Page 13 of The Dark, Dead, Deep

“Shut up, Atlana,” Moira snapped. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Atlana preened. “I’m merely trying to see if our dearest Maeve is as mad as her mother was. Though the only thing that the mad queen ever did that was truly insane was taking her own life—”

The world shifted, and it felt as if everything was moving in slow motion. I saw the flecks in the water as they reflected the light. I felt the pulse of Atlana’s heartbeat and the rush of water every time she took a breath. It was a split second, but that was enough.

My world shifted as it did when I sat on the High Throne, and I tasted blood at the back of my throat.

Atlana screamed, her arms covered in angry red skin as the water around her bubbled and boiled.

She staggered backward, and the crowd hushed.

“Shehurtme!” Atlana raised a shaking finger and pointed it at me.

My smile was wan. “I did nothing of the sort.” Technically it wasn’t a lie. I hadn’t hurt her, but the lake had. Though at that moment, we had been one and the same.

Someone rushed over and helped Atlana stand, leading her away as she sniffed and sniveled.

I lifted my wine glass and took a sip. The back of my neck pricked as I felt eyes on me. I turned to the platform to find my uncle, the king staring at me with narrowed eyes.

I raised my glass in a toast cockily, though inside, I was quaking.

I had no idea what had happened, but I was not in control. The hand around my glass of wine shook as I took a sip.

Moira turned to me, concerned. She knew some of what went on in the tower but nothing of the throne or the magic that allowed me to see across vast distances. I watched as her lip twisted as she debated whether she should ask me what was wrong—and if I would actually give her an answer.

Moira settled for sweeping the entire exchange under the rug. “What a sea slug.” She waved towards Atlana’s retreating form. “She’s just jealous.”

“Oh yes,” I quirked a brow, “everyone in this city is riddled with envy at my apparent affair with my uncle.”

“Liam’s coming.” Moira pinched the bridge of her nose. “Do you know who he’s with?”

I shook my head as I studied the approaching males. Liam placed his arm over my shoulder, and my brow deepened. Liam wasn’t a physical person, save for hitting someone during combat training.

Moira hung back, looking vaguely sick, before she placed a bright smile on her face. “Are those your friends from training?”

“Recruits for the ’king’s army.” Liam puffed his chest proudly. “Though we won’t ship out until we’ve reached our magical majority. King Irvine only wants Sídhe on the front line.”

I pressed my hand to my stomach.

“Do they know that you’re a lordling?” Moira’s voice took on a nasty edge that was unlike anything I had ever heard from her.

Liam’s eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared in anger. The expression evaporated the moment the approaching males called his name, and a bright, welcoming grin pulled up the corners of Liam’s mouth. I tried to step away, but his arm was heavy.

“This must be your girl, Maeve, was it?” A dark-haired male placed his fist over his chest as he dipped his head in greeting. “Waves and welcomes.”

Moira and I murmured in response.

“This is Maeve,” Liam declared. “Maeve, this is Oisin.”

Oisin dipped his head in greeting again before turning to Moira. His grin widened. “My lady.” He reached for her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. “I saw the commotion a moment ago. Is everything alright?”

Oisin only had eyes for Moira, it seemed.

Moira blinked slowly, unsure of the attention. “It was nothing,” she mumbled before introducing herself. “Moira-Coral Fen of the esteemed Fen family of the Undine Court.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Oisin replied smoothly.

My gaze flicked up to Liam’s face, trying to see if Oisin’s flirting bothered Liam, but it was impossible to tell.

---