Page 39 of Sea of Evil and Desire (The Deep Saga #1)

37

Morgana

T he bar was unusually quiet. A group of Drowned men were sitting at a long table, loudly exchanging stories about the women they’d seen naked in their lifetimes.

“I once saw a woman with pubes as red as a sunrise!” a man in a 1950s suit and hat who resembled Humphry Bogart slurred.

“Tssss, that’s nothing,” a dark-skinned man said, leering. “I once had a woman with two great melons. She let me suckle at her teats like a babe.” The group guffawed, and they all continued to speak over one another, slamming their rum bottles down whenever one told of a particularly exciting encounter.

I couldn’t see Teachie’s scarred face anywhere, nor Rackham and his beaded braids. I breathed a sigh of relief but then sucked it back through my teeth—they could be out committing more villainies.

I couldn’t stop my eyes from searching the bar, seeking traces of Rory in every face, but my father wasn’t there. Edward said there were Drowned boats all over the world’s oceans. I supposed he could be in any of these. Perhaps he had awoken here and then migrated elsewhere, like some other Drowned had.

The Captain was polishing tumblers behind the bar, and he smiled as I approached.

“I’ve been doing some reading . . .” I ran my finger along the slime-covered surface of the counter, choosing my words carefully. “I read about Manannán. Is—is it possible he could come back here?”

“Manannán was banished three thousand years ago. This is my ship now.”

A feral gleam was in the Captain’s good eye. Then he softened, a grin tugging at his lips as he filled a brown glass bottle from the rum tap. He handed it to me, and I took a swig, warmth spreading through me as the rich spiced liquid burned down my throat.

I exhaled in relief. We should be safe here—but what about out there? My gaze shifted to the dark portholes.

The Captain reached under the bar and rose again stiffly, holding my dagger and scabbard. “I think this is yours.”

“Thank you.” Tears peeked at the corners of my eyes as I remembered how I’d lost it. I swallowed, tucking it under my arm.

I found Edward in the games room, seated on one of the high-backed couches, engrossed in a chess match with Daniel, the good-looking man in military uniform.

“Checkmate.” Daniel smiled. His white teeth had not yet succumbed to the ocean’s decay.

“Now, observe— this is how one plays chess. Next time I’ll beat you, old sport.” Edward gestured to the board.

“In your dreams.” Daniel brushed his brown fringe from his face and winked at me before wandering off to join some elderly ladies playing cards at a table nearby.

“I’m sorry I ran off on you,” I told Edward, toying with the bottle in my hands as I slipped into the seat beside him.

“It is I who should apologize.” Edward’s eyes had changed—softened, or maybe saddened. “I’ve been chastising myself over the way I spoke to you. The Drowned curse of envy got the better of me.” He sighed and fiddled with a white pawn. “Since you’ve been gone, I’ve realized I am a total prat!”

“It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it.” I leaned into his space. “I’ve got to talk to you about something important.”

His expression fell into a frown as I recounted everything that had happened since I’d left him.

“That’s why I need you to take me to the Mer kingdom immediately,” I finished, gripping the table with both hands and peering hopefully into his blue eyes. I’d go alone if I had to, but I would prefer to go with Edward.

He was silent; he looked as though he was taking in everything I had said bit by bit. I watched him impatiently as he chewed on his lip.

“Don’t you think Queen Abalone needs to know that it could be her ex-lover killing her people?” I pressed.

“I saw Abalone but once . . . She was indeed beautiful.” Edward inhaled a slow breath and then let it out with a sigh. “But Morgana, Abalone is dead.”

“ How? ” I gasped.

“It is said she died at the hands of an enemy to the crown.” Edward propped his chin on his freckled wrist in thought.

“My grandmother’s diary said there was a prince—Prince Aigéan. I think we need to speak with him.” I blinked at Edward, thinking about the dark-haired merman and his white-bellied dolphin.

“But the prince is reputed to be the cruelest of them all.” Edward’s jaw tightened.

“What about the murders? We need to warn them! Perhaps no one knows about Taranis .” I whispered the last part, as if saying his name might make the beautiful pale merman possessed by the God of the Drowned materialize behind me.

“I don’t think we should risk our lives for the Mer. What have they ever done for us?” Edward fiddled with the pawn and avoided my gaze.

“There’s something else.” I hesitated, and my cheeks warmed. “My grandmother believed a child descended of both Drowned and Selkie could end the feud and be the key to fulfilling the prophecy. She believed that child to be me.” I cast my eyes to the floor. It felt so crazy to say it out loud. To even think that I could be unique—the chosen one. I didn’t say anything about the possibility I might have inherited the Selich’s powers, because that was just way too much.

“You’re related to Siana?” Edward hissed, glancing about the room again, but no one was watching us. “I knew it . . . I just knew it.” He shook his head.

“My grandmother spent her whole life searching for the prophecy, and I think this Taranis character—possessed by Manannán—killed her for her blood, and I think he killed Abalone also. Now he’s using Teachie and Rackham to murder Mer.”

Edward’s face paled, and he looked at me like I had gone insane.

“I can still see that dead mergirl’s face when I close my eyes. I have to see if I can do . . . something.” I sat back in my chair and stared at him.

“But the Mer hate us.” Edward looked exasperated.

“Yet one saved my life.” I folded my arms and continued to pierce him with my stare.

Edward said nothing. His brows were furrowed as he chewed on his cheek.

“This could be your chance to experience the history you’re passionate about firsthand. Don’t you want more than this existence?” I gestured around the games room.

As if on cue, a round-bellied chef let out a loud burp, muttering, “Don’t mind if I do” before tipping his head back and letting more rum pour into his gullet, turning his uniform brown.

I chose my next words carefully. “My friends are in danger because of me, and I could be next. I would rather get to the bottom of it now than sit here waiting for those red eyes. Don’t you want to see if we could end this feud?” I clasped my hands together as I surveyed Edward. Even as I said the words, they felt ridiculous. How could I end a three-thousand-year-old dispute? But I had to try. I had to warn the prince, at least.

A heaviness built around Edward’s eyes, and defeat pervaded his freckled face.

“Very well”—he sighed—“but I shall only get as close to them as absolutely necessary.”