Page 33

Chapter Thirty

MER

No monsters of the lake had revealed themselves to Mer.

Her uneasiness drifted away as her right arm had made itself known again. She couldn’t put off dealing with it any longer.

Taking a deep breath, she eyeballed her contraption.

Mer had managed to tie a length of seaweed around her wrist one-handed.

She dug her heels into the sand and leaned back, putting tension on her wounded shoulder.

The seaweed stretched but held. If she pulled hard enough, her dislocated shoulder would go back into place.

Pain sizzled up her arm, and her teeth gnashed together.

It still wasn’t enough to put her shoulder back in.

More pressure.

Mer pulled harder, and much to her frustration, the seaweed popped from the soil, and she tumbled backward. She scowled at the spiderweb-like roots of the seaweed that floated through the water.

Well, that didn’t work very well.

She eyed the amphitheater over her shoulder with narrowed eyes. The columns were sturdy enough. If she rammed her shoulder into the stone, perhaps she could fix the dislocation.

Or make it significantly worse.

Mer sighed. It was time to return to the surface.

She untied the seaweed from her wrist and tucked her arm gently against her chest. She pushed off from the bottom of the lake, leaving a soft cloud of sand, algae, and silt behind her.

It would have been easy to ascend to the surface rather quickly, but Mer savored the last seconds of her time in the warm water.

She hovered right below the surface, reaching up and skimming her fingers along the reflective water pane that looked like a broken mirror.

If only she could stay.

Mer made her way toward the edge of the lake, the sides gently sloping upward.

Her feet touched the pebbled bottom, and she walked until her head broke through the surface and her eyes were above the water.

She scanned the bank, searching for trouble.

Her eyes rounded and then narrowed as she spotted a familiar fiilee who lay in the sun, licking its paw like it had all the time in the world.

Mer took a couple steps closer to the bank until her gills were fully exposed to the air. Water poured out of them, and they sealed shut along her neck. She gasped, the cool air rushing into her lungs. Gravity weighed her down as she stomped out of the water toward the troublesome feline.

She stabbed a finger from her left hand at the beast and then gestured to her damaged right shoulder. “This is your fault!”

The fiilee gave her a droll look as if to say, “Whatever you say, human.”

Mer stomped from the lake, sharp stones digging into the bottoms of her feet. She ignored the pain, keeping an eye on the feline. Water dripped down her torn dress to pool at her feet.

There were nipples along the beast’s belly. A female then.

The fiilee tracked her movement and stood. They stared at each other, and she stiffened, almost taking another step back when the feline approached her steadily. First, she sniffed Mer’s feet and then along her legs, slowly circling. Mer forced herself to stay still as the fiilee inspected her.

A large wet nose pressed at the bottom of her spine and huffed. She yelped and leapt forward, only for the beast to dart around her. The fiilee’s tongue slipped out of her mouth, and she licked Mer from knee to hip bone. Mer gaped at the beast. Was this a taste test to see if she was worth eating?

The fingers of her left hand flexed anxiously. “How do I taste?” she grouched. “Like fish?”

The fiilee cocked her head. Her peachy ears perked up at Mer’s voice.

“Not so hostile now. So what? Are we friends?” she asked as the feline pressed her wet, cold pink nose into the palm of her hand.

Mer stared in amazement at the display of trust. She wiggled her fingers, and the large cat leaned into her hand. Excitement suffused her limbs. Had she managed to bond with one of the legendary creatures?

Her excitement was soon eclipsed by dread. If she had bonded with the fiilee , that would surely mean flying again. Her stomach churned at the idea. She was not ready to fly. In fact, if she never flew again, it would be too soon.

She shifted slightly and her arm twinged. Mer gave the feline one cautious scratch along her snout before stepping around the beast and cupping her elbow. She winced.

“It’s time we head back,” she murmured.

Mer glanced around the forest that surrounded the lake, noting that the sun hung low in the west.

Her brows furrowed, and she tried to remember everything she could about the kingdom. To the east was the Bay of Laos. To the west were the mountains and the city of Skigara. To the north, the Northern Sea.

After the hazardous flight from the mountain to the lake, she knew the palace wasn’t horribly far. If she was diligent, she could get back in half a day. There was only farmland, forest, and a few villages along the way. Someone would be able to help her.

Mer stared at the Hollow Mountains, and instead of walking toward them, she spun on her heel and headed north.

The stones turned to dried leaves, pine needles, dirt, and dainty weeds.

Each step hurt, but she continued on. Walking on her tender feet was something she’d still not gotten used to.

Life in the ocean never created calluses.

Each day she spent time on the land, her hands and feet would toughen up just in time for her to go back to the sea and have them disappear.

A small sad part of her mourned that this might be the last time she ever had tender feet.

“Let’s go find some help,” she called over her shoulder. She listened for the fiilee and heard nothing. Mer shrugged. It was not as if the feline owed her.

Mer picked her way along the lakeside just inside the tree line until the lake was firmly behind her.

She dragged her palms along the rough bark of trees, admiring how strong they were.

The sun shone through the boughs of the pine trees, casting long streams onto the forest floor.

White-and-purple wildflowers grew along the ground, creating winding pathways.

Woodland creatures scurried about the pines, playing and chasing each other.

Birds sang, trying to out-trill each other.

But then, all woodland sounds stopped.

Mer froze and scanned the area warily before turning around.

The breath in her lungs froze.

The fiilee had crept up on her.

Yet she’d never even heard the blasted thing move.

“What are you doing?” she asked, exasperation in her voice.

Her beast’s peachy ears perked up, and her long tail swished through the underbrush lazily.

No aggression.

“So, you decided to come.” Mer waved her left hand at the beast. The fiilee chuffed. “Let’s go.”’

Mer turned her back to the feline and continued on. Her gaze kept flickering over her shoulder at the fiilee in wonder. This was not what she expected.

They made their way through the forest until the thunder of waves reached her ears at last. Her steps picked up speed. She ignored the sharp bite of a pinecone in her left heel as she practically sprinted toward the sound.

They were calling her.

Home.

Tears flooded her eyes as the trees abruptly stopped, and the dirt turned to stone.

She slowed to a stop, the porous rock warm beneath her feet. Mer shuffled forward until she stood at the edge of a cliff. Blue-green waves crashed below her as if raging.

The cliffs formed a huge V that stretched out to the open ocean. Large black rocks rose from the water like rotten teeth. It would have seemed dreary to some, but to Mer... it was everything.

Staring down at the roiling waves and seafoam, it took every bit of self-control not to jump.

Her arm couldn’t handle it. The waves spoke of dangerous churning tides.

The inlet was a death trap, but she still wanted the comfort of the ocean.

After several nights of nightmares about the duke and little to no sleep, all she wanted to do was climb into the loving embrace of the ocean.

But not here.

Mer forced herself to continue on, the sea spray coating her skin as she walked west. Wisps of smoke rose in the distance. A village, to be sure.

The fiilee stop trailing Mer and padded next to her, her amber eyes darting everywhere in interest.

Mer couldn’t help the smile that curled her lips. This moment was surreal. She would never have dreamed of having her own Methian mount. Nothing would stop her now.

She slipped on a particularly slimy rock and scrambled. She caught herself, jarring her shoulder and cutting the bottom of her right foot. Mer kicked up her foot and stared at her bloody arch. Her brows furrowed in frustration. This was just what she needed.

The sun sank low as she limped her way toward the smoke trail curling in the sky, leaving behind the rocky inlet for the forest once again.

They had to make it to the village before dark, or she would have serious problems. Shivers had begun to wrack her body as her damp dress clung uncomfortably to her skin.

The sky turned from orange to pink to periwinkle and then a dark blue.

The fiilee pressed closer to Mer’s left side, her left hand resting on silky soft fur. Mer found herself brushing her fingers through the beast’s coat as they maneuvered their way through the woods.

As the stars began to appear in the sky, Mer spotted a familiar constellation and adjusted their course.

She almost wept in gratitude when she saw a fire in the distance.

The trees thinned out until a small coastal village was revealed.

Little stone houses dotted the main road, and the black sand beach stretched out to the north, waves crashing calmly against the shore.

Mer limped her way toward the large bonfire at the other end of the village, passing a few homes on the outskirts of town. She frowned at the blue paint swiped across their door. What the devil did that mean? Was it a sign? Or a Methian form of decorating?

The fiilee pressed her nose into Mer’s palm before loping back into the forest. Mer stared after the feline and then shrugged. She didn’t blame the beast for not wanting to deal with any more humans.

“I’ll see you soon,” she called. “I hope.”

It was an easy walk into town. Some lantern light filtered through curtains and windows in a few homes, but many were dark. Did the fishing village seek their beds so early? It seemed so.

The closer she got to the bonfire, the stronger the scent of something burnt became.

She couldn’t put her finger on it. It wasn’t food, but something that made her stomach turn.

Mer kept to the shadows, not sure how the people would take to a Sirenidae.

She hovered near the porch of the house closest to the fire and blinked at the sight that greeted her.

There were Sirenidae here, and they were wearing face coverings.

She frowned.

So, this was where the king had sent her dowry.

A twinge of foreboding filled her as two humans carried a wrapped bundle between them. She swallowed hard as they tossed it into the fire.

Bodies.

They were burning bodies.

It was the worst of sins to the Sirenidae. The ocean was to claim back what it was given. Not to burn it away.

She shoved away from the home and limped toward the fire. A Sirenidae caught her movement, and his eyes widened. The lanky coral-skinned male loped toward her, holding his hands up.

“Stop!”

Mer froze, not able to take her gaze from the fire. “Why? What’s going on?”

“My lady, we’re quarantined.”

A chill ran down her spine. “For what?”

“The plague.”