Page 14 of The Dark, Dead, Deep

“Oisin reached magical majority last solstice,” Liam informed me, his arm tightening around my shoulder.

I gave a smile that wasn’t entirely authentic. “Is that so? Are you a Troid Sídhe, Oisin?”

Oisin reached back and scratched the back of his neck, giving me a sheepish grin. “I used to be a guard at the palace, but I ship out in a few days, so I’ve got the night off.”

My eyes widened in horror. “Ohsludge, should I have recognized you?”

Oisin waved away my concern. “I was a patrol guard. I don’t think we’ve seen each other before.”

Liam cleared his throat to get my attention. “Let’s get a drink,” he suggested sharply, steering me away from Moira and Oisin before I had a chance to protest.

We passed the seafood, lobster, clams, and seaweed rolls buffet. Everything looked delicious, but we could eat none of it.

“You’re eyeing the feast as if you want to murder it.” Liam nodded with a quirked brow.

“I want to smash the plates to the ground,” I growled. “Why put on a spread if we have to fast before the migration?”

“I don’t think that would help your reputation,” Liam scolded me.

Thinking back on Atlana’s words, anger flushed through my veins like a river meeting the sea. “Perhaps I shouldn’t care about my reputation. Perhaps people will think what they think regardless of what I actuallydo.”

“You want people to think you’re as addled as your mother?” Liam asked in disbelief.

If the only mad thing your mother ever did was kill herself, was she truly as mad as everyone said?Atlana’s voice echoed through my mind, and I hated that her words had scored me.

My lunch felt so long ago, and if I had been smarter, I would have eaten much more than I did.

“The food is for the courtiers,” Liam reminded me, gesturing with a tilt of his head towards the Sídhe on the platform overlooking the ballroom.

My uncle sat at the head table. His chair was made of stone, but it was not the throne my mother had sat on.

I glanced at the table, straining under the abundance of fish, fruit, and other dishes. At the center of it all sat a lobster more giant than a child. Curled on itself, its beady eyes cloudy and its skin red from being boiled in one of the hot springs below the castle. It was the centerpiece to a feast that only a select few could eat.

As it often did, my mind took a backseat to pettiness, and I reached out and swiped the lobster from the table. Watching with detached interest, the plate floated to the ground, and the lobster rolled onto the floor. Its shell cracked against the stone.

A hush rippled through the crowd as a hundred eyes witnessed my immaturity.

“Maeve!” Liam took my arm and directed me away from the table. “Must you make a scene?”

“It’s to be expected.” I sniffed. “I am my mother’s daughter, after all.”

He growled in frustration.

I looked around the room, noticing the abundance of new faces. The young undine that would make the journey to the Frosted Sands with us tomorrow evening.

I straightened my spine, refusing to let the weakness show on my face.

“Should we go for a walk?” Liam urged, directing me away from the buffet.

“We just got here,” I pointed out. “What about Moira?”

A flash of annoyance crossed Liam’s face so quickly that I thought I imagined it. Liam flashed me a charming smile. “Please.”

I straightened, realizing how earnest his request was. The fae did not like to apologize, beseech, or give thanks—doing so implied a debt that fae magic was all too willing to twist into a bond or deal. Instead, fae avoided using words like thank you, sorry, or please.

I gave my uncle one last fleeting look, withering under his gaze before I turned back to Liam.

“Of course,” I told my friend. “Lead the way.”

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