Page 24 of When the Wicked Sing (The Leruna Sea #1)
Mariana gasped, shooting upward, water splashing around her.
“Shit,” a deep voice muttered. Mariana spun to find Dax crouched beside her. One of his hands gripped her arm, steadying her, while the other rested firmly on the rim of the large wooden basin she was submerged in.
Breathing deep, she lowered her eyebrows as her eyes shifted frantically over the foreign space.
“Where am I?” she gasped. Lifting a hand to her chest, she felt her heart beating its loud drum against her hand and willed it to calm. Her whole body throbbed, like someone had beaten her with a hammer.
“It’s okay, you’re alright,” Dax replied softly. When he brushed his thumb against her tender skin, she yanked her arm from his grip and shifted to the other side of the tub, far from his touch.
“Where are we, Dax?” she growled. Looking around again, she detected the familiar, sharp scent of arnica and traces of herbs. The space was warmly lit by a fireplace crackling on one end of the room, casting shadows and flickering light across shelves full of jars and tiny glass bottles.
Dax lifted his hands, water dripping down his arms. “You’re in a clinic. I brought you here to heal.”
“A clinic,” she muttered softly, then lifted her eyes toward the skylight above them.
The stars peeked through branches swaying above them.
Her gaze drifted back down to where Dax rested his elbows against the tub, his clasped hands barely touching the water’s surface.
His concerned eyes studied her, making her cross her arms protectively over her chest.
“How long have I been asleep?”
Dax regarded her carefully. “Two days.”
Two days. Mariana blinked, unable to comprehend how she’d slept that long.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Then, everything came flooding back. The dream. Celeste. The river. Her mother’s kiss.
Gripping her head, she winced. Her heart was too loud in her ears, her skin was too sensitive, her ears too tender to touch.
Every part of her was in pain—as if a poisonous phantom’s touch was sliding across her body, wreaking havoc on her nerves.
A whimper escaped her lips. The moment her eyes saw her reflection in the water, they began to blur with tears.
Feeling the urge to escape, Mariana dipped beneath the water, letting its warmth embrace her. When water began to fill her nose, her throat—
She shot up, coughing and clutching her neck, squeezing her burning eyes. She couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t she breathe?
She felt around her neck .
No, she thought as her eyes widened in horror.
Her gills were gone.
Taking a ragged breath, she reached out into the fold for her tail, but there was nothing. Her tail, her beautiful tail … it was gone.
A strangled sound escaped her throat as her mind reeled, grasping for comprehension.
“This can’t be real,” she murmured, glancing around frantically, searching for a sign that she was still in a dreamland.
“Mari,” Dax started softly, his eyes sad. “This is real.”
Mariana shook her head, groaning at a phantom pain she didn’t expect. Then it dawned on her …
“My mother did this to me,” she whispered darkly.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dax’s brows lift, and she slowly looked up to peer at him through dripping lashes.
“She’s punishing me,” she said, the anger in her voice echoing through the small space. “Why, why is she punishing me?” She knew Dax didn’t have the answers but watching him struggle to form one fractured some part of her deep down.
Lifting her shaky hands, she noticed her usually sharp nails were now blunted, the skin around them splotches of dark pink and honey.
She didn’t recognize the color leeching into her normally pale blue skin.
The tattoos on her hands and arms were faded, but she could still make out the swirl of waves.
Confusion spread through her, unable to understand whether she was still herself or someone pretending to be who she was before.
“Nothing feels right. My body is—”
Broken .
A darkness taut with tension and torment consumed her. She wanted to scream. Wanted to cry. Wanted to beg for forgiveness if it meant she could go back. She was a siren whose soul knew she was a siren, and yet nothing physical said she was, not anymore.
Droplets fell from her cheeks as she cried. Sobs broke from her mouth while her shaking hands fisted her hair and her whole body began to shake.
Her mother’s kiss—her mother had done this to her.
The pain ripped her apart again, her heart aching as though she was experiencing the same moment by the river all over again.
“ My tail, my tail, ” she wailed. Squeezing her eyes shut, she begged for the Goddess to give her back her siren form. Give her back the part of her that made her whole.
She couldn’t stay like this. She couldn’t survive it.
Then, warm hands were pulling her forward, forcing her to let go of her hair, and a warm chest met her cheek as she sobbed.
Mariana gripped Dax’s shirt tight, and something inside her said she was safe. Safe to feel the betrayal. Safe to feel the heartbreak.
Her mind was a savage hurricane beating at every vulnerable part of her, leaving her ruined, destroyed.
Celeste’s comforting smile broke through the storm, and yet it did nothing to dampen the violent waves of agony drowning her.
“Celeste,” she whispered. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, blurring her vision, she could see her friend as clear as day in her mind .
The crushing heartbreak of losing someone who had been a part of her family, someone who had cared for her through it all, who taught her how to walk, who listened and always pushed her to be the best version of herself—it was killing her.
Celeste had been the mother she never knew she needed until that day on the beach when they found each other. And now she was gone.
Mariana pushed her face into her fists, willing her sobs to stop. But she missed her home, she missed her sisters, and seeing Celeste in that dream only made the terrible truth that much harder to accept.
“Shh, you’re alright. It’s okay, you’re safe,” Dax said softly in her ear, and her heartbeat began to slow along with her tears.
Breathing deep, she felt herself calming down. After a moment, she pulled back, wiping her face. She couldn’t believe she’d lost control of herself like that. Dropping her hands, she looked anywhere but at the fae beside her, embarrassment heating her already warm cheeks.
“Umm,” she started, peeking at his soaked chest, “sorry about that.”
Dax shrugged. “Nothing to be sorry for.”
They sat in silence long enough that Mariana began to fidget uncomfortably.
Then, Dax cleared his throat and stood. “I’m sure you’d appreciate some space. When you’re ready to get out, you can wear the robe beside the tub, and the bed is yours. There’s food on the table if you’re hungry.”
Mariana glanced up at him, and all she could bring herself to do was nod .
“I’ll be right outside if you need me,” Dax said over his stiff shoulder as he approached the door.
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
Her question made him pause with his hand on the knob and turn around.
He smirked, leaning a shoulder against the door frame and folding his arms over his chest. “Why? Miss being tied up and called Little Tempest?”
Mariana glowered at him, letting her eyes answer that insulting question.
Dax shrugged, looking anywhere but at her. “I don’t like seeing people in pain. With lives as long as ours, horrors are inevitable, things our minds can barely understand.” He shifted his weight and cleared his throat. “Watching you drown in those horrors … It bothered me.”
Her gaze softened. “Because you couldn’t stop it?”
“Because no one should have to go through it alone.”
Mariana bit the inside of her cheek and had to look away, either to keep herself from smiling or because she was afraid to say something she’d regret.
Dax confused her. He wasn’t like anyone she’d ever met before, and the way her body seemed to gravitate toward him bothered her. She didn’t want to like him, but some part of her did.
She sighed. “Please don’t leave.” Peeking up through her lashes at him, she met his eyes and decided to be honest. “You’re right; I don’t want to be alone.”