Page 35 of Wicked Sea and Sky

“Whatever you do, don’t look her in the eye. They say she’ll turn you to stone,” Sirena mumbled, shoving me out of the line before I could second-guess our plan.

“What?” I choked as I sank forward on my elbows, then lifted my wrists past my head, keeping my gaze low.

A hush rippled through the line. No one stopped. No one looked. They swam past like the current might drag them with us if they lingered too long.

I glared at Sirena for a beat. She winked—of course she did—then stuck her nose in the sand.

We were definitely going to end up in solitary.

The warden peered at us, her gold-flecked gaze cold and assessing as if she could divine our appeal before we even spoke it.

“Let them enter,” she said to the guards at the base of the whale’s ribcage. Then, with a flick of her shockwave stick, she added, “And then, leave us.”

We swam inside the cage. The floor was layered with crushed shells, sharp enough to slice your fin if you weren’t careful. A jagged rock slab protruded through the sand, serving as a desk. Piles of driftwood slates were chained to the floor with corroded metal, each one etched with prisoner names and grim notes—bargains made, debts owed, and the list of the dead.

“Speak your piece,” the warden said, folding her arms in front of her armored breastplate. “And then, tell me what you have to offer.”

The words tangled in my throat like knotted kelp, and I kept my gaze fixed to the floor, certain Sirena’s stone comment was a joke… but just in case.

“I’m seeking information about the lost relic that could save the kingdom.”

The warden moved closer, the shells stirring beneath her fin. She chuckled softly, then lifted my chin with her finger until I met her gaze.

“Wouldn’t you rather bargain for more food? A heat rune? Something to warm your bones? What use is a legend in Saltgrave?”

My heart pounded inside my chest. I didn’t turn to stone, but my limbs felt heavier, nerves weighing me down.

I cleared my throat. “Legends can be keys. The right one could unlock my chains and turn the tide on this war.”

She scraped her fingernail down the side of my cheek. “You’re a dreamer, then.”

“No.” I laughed, the sound bitter on my tongue. “I haven’t dreamed in years.”

The warden’s lips curled. “Tell me your name, prisoner.”

“Marin Nichols.”

“Ah, yes, the traitor. But I don’t judge if the offer is fair. What will you give me for the legend?”

I swallowed. “I don’t have—”

“Take my siren song.” Beside me, Sirena’s fingers ghosted along the base of her throat.

I whipped my head toward her. “Sirena, no!”

Sirena gripped my arm, the iron of her shackles cold against my skin. She leaned closer and whispered, “What use is a voice meant to chain when I’m the one chained? Use me. Find the relic. Make them all pay.”

“It’s too much. I might not even be able to find it. What if—?”

“I accept,” the warden interrupted. Her eyes gleamed as she pulled a piece of driftwood from the stack and etched the deal into the surface. “The bargain is sealed. Your song for a legend.”

I shook my head as Sirena squeezed my arm and swam forward, tilting her chin up to better reveal the inked thornsaround her neck and the glow beneath her skin.

“One last song?” the warden asked, with a cruel twist of her lips. “Too bad your lure won't work against me. But I look forward to taking it.”

“Just do it.”

The warden eyed her carefully, then her voice lowered as she murmured a chant. Chains rattled, and the broken shells covering the floor vibrated under our fins.