Page 22 of In Rising Tides

Silence greeted them.

There was no roar of a crowd or blast of a horn. There wasn’t even chatter coming from the markets.

A dull hum resonated throughout the kingdom. It almost sounded like a prayer.

It was faint but ominous, making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

Lyra turned her attention to the banners that undulated in the current.

She expected to see her father’s banners of crisp navy emblazoned with white waves and his golden trident. But in their place were the black ones of Ithicais.

An emerald eel wrapped around a barracuda in an atrocious shade of green.

Lyra blinked, and the changes pelted her like tiny stones.

Pathways she had traveled every day of her life before were different too. It wasn’t obvious why at first. The concentric rings of houses and shops remained untouched as they cut through the canals that led directly to the palace.

A muted shimmer still gleamed from the golden stone of the buildings, but a cloud had been cast over the kingdom, and more wooden tridents appeared planted in the seabed.

The city had once appeared to be channels of a pearly nautilus shell. It circled in on itself until you reached the magnificent center—the palace. Everything glimmered pearlescent or shimmered in gold.

But it wasn’t that way now, as if the creature inside had died. Leaving the shell to wither away to sand.

The city smelled of stale water in the lazy-moving current, like something rotting on the seabed.

It was similar to the scent of Ithicais, but not as strong.

When she noticed the small crowd that had gathered along their path, her chest constricted.

Children did not wave tiny flags at their presence. There wasn’t even happiness in their eyes as they took in their king and princess.

Mermaids floated languidly, their tails moving with a forced slowness that matched their slow, unimpressed blinks.

It was abysmal at best.

Mermen stood at their sides, grim-faced and arms crossed.

This was not a welcoming from loyal subjects but a silent witness forced upon citizens.

What had happened in her absence that her people looked so broken?

Drystan either didn’t notice or didn’t care as he smiled and waved from his position in front of Lyra. He hoisted the trident up for all to see as they swam past. Throwing it around like a well-earned trophy and not the stolen artifact it was.

She couldn’t help the glare that snarled her features, nor did she want to.

Eyes raked across her flesh, and she met those stares head-on. A few looked surprised, while others looked displeased at her arrival. They bowed their heads not out of reverence, but almost as if they were praying.

Their procession swam through canal after canal, and the closer they got to the palace, the larger the crowds became.

Fish darted through the spectators, and anemones waved in the current.

But the city still smelled—off.

“They don’t seem particularly happy to see you,” Lyra said when Drystan had slowed enough that he swam beside her.

He turned his cheek, and the scratches she had given him were now white lines marring his tanned skin.

“It’s not happiness I require from them. It’s loyalty.”