Page 6

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E yphah’s disappointed gaze fell on her. Maris was on the ground, her stomach turning with the bond sickness. She was trying not to throw up her breakfast, but with every hit and heavy turn she did, it proved to be difficult.

“You are not positioning your feet right,” Eyphah began, extending her hand for the twelfth time that day to help Maris up.

Maris inhaled deeply, trying to calm the nausea. Rubbing her stomach, she tiredly watched Eyphah show her how to stand… again.

The other woman slapped her own thick thighs, planted her feet on the ground and lowered her body by bending her knees. “You have to do this to keep your balance, if not, it will be easy for me to knock you down and kill you,” Eyphah said, holding her weapon for support. “Come, again.”

Maris closed her eyes, sighed, and then nodded. “I know how to fight, Eyphah.”

“Well, you say you know, yet you have no idea how to block. Slapping people in the face is not knowing how to fight.”

“Thank you for the recommendation. I really appreciate it.”

“Sarcasm will not save you either, love.”

“You don’t say,” Maris muttered, turning away from Eyphah with an exasperated roll of her eyes. She strode toward Poseidon’s trident, which had slipped from her grasp during the struggle. She wasn’t accustomed to wielding such a weapon, and every attempt to attack with it had been more frustrating than anything she’d ever encountered .

Although Maris was improving at using her abilities to fight with water, she still felt the need to rely on the trident—just in case she ever found herself without the precious liquid nearby.

As she bent down to retrieve the weapon, a sharp twist in her stomach stopped her. Before she could push the sensation away, she turned from the trident and emptied her breakfast onto the ground.

Between fits of coughing and spitting the acidic taste, Eyphah’s hand touched her back in a pathetic attempt to comfort her. Before she could protest that she didn’t need help and insist she was fine, another wave of nausea overtook her, and she doubled over to vomit again.

Groaning in disgust, Maris straightened herself and stepped away from the mess, clutching her head in frustration. “I hate this!” she bellowed.

“You don’t have to push yourself so hard, Maris. We can continue tomorrow, if you—”

“I don’t want to continue tomorrow; I don’t want to be patient! I want to get better now, I want to feel better now. I am sick, I am tired, I am so fucking frustrated with everything!” She swallowed hard, fighting against the sob tightening in her throat, determined not to let it break free.

Eyphah sighed behind her and, once again, her warm hand touched her back. “Hey. It’s fine to feel like that.”

“No. Eyphah, I don’t want your pity.”

“And you are not getting any of it, believe me. I do not pity you, but if I want my queen to be at her very best, I know I can’t push her to train when she clearly doesn’t feel like it. The bond sickness is holding you back and it will be a while until it goes away.”

“It’s been three months, Eyphah.”

“Everyone deals with that differently,” Eyphah said, lifting the trident, and Maris couldn’t help the pang of jealousy.

“Arwin and Eris can come back at any time. I need to be strong enough to fight.”

“Exactly. That’s why you need to take it easy and not get injured.”

She didn’t want to admit it, but Eyphah’s words calmed her enough for the knot in her throat to dissipate.

“Tomorrow? Same place, same time?”

Eyphah smiled and nodded. “Same place, same time.” She waved the trident. “I’ll take this back to the altar. Try to take it easy,” saying that, Eyphah walked away, crossing the plaza and heading to her cabin .

If Valda were here, she would probably tease Maris for her inability to properly hold the trident.

If Valda was here, she would be the one training you instead of Eyphah.

Maris closed her eyes tightly and cursed under her breath.

She pushed the image of Valda while she trained back in the castle out of her mind. She tried so hard not to imagine her with that cocky smile, holding the Heaven Sword, sweat running down her neck and into her cleavage.

A tug at her chest pulled her from her daydream. Maris pressed between her breasts and hissed. She pushed the pull away. Valda was calling out to her. The other woman felt Maris’s need for her. Each time she let her guard down, Valda was right there, trying to lure her back.

Keeping her mind occupied would help. She left the plaza, heading toward the cabin designated as a small school. The little house had always caught Maris’s attention. More than once, she had skipped her lessons with Melvian to sit quietly at the back of the room, listening as a young, very pregnant Sealian taught her class.

Coral was adored by her students, and Maris’s heart warmed whenever she listened to the woman share stories of life in the Sea Kingdom.

Coral’s lessons were far more detailed than the brief conversations Maris had with Isen back at the castle, and they deepened her longing for the Sea Kingdom. She wanted to return—to give her generation of Sealians and the young children a chance to build a life in their homeland.

The children’s questions revealed their longing to return—to bathe in the kingdom’s many beaches, to truly celebrate their heritage. To sleep under a star-filled sky with sand beneath their feet. To taste food grown and prepared in the land, their parents had once called home.

Maris felt a deep homesickness for a place she had never seen, an ache that made her crave the chance to go back.

The sudden clang of a bell jarred her from her daydream. The children groaned in protest as Coral chuckled, gently ushering them out of the cabin with a playful wave before tucking the bell back into her desk drawer.

As the last student disappeared through the door, Melvian entered, carrying her healer’s bag.

Coral had volunteered to assist with Melvian’s lessons. At nearly thirty-five weeks pregnant, Coral had become part of Maris’s training, letting her practice how to check in on an unborn child. It wouldn’t be long now before the young teacher welcomed another beautiful Sealian baby into the world.

Maris couldn’t wait.

“How are you doing, Coral?”

“Miss Melvian! Your Highness.” Coral smiled brightly, rubbing her large stomach before nodding in greeting. “It is always a pleasant surprise to see you both here.”

“We are here for your weekly check. This time, if you don’t mind, Maris will be the one doing the checking,” Melvian said, elbowing Maris before signaling her to step forward.

Maris swallowed her nervousness down. She had been looking forward to this for a while now. She rubbed her hands on her tunic as she stood face to face with Coral. The young woman looked radiant.

“My mate has been insufferable,” Coral said with a teasing smile. “He’s convinced we’re having a boy.”

“And you think it’s a girl?” Maris asked, glancing at Melvian, who was wiping her hands with a damp cloth.

“I don’t think—I know it’s a girl,” Coral replied confidently as she eased herself onto the desk, just as she had during previous visits. Her grin stretched wide. “I’m going to name her after you, Your Highness,” she added, her voice brimming with delight. “If that’s alright with you, of course.”

“I would be honored!” Maris exclaimed, her chest tightening with emotion at the thought of a little Sealian carrying her name. “Now, I need you to take a deep breath and relax for me.”

Coral nodded, her eyes fluttering shut as she inhaled deeply.

Melvian stepped beside Maris, gently taking her hands and guiding them over Coral’s round belly. “Feel this,” Melvian said, pressing Maris’s hand firmly against one side. Coral winced slightly, and Maris quickly apologized, her cheeks flushing.

“That’s the head,” Melvian explained, offering an encouraging smile. “The baby is slowly positioning herself for delivery.”

“Right.” Maris nodded, focusing as she slipped her hands, mimicking Melvian.

“Has the baby been moving a lot lately, Coral?” Maris asked.

“Oh, yes,” Coral replied with a laugh. “I’m certain she’s going to be a dancer, just like her daddy.”

Maris noticed Melvian’s twitchy smile as her friend’s hand drifted to her small, rounded stomach. Though the early signs of pregnancy were just showing, it filled Maris with excitement at the thought of feeling her best friend’s child someday. But the idea carried a bittersweet edge—Isen wasn’t here, and Maris knew Melvian resented her for his absence.

“Well, any day now, we’ll be welcoming a new Sealian to the bunch,” Maris said, clearing her throat as she helped Coral down from the desk. “Everything looks great. Just try not to overdo it, okay?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Coral replied with a laugh. “The moment I get home, my mate won’t let me lift a finger. He insists I lie down all day while he handles everything else.”

A soft sniffle came from behind Maris. She forced a smile, bidding Coral goodbye as the young woman left the cabin.

Maris caught Melvian wiping her nose and tears.

“Melvian,” Maris said gently, stepping closer to squeeze her friend’s shoulders.

“I’m fine. I promise,” Melvian replied, closing her bag and wiping her eye.

“You’re not—”

“I am,” Melvian insisted, turning to face Maris. Her nose was red, her cheeks streaked with moisture. “I just… I miss Isen.”

“Of course,” Maris murmured, biting her lip as she debated whether to press further. Should she ask about Isen—how he was doing, whether they’d been able to stay in touch through letters or their bond? Finally, she ventured, “Is… he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Melvian said with a faint smile, her voice wavering. “He misses me too. He can’t wait to come see me.”

Maris nodded and pulled her friend into a tight hug. “I’m sorry, Melvian.”

Melvian sighed, resting her face against Maris’s chest before wrapping her arms around her waist. “I know,” she whispered. “I got myself into this. I stayed.”

“Has… Isen said anything about Valda in his letters?”

Melvian inhaled deeply, the pause stretching between them. After a long moment, she pulled away and shook her head. “No.” Melvian gave her a rueful smile before saying, “I take it you haven’t contacted her.”

“I don’t… I don’t think I should.”

Melvian’s gaze sharpened. “You don’t think you should, or you don’t want to?”

Maris wanted to admit she didn’t want to. That she would rather endure all the nausea and fatigue, than confront the truth: that despite everything Valda had done to her family, a part of her still wanted to see her. It felt like a betrayal—not just to herself, but to her entire family .

“You need to see her, Maris,” Melvian said, pointing a finger at Maris’s stomach. “It would really help with the sickness.”

Help with the sickness . Could it really be that simple? If seeing Valda just once could ease her nausea, maybe she could train without limits—maybe even master wielding the trident. The thought was tempting.

“I don’t know where—”

“Maris. Just go to bed. You’ll see her then.”

Maybe it was time. She had resisted for so long, avoided that connection out of fear and anger. But perhaps now, just once, she could let it happen.

Melvian kissed her cheek, gave her arm a reassuring pat, and left the cabin.

Nightfall was still a couple of hours away, and while Maris knew she should go out and eat, all she wanted was to crawl into bed. She didn’t know how to find Valda in her dreams, but if it was as simple as Melvian made it sound, then surely it wouldn’t be a problem.

She could spend the time eating, or even reading more about medicine as Melvian had so often instructed her to do, but the thought of seeing Valda—even for just a few fleeting seconds—was… exhilarating. It felt like exactly what she needed.

Maris headed to her chamber, opening the door slowly, her mind plagued with images of Valda sitting on the corner of the bed, bouncing her leg in both agitation and anxiousness, her honeyed eyes narrowed in deep thought as they stared at the floor. But when Maris stepped inside, the room was empty. Of course, it was ridiculous to think Valda would actually be there. And yet, the hollow ache that settled in her chest caught her off guard. She wasn’t ready to get used to that emptiness.

Clearing her throat to dislodge the knot forming there, Maris carefully removed her tunic and pants, folding them neatly and placing them beside the worn-down nightstand. Her boots found their place by the door before slipping her nightshirt on. As her hands trembled, she reached for the dresser, striking a match to light the two candles perched on top.

The room was not bright, nor dark, perfect enough to lull Maris to the awaiting bed.

She glanced down at herself, her nightshirt hanging loosely to the middle of her thighs. She wondered if she looked presentable…

Scoffing, Maris shook her head. How could she even think about being presentable when she wasn’t sure if she was going to be happy to see Valda, if she was going to see her ?

Her chest tightened as doubt crept in. She wanted to see Valda. Even through her anger, even with the lingering desire for consequences to befall her for what she had done, Maris’s soul cried out for her. Her body ached to be in her presence…

Pressing a hand to her stomach, Maris rubbed away the nausea as she closed her eyes tightly. When she opened them, she couldn’t help but hope, foolishly, that Valda might be standing there. But the room remained empty, as it had always been.

Maris hadn’t collected any personal belongings. All she had to call her own were the books Melvian had given her, and some clothing Eyphah had gathered for her to use.

Sitting up on the bed, she rubbed her face in frustration, her thoughts turning to her mother’s violin. The instrument and its case, along with everything else she once owned, were still in Oberon Castle—likely discarded or destroyed in a fire.

Her only real belonging was the trident in the altar above the room she was in.

That trident. She hadn’t been able to use it effectively, but deep down, she knew that soon, she would have to.

Releasing a shaky breath, Maris pulled the bed sheets off her body. She was too nervous, too anxious to consolidate sleep.

Before she could decide what to do next, she climbed the narrow staircase to the attic.

The altar to Poseidon’s trident seemed to glow more vividly at night.

Maris paused at the top of the stairs, taking it all in. Even the trident seemed to hum with a faint spark.

Taking a deep breath, liquid warmth seemed to spread through her forehead. Maris eyes widened as a bright blue hue illuminated from her forehead. The room came alive, with slight underwater ripples and glistening gold and diamonds.

Maris held her breath, unable to do anything but take in how beautiful the small room looked. It was unreal. If she ever swam in the seas of the Sea Kingdom, she imagined it would look just like this.

If only Valda were here to see it…

The glow on Maris’s forehead dimmed, fading until she was once again wrapped in darkness.

Maris released the breath she was holding, her gaze on the trident that didn’t stop shining.

“Maris.”

Her head snapped toward the entrance of the attic, but the door was firmly shut. There was no one in the House of Arago but her .

“Maris…”

That deep voice…

She knew it all too well. But she wasn’t dreaming. She wasn’t even lying in bed…

A shiver ran through her as she rubbed the center of her chest, her lower lip trembling. A single tear slipped down her cheek.

The trident pulsed. Its glimmering decorations moved in time with the rhythm of a heartbeat. Maris’s knees weakened, bending beneath her as she stared.

“Valda?”

The distinctive pull of the bond made Maris gasp. It hadn’t felt this strong ever since she had returned to New Agenor. Her mate was calling to her, thrashing about like a caged animal, desperate for release.

Pressing her hand firmly against her sternum, Maris closed her eyes, bowing her head low. The pulsing energy of the trident faded, dissolving into the distant echo of running footsteps.

The air inside the chamber thickened, growing dense with the unmistakable scent of Valda’s chamber back in Oberon Castle.

When Maris opened her eyes, she found her.

Valda stood before her, looking down, her wide-open eyes unblinking and white. The stare, devoid of irises, burned into Maris’s very soul.

Valda was blind again.

How? They’d cured the curse.

Maris swallowed hard as a tear escaped, streaking her cheek. Her breath caught when Valda’s hand rose, wiping it away with a tenderness that sent shivers through her.

Confusion churned within Maris as her gaze remained locked on the whiteness of Valda’s eyes. Her stoic features, devoid of warmth, seemed to cut through her, leaving a coldness that settled deep in her chest.

Hissing through clenched teeth, Maris shut her eyes, her body shuddering violently. The cold was unbearable, seeping into her very bones and spreading through her chest and limbs. Even her fingertips felt icy, and her teeth chattered uncontrollably.

When she opened her eyes, Valda was sitting on the ground.

Her orange blouse was soaked in blood.

In her hand, Valda gripped a cutlass, the blade dripping crimson. She stared at it, inspecting it, before letting it clatter to the ground. Petrified, Valda rubbed her bloodstained hands against her dark pant leg .

“It won’t come off.” Her voice broke as she lifted her trembling jaw, her white eyes moist with tears. “I can’t wipe it off… I thought…” A sob escaped her. “Arwin said—”

She stopped, grabbing fistfuls of her dark hair before burying her face between her knees.

Blood. Who had Valda killed?

Frowning, the image of Raan flashed before Maris’s very eyes. His smile, his dumb jokes, his warm hugs, his bearded kisses to her cheek; all of it was ripped away from Maris.

And it was all because of Valda.

“Murderer!” Maris screamed, her voice breaking as she loomed over Valda.

Valda’s gaze darkened, the motion of her hands against her slacks stilling. Her narrowed eyes seemed to shift—honey irises flickered back for a fleeting moment before they were swallowed by blackness.

Rising to her full height, Valda towered over Maris’s smaller frame, looking down with teeth bared and fists clenched at her sides.

“And you are a liar,” Valda hissed.

“A liar? Why—”

“You left! Just when you promised you wouldn’t! Have you already forgotten? You left me . Your mate, how could you?”

“You killed my father, my mother, you killed me !”

“How can I make you understand that I never meant to hurt you!?”

“But you did!” Maris screamed, the air tightening inside her throat. “You did.”

Valda’s frame quivered as she closed her eyes. For a moment, her painful expression cut through Maris, striking something deep inside her. But she didn’t waver.

When Valda opened her eyes again, they were the warm honey color Maris had once loved. Her body was clean, and her sword rested quietly in its scabbard.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Valda murmured, her voice breaking.

Maris swallowed hard, shaking her head. She believed her, but the anger still clawed at her insides. “I don’t care. Everything I suffered—all of it—was because of you.”

“I never… I…” Valda groaned, pressing her knuckles to her temple. “You said you would never leave. You told me right before heading back to Oberon! You lied to me.”

“I had to. I… I couldn’t stay, Valda. What would they think if I stay with the one person responsible for their death?” Maris swallowed the knot in her throat. “I want to see you, but… I can’t be near you.”

Valda’s eyes dimmed with a darkness Maris had never seen. A rough, callused hand clutched her jaw, opening her mouth and parting her lips. Maris gasped as she was jerked to Valda’s muscular body. Maris stared at her mate’s face; her eyes unreadable in the dark consuming them. She tried to talk, but Valda’s hand prevented her from doing so.

Yet, it had been months since she had been this close to the other woman. There was no trace of blood on her clothing. It was clean and pristine. It was almost the Valda she knew; except she couldn’t tell if her eyes were honey or not.

“I am afraid to ask something,” Valda said, her warm breath brushing over Maris’s face. “Will you lie to my face again if I ask you a question?”

Maris’s frown deepened, a soft, pained whimper escaping her lips as Valda leaned in, pressing her warm forehead against Maris’s damp, sweat-covered one. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not even to herself, but Maris missed Valda.

Fuck .

She missed her roughness and felt her absence in the pit of her stomach.

Gods, she missed her so fucking much.

Without meaning to, Maris released a ragged moan from the very center of her chest.

Valda’s parted lips stretched into a smile. “How many nights have you touched yourself while thinking about me?”

Maris closed her eyes tightly. This was a dream, wasn’t it? There was no way Valda was here. She must’ve fallen asleep at some point, and if she willed herself, she would wake up, and everything would dissolve into the night.

But Valda wouldn’t release her. Her free hand moved to Maris’s nape, her fingers threading blue strands of her hair. Blunt nails scratched her scalp before she formed a fist and pulled. Another moan escaped Maris as liquid lust settled in her lower stomach and the junction of her thighs.

Valda moved close until she bumped her nose to Maris’s temple. The other woman closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “And here I thought that you hated me, but you are desperate for me to touch you further, aren’t you, Seashell?”

Valda’s grip loosened when Maris whispered, “I don’t hate you. I never did.”

Valda exhaled through her nose and opened her eyes. The honey was back in them, making Maris sob. “You don’t?”

She shook her head and grabbed Valda’s thick forearm. “I don’t.”

Maris tensed when Valda grabbed her jaw again. Instead of pain, Maris was surprised when she felt the softness of Valda’s lips on hers. Before she could react to the tender caress, her lover’s tongue slipped to taste her. The fire, once ignited by anger, was replaced by pure, unadulterated need.

Maris opened her mouth to welcome everything Valda offered. In the confusion of touch and gasps of air, Valda settled her on the bed, the cold bedsheets pressed to her naked back.

Valda’s mouth was all over her, tasting her chest, taking each nipple into her mouth, then she moved to her stomach and her thighs. Those same rough hands spread her apart, and then Valda’s searing tongue was on her wet skin. Maris grabbed Valda’s hair and kept her in place, crying out into the surrounding darkness.

Until she opened her eyes and saw the dimming lights of the candles in her room.

A cold drop of sweat ran down her temples, her hand moved from between her thighs, her fingers wet with arousal. Maris sighed and looked around the empty chamber. She was alone…

It was all a dream…