Chapter Seven

MER

Mer held her head high as she glided through the underwater assembly toward her grandfather. He sat on a huge throne carved from abalone, his long silver hair floating around him, the pale whalebone columns rising behind him in the amphitheater.

The stares of her people pricked her skin like a thousand needles—some angry, some sad, some betrayed.

Today she’d receive her punishment.

Finally. Waiting was torture.

Somewhere in the crowd were Lilja and Sin. Her aunt and brother-in-law wanted to accompany her but she turned them down. Mer needed to accept the consequences of her actions alone.

Plus, she didn’t want to appear weak.

She stopped before the dais, her feet settling gently in the sand.

Her pulse rushed in her veins as she gazed up at her grandfather impassively.

Shame threatened to rise up at the whispers, but Mer shoved it down.

Her actions hadn’t been shameful when she’d helped their allies.

The only thing she regretted was hurting her grandfather.

Even now, she could see pain lurking in the king’s pale magenta gaze.

He stood, trident in hand, and she knelt in respect. Sand billowed in a cloud around her knees.

“Mer Thalassan, royal daughter of the tides, you have been convicted of traitorous crimes against our people. You disobeyed the king, conscripted your own army, assisted the surface kingdoms, and conspired against the crown. Are you ready to accept your fate?” her grandfather said, his deep voice cutting through the depths of the ocean.

“I am,” she responded, her voice ringing clear and strong.

“For your crimes, you are to be cut off from your people indefinitely.”

She swallowed thickly and tried not to cry. Mer had already suspected she’d be banished, but hearing it cut her to the soul.The Sirenidae were her home.

Her grandfather continued. “You will be marked as a traitor so all will know you for what you are.”

Mer bit the inside of her cheek. She was to be branded and her hair cut. No Sirenidae would ever again acknowledge her.

“And finally,” he said.

She bowed her head, bracing herself for the final blow. Was her punishment not enough? No Sirenidae had been punished this harshly in five hundred years.

“The council and I have taken into account your royal blood as well as your good deeds in the past for our people. Even though you will not be welcomed here, we will not toss you out into the world without protection. We’ve found a solution suited for your royal status.”

Mer lifted her head and tried to calm her breathing as she locked eyes with her grandfather. The king’s expression held no sympathy and no condemnation.

“You are no longer a widow.” Shock radiated through her. “You have been married by proxy to a king that we deemed suitable for you.”

Her mouth gaped open, and it felt like she was drowning. Marriage? “To whom?” she rasped as the ocean tilted around her. Mer dug her fingers into the sand to ground herself.

“You are wed to King Raziel of Methi. Prepare yourself. You will depart for your new home and husband immediately after your marking.”

The world dipped out of focus, and her hands shook.

“Do you accept your punishment?” her grandfather asked.

Don’t let them see you falter.

Mer released the sand as she slowly stood, her long hair rippling around her. It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse and accept the death sentence. She’d never accept the man who murdered the love of her life.

The loss of Ream threatened to choke her, the shame of saving his murderer almost too much to bear, but she pushed it down.

Think through the pain.

She nodded once, words caught in the back of her throat. Maybe this torture was a blessing in disguise. Killing the Methian king had been on her list since Ream’s death. This gave her the perfect chance to get close to him and make the monster suffer.

“Do you accept your punishment?” the king asked again.

Mer lifted her head and smiled serenely at her grandfather, despite the rage and pain boiling inside her chest.

“I accept.”

Her eyes felt hot as she swam through the airy palace—the bleached coral walls gleamed softly in the light, but it had lost all its beauty. Now it just looked like a sad prison.

The warriors stationed at the oval abalone doors stepped aside without making eye contact. They knew better than to stop a princess, even a banished one.

Mer slammed through the doors that led to the throne room, leaving them to slowly drift closed behind her.Why even bother with doors under the water? Whether the sea king wanted to admit it or not, he admired things from the surface.

Smooth agate stepping stones caressed the bottoms of her feet as she walked into the throne room, her newly shorn hair floating about her face. It was too light—the comforting weight of her hair gone—just like her honor.

Get it together.

Her grandfather sat on his carved throne set inside the gaping jaws of a leviathan skull. As a child, it scared her, but now she knew it was just another intimidation tactic.

He didn’t look surprised to see her. His lips turned down slightly, but that was the only indication he gave that he felt anything at the sight of her.

She forced herself not to march up to him, and leaned her head back to meet his familiar pale magenta eyes that used to look at her with fondness, not apathy.

Silence stretched between them.

Mer felt herself tongue-tied. Her grandfather had always had this effect on her. His stone-faced mask had frightened her as a child, but he would let it melt away and always had a smile for her.

Those days were finished.

That man was gone, and in his place sat a king.

One she’d betrayed. You broke his heart.

Pain and guilt pricked her. She’d gone behind his back and helped the Aermians after he’d explicitly told her no.

She brushed a strand of her newly shorn hair from her face, feeling like it didn’t belong to her. Sirenidae prided themselves on their lustrous long hair. Short hair was a dishonor,one she deserved.

Her jaw clenched as the silence stretched on between them. Her grandfather always liked to play mind games, to gain the upper hand. Normally, she held out, but today, there wasn’t time.

“How could you?” she demanded, her voice wavering slightly.

“How could I?” His deep voice sliced through the room, an undercurrent of disgust hitting her fully in the chest.

It hurt.

Hold on to your anger.

“Marry me to him.” The Methian prince turned king. The murderer.

Her grandfather arched a white brow. “Your marriage was always mine to arrange. I allowed you to choose Ream because I thought the older widowed healer would ground you. Look how well that turned out.” Her stomach dropped to the floor, and her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

“That traitorous wretch put ideas into your head. He poisoned you against me. It’s good that he’s dead. ”

It felt like he’d slapped her.

True, Ream had made a bad decision, but he hadn’t poisoned her.

She’d made her own choices. Decisions that had left her husband isolated and prey to the enemy.

Guilt surged, and it was on the tip of her tongue to defend Ream, but she swallowed the arguments down.

Her grandfather wouldn’t hear them. He’d already made up his mind about her former husband.

“Sirenidae royalty have always been able to choose their mates,” she stated firmly.

“Only for the last five hundred years. Before, the king arranged all his children’s marriages.”

“You mean you changed it when you became king so you could take grandmother as your bride?”

His gills flared along his neck. “You dare to speak of her?”

“She wouldn’t want this, and you know it.”

He rose from his throne, the shafts of light from above reflecting off the large scales covering his shoulders. “You know nothing but your own silly wants. You’ve been married to the king. You will leave immediately after your branding.”

“I will not.” She lifted her chin and held her head high, despite how her heart raced. “I will not remarry. I agreed in front of the assembly only to spare you embarrassment.” There was nothing worse in her grandfather’s eyes than a public disagreement.

“Stupid selfish girl!” he spat. He darted forward and towered over her, his hair fanning out like angry snakes. “Do you really think you have any control here?” His eyes sparked with intensity. “That I don’t know about what you’ve been up to?”

She kept her expression blank. “What do you mean?”

Her grandfather scanned her placid mask and scoffed. “You forget that I know you, Granddaughter—that I helped raise you. I taught you all your tricks. Did you really think I wouldn’t discover the theft from the trenches?”

Don’t react.

He couldn’t trace it back to her.

The sea king smirked. “I can see the thoughts flitting through your eyes. I’m not unaware of the fealty you’ve gained, nor of those who wish to rise against me in your name.”

“I would never usurp you,” she breathed. And Mer meant it.

“And yet that’s exactly what you did when you rallied soldiers behind my back. You made me look weak.”

His pride was hurt.

“That was not my intention, Grandfather. I only sought to help those who needed it. Isn’t that what you taught me? You raised me to stand up for those who could not protect themselves.”

“ Our people,” he snarled. “Not the humans.”

“All creatures of the world have value.”

His expression hardened. “Since you love them so much, you shall spend your life with them. With the King of Methi.”

Mer began shaking. “I will not.”

“You will.” He leaned into her space. “Or I will slaughter the rest of Ream’s family as they deserve.”

She blinked slowly at him. “You wouldn’t.” But Mer wasn’t sure. Her grandfather was ruthless at times.

“Betrayal runs deep, Granddaughter. I must make sure to root it all out.”

Her pulse picked up. Ream had sisters, nieces, and nephews. Sin. “The children?” she whispered.

The sea king locked his eyes on hers. “The entire line. Vengeance is in our blood. If I was to leave one child, they would eventually rise. The poison needs to be purged from our community.” He paused, the silence strategic. “Or you can take your punishment and save an entire family.”

“I marry or they die?” She swallowed. “That’s how it’s to be?”

Her grandfather smiled, but it wasn’t nice. “You’re already married, but your compliance protects their lives.”

He spoke true. The sea king had committed many wrongs, but he’d never lied to her.

Bile burned the back of her throat as she thought of sharing a home with her husband’s killer. “I want your word.”

“You have it. Ream’s line will be safe if you go quietly.”

She could never risk their lives for her own happiness. “When do I leave?” she rasped.

“After your branding. Your things have been packed along with the dowry. A Methian ship awaits you in the harbor.” He captured her chin. “There will be no time for goodbyes.”

That was even crueler. “You would deny me that?”

“You denied me my heir. The survival of Ream’s line is the only concession I will give you.”

She stepped back from him, staring at her grandfather like she didn’t know him. Mer shook her head, staring him down as another part of her heart broke, pathetic thing that it was. “I’ve defended you for years. The cold cruelty. The pragmatism. But I now see you for what you are.”

She gave him a mocking bow and turned her back to him, pushing off the floor of the throne room toward the doors.

“And one more thing,” the sea king called. Mer glanced over her shoulder. “You may have let me down as my heir, but I still expect you to act like a princess. If the king dies, I’ll hold you responsible. Ream’s line will be cut off.”

Translation: if you kill the king, our deal is off.

She squared her shoulders and smirked at him. “As you wish.”

Mer might not be able to kill him, but she could make his life miserable.

Some fates were worse than death.