Page 120 of In Rising Tides

Nerida giggled. “You must miss it.”

Lyra rubbed a hand down the scales of her tail, feeling the rough and smooth texture of each one.

“I do. I had friends there, too. True friends who cared.”

Nerida reached across the empty space between them and placed a hand atop Lyra’s. “You have sisters here. Sisters who care.”

A slow smile tugged at the corner of Lyra’s lips before she nodded and gripped her sister’s hand back.

She remembered the words Nerida had spoken before, that Lyra meant something to her, to all of them.

That Lyra was worth their lives.

It eased the jagged edge of sorrow that had ripped her chest wide open.

“I need to break the bargain so that you might one day eat cake.”

Nerida grinned, showing an exquisite row of sharp teeth.

“I’ve been reading up more on bargains, and I think I might have actually come across a helpful text, but it’s been difficult to decode. It’s in an ancient dialect.”

“I’m sure if anyone could figure it out, it’s you,” Lyra said.

A breath worked its way out of Nerida’s chest as she cast her gaze around Lyra’s room.

“Let us hope it doesn’t come too late.”

The throne room was a sea of white, like ocean foam bubbling on the surface of a crested wave.

A choir of mermaids sang songs of worship. Their lilting voices cast nets of magic that ensnared all who gathered.

Lyra fidgeted with the high collar of her thick gown. It pressed into her throat, no doubt made that way to make speaking difficult.

“Shouldn’t it have started by now?” she grumbled out of the side of her mouth to Drystan, who floated languidly at her side.

He had arrived in her room bright and early this morning to escort her to the ceremony. They hadn’t spoken at all, and she was fine with that.

Drystan’s white robes were so thick they hardly moved in the current as he moved his hands from in front of him to clasp behind him.

“He likes to make an entrance,” he muttered as the singing swelled.

The dappled sunlight filtering in through the water seemed to turn golden as the sun rose higher in the sky.

Lyra sighed. It was probably a beautiful day on the surface.

The memory of fresh air and gentle breezes tickled her mind, and she could feel the ghost of both against her skin as she closed her eyes and tipped her head to the sky.

“See,” Drystan said.

Lyra’s eyes blinked open just in time to see Aegir arrive through two pillars of glittering granite, his arms stretched wide in welcome.

Gasps swelled and clapping erupted. It made her stomach turn to see such reverence for such a despicable man.

“You’ll forgive me for the delay,” Aegir crooned to the congregation as he placed a hand upon his chest. “The latest earthquake displaced many, and I was personally seeing to their new accommodations.”

Lyra hadn’t heard that there had been another earthquake—hadn’t felt one either. She slid her attention to Drystan just in time to see him mastering the surprise on his face.

How strange, something disastrous had happened under his assumed rule, and yet he was caught unaware.