Page 28 of The Deep End of Death (Twilight Lake #4)

Liam Cruinn POV

Liam Cruinn knew little about his mother. His earliest memories before Cruinn were strange and twisted.

Elaine had always presented herself as an amicable and genteel creature, content to dip her head and step aside while others shone.

He had been an infant when his birth father had passed and young when his mother had met Irvine—the Mad Queen’s younger brother.

Overnight, Liam went from dressing in rags and eating the slime from rocks to the glittering palace at the center of Cruinn.

He wasn’t sure if his mother loved Irvine, but that didn’t matter. Liam acknowledged her sacrifice and was determined to do the same.

It had started as a well-placed comment from his mother about how fetching Maeve looked in her dress. Never mind that the Cruinn princess looked like a vagabond, stealing food from the kitchen as if she’d never eaten shrimp before.

Elaine was determined to push Liam and Maeve together. As he grew older, he soon realized that if he didn’t want to go back to sucking the slime from rocks, he’d find a way to remain in Cruinn castle.

Liam Cruinn was not without intelligence, but he did not have the sparkling wit of the órán Sídhe or the Weavers' creativity. Liam’s skills were physical, in the honed muscles he built by training with the Troid Sídhe.

With such a limited destiny, it was difficult for Liam to feel anything but rage towards Maeve Cruinn—the Mad Queen’s daughter.

King Irvine gave her tutelage, hours of lessons in strategy, and other royal duties. Maeve was schooled by the court’s elite advisors in the war room of the loneliest tower—not in some crowded school where the penniless rubbed shoulders with the courtiers.

Liam had been sick with jealousy, but he had done his best to hide it. After all, being the husband to the queen would be just as good as wearing the crown himself. Liam understood his limitations, and his mother continued to press their marriage—the union a foregone conclusion.

Until the Frosted Sands.

Liam had not left Cruinn since he was a babe. He had never seen battle or held a real sword.

The Mer took him, held him in irons, and used him as a bargaining chip.

His mother had shown little emotion to his capture and even less to his return.

Elaine treated him as if he had died, even as he stood in front of her.

Liam would never forget the look on Maeve’s face, the water thick with her blood, as she begged to die.

All those years and the jealousy so thick it turned his stomach were lies.

There were no ‘lessons’.

Just a frightened youngling, pressed down on the teeth of a magic stone and milked dry.

His mother had forced Maeve to the High Throne. Elaine’s face had lit up as the words streamed from Maeve’s lips. Horrid words, painting a picture so bleak he didn’t want to think of it.

His mother had left her on the High Throne to die.

Every time Liam closed his eyes, he saw the light dying in her eyes as the Nymph tried to heal her.

Maeve had been gone for weeks, stolen by the Siren Queen for some twisted quest. His mother had not mentioned her once. Had not explained why Maeve was so important.

Liam flinched as his silver utensils scraped his plate. He froze, eyes fixed down, waiting for his mother’s slap. It didn’t come.

Something had changed in her since Irvine’s death, a mask slipping away. Elaine had been content to play a part, the smiling and doting wife, but that had changed. The same smiles now bore a mocking edge; her anger was quick, and her blows were quicker.

Elaine smarted. A throbbing wound stomping about the castle as if Marve’s departure was a physical blow.

Elaine hadn’t been to the throne since Maeve had left—staining the headrest with her blood and bone.

Liam and Elaine sat in silence at the table in her quarters. He had no idea why she had invited him after being content to ignore him for weeks.

“The Siren Queen should have returned Maeve by now.” Elaine finished her wine, putting the glass down with force. Her fingers twitched, tapping and dancing with agitation. “How can I rule the lake without my bloody throne!?” Elaine stood up, her chair falling to the floor.

The water muffled the sound as the furniture bounced against the stone.

Liam didn’t offer her condolences or comfort. He simply continued eating.

“Fucking Nuada!” Elaine threw her head back, brandishing her fists. “Such disrespect bears confrontation, does it not?”

Liam wasn’t sure if she required a response, but to be safe, he kept his head down and muttered. “Yes, mother.”

“What kind of monster do you think I should send?” Elaine continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Scylla.” She nodded to herself. “The beast will want revenge for Charybdis’s death. That will be enough motivation to encourage her to leave the lake.”

“Leave the lake?” Liam echoed, looking up despite himself.

“Yes.” Elaine purred. “Irvine said the Sirens made their homes on the shore of the Dark Sea. Scylla will find their hiding place and rip them from this world.”

He had to warn Maeve.

Elaine was coming for her. Sending a beast with more teeth than sense, hungry from years of captivity.

Liam’s hand, clasped around his silverware, shook.

He coughed, and blood unfurled from his mouth like dancing smoke in the water.

“Mother?” He whispered.

He hadn’t seen her move, but Elaine Cruinn stood behind him, knife in hand.

“I heard that thought.” She warned. “Next time, it will be the liver.”