The glosswhales approach, circling the siren with curiosity. She watches them, reaching out with her hands to stroke their noses. Petting them and puckering her lips. Her fingers tickle the underside of one’s chin.

She giggles, and my stomach twists as I wonder what it might sound like. Light and melodic? Bright as her scales? Or would she have a deeper rasp, one to match the mischief in her eyes? Those watchful, haunting eyes.

The scales rise along my neck. She has no right to have eyes like that.

In one glance, she’s unraveled me. My body no longer feels my own—my stomach is tied in knots, my heart thunders, and my breath catches.

I long to reach into the pool, to snatch her up, to fold myself into her being. To dissolve in her warm, playful gaze.

I shake my head to clear the pang of desire. A siren with such power over my senses—she must be dangerous.

She pumps her tail, leading the glosswhales toward the surface. I turn my spell, squinting as the aethersky streams from above. They break the waterline, threading it with bubbles.

What is she doing in my Rime?

My stomach twists tighter still. Who is this outsider, giggling in the middle of my domain like she owns these waters? I’ve never seen this female in my life. I’m the fucking king. I should know if an outsider infiltrated my ranks.

Doesn’t she know she’s in danger? Can she be so na?ve to enter a foreign territory to play with whales? A clawbeast lives here. I live here.

My hands chill. Ice crawls over the surface of the sight-pool, frosting my view.

She is not welcome in the Rime.

Outsiders can never know my secret. A cursed king still in power? They’d flay me on the political scene. Chase me from my home, turn my kingdom over to the dredgebeasts.

My family may be wretched, but we’ve earned the right to keep our secrets. Outsiders have no place here. My business is mine . My own.

I study her soft skin, the way the chilly water laces over her. A sun-drencher will not last long here. Either the Rime will take her or the clawbeast will.

What if she’s a spy? Or worse, a death-dealer? My spine erects at the thought.

Do the other kingdoms finally suspect something? I should have accepted that invitation to the Estuary Queen’s latest flower festival, to avoid suspicion. When was that? Six moon-cycles ago?

There was blood on my beach. No way could I have left.

Perhaps I should have sent an ambassador in my stead.

Fuck.

My heart thunders, an echo of its pulse thrumming at my temple.

I snap my teeth, ending my spell. The water’s glow snuffs out in an instant, casting me into darkness once again.

But it’s not enough to calm the rage. I can sense it, crawling up my hands, my toes. Cold claws, climbing.

I grip the desk. The wood cracks, divots forming where my fingers clutch the edge.

I push out of my chair. If I pace, if I channel the energy elsewhere, I might control it—

There’s a spy in the Rime.

One step. Two steps. Walk in a circle.

There’s a fucking spy. Here to uncover my secrets.

Unlikely. She’s high-born. Playful and innocent. She could be lost.

That’s what they want me to think. It’s the perfect disguise.

Her eyes. Dark, playful eyes, looking into my soul.

Fuck.

I flare my nostrils, inhaling the iron scent of my chamber. Focus on what I can feel, what I can see.

Only darkness.

Wooden slats beneath my bare feet. I strip off my clothing.

She can’t be here.

My hands grasp the wardrobe, sliding it across the floor.

In the floor, a beast-sized hole. I slip inside. Set the wardrobe in place with one hand. I will not remember this in the morning. Already, the darkness has descended.

She doesn’t belong.

I plummet.

Splash.

The water swallows my body into its icy gullet. Blue scales sleeve my arms, crawling over my shoulders. Beneath the scales, my muscles scream for release, burning, shifting, growing, until finally my vision darkens, and the transformation drags me under.