Page 17

Chapter seventeen

N ot exactly the mood he was going for.

Raggon held onto Thessa’s hand like a lifeline, afraid she’d storm away from him and take every good thing he’d found in her. The ship swayed beneath their feet, cutting through the dark waters at a relentless pace toward Undine Isles. As all around them the pulsing glow of phosphorescence danced in the wake of the ship—an ethereal echo of the Sea Blessing’s music that still hung in the velvety night sky.

He’d wanted to bide his time before telling her about Scylla, perhaps even gaining her trust to get the truth from her, but strangely, the tables had turned on him. The salt-laden breeze ruffled her glorious hair, carrying to him the scent of the open sea and something sweeter—her scent, that same sea lavender blooming over sun-warmed skin.

Before this moment, the day had been, in a word, idyllic. In her, he felt the peace and joy of his childhood, and then to have her experience the phosphorous magic of the Sea Blessing? The memory of her face, illuminated by the otherworldly light as his people’s music transformed the very air around them, would be forever etched into his mind.

For once, he could keep his eyes open and still feel like he was home. And now to find out that this whole time she believed… this?

“Undine is the queen of our people,” his voice barely carried over the distant sounds of the crew’s celebrations, and he tried to correct that without scorching her with anything that might sound like disdain. “We were ‘cursed’ because we inherited her powers—and these things we can do? They’re nothing to what she had! These abilities fade with each generation as our human blood mixes with hers.”

She gasped. “Is that what you truly think?” The sea breeze caught the edges of her turquoise dress, making it dance around their legs. The cabin boy’s vest she wore over it—salvaged from Maddox’s wardrobe—hugged her form, the oversized belt cinched tight around her waist. He longed to take her in his arms in much the same way, but her blazing glare stopped him.

“She didn’t die.” How could he explain? He shifted, feeling the brass buttons of his coat scrape against the railing. “She became seafoam, yes—but that is a sylph… a nymph of the sea, but more—practically a goddess!”

“Those are lies—my father was there! He knows she perished.” Her fingers tightened on him.

At least, she wasn’t pushing him away yet. He tried to get her to listen. “She transformed—Undine refused to kill the man she loved, and the heavens gave her the soul of a sylph—a powerful being that defied all laws of man and sea. Where we can only shift short distances, she could create passages through any water in the world, and exist in many places at once, part mist, part of the sea itself.” He tried to explain the legends without them sounding like the bedtime stories she’d accused them of being. Though these were the tales he used to beg his father to tell him every night, that didn’t make them any less real. “She could bind souls to her will and command the very weather over the seas. That’s why sucti hunt us—even our diluted powers are worth starting wars to steal a scrap of it. Circe robbed us of our kingdom and still couldn’t drain us. But King Huldbrand didn’t care about the power—he was in love with Undine. My ancestor followed her to the ends of the earth to find her… and then he took her home.”

Like he longed to do with this woman.

“You can’t possibly believe that!” she cried. “Oh! If you’re descendants of the Divine Sea Sovereignty—then go ahead and see what happens when your illustrious fingers make contact with Poseidon’s immortal weapon! Why do you need me to get Undine’s Blade for you if so?”

How could he make her understand? The ship lurched over a wave, bringing them momentarily closer to their fates. “Her blood turned us into something else—certainly not merfolk. Circe only saw in the dark waters that I’d be successful at getting the blade, not that I could touch it myself. I only have a chance of finding that blade because of you…”

And Scylla had made that happen. The knowledge dropped like a rock in his stomach. Were the witches moving their playthings like pawns in some cruel game?

“Thessa, I need you to trust me.” He’d never begged for trust before—all men followed him to the waiting jaws of death if he asked it, and all it took was one female to bring him to his knees. Behind her, the brilliant glow illuminated the curve of her face, casting shadows beneath her lashes. How could he ask this mysterious maid of the sea to give him what he had no right to ask for? “Please, Thessa, I need answers. Talk to me.”

Her chin tilted up, catching the silvery light. “I said I’d get to that blade—I owe you nothing else.”

He stiffened at the disgust dripping from her voice. The hate she had for his people ran deep, all because she believed in these disparaging stories about his ancestors. Nothing he’d done today could ever touch these lies!

And what if they weren’t lies? His stomach sank. Poseidon was an ancient being who had seen those long-ago days. All Raggon had were the legends of his people.

No! He refused to believe her version of this tale! The stories of his people had to be true! Everything depended on Undine’s happy ending… he couldn’t explain it, but the love he felt for Thessa hinged on it.

Love? As soon as the thought took form, the horror of realization settled into his stomach. What kind of an idiot had these feelings… after so short a time?

Whoever said the hearts of men were foolish things was a cruel prophet. His eyes went to hers, noticing how the shimmer in the air played with the gentle flush of her rosy cheeks. Scylla had told him to win her heart. Was she trying to poison what was building between the daughter of Poseidon and a royal Sylphorian prince because they’d be too strong a force when joined as one, or could loving Thessa hurt her in some way?

There was no way to know!

Her cheeks that were round with smiles earlier were now stiff, and she wouldn’t look at him. But Thessa’s hand? Her fingers still clutched to him, even after all her angry words.

Did she not realize what she was doing to him? Or was she like him and had to fend off a longing more unstoppable than the sea itself? And if she conquered this when he couldn’t? She could break him. He was strong against everything, except this .

He ran his thumb over her tight grip, a gentle reminder that they were still connected. “You told me today that you wanted to learn how to run a man through.”

Her lips parted in surprise, a small gasp escaping them, and still she refused to answer. As far as he was concerned, she already had driven a dagger through his heart.

And he was doing this all wrong! Scylla was right. Morris too. He had no idea how to woo a woman properly, but he could only do what came naturally. Raggon broke their contact first. His hand slid from Thessa’s to his boot where he wrenched out a wicked-looking blade, the metal gleaming with an otherworldly sheen under the dancing lights.

Lifting a shoulder at Thessa, he turned the hilt for her to take. “You know what’s even better than dancing? Fighting.” And who better to teach her than a dirty Sylphorian royal? “Shall we disagree the honest way?”

She watched him in shock, not taking him up on his ‘kind’ offer. The ship pitched beneath them, but neither lost their footing, both born to the rhythm of the sea.

“What are you waiting for?” he taunted. “Did you want to learn how to cut a man down or not?”

Eyes narrowing, she grasped the handle. “How hard can it be?” she muttered. The weight of the Sylphorian metal immediately pulled her wrist down, but she righted it with a stubborn tilt to her chin.

“First rule,” he said, circling her on the gently rolling deck, “keep your arm up, elbow tucked close. A dagger fights best when it has nowhere to go but forward.” He demonstrated the stance, his movements fluid despite the ship’s motion. “Now, try to block me—blade up, across your body.”

She mimicked his stance with surprising precision, but when he lunged with deliberate slowness, she overextended. He slipped past her guard and plucked the dagger from her grip in one smooth motion.

She looked adorably furious, her chest rising and falling with indignation.

“Keep your weapon close to you,” he said, making a show of returning her blade. “Just like you do your heart. You never know what will happen if you let someone in.”

Did that hit the mark? She glared and snatched the dagger back. Good. She snarled, growling like a lionfish defending its territory, and rushed at him. He hadn’t lied about her grace—she moved like nothing he’d ever seen on land, her turquoise dress swirling like seafoam around her knees, the vest pulling tight across her shoulders as she feinted left, then darted right.

He anticipated her movement—or thought he did—until she ducked under his arm. He was caught by the storm in her eyes, and stilled, forgetting to turn. It cost him. She snagged the leather cord around his neck with the tip of her blade and sliced the necklace clean off. His brow went up as she triumphantly tucked her ill-gotten gains into her belt.

Snarling, half laughing with surprised admiration, he followed with a lunge that drove her backward until her shoulder met the railing. The sudden contact knocked a breath from her lips that he felt against his own. His arms bracketed her, the dagger forgotten in his hand as the magical light cast them both in its ethereal glow.

“Just like dancing—I’m only looking for excuses to get close to you,” his voice dropped to a husky whisper that barely carried over the creaking of the ship and the distant music.

The fire of comprehension in her expression bore more intrigue than disgust, and energized with his success, he pulled back, capturing her wrist so that she came with him. Letting her go where they had plenty of room for this back and forth, they circled each other, the firework-like show from the Sea Blessing glimmering around them in a spray of stars and sparkles.

“Why’d you leave your people to put yourself in such danger?” he asked, watching her every move.

“Ah, here comes the banter,” she sassed back, her feet light on the deck despite being so new to them. “Do you always talk so much when you’re fighting?”

“Only when I have plans for my prey—I think I’ll play with you before I eat you whole, like a lovely little mouse.”

She stepped back, the borrowed vest rising and falling with each quickened breath. “What does that make you? A barracuda? All teeth and no subtlety?”

He studied her flushed face, the way the ambient light caught in her eyes, turning them to liquid midnight. “I know you made a deal with Scylla,” he said. “What was it?”

Again, she refused to answer, instead she rounded on him, sweeping her leg in an arc that nearly caught his ankles—she was using dance moves against him, adapted with instinct that spoke of her royal sea heritage.

He dodged, but barely. Thessa was a fast learner. “Scylla visited me today,” he said.

Thessa turned with a sharp gasp, her dagger lowering. “What did she say?”

“You first. Why did you trade your siren’s voice to get legs? I want every detail.”

Her chin lifted in response, and she lunged at him again. He sidestepped, but not before capturing a tendril of her coppery hair with the sharp end of his blade. Grasp, tug, slice, and it was all his. He twisted the silky-smooth strand around his finger, admiring the unusual color before tucking it into his belt like a sweet lover’s remembrance.

She gasped, clutching at the shortened section of her hair, a fire in her soul that made the phosphorescence pale in comparison.

He stopped to catch his breath, because he wanted the rest of her. “Let’s play a game,” he said. “If I win, you tell me… everything I want to know. And if you win… I prove I’m the kind of man you can trust.”

“I can’t win against you.” The wind caught her words, carrying them over the rhythmic splash of waves against the hull.

Not at daggers, no, but she could win when it came to his heart. He sighed, and took out his flintlock pistol from his belt, the burnished brass and polished walnut cold against his palm. “Take it.” He folded her fingers over the grip. “There—just aim and shoot. Make sure you go for the heart. Take me out of my misery—it aches after what you’ve done to it.”

He was declaring his love, and carelessly so. Her black-eyed gaze widened at him.

“Isn’t that strange? A mermaid stealing the heart of a pirate captain? And without the power of her siren voice? Thessa, I’d travel the ends of the world to find you, just like my ancestor did with Undine—his name was King Huldbrand, and he sacrificed everything he had for her.”

Darkness clouded her expression at the reminder, but he didn’t care. He’d declare the innocence of his people with his dying breath, and do it while capturing Thessa’s love too.

A soft sound left her lips as she lowered the weapon, breathing hard, confusion marking the rose of exhilaration blossoming on her cheeks.

“You can put the weapon under your pillow while you sleep,” he suggested. “Use it to ward off all danger—it will protect you until I can get my arms around you.” There… had he done that clumsily? Morris would be appalled, and he no longer cared. Raggon had left no doubt as to the breadth and depth of his heart now. “We’ll be at Undine’s Isles before dawn—I hope you can trust the supposed enemy of your people then.”

She had to—if he didn’t know why Scylla had encouraged their love, he’d be torn apart with misery not knowing if he put Thessa in danger by doing what… he couldn’t stop doing.

One thing gave him hope—the light in her eyes. They still shone with wonder under the gossamer shimmer made of the air around them. “Raggon!” she cried out. “You—you bilge-rat! You are without doubt the most dirty-dealing, underhanded prince I’ve ever met.”

He doubted she knew many. His lips curved up in a smile. “Is that a good thing?”

“I don’t know… I have to think about it.” With that, she stomped her foot and stormed back to the cabin, without him ever having to teach her that human-like move.

Some things just came naturally.

He let out a groan and rushed in the opposite direction. She needed time, time he was impatient to give her, but had no choice. The crew’s revelry had taken a wilder turn in the belly of his ship. The rough mercenaries were deep in their cups now, their laughter too loud, their movements too reckless as they danced to the Sylphorian music that still echoed across the deck.

Raggon snarled as he brushed past a drunken sailor who nearly collided with him, his patience for their rowdiness wearing thin. The ship was making good speed—too much speed for such carelessness. He needed his men clear-eyed when they reached land.

In the thick of bodies, he spied his brother collapsed on a bench near the stern. The ornate singing bowls of the Sea Blessing lay forgotten at his feet, their curved metal surfaces still faintly shimmering with the glowing residue from the unearthly music.

Fear deepening in his belly, Raggon rushed for his brother, shouldering past the revelers to get to him. “Tobias!”

“Clouds call! Clouds call!” the bird squawked, its voice a raspy echo. The parrot nudged Tobias with his beak, his fluffy plumage ruffling in agitation. “The ancestors speak through me! Poor souls meet death!”

Raggon dropped to his knees in front of Tobias, his hands moving to his arms. Typhon’s Kiss had transformed beyond recognition from the choker they’d first seen. The dark iron had completely disappeared, the last of it sinking like black honey into his brother’s skin. The sea steel, however, was still external, its silvery surface clinging to his mottled, scaled flesh like ice on a thawing branch.

Could they get the collar off now? The curse was digging its black magic into his brother so fast, they’d never reach Undine’s Blade in time!

Under the parrot’s beady gaze, Raggon reached for the hateful enchantment, his hands shaking, the dimming phosphorescent light revealing every horrifying detail of his neck’s transformation.

“Don’t touch it,” Tobias warned him back, his eyes were squeezed shut with pain. How had he seen what Raggon was about to do? Raggon glanced over at the agitated bird. Could this connection between them be the reason?

How did he stop his brother from becoming one of Circe’s mindless beasts? When Raggon had broken his own manacles, he’d found the joining point between the sea steel and dark iron—that vulnerable seam where the binding circle could be broken. But on Tobias’s neck, that seam had disappeared entirely, sinking beneath the skin where the dark iron was rapidly becoming one with his flesh.

The sea steel itself was impervious to normal blades—even his sharpest dagger would glance off its enchanted surface. And though it remained visible, it sat perfectly flush against Tobias’s transforming skin, with no gap to slip a blade beneath. In places, it seemed to have partially embedded itself like a splinter that had worked its way too deep. Any attempt to pry it loose would tear away flesh with it.

“It’s calling to me,” his brother said, his lips barely moving. “The sky… I can’t fight it.”

“Mercy for poor souls! Tobias fears the open air!” Sterling screeched, flapping his wings in distress. “Don’t let the sky take my soul, brother! By the Sylphorian blood!”

“Morris!” Raggon shouted, his voice cutting through the sounds of revelry. He needed his old advisor’s wisdom more than ever. He shot to his feet, searching through the crowd of men until he found the slender form of Morris through the commotion. “Morris! My brother! I need some help!”

The Duke ran to them, his normally placid expression wide with terror when he saw what Raggon had discovered.

“Typhon’s Kiss is taking him over, isn’t it?” Raggon’s helplessness tore at him. The impossibility of what they faced made him feel like the scared boy he’d been when they’d fled Circe’s forces more than a decade ago. His breath hitched. Even if they reached Undine’s Blade in time, would it undo this evil? The merfolk weapon was said to cut through any enchantment, but how could it separate metal from flesh when they’d become one and the same? Unless… unless the blade’s power could unravel the magic itself, returning both flesh and metal to their original states.

Somehow. Somehow.

If he was wrong, if the blade just cut through everything like a hot knife through butter… Raggon couldn’t finish the terrifying thought. But watching another scale push through his brother’s skin, he knew he was running out of options.

Raggon lowered to his knees to squeeze his brother’s arm, seeing he barely reacted to his touch this time. He turned to Morris. “How will we ever reach Undine’s Blade before the curse takes him?”

Morris straightened, his dignified features set in a line that was more ferocious than when he’d defied Circe and spirited the Sylphorian princes away in the dead of night. “I’ll get the crew to raise every scrap of canvas. We’re going full speed to Undine Isles.” The Duke pressed his fist into the planks, his eyes narrowing on Raggon. “You’d better make sure your mermaid is ready. Does she know where the blade is? We can’t waste a second searching for buried treasure on an island when we can lose your brother at any moment.”

Raggon nodded, not knowing what he could do to get this information, but he must, for Tobias’ sake. Watching Morris half-carry, half-drag his brother away, he pushed shakily to his feet, turning to the cabin, his heart splintering with each step.

Thessa had better be ready for him because he certainly wasn’t ready for her.