Page 15

Chapter fifteen

C laim the woman as his own? Yeah, that went over well!

Raggon had followed Morris’s advice, and now Thessa was terrified of him. He felt it in her shaking hands when he touched her.

He steadied himself, slathering a healing ointment over the nasty welt on her wrist where the whip had cut into her delicate skin. If he could kill a man twice over… he would. And then she’d hate him all the more. The thought settled in his gut, feeling as heavy as the smoldering accusation in her dark-eyed looks. Her lingering fear struck him like a cannonball straight through the heart.

The Duke hovered over them at the bench, his shadow cutting across the bright sun. The man was acting like he had to guard Raggon from getting jumped from behind.

“Admit it,” Raggon said, doing his best to inject lightness into his voice. “There’s a bright side to all this. We only have to show the price for stepping out of line once.”

No one would touch her now.

Morris frowned, refusing to be placated. “Don’t press your luck.” The man seemed to revel in being the bearer of bad news. Only earlier he’d reported how the lookouts had spotted one of Circe’s ships trailing them, though the black ship kept its distance like a shark circling wounded prey.

Was it that she was biding her time until Raggon did exactly what she’d commissioned him to do?

What other parts of the plan would Circe enforce? The sham betrothal had been laughable, but there was no telling what desperate measures he’d take when his loved ones were in danger. His eyes shifted to his brother. The Typhon’s Kiss corrupted the flesh around it—his brother was transforming into one of Circe’s beasts. The dark-iron portion literally melted and inflamed the skin it touched. The sea-steel component, however, remained solid and unchanged, its silver surface reflecting light in stark contrast to the blackening flesh. The curse had spread up Tobias’s neck, the skin there mottled with patches of charred crimson hues resembling a ship’s hull ravaged by fire and ash.

Would they have enough time to save him?

Raggon couldn’t consider defeat, couldn’t fathom it, couldn’t bear it . He steadied himself, pressing his hand into Tobias’s shoulder. “Get some rest. You look beat.”

Tobias nodded, not putting up any resistance, which worried Raggon more.

“Beware the witch! Beware the witch!” Sterling erupted in a series of shrill cries, its beady eyes glittering with warning. “Doom follows!”

Creepy bird! It had gained some strange intelligence after their brush with Circe. Raggon couldn’t help noticing that the bird’s feathers were darkening like his brother’s neck. What strange development was this? His brother was losing his humanity while the bird drew from it?

Tobias left for the hatch that led below deck to the first mate’s quarters, a cramped space barely large enough for a bunk and sea chest, but still a luxury compared to the crew’s hammocks. His steps were uneven, one foot dragging slightly across the weathered planks. Morris went with him, talking low and gesturing to the Typhon’s Kiss.

Feeling uneasy, Raggon went back to binding Thessa’s wrist, wrapping the clean linen with precise movements born of years at sea. Now she avoided his eyes. Her gaze was fixed on some distant point beyond the ship’s rail until it wasn’t—and it was on him with the fire of a thousand stars burning through the blackest of nights.

“I’m not yours,” she whispered.

He’d said that, hadn’t he? He clenched his teeth firmly to keep anything else foolish from getting out. Claiming her was just for the crew’s benefit, wasn’t it? He wasn’t so sure anymore. The troubles from the past day had made a mess of his brain. Deciding how best to explain, he cleared his throat. “What I said was for your protection.” Even he heard the lack of conviction in his voice.

She blinked quickly, dark lashes fluttering against cheeks still flushed from the threat of him. “How—how do you stab someone through like that?”

Was she so appalled by him? The chuckle that rumbled through his chest held no humor. “Oh? Now you want me to teach you my ways?” Clearly, that wasn’t what she was asking, but he couldn’t resist turning this around on her anyway. His fingers lingered a moment too long on the inside of her wrist, where he could feel her pulse racing like a caged bird.

She turned silent and then breathed out a sigh that carried a remnant of her song from the beach. “Yes, show me how.”

His shoulders stiffened. No! His whole soul revolted against her becoming someone like him. Killing was a necessity on these waters. He’d had to harden himself against it, but the fact was, he never enjoyed ending a life.

He concentrated on her soft skin instead, skin that glowed with an inner light that didn’t belong in this harsh world. He’d never defile what she was for all the riches of Sylphoria… but what if he wasn’t there to help her when the next August came around?

The air caught in his lungs. This world was crawling with villains—more leers, more nets. He banished the thought of her in danger and finished the binding on her wrist with a firm tug. “Let’s teach you how to walk first.”

And then he’d teach her how to finish off those detestable maggots.

The innocence of her grateful smile made him instantly sorry, and he had to harden himself against that too. Nothing can be pure in this world.

“You’ll be a true human after I’m through with you,” he muttered.

Boots thudded across the worn ship’s planks, the sound as familiar to Raggon as his own heartbeat. He glanced up at the Duke’s approach, feeling instantly relieved at the break in conversation. The man looked as worn as Raggon felt, the fine lines around his eyes deeper than they’d been that morning. His mentor’s eyes ran over his mermaid.

Wait? His mermaid? Raggon had just gotten done reassuring Thessa that was a mere formality… and still he couldn’t think of her any other way.

“Is this the best you could do for her attire?” Morris asked, eyeing the oversized shirt and breeches with obvious distaste.

“You’ve got better ideas?”

“Certainly.” Morris allowed his amusement to show through with a chuckle that softened his aristocratic features. “Come, girl. If we need, we can raid the cabin boy’s effects.” His eyes narrowed on Raggon. “There’s nothing wrong with putting her in breeches that fit.” Morris held his hand out to Thessa, the gesture courtly, despite their surroundings.

Her lips parted in what could only be distrust, and she leaned closer to Raggon. His heart stilled in confusion and something else he couldn’t explain. But… but wasn’t she afraid of him?

And then that same heart flipped over itself when that gorgeous flame of hair rubbed up against his neck and she clasped his arm. A smile flew to his lips. “It’s all right, Thessa, you can trust this one—like I said, Morris is a good man. You won’t get a better one!” An annoying one, but good through and through.

Thessa took a deep breath that seemed to strengthen her before she accepted the Duke’s hand, though she wobbled as soon as she tried to stand. Immediately, Raggon steadied her, his palm spanning the curve of her waist. The contact sent heat racing up his arm like wildfire. He tried to cover that up with more teasing: “Try to avoid those heels in your magic stash, Morris. We can’t give her more reasons to fall all over me.”

One aristocratic eyebrow rose in silent reprimand. Raggon immediately shut up, doing his best to assist Thessa’s faltering steps, though she glared him back. “I do not fall all over you!”

“I didn’t mean it that way!”

Morris brushed him away, his movements impatient. “I’ve got this, Your Majesty. Attend to… what we discussed earlier. Someone might not keep her distance for long.”

Yes, yes, Circe was on the rampage. Nothing new about that… or Thessa’s irritation, even though he tried to smooth it over. “Hey, I like when you fall all over me!”

Morris groaned. “Move back, Sire!”

With difficulty, Raggon kept back an impatient growl at the Duke’s interference. Then, almost laughed at himself. What was he doing? He’d spent far too much time making a fool of himself over this woman, he’d just… never been so drawn to anyone like this.

He stepped back hurriedly, feeling like his good sense had been tossed about like driftwood in a squall. What was it about this mermaid that fascinated him so much? That blazing red hair for one thing, he’d never felt silk that soft. And that obsidian gaze? Her eyes burned with fire and intelligence as she studied each new discovery in this world; it awakened in him a desire to show her more. Like what?

Like everything. Ah, Poseidon’s Wrath—now who’s falling all over who?

He watched her walk away with Morris—she had grace, even with her stumbling and tripping while she attempted to gain control of those new feet. He fought his every urge to go after her and—and carry her the rest of the way?

Don’t even think about it!

He reluctantly tore himself away from this alluring new distraction, striding toward the weapons locker near the quarterdeck. He had to pull himself together, forget about her. The ship creaked around him, the familiar symphony of wood and rope and canvas that had been the backdrop to his life. Salt spray kissed his face as the bow cut through a wave.

He noticed sailors dropping their gazes to the planks and muttering hasty apologies under their breath for getting in his way. The path before him cleared.

Yeah, message that the captain wasn’t to be angered had been received—too well maybe.

As he passed the starboard railing, something caught his attention—a strange melody coming from the waters below. The sea around the ship’s hull began to glow with an eerie blue phosphorescence, turning the foam-tipped waves into ghostly fire. He stilled, every sense screaming at him to run, to fight, to do anything than just stand there! Then a whisper, carried on the wind:

“Enemy of our people, hear me…”

He scrambled back from the railing, hand dropping to the hilt of his cutlass. Was Circe back already? His mouth opened to shout a warning to the crew, but before any sound could emerge, a massive tentacle, slick and candescent in the bright light, shot from the water. It wrapped around his neck with crushing force and dragged him over the rail.

He fell through a wind tunnel and crashed through the water’s surface, the force of his fall shocking the breath from his lungs, while the tropical warmth swallowed him, the blue-green world closing over his head as he was pulled down, down into the abyss. Ah storms and tides! There was no way for him to shift underwater without getting lost in it.

He kicked out, feeling his boot connect with something solid. A dull thud echoed through the water, and for a moment the tentacle’s grip loosened. He fought to get away, lungs burning.

“Morris!” His voice was lost in the sudden roar of waters as he broke the surface, managing only a desperate gasp before the tentacle dragged him back under again.

Water filled his mouth, salt burning his throat as he struggled against the crushing grip. Then, a melodious voice echoed against his ears: “Oh, you’re a handsome devil, aren’t you? My sister can’t have you all to herself…”

He twisted, fighting to see through the swirling currents. A monster. Not Circe! This was something else entirely—a squid? No, a woman! She had the upper body of one anyway, but below the waist, a writhing mass of bejeweled and ringed tentacles spread out like the skirts of some demonic ballgown. Her skin shimmered with an oily gleam that cast rainbows through the water, and atop her head, living coral formed a crown that moved and shifted and—and breathed.

“I’m not one to interfere,” somehow her velvety voice carried to his ears, as clear as if he thought it, “but she really is so helpless, my Thessa, darling girl—she’s my goddaughter, you know?”

Raggon choked, unable to hold his breath any longer. The creature’s bulbous eyes rolled in mock concern, and she dragged him up to the surface again with a swift motion that left his stomach somewhere in the depths. That meant this monster wanted him alive. At least for now.

He coughed up the briny seawater. As soon as he got in enough air, he turned. “What are you?”

Her chin drew back, in what could only be an insulted air, her perfect features contorting into something ancient and predatory for just an instant before smoothing back into beauty. “Fool! I am the mistress of the seas! I will rule all when Poseidon is gone! Respect me or die!”

The Sea Witch? Horror pricked at him. “You took Thessa’s siren voice!” He grappled for his dagger this time, fingers closing around the hilt.

“Naughty boy! None of that!” Her coils tightened around him like iron bands, crushing the air from his lungs as she dunked him again. The world turned to bubbles and darkness, and once more, he heard her clearly through the swirling waters: “I vowed I’d never interfere, and so I shan’t, but what am I to do? She is my dearest friend’s child.”

He didn’t believe her for a second. He fought against her grip, an unwilling captive to this monstrous creature’s droning prattle, her tentacles shimmering with hypnotic patterns through the water.

“Of course, she must find this blade to help you and—and find her freedom, but I worry for her, you see, she…” Scylla bit her lip with fake emotion. Was he truly seeing this? The gesture so human it was somehow more terrifying. “If she doesn’t find true love with her prince before her fingers touch that blade, well… you know Undine’s curse—she’ll dissolve into seafoam after the sun sets upon the waters and all that. And you know how independent women can be—she has to really feel the romance, not that I have to tell you how to properly woo a woman.” She laughed, the sound of breaking glass beneath the waves. “Well, maybe I do—you’re a slippery eel!”

Black spots danced before his eyes. He couldn’t breathe! His body jerked. The Sea Witch let out an irritated growl, and he came up to the surface again, sputtering and coughing, the air like knives in his raw lungs.

She shook him roughly, her tentacles squeezing rhythmically like a heartbeat gone mad. “Of course, if you’re incapable of winning her heart—perhaps I can arrange for another. I just fished up a carcass down there.” Her lips curved in a smile that revealed too-sharp teeth. “Your friend with the whip seems like he’d make a fine puppet to woo her heart.”

He growled out with a violence that tore from his throat like something feral. She laughed and laughed, the sound echoing across the water like bells underwater, making him set his teeth against the smug sound. “Take her dancing, write her poetry, kiss her beneath the stars! Girls love that nonsense. It’s so charmingly predictable.”

Her tentacles tightened around him, and she tossed him out of the water with the force of cannon fire. The sea below him roared at releasing its prey. Water slid from his body as he was propelled over the railing with impossible force.

Raggon landed hard on the deck, the impact driving the remaining air from his lungs. A few men shouted at his sudden appearance. Had they truly not seen the biblical maelstrom that had materialized out of nowhere? Scylla’s magic must’ve shrouded their little tête-à-tête in illusion, keeping their meeting private from all other ears, though now he appeared as a man half-drowned.

He lay there for a moment, gasping, the salt water streaming from his clothes and hair the only evidence that he’d been swimming in the sea moments earlier. Somewhere, not so far from him, Scylla’s laughter rang in his ears.

He pushed himself to his elbows, staring through the railings over the edge. The water boiled and churned like a cauldron, the froth white as bone against the dark sea. Tendrils of blue light swirled beneath the surface, illuminating the massive shape as it sank back into the depths. For just a moment, he caught a glimpse of that terrible face, beautiful and monstrous, smiling up at him before the sea swallowed her whole, leaving nothing but disturbed waters as the only sign that she’d been there.

Shudders wracked him through at the close call, his soaked clothes clinging to his skin under the harsh rays of the afternoon. All the while, Scylla’s words sank into the frenzy of his tormented thoughts.

Thessa walked Undine’s footsteps on the same path that would transform her into something else entirely! And she hadn’t bothered to tell him a thing. True love? Kissing under the stars! That was all distraction from a Sea Witch that wanted to win whatever bargain they’d struck! And if Scylla wanted him to rip out his heart and give it to the sea princess, he should probably do the opposite.

He froze at the thought, his heart protesting in defiance and something else—raw anger. These witches crushed every good thing he’d ever known—they wouldn’t have his life too!

And… Scylla would foresee his rebellion and play with his head to stop whatever true thing was happening between them!

He let out a snarl of frustration. This second-guessing led to madness! Raggon needed to get Thessa to talk to him, but how?

The memory of her warmth pressing against him, the way her eyes had met his like she could see straight through to his soul made his pulse quicken despite his vow to do otherwise. He pushed himself to his feet, water pooling around his boots. He disappeared, rushing for the cabin where Morris was helping her to be more presentable.

Whatever game Scylla was playing, he refused to let Thessa become another tragedy of the sea.