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MER

Sirenidae weren’t supposed to drown.

Mer kicked toward the surface of the ocean, cannon fire lighting the water above in splashes of orange and gold paint. She gagged as blood, oil, and the scent of death filtered through her gills. Shards of wood bit at her skin, stinging like jellyfish.

Only a little bit farther.

With a sharp burst of movement, Mer broke the surface. The silence of the depths below shattered as a cannon impacted an Aermian warship. The explosion rocked the ship, the waves tossing Mer sideways. She swiped the water from her eyes and blinked hard into the stormy night.

Lightning streaked across the dark sky, followed by bone-shaking thunder and the screams of cannons. She gritted her teeth as the change overtook her body. Her lungs seized, forcing the water out through her gills before they sealed, and she took her first full breath.

Fatigue rode her hard as waves battered her, trying to force Mer below.

As much as she wanted to sink into the cool embrace of the sea, the battle raging around her demanded she fight.

She swam toward the Aermian ship that was hanging on by a limb.

Its sides were pockmarked and riddled with burns, but it still held.

Thick rope ladders hung from the deck down to the waves, a welcoming gesture for the siren allies.

She dodged a body and tried not to look too closely at the pale face, her heart pounding.

Now was no time to balk. This was war and that meant casualties.

Mer seized the dark wet ladder that dangled in the water.

She hooked her right arm through the rope and sagged, her legs limp.

Just one little break and then she’d join the soldiers above.

As Mer caught her breath, she observed the madness of the battle around them.

Black powder scented the air. Broken ships bobbed in the harsh stormy waters. The clash of steel against steel cut through the air.

Their mortal enemy would not relent.

No matter how many Scythians the Aermians and their allies cut down, there were always more berserker monsters to replace them.

Lightning zigzagged through the night once again, highlighting the shapes of fiilee and their riders bravely attacking from the angry-looking sky. Her breath caught, and the scales along her arms lifted slightly as one of the flying felines was hit with a bolt and fell from the sky.

Her gaze latched onto the largest feline that tucked its wings and dove, its rider practically lying on its back.

She shivered as they plunged toward their fallen comrade.

The rider on the dead fiilee yanked frantically at their harness.

Mer gasped when the rider launched off the back of their mount into the air.

The large fiilee swooped below him and caught him before they hit the water, the dead mount crashing into the waves with a mighty splash before the ocean hungrily claimed her prize.

Mer mourned for the feline. The Methian aerial riders bonded with their mounts for life.

It was another dead to lay at the Scythians’ feet.

Her heart slowed, and her breathing evened out.

She wanted to crawl into a hole and sleep to regain her strength, but every moment she dallied was another life lost. Mer prepared to throw herself back into the water when the large fiilee dove from the sky.

The massive feline landed on the nearest Aermian ship, both riders sliding from its wet back in one smooth movement.

A flash of lightning illuminated the riders.

She’d know his wine-colored hair anywhere. Her lips parted.

The Methian prince, Raziel.

She’d heard of the handsome Methian prince and had even caught glimpses of him in the last several weeks as he launched aerial attacks on the Scythian fleet, but she’d never been this close to him.

Her gaze narrowed when the fiilee flared its leathery wings and knocked two Scythian warriors from the ship.

Raziel launched an attack and she cursed, noting that the ship wasn’t just fighting the storm but an influx of Scythian warriors.

How had the scoundrels boarded it in this weather? She’d barely managed it.

We cannot lose that ship.

Lightning lit up the night sky in consecutive bursts as if the storm wanted Mer to have a better look at the hulking Prince Raziel.

His clothing was soaking wet, clinging to his body, and the sharp lines of his face twisted with effort as he fought with a dark figure.

They turned, and she gasped when she recognized his adversary.

A familiar shock of silver hair caught her gaze.

Ream, her husband.

Her brain scrambled to understand why allies would be fighting each other.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Her husband slipped beneath the prince’s guard and stabbed him in the back.

“No!” she shouted. What was Ream thinking?

The prince tossed his head back in pain a moment before he flipped his sword and stabbed backward.

Time seemed to stand still, and Mer clung to the rope, not believing her eyes.

The sword protruded just to the left of Ream’s spine.

Her husband stumbled toward the edge of the deck. The prince spun and brutally yanked his sword from Ream before kicking him in the chest.

A scream tore from Mer as her husband toppled over the railing and into the choppy waters.

No, no, no, no, no.

This wasn’t happening.

Mer released the ladder and dove into the water. Debris from damaged ships and bodies littered the waves as she propelled forward as fast as she could. A sharp pain bit into her side, pulling her from her panic. Someone had tried to shoot her with a harpoon.

She popped her head just above the surface, her eyes scanning the area.

A Scythian soldier, with his eerily perfect face, grinned at her from a nearby ship. She narrowed her eyes and pointed a nail at him. She wouldn’t forget his face. He’d pay for every drop of blood he shed later.

Mer dove deep, frantically scanning the area for Ream.

Their enemies had wised up to their underwater attacks and now hunted the Sirenidae. Their bright silver hair made them easy targets, especially at night.

Ream, where are you? Please be okay.

As if her prayer had been answered, Mer spotted her husband in the murky water.

He sank slowly, silvery blood leaking from his chest in winding tendrils.

He was losing too much blood. She needed to get him somewhere safe immediately.

Mer dug deep, adrenaline surging through her body as she sped ahead and caught him under his arms. Her stomach sank as she saw the extent of his wounds. She needed healing herbs from the trench now .

She hauled him away from the warship toward the coral beds.

A sandy cover with a circular wall of blood coral would do well to protect them while Ream was so vulnerable.

No beast nor Scythian could reach them there.

While the striped leviathans were normally friends, that could easily be washed away in the frenzy of blood and battle.

Her knees hit the white sand, as she laid Ream down. He groaned and pressed his hands against the wound, his handsome face creased in pain. She brushed hair away from his paling cheeks before moving around to his side. Sand swirled through the water as Mer fluttered her fingers over his wound.

It was huge.

“A broadsword?” she growled, glaring at the raw edges of the cut. “How can I help you? Tell me what to do.”

Ream was the healer, not her.

He shook his head.

Mer frowned at him before squeezing his hand. The damage was too severe to do anything of use. “I’m going for help. Hang on. I’ll be back soon.”

She released his hand and began climbing to her feet when Ream caught her fingers in his own.

“Don’t go.”

“I have to.”

He shook his head again. “There’s not much time.”

Her pulse began to race. “Don’t say such things. You’re going to be fine.” She gave him a stern look.

“We must speak. This is important.”

Her mind screamed at her to find help, but her legs folded beneath her, and she pressed her own hands to his wound, trying to stem the blood. “Very well. You’ll have to deal with me as your nursemaid until you get better.”

Ream grimaced, his face a mask of pain.

“I’m sorry it hurts, but I have to put pressure on it.

” She glared as silvery blood still leaked from beneath her fingers.

She glanced around the cove. There weren’t any sort of healing plants nearby, although there was some wide seaweed.

Mer placed Ream’s hand on the wound before yanking the seaweed from the sand.

She knotted the strands together quickly and then painstakingly wrapped them around her husband until they sealed the wound.

“There we go. That’s better,” she croaked, then cleared her throat. It wasn’t enough. She could already see blood pooling beneath the leaves of the seaweed.

He was going to die.

No.

They’d only been married for three years, and yet it felt like she’d lived a lifetime with him. He was her person. Mer couldn’t lose him.

“I need to get help. This is far beyond my knowledge.”

Once again, he shook his head and gave her a soft yet sad smile. He reached for her hand, squeezing gently. “This is of my own doing, my love.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It’s true.”

She swallowed hard and frowned, trying to come up with a reason why he would say such a thing.

Why did he attack the prince? Our ally?

As if he could read her thoughts, he replied, “I had no choice. They have my daughter.”

Mer flinched.

His daughter had died alongside his previous wife in a terrible accident at least seven years before they married. She leaned closer and examined his pupils. Was he hallucinating?

She smoothed the hair back from his brow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but there’s time to figure this out later. We need to get you healthy, my love.” His loose grip suddenly tightened on her hand, almost to the point of pain. “You’re hurting me.”

“I need you to listen to me right now.” His bright lucid gaze held onto hers. “The Pernicious are coming. They are clever and know all. You must find my daughter before it’s too late. Trust no one. Find Lysa for me.”

She blinked hard, trying to make sense of his words. “What are you talking about? Who are the Pernicious? And Ream, your daughter is gone,” she said softly, as if that would make the reminding blow any less painful.

“The Scythians gave me proof. They have a likeness of her.”

Scythians.

Mer froze, staring down at her husband.

He’d been in contact with their enemy?

She frowned as she ran over the events of the evening. Ream was a healer, not a warrior. He shouldn’t have been on that warship in the first place. He’d attacked the prince, and the Methian royal had only defended himself.

Mer began to shake. “What have you done?” she whispered.

“What I had to.” Ream pleaded with her with his gaze. “It’s my daughter.”

Dread clogged her throat. “Was it you?” she questioned. No one knew how the enemy had obtained knowledge on how to hunt the Sirenidae. “Did you betray us? Me ?”

Ream reached up and cupped her cheek, his fingers so cold. “You will understand when you have your own child. There are no lines you won't cross to protect them.”

That was a yes.

Her heart broke.

Her eyes burned, and tears slipped free, sparkling lavender drops mixing with the seawater. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry for it, but I don’t regret it.” Blood gathered at the corners of his lips and drifted away like smoke vapor.

She wasn’t a healer, but she knew the signs of internal bleeding.

His grip on her face slackened, and she pressed it harder against her cheek. “Don’t do it. Stay with me!”

“Forgive me.”

Mer shook harder when he gave her one more sad smile. She couldn’t get her lips to work, could only release soul-crushing sobs.

“Find my daughter,” he whispered.

Then the life drained from his eyes.