“You did it,” Ramsay whispers. “Aragon, you did it.”
“Larimar?” I hear Maren cry out, her hand at my cheek. “Are you alright?”
I lift my head and open my eyes to see my old body again.
Naked and in a bloody bathtub.
Two thighs, two calves, two feet, ten toes.
And the pink, hairless space between my legs that Priest knows so well.
I don’t even bother covering up.
Let him look.
“It worked,” I say, meeting his eyes. He’s fighting to meet my gaze, though I have to say, Ramsay isn’t doing a very good job of it either. When he catches me noticing, he quickly averts his eyes.
“I’ll go get you some clothes,” he says quietly before he leaves the room.
“Do you need anything?” Maren asks, grasping my hand. “Are you in pain?”
I shake my head. “I’m sore, but I’m not in any pain. But I do have a request for Priest.”
He swallows hard. “What?” he asks thickly.
“You wanted a chance to talk with me alone? Then I get to choose when. And I want you locked up until then.”
Chapter Thirty-One
LARIMAR
It’s an eerily calm night and the moon is full, reflecting off the water so the whole ocean seems to glow. Every now and then, Nill’s fin will break the surface, reminding us he’s there.
Sometimes, I jump right into the ocean to test if the spell works. Each time, my legs turn back into a tail with only some discomfort, and I swim alongside Nill. Sometimes, Maren joins me, and we swim like we used to when we were children and didn’t know any better, riding the waves at the bow of the ship, pretending the humans couldn’t hurt us.
But tonight, the ocean isn’t as inviting.
I’ve ignored Priest for too long.
According to him, I’ve already broken one bargain, and now, I’m breaking another.
He gave me legs on the condition that I would talk to him alone, and he’s been in the jail cell for days, waiting for me to finally gather the courage to hear what he has to say. Though perhaps it’s not courage I’m waiting for. Perhaps I’m waiting for armor to form around my heart.
But that will never happen. I’ll never be able to protect myself from him, even if he’s chained up. I’ll never not hurt at whatever he has to say. Our interactions always revolved around pain—why should that be any different now?
The sea might be calm, but inside, I am not. I never will be until I face him, face what we once had—or what I believed we had.
I glance back at the helm to where Thane stands with a man called Matisse. They nod at me but say nothing more. Everyone on this ship has been giving me great distance. I thought they would be leering at me, like the way those men on the other ship did. At the very least, I thought they would smell my blood and act like Vampyres, but either they all have manners, or Maren has scared them off, because they treat me like a lady, with respect, if not a little caution.
Truthfully, I feel like anything but a lady. I’m wearing Maren’s fine gowns, but I feel like an impostor, like I’m only pretending to be human when inside, I’m a nervous, delusional wreck. I walk on two legs now, but they might as well be a tail.
I go to my chambers, strip out of the layers of clothing, and don my shift. I get into my bed, all the while trying not to think about him.
But I can only think about him.
In chains, waiting for me.
The imagery makes me throb.