Another chill ran down her spine as it continued to rain.

Her hair hung in her eyes as she glanced across the short span, locking cool gazes with the Methian king.

The longer she stared into his cold eyes, the more likely it seemed that they glowed like smelted silver. Her new husband now loathed her.

The feeling is mutual.

Mer forced the sneering expression on her face into a placid one. “Do you like what you see, my lord?”

He didn’t answer but continued to stare over the edge of his black kerchief.

She was here for the long game. The lives of Ream’s family depended on it.

She’d had a moment of weakness, but now that the shock had worn off, she needed to be strategic.

Gaining the king’s trust would be difficult now but not impossible.

All men had their faults, and this one, well he was proud.

She could see it in every line and angle of his body. He thought himself better than she was.

A dark chuckle sounded in her chest, and she smiled at him, baring her teeth. “I think you do. I think you like the fact that I’m a little vicious. Just like you.”

Her smile dropped when he stroked her shell knife that he’d stolen. The king had boldly placed it in the sheath at his chest.

Don’t let him rile you. He’s just testing the waters.

If she were a betting woman, Mer would hazard a guess that he didn’t like to be challenged.

What fun it would be to toy with him.

“Keep it,” she murmured, batting her lashes. “As a loving keepsake from your new queen.”

His fingers spasmed against her blade, and she swallowed down her glee. She’d ruffled him, even if he was trying to hide it from her.

How delicious.

Mazie clicked her tongue, and the horse began moving faster. Mer hid a wince as the mount jostled her. The ground sped by, and Mer found herself knotting her fingers in the horse’s wet mane, praying she did not fall from the mount to be trampled underneath its massive shaggy hooves.

Nausea rose up, and Mer tried to focus on the tall dark-green pine trees that crowded along the road like stoic sentinels. The muddy lane abruptly ended in a large grassy meadow dotted with deep red flowers that looked as if they had tiny little faces.

Her eyes widened as a pair of light blue feline eyes appeared underneath the darkened boughs of the trees, and a shiver went down her spine.

Fiilee.

Mazie slowed the horse and swung down from the saddle. She wrapped her hands around Mer’s bruised ribcage and helped her slide from the tall horse. Mer wobbled and locked her legs, refusing to look any weaker than she already did. Wet grass tickled the bottoms of her bare feet.

Mer swiped the water from her eyes, not moving as she watched five winged felines saunter out from beneath the pines. Her breath caught.

The fiilee were a sight to behold.

Her gaze latched onto the largest feline. It was covered in so many dark spots that it appeared to be black, but on close inspection, the creature had a thick white undercoat. It stretched its massive bat-like wings and shook the water off before folding them against its strong lithe body.

She’d never been this close to one of the beasties before. During the war, she had seen them in the skies, but this was something altogether different. Mer took one step toward the fiilee , mud and grass squishing between her toes. The feline eyed her and laid its ears back.

A warning not to come any closer.

Mer listened and redirected, keeping her eyes on the feline who watched her with glittering eyes. Mazie silently trailed her, her hand resting near the sword on her hip.

“I know,” she whispered. “I’m not invading your territory. I’m just escaping the rain. You stay there, and I’ll stay here.”

Her legs tingled uncomfortably as Mer tried to work feeling back into them, the worst of the rain blotted out by the thick pine boughs.

Just how long had she been unconscious? Her legs were numb from thigh to toe.

In the water, she was light and weightless, but not here.

It was always disconcerting how heavy her body felt on land.

“What are we doing here?” Mer asked Mazie.

The warrior woman said nothing, just stared at her.

The dowager queen urged her horse closer, haughtily staring down at Mer from beneath the hood of her cloak. “Whatever our king wishes.”

Lovely. A spoiled king with an overprotective mother.

What did you expect?

Mer smiled at the woman and turned her back, purposely dismissing the queen. She edged farther underneath the bough of pines, her breath fogging the air.

Mazie followed behind, the gait of her steps differing.

“How’d you wound your leg?” Mer asked rubbing at her arms.

Trenches bite . She hated the cold. It was enough to make anyone grumpy.

“I was born this way.”

Mer’s brows rose. “And yet you’re an elite warrior in the king’s guard. You must be very, very good with that sword.”

“I am.” Not false modesty, just raw truth.

Note to self: don’t anger Mazie.

She surveyed the convoy from beneath her lashes. It was telling that they hadn’t brought along the Sirenidae healers and handmaidens, nor any of her things. Either it wasn’t safe to travel with those, or they had wanted to get her back to the palace immediately.

It seemed none of her people were to be trusted.

Especially after you tried to kill the king.

It wasn’t her best choice, but Mer couldn’t find it in herself to regret her actions. Every time she saw the blood-soaked scarf around his neck, she gained a little thrill of vindictive pleasure.

Mer rubbed at her abused wrists, noting how her left still bled. They’d trussed her up like a common criminal.

Isn’t that what you’ve become?

Scythian bodies flashed through her mind.

She shoved the thought down and gently probed at her temple. Her fingers came away bloody. The king was hardheaded, it seemed. If the headache and nausea were anything to go by, he may have given her a concussion.

Depths below, she hated him.

Goosebumps prickled across her arms, raising both the fine hair and small iridescent scales that ran along her skin in patches. Mer hated the cold, and while she had never minded being wet before, right now all she wanted was to be warm and dry.

She held her arms closer to her body to conserve heat.

No one offered her another cloak. Not that she would have taken it.

Don’t show weakness.

Mer forced herself to straighten and sauntered toward the nearest tree.

She leaned against the rough bark, watching the king’s entourage confer with each other.

She studied the man standing to the right of the Methian king, his strong jaw tight, but his fingers were gently combing through the orange-and-black fur of his fiilee hovering right behind him.

He was tender with the animal despite his outward anger.

A man who harbored strength and tenderness. A dangerous combination. She’d have to watch out for him, or perhaps she could use it to her advantage. Only time would tell.

The group broke apart, and the king finally faced her, seeming to swell in size. Her nose wrinkled. Sirenidae men were strong but svelte. The Methian king was built like a mountain—huge, sharp, and brutally beautiful.

She scowled at the thought. There wasn’t anything beautiful about the beastly man.

He sneered right at her, and then his gaze shifted.

Mer followed his line of sight and stiffened, her scowl sliding right off her face.

The largest fiilee had crept up on her, its sharp eyes assessing. A hum formed in the back of her throat, but she swallowed it quickly. This was no sea creature she could soothe with her song.

“I won’t taste good,” she murmured, holding the predator’s eyes. Its ears perked at her words and crept another soundless step closer. If Mer reached out, she would have been able to touch the feline’s whiskers. “Begone, beastie. I don’t concern you.”

The fiilee ignored her and took another step, shoving its pink nose against her side. Mer’s heart galloped as she stared down at the top of the fiilee’s head. It was huge. If the beast wanted, it could rip out her whole side with one bite.

“Easy,” she whispered. “If you bite me, my scales will cut up your gums.”

The fiilee snuffed her, unconcerned, huffing warm air against the wet silk of her dress.

A whistle followed by three clicks caught the fiilee’s attention.

It abandoned its exploration of her side and prowled toward the king; its long wing briefly brushed her leg.

She blinked as the beast knocked its large head into his chest, and he pressed his forehead between the feline’s ears before giving the creature rough scratches.

From the outside, it looked wholesome, but Mer knew better.

Bile rose up her throat at the display of affection. How could he act so kindly with a beast and yet act like such a savage to Ream?

Because he sees your worth to be less than that of an animal.

The anger that permanently had taken up residence in her chest burned brightly at the reminder.

The Methian king would pay. Mer blew out a breath. She’d have to extract her revenge carefully.

The king released his hold on the fiilee and stalked in her direction. Mer braced herself for a fight, but he hesitated just out of reach and then held his hand out silently.

She stared at his large, calloused palm and then raised her brows. “What do you expect me to do with that?”

“Take my hand.” A clear command. “We are leaving this place.”

She glanced from his hand to the feline and back. Understanding dawned.

He wanted her to willingly get on the fiilee .

Mer shook her head no just once. She would not go into the skies. “I think not.”

His gaze flattened and he rushed her. Mer yelped, fighting him off.

He manhandled her and tossed Mer over his shoulder.

The air was knocked out of her as his shoulder slammed into her stomach.

She screeched, throwing decorum out the window, and clawed at his back, tearing his shirt from his trousers and slicing bloody furrows into his back.

He slapped her on the rear. Hard.

Mer’s eyes watered, but she gritted her teeth against the pain. How. Dare. He.

“Remove your hands from my person, or I’ll remove your hand from your arm,” she promised.

“Then pull your talons from my back,” he growled in return.

“Do you think that is a good idea?” a blond warrior with bright blue eyes asked as they passed him.

The king grunted, managing to get them both on the back of the fiilee .

“Put me down immediately,” she shouted, pummeling his back with all her strength as real terror pushed past her indignation and anger. “I do not consent to this.”

He didn’t waver.

“Try not to fall, vicious one,” he murmured a second before he clicked once, and the fiilee lunged forward.

Mer lifted her head and braced herself against his back, meeting the smug gaze of the dowager queen. The older woman smiled and mouthed, Have fun.

Dread churned in her belly, and Mer knotted her fingers in the king’s wet shirt as the meadow disappeared, a maze of trees whizzing past them. She lifted her body slightly higher and glanced over her shoulder.

Mer’s eyes rounded and her stomach dropped.

They were headed toward the cliff’s edge.

“No!”

The king yanked her down into his lap, pinned her legs with one muscled thigh, and secured her arms with his left hand.

“Shall we, my dear?” he crooned as they plunged over the edge.

A scream tore from her as they plummeted.

A moment of weightlessness and her heart flew to her throat as they fell toward the trees below. Her teeth cracked together as the fiilee’s wings snapped out, stopping their descent. Quickly, they rose toward the black clouds, rain pelting them.

Her body shook as they climbed higher. Depths below, she hated heights.

“Why did you do it?” the king shouted.

She looked up at his face. Was he really asking her why she tried to kill him? Why was he playing dumb? “Because it was deserved!” she managed to get out, clinging to his arm with everything she had.

His silver eyes flashed to her face, and a grim smile curled his lips. “Well, then let me return the gesture.”

All at once, he shook her off, and then, much to her horror, he shoved Mer right off the back of the fiilee .