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Chapter Twenty-Four

MER

After her stunt at Laos Keep, the king had unceremoniously locked her away as soon as they reached the Onyx Palace. It had killed her leaving Phia behind, but the duchess promised to arrive within the week with her friend in tow.

If Keventin hadn’t killed the Sirenidae.

Mer believed he was smarter than that. Phia was the key to controlling Mer. He wouldn’t be that shortsighted, or at least Mer hoped so.

It seemed like the duke hadn’t made any accusations against her, but Raziel had seen something of the interaction between her and Keventin that made him believe she tried to kill the duke.

Any trust they had been building disappeared with her actions.

They hadn’t even let her out for meditation.

Even the dowager queen had shown up to give her a tongue-lashing about modesty, propriety, and attempted murder. Surprisingly, the older woman had focused on Mer’s dress, not Keventin.

Humans were odd.

Sirenidae had always hated clothing. For most of Mer’s life, she’d worn hardly anything but her sealskin, and that covered very little. There was never shame associated with anyone’s body or skin. A body was just that. A body. Something to be appreciated for the life and support it gave.

Her lips thinned as she played with the short ends of her hair.

Humans were a little different when it came to modesty, and it seemed Methians even more so. Every single person she passed seemed to be covered head to toe.

During the welcoming feast, she’d taken great delight in leaving the stodgy Methian gown in her room and tearing the curtains from the wall.

The final look had been beautiful, even though the color hadn’t been right for her.

What she’d enjoyed even more was the look on the queen’s face when she’d entered the dining hall.

That night felt like a lifetime ago.

When she’d left for Methi, Mer had painted King Raziel as the worst of men. While he still needed to pay for what he’d done, Duke Keventin was worse.

Her heart raced and her breathing accelerated.

For the last three nights, Mer had barricaded the doors and then slept on the floor with a knife she’d stolen from Laos Keep. Nightmares plagued Mer, so she was just as tired when she woke up in the morning.

Mazie had even commented on the dark circles beneath Mer’s eyes. The warrior knew something was wrong but couldn’t figure out what it was. Mer wouldn’t be telling her either. While she really liked Mazie, she knew the king had planted her into Mer’s lady’s maids to spy.

She growled and pushed out of the large chair by the fire. Mer paced, feeling like her skin was too tight for her body. Too many things were spiraling out of control.

The king didn’t remember Ream. His death had been so insignificant that the king didn’t even know he’d destroyed Mer in the process.

Phia was still missing and in the clutches of Duke Keventin.

Mer had no way of reaching the coast to continue her inquiries about Ceto.

The dowager queen expected Mer to become a Methian queen.

She had no true friends.

And . . . she felt herself softening toward Raziel.

It was a betrayal to Ream.

Mer leaned heavily against the back of the chair and squeezed her eyes shut. Grief came in waves. Some days, she only ached. At other times, the pain was so excruciating, Mer could hardly function.

Just breathe.

With difficulty, Mer slowed her breathing and managed to calm her racing pulse. By the time she’d come out of the spell, the fire had burned down to coals.

A knock sounded at the door, and she quickly wiped the tears from her face. Mer walked to the door and opened it.

Three Methian lady’s maids, including Mazie. Mer barely kept from rolling her eyes. The dowager queen had sicced them on her once again. They were a good source of information, but Mer wasn’t in the mood for engaging in idle gossip. She had plans.

“I am about to lie down and rest for a bit,” she said with a small smile.

The youngest of the lady’s maids, Mariah, nodded a bit too vigorously, her light brown curls bouncing around her round face. “Of course. We will visit later, my lady.”

Mazie arched a brow. “Can I bring you some tea, my queen? It might help.”

Mer shook her head no. The last thing she needed was the warrior poking around in her room. “No, thank you.”

“Alright. We will visit you once you’ve rested,” Mazie said, her tone somewhat begrudging.

Translation: you’re not getting rid of me.

Mer smiled gratefully and closed the door, locking it. She turned and leaned her back on the wood, sighing. She had to move quickly. Mazie was as suspicious as they came.

She glanced at the huge four-poster bed. While she would love a nap, there was much to do.

A grin curled her lips.

Today, she’d steal a fiilee .

After the last few weeks of teasing information out of her lady’s maids, servants, courtiers, and merchants, Mer settled on one irrevocable truth.

Being bonded with a flying feline was everything to the Methian people.

While Mer had no plans to leave the king without exacting her full vengeance, she thought it wise to have a means of escape. Especially after the last few days.

Being locked away with one’s own thoughts was torture. She needed something to keep her mind occupied. She’d already searched through all the books on Raziel’s shelves, and none held any hints or information on the Ceto legend.

Mer pushed away from the door and sidled toward the bed. She lifted the mattress up and yanked out the makeshift rope she had been working on.

It had been laughable that the king thought to lock her away like a wayward child.

The first thing Mer had done was create her rope.

Hundreds of balconies covered the face of the mountain.

And twice she’d been able to sneak out using her new rope to explore the palace under the guise of a nap.

It was a labyrinth of hallways. She’d imagined the Palace of Skigara would have been gloomy as it was carved literally from the mountainside.

But surprisingly, she’d found the gothic palace warm and charming.

Unlike its king.

She didn’t remember much of the flight from Laos Keep. The numbness that had settled over her had combatted the fear of flying. They’d flown for hours, and the king hadn’t said one word. He hadn’t even looked at her.

Mer knew this because she’d stared at his face the whole time. Much to her shame, he’d become her lodestone in that moment. He’d kept her curled in his lap, safe and secure.

Forget him.

With the rope hanging from her forearm, Mer made her way outside. She secured the rope on the stone balcony and gave it a couple of expert tugs. It held, thanks to Lilja and Hayjen. As a child, she’d been fascinated with nautical knots. Her aunt and uncle tirelessly taught her knot after knot.

A true smile lifted her lips at the memory, and she threw the rope over the edge.

The wind ruffled her hair, and she tipped her face up, eyeing the clouds.

They hung low and were dark gray as if rain would break any moment.

Not a second to lose. And if memory served, she could drop down onto the balcony below, skulk through the rooms and into the hallway, take the stairs down several flights, and then make her way to the fiilee nests.

A full grin broke across her face.

There was no trapping a daughter of the sea.

Mer peeked over the balcony and calculated the distance from the end of the rope to the balcony.

It would be close to a ten-foot drop. She looked to the left, eyeing the mountain.

True, she could have climbed down the mountainside, but she wasn’t that stupid.

One small mistake or a change in the weather could mean the end for her.

A long jump it is.

She took a small breath, swung her leg over the railing, and began to shimmy down the rope before she could talk herself out of it. The wind swayed the rope back and forth, but Mer kept moving hand over hand.

A raindrop hit the top of her head.

“Not now,” Mer grumbled, trying to curb the anxiety rising in her chest. “Please hold off.”

As if the heavens mocked her, the sky opened up, and the downpour began.

“I’m cursed,” she huffed, moving quicker, her breath puffing from her lips.

The rope dampened, and her hands became slippery. Mer peered over her shoulder. She still had so much distance to cover. Her fingers ached as she clung to the rope. They gave the tiniest bit.

No, no, no, no, no.

This had been a bad idea.

Her fingers gave out, and a scream caught in her throat as she slid down the rope with no sign of stopping. Mer wrapped her leg in the rope and squeezed. It burned the inside of her thighs, but she jerked to a painful stop.

Her heart pounded and she swallowed hard, swaying in the wind. Mer leaned her cheek against the rope and stared down at the balcony beneath her.

Only a few more feet before she made the jump.

Move now.

Ever so carefully, she edged down until her legs hung from the rope, only her arms holding her up. The wind tossed her backward until there was nothing but a thousand-foot drop beneath her. Mer squeezed her eyes shut and shuddered. Depths, she hated heights.

You can do this.

Swallowing hard, she forced her eyes open and waited until the rope swung back to the balcony.

Now.

Mer let go of the rope.