Page 25 of Sea of Evil and Desire (The Deep Saga #1)

23

Finn

“I can’t bear the sight of them,” Glacies spat.

Pisceon glared at the two Drowned, his fists balled. “They are lucky we don’t assault them like they’ve done to our people!”

Pháos clicked in my ear, and I squinted into the murky green.

No, it couldn’t be.

Long, flowing red hair, a slender frame covered in what seemed to be fur . . . and those aquamarine eyes. Even from this distance, they were like two emeralds peering at me from the gloom.

What is she? I suspected a seal, but not this. And why is she keeping company with the Drowned?

The thing growing in my chest swelled like an unsettled beast raising its head and asking to be petted. I shoved it back down.

“Why are you looking at them?” Glacies angled her head high, eyes narrowed.

I nodded at Pháos, and the dolphin chirped in understanding. Follow her.

So, she possessed shifter abilities yet remained trapped between forms. Interesting.

I rubbed my chin as Pháos disappeared into the green. I would be goddamned if I told my father about this. Not until I knew more about his plans for her.

The girl’s face stayed with me as we moved away. My whole life, I’d been married to duty. Now, she’d awakened something inside me—a constant presence in my subconscious. I was either searching for ways to think of her or trying to push her out of my mind.

“I don’t see why they couldn’t build the Sanitatem in our kingdom.” Glacies straightened, and color stained her cheeks.

She was in one of her moods. She knew why the Sanitatem healing quarters were not on Mer territory—it had to be accessible to all sea creatures.

Her mood swings were becoming more frequent, alternating between icy detachment and unnecessary cruelty. I understood. She despised this arranged marriage as much as I did, but watching it consume her was unbearable. And somehow, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was my fault.

We glided over a sunken galleon, its skeletal remains half-buried in the sand. Two Drowned men were rifling through a massive metal safe wedged between a piece of wreckage and the ship’s hull. Looking for treasure as always, like that piece of shit, José. At least this wasn’t Mer territory.

One of the men dragged a barnacle-crusted painting from the ship’s remains. Its colors had faded after years in the sea. The other pried open a wooden chest, its contents spilling into the water.

The Drowned men peered up at us as we passed overhead, and their irises glowed. My jaw tightened as I dived down for a closer look. Silver. It gleamed in their hollow eyes and spread beneath their skin like cobwebs.

My fingers curled around the hilt of the dagger strapped to my back as rage roiled inside of me. “They’ve been using Mer blood,” I growled, my tail flicking sharply.

Pisceon exhaled, blocking my path with a firm arm. “Leave it, cousin. This is neutral ground.”

I let out a long, steady breath. Pisceon had always been my anchor, the steady hand against the storm, keeping me from being swallowed whole by the rage that often threatened to devour me.

Glacies scoffed, crossing her arms. “Neutral ground? They would have killed our people to get that blood.”

Blood addicts were nothing new. Our blood granted the Drowned access to the Mer’s power, a fleeting taste of invincibility, but prolonged use rotted them from inside until they crumbled into nothing. Then, the Garden of Mortimer would claim them—no less than they deserved! Still, their numbers were growing. Once, they relied on peddlers who siphoned blood from the naturally deceased, selling their spoils in shadowy markets like the Sunken Bazaar. Now, Mer were turning up dead, their wrists punctured where the Drowned had drained them.

“We could use some royal blood.” The Drowned man’s lips curled back, and the whites of his eyes shone silver.

“Holy shit, they’ve turned rabid,” Pisceon breathed.

I barely had time to brace myself before one of the Drowned men leaped for me, his hands cold as death as they grabbed the tip of my tail. I twisted and dived, driving my dagger into his gut; the man cried as the blade slid through his flesh.

I watched the cut I had carved begin to heal as the Drowned man grinned, silver veins pulsing.

“Worthless scum!” Glacies hissed as we lowered ourselves further, ready to fight.

Pisceon rolled his shoulders, slicing his dagger across the Drowned’s arm. The wound sealed over almost instantly, the silver in his veins glowing brighter.

The Drowned man let out a guttural laugh. “You can’t kill us.”

That was the problem, and the only leverage they had. We had extended lifespans, but a death blow could still kill us. The damned curse had stripped us of our full powers, so the Drowned had immortality on their side.

The Drowned wouldn’t die until they’d served their sentence to the gods of the sea. So, they could kill us, but it was harder for us to kill them. There hadn’t been a war in hundreds of years because the Drowned were cowards who drew strength from numbers, so without mass drownings, they didn’t go to war.

“They are going to be a nuisance.” Pisceon flexed his biceps.

“They won’t have long until Mortimer claims their souls. Let’s contain them.” My gaze flicked to the rusted safe they’d been plundering, wedged precariously against the ship’s splintered hull.

“He is coming!” One of the Drowned men roared and lunged for Glacies, who dodged his grasp.

“Cousin.” I jerked my head at the safe.

Pisceon’s eyes lit up in wicked delight, and he twisted through the water, his tail a cobalt blur. “You want some of this?” He licked his tattooed bicep, inciting the rabid blood-hungry scum while dodging their frenzied swipes.

I dug my hands beneath the safe, muscles burning as I conjured the force of a crashing wave. I unleashed the wave’s fury as Pisceon led the Drowned beneath it.

The safe groaned as it gave way, crashing down with a deafening boom, stirring up a thick cloud of sand and debris. The Drowned shrieked as the weight crushed them against the wreck, pinning them beneath its immovable mass.

Silence followed, save for the distant sound of the ocean shifting.

Glacies flicked a strand of hair from her face, exhaling. “Well, that was unpleasant.”

Pisceon nudged me, smirking. “Neutral ground, huh?”