Page 7 of The Deep End of Death (Twilight Lake #4)

I hadn’t meant to fall asleep. I didn’t remember the brief respite between closing my eyes and waking up on the slick deck of the boat.

It was cold. My body was nude if you didn’t count a layer of blood. On me and surrounding me. Smeared against the wood, leading to the rail and the sea.

I was alone.

Save for the giant dead fish staring at me. Its side had been gored—organs exposed to the elements.

I looked down, and my hands were covered in blood. There was meat under the nails. The side of the fish’s body was covered in marks as if I’d grabbed it with my bare hands.

Did I do that ?

Had I gone into the water ?

Panicked, I patted down my naked flesh until I remembered the Kraken’s eye was in my pocket, with my clothes, assuming they weren’t at the bottom of the sea.

The boat was quiet, rocking on the dark water. Everyone else was asleep.

I set to work, grabbing the tail of the beastly fish and pulling it to the boat's edge. I tried to lift it but couldn’t. I had no idea how I’d gotten the damn thing onto the deck in the first place.

“Need some help?” A dry male voice made me jump.

The heavy silver body of the fish slid out of my hands and landed on my toes. Splattering more blood over my naked body.

Cormac stood, arms crossed, leaning on the railing further down the ship. He wore a smile that straddled the line between smug and friendly.

I turned back to the giant fish, using my legs to leverage it over the rail. It didn’t budge.

Cormac snickered.

“Feck off, Illfinn.” I snarled through gritted teeth.

Cormac sauntered toward me, his head cocked to the side as he took in my predicament. “How did a water-drake end up on board? They live at the bottom of trenches.”

“I don’t know.” I snapped, and that was the truth. “Help me push it overboard.”

Cormac sighed, bending at the knees and tucking his arms under the gored belly of the fish. If he was bothered by the innards escaping through the holes in the fish’s side, he didn’t show it.

Together, we inched the fish over the side of the ship, watching as it sailed into the water and disappeared with a splash.

I exhaled, bending at the waist. Half-exhausted from pushing such a giant fish overboard but also relieved I didn’t have to look at the thing anymore.

“How did you even know what kind of fish that was?” I asked, looking for somewhere to wipe the blood from my hands.

Cormac shrugged. “Merfolk have an affinity for anything with fins and tails. My pa told me about a water-drake that got lost in the river between the Dark Sea and the Twilight Lake. It took five mermen to put it down when it tried to eat the younglings.”

I looked out to the water, praying to Belisama that the drake didn’t have a family ready to leap aboard and tear out my throat.

I swore I saw a face looking back at me. Eyes glittering in the moonlight.

I blinked, and they were gone.

“I don’t know how it got on board,” I admitted.

“Shall we just ignore the fish meat under your nails then?” Cormac quirked a brow as if he was talking to a child—coaxing them to a solution.

My nose wrinkled in anger. “Feck. Off.”

“I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.” Cormac rocked on his heels as his smirk grew.

“I’d feel much better if you left me alone.” I stepped back from the edge of the boat, discretely searching the blood-soaked floor for my clothes.

“Over by the captain’s wheel.” Cormac gestured over his shoulder.

“What?”

“Your clothes.” He gave me a look. “Though, I must say, I am enjoying the view.”

“Sea slug.” I marched past him.

“If you say so.” He shrugged. “I’m simply preparing for our marriage. I intend to objectify you. Often.”

I rolled my eyes, finding my linen shift exactly where Cormac said it was.

It took a moment for his words to filter through my pique.

Marriage .

“You saw Balor’s true face. Didn’t you?” I picked up my clothes, cradling them. I did not look at Cormac as I spoke.

Cormac said nothing.

I glanced over my shoulder. He was pale. “You don’t want me. Not really.” I guessed. “But Balor offered you something. Didn’t she?”

“What do you mean?” Cormac said carefully.

“I killed your mother,” I told him. “You’d only marry me if there was something in it for you.”

His jaw ticked, and I knew I’d gotten it right.

“I understand,” I told him, and I did.

“I heard you and Rainn arguing,” Cormac said, skirting around the blood on the floor before he found a clean place to sit. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Balor sent me to get wine,” I explained. “Back in Cruinn. When I got back, she was alone. She said that Rainn and the others had gone to the harem. That all males were the same.”

“And you believed her.” Cormac surmised.

“They left me.”

“Did they?” He arched a brow.

“I thought they did.” I sank back, clutching my bloody clothes to my stomach. “Rainn said Balor enchanted them.”

“She did.” Cormac agreed. “I saw them. Did he tell you I slapped him? It knocked the enchantment right out of the Selkie’s head.”

“He didn’t tell me that,” I whispered.

“He must have been embarrassed,” Cormac smirked. “Males have such terribly fragile egos.”

“Yourself included.”

“Obviously.”

“All week, I’ve been so full of rage. So afraid of confronting Rainn, Tor, and even Shay about what happened in Cruinn.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “How can I insult you, assume the worst of you, and you don’t care? I can’t even tell my own Shíorghrá I feel so angry at them.”

“You’re frightened,” Cormac noted.

“Not of them.” I rushed to say.

“You’re frightened they’ll leave you. I’d wager that you’ve been left by everyone close to you.

” Cormac continued, his brow furrowed as if the words arrived immediately on the heels of his comprehension.

“Sometimes you must be brave and tell people how you feel. Even if it’s negative.

How can someone love you properly, entirely, if you don’t show them your whole self? Even the ugly parts.”

I laughed bitterly. “I’ve got plenty of those.”

Cormac smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “We all do, Princess.”

A long, eerie note echoed through the sea air. Piercing the night sky.

Cormac and I exchanged glances. My muscles locked as the note continued, but there was no magic in it.

It ended with a playful trill.

“A dolphin?” Cormac suggested.

I shrugged, and we approached the side of the ship.

Unfortunately, the drake had not sunk as I had hoped. Its dead, gored body bobbed on the surface, floating further and further from the ship.

Silhouettes crowded the fish.

The Merrow had mentioned a creed named the Naiad. Guardians of the underwater river.

“I really hope we didn’t piss them off by dumping a drake in their waters,” Cormac chuckled, though the sound was tinged with nerves.

The group of water-fae pulled the giant fish under the surface, leaving only the quiet night and the rolling waves behind.

Cormac and I found our way to the galley after a fool’s attempt to clean the blood from the deck floor using seawater and a mop we’d found behind the captain’s wheel.

My stomach rumbled, somehow exhausted and starved despite the early hour and the large dinner the night before.

I’d hoped I’d be alone or with only Cormac for company. I had no desire to explain the blood and how I’d woken up on the deck with no memory of how I’d gotten there.

Unsettled, I went over and over over the evening’s events in my mind.

From my argument with Rainn to falling asleep on the uncomfortable bunk.

I had never sleepwalked in my life, and I highly doubted that I had started now.

Something had called me to the sea when I had done my best to avoid the water.

Surely, if the Kraken’s eye was calling to its partner underwater, and I had been influenced by it, I would have taken it with me. Wouldn’t I?

The soup on the iron stove was cold, the fire having gone out hours ago. Still, I found two bowls and served Cormac and me.

We ate in silence.

It hadn’t occurred to me until that moment, but Cormac hadn’t blinked an eye about discarding the evidence of my looming mental breakdown.

I eyed the Mer-King as I sipped from my spoon.

Cormac felt my gaze, his spoon halting before it reached his mouth.

“What?”

I shook my head to clear it. “I was just wondering if you’d lost your mind.”

“Years ago.” He replied simply, spooning soup into his mouth.

The Faelight bobbed in time with the waves that rocked the ship.

A door to one of the bunk rooms opened with a creak. Tormalugh appeared, his hair sticking in all directions as if he had rolled out of bed a moment before. His dark eyes were bleary.

A moment later, both Shay and Rainn appeared behind him.

Rainn must have slept in their room.

That explained Tormalugh’s poor sleep; if he’d had to share a tiny bunk with Rainn, he’d likely not have slept much at all.

“Good morning.” Tor sank down in the chair at the end of the table. He pushed his fingers through his hair and rested his elbows on the table.

Shay muttered a greeting and checked the stew pot, lifting the lid and studying the cold remains.

Rainn, who would have offered a wave and one of his signature grins, simply walked past us all and disappeared through the door to the deck.

He was still angry with me.

I eyed Tor and Shay, wondering if Rainn had told them about the previous night’s conversation. I couldn’t tell if they were angry with me or simply tired.

I’d been so afraid of speaking about my feelings, giving a voice to the nastiness inside of me. Rainn had pulled it out of me, demanding my truth like a gift, before throwing it back in my face.

I wasn’t without fault, but it was hard not to be furious that Rainn had asked for my honesty and lambasted me for it.

My skin itched as my anger turned into a physical feeling. An intense discomfort.

Punish him ! the stone screamed, its voice pounding my skull. Hurt him like he hurt you.

I had no intention of listening to the stone in my pocket, but I couldn’t keep my questions bottled up any longer. “Did Rainn tell you about our fight?” I pushed my bowl away, having lost my appetite.

Tor blinked at me, his dark eyes still hazy with sleep. “We heard it. The walls are thin.”

“Something to keep in mind,” Shay remarked dryly, though I couldn’t tell if it was a sexual innuendo or an observation.

“Rainn is still dealing with the effects of Balor’s enchantment,” Tormalugh commented lightly. “He believes he should have been able to shirk off her magic. Which is ludicrous. Balor is the God of the Deep.”

“Selkies have an immunity to most magics.” I pointed out.

“And Balor is of the Tuatha Dé Danann,” Cormac said, placing his spoon to his lips. “He didn’t stand a chance.”

“Be that as it may,” Tor said pointedly. “Rainn feels great guilt; he believes he should have shrugged off a god’s magic like a lump of seaweed.”

I didn’t need to ask how Tor knew about Rainn’s feelings—Kelpies were empathetic.

I didn’t want to point out that until that moment, I had wanted them to feel guilt.

“You have feelings of abandonment.” Tor cocked his head to the side. “I broke my promise to you. I said I would not allow you to sit on the High Throne again, and I failed.”

Cormac dropped his spoon. It bounced across the table. “You’ve sat on the High Throne?” His voice was oddly high-pitched.

“It's too hard to keep track of who knows what.” I pinched my brow.

Tor sighed. “Yes. It is.”

Shay raised his hand. “If it’s any consolation, Illfinn, I wasn’t aware of this either.”

Cormac ignored the Nymph, his eyes fixed on me intensely. “The High Throne is the heart of the lake.” He said gravely.

I eyed him like a moray eel. “Yes.”

“Elaine Cruinn... Balor ... Called it ‘Dagda’s magic.’ ” Cormac pressed. “Not Belisama’s. Dagdas.”

I had no idea where his thoughts had gone.

“Is there anything else I don’t know?” Cormac’s fist clenched.

Tor and Shay exchanged a glance.

“I’m sure Balor, your master, would have gotten you up to speed.” Rainn’s voice cut through the tension.

I hadn’t heard him return.

The Selkie stood in the doorway to the galley, his arms crossed over his chest. His silver hair was wet from sea spray, flopping in his eyes. “Why don’t you run back to Balor?”

“Rainn. Stop.” I warned in a low voice.

It was as if I had thrown a bucket of ice water over the table.

Rainn’s brows disappeared into his hairline. “You’re defending him ?”

“Yes.” My chin jutted. “Cormac has his own reasons for what he does.”

“He stabbed you,” Rainn protested. “I’d say that’s a good enough reason not to trust him.”

“And I stabbed his mother.” I pointed out.

Cormac sucked his lips between his teeth. I couldn’t tell if he was holding in laughter or biting his tongue.

The door to the captain’s room opened, and the Merrow appeared, looking bright-eyed.

Rainn threw up his hands in exasperation. “This isn’t over.” He warned. “Has everyone forgotten that Cormac is spying on us all?”

“Am I interrupting?” The Merrow laughed as if the idea amused him.

“Not at all.” Shay offered a benign smile. “We were talking about breakfast. I would offer to cook, but I’m unfamiliar with the stove.”

“Nymphs use fire, don’t they?” The Merrow patted his trousers, searching for something.

“Stoves are a similar concept. I would ask someone to catch a fish, but water-drakes hunt the area above the Wash. I wouldn’t advise entering the water unless you have a blade and some dark body paint.

” The Merrow finally found what he was looking for as he pulled a pipe from his pocket.

“Water-drakes, you say?” Cormac said, feigning interest.

“Uh-huh.” The Merrow hummed as he puttered around the kitchen. He lit his pipe and then lit the stove, smoking as he opened a cupboard and pulled out a sack of grains. “Porridge.” He proclaimed. “Better than a kick in the teeth.”

Shay stood up, brushing his hands down the front of his tunic as if to wipe away the non-existent wrinkles in the leather. “Maeve, may I speak to you?”