Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 156907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
I just found my feet on the rocks in the shallows and ran through them, my sodden gown slapping against my skin.
Aramus was on his side, his back to me, and I fell to me knees when I reached him, pressing him to his back, battling fear and hysteria and a pain so overwhelming, it threatened to consume me.
His eyes were closed.
My king looked to be asleep.
Oh, Medusa.
Maybe he had not survived that swim.
Or maybe the weight of the sea had crushed his innards, made pulp of his brain.
Regardless of these thoughts, I pressed against his chest, holding to hope that it was just water in his lungs, thinking fast about how, once I revived him, I could get him back to the surface. Back to the beach.
Back home.
As I pumped, I lifted my accusatory gaze to the silver-eyed male who stood, now wearing trousers that appeared to be subtly gilded leathers, the shine against the gray material shimmering a light aqua and silver.
He was leaning negligently on his bloody trident.
“You sent that tidal!” I bit.
“If you spent time amongst your people, Ha-Lah,” his deep voice returned to me, “you would know, with the magic of a Mer, if a human has the touch of one of our own, we can take him or her anywhere we wish, even to the bottom of the deepest depths of the sea.”
I stopped pressing against Aramus’s chest as relief flooded through me, and with it came the ability to gather my wits enough to look down upon my husband and see he was breathing.
This was joyous.
And I felt that joy.
But our abduction was anything but.
And thus, I felt fury.
I lifted squinty eyes at the male.
He shook his head, muttering with disgust, “The land Mer. So intent on passing, they forget who they are.”
“The decision to remain on land was not made by me, male,” I snapped. “It was made generations before my existence was even a hope.”
“But have you visited us?” he asked, opening a hand and using it to indicate our surroundings. “Have you come to be amongst your people?”
“No,” I spat. “And it would appear it was a smart decision, as I am not feeling much delight at the manner of my first invitation here.”
The male glowered at me, and I assumed, quite rightly in my mind, that meant my point was taken.
“And I was amongst my people on the surface,” I went on. “Or have you forsaken us as it’s clear you feel I have forsaken you?”
He had no answer to that either.
I decided not to pursue that line of questioning any longer, for something vastly more important took precedence.
“Why does my husband sleep?” I demanded.
“He was struggling. If his guards lost hold on him, he would die. Necessity urged he lose consciousness. Thus…” he trailed off on a shrug and an indication with a tip of his head to Aramus.
“When will he wake?” I asked.
The male shrugged. “He will be fine.”
With some difficulty (it must be said, my husband was bulky), I pulled Aramus’s torso up and held him to me as I kept my gaze pinned on the mermale.
“Why did you send the tidal?”
“You were coming to us, were you not?” he asked.
I did not request to know how he knew this.
“I was,” I amended. “My husband was not.”
“But I wished to speak to the king of the sea.”
“Well, you can’t speak to him if he’s unconscious,” I pointed out.
“Settle, maid,” he rumbled. “You are amongst your own here.”
“I thought he was dead,” I spat, hearing my husband breathe steadily, feeling the warmth return to his skin now that he was no longer in the chill of the sea, neither of these wiping away the fear and misery of the last ten minutes.
“Did you think to come and demand an audience, and aid in correcting the ruin you made of the surface, at your whim?” he asked.
Belatedly, important things were dawning on me.
Starting with the fact he knew much that I did not understand how he knew.
But onward from that, and the priority in the moment, something else.
Thus, I adjusted my tone when I noted, “I see you’re angry with me.”
“You?” he returned. “No. Him?” He jerked his trident toward my husband. “Yes.”
Oh no.
I held Aramus closer.
“He knows I am Mer, and he accepts this,” I shared.
“Bully for him,” he clipped.
Hmm.
I decided to begin again.
“You know I am Ha-Lah, Queen of Mar-el. But I do not know you.”
“I am Jorie, King of the Mer.”
Well, it was advantageous to know I’d been directed right to the top.
Except if the one at the top wasn’t terribly thrilled to see you.
“There is much happening on the surface,” I shared.
“There is always much happening there.”
“It may be the end of Triton.”
“And this concerns us how?” he demanded.
This was not going well.
“We have reason to believe the Beast wakes,” I informed him. “My husband feels—”