Page 20 of The Dark, Dead, Deep

“I think we found the treasure, men,” someone said grimly.

The world turned black again.

Chapter 4

I could still hear the lake. The caw of the shorebirds and the rush and ebb of the waves as they lapped at the sand and rolled over one another.

The air was dry and carried the scent of sand and night-blooming jasmine.

I reached up, slapping my hands against my neck and shoulders, but my gills had disappeared to make way for smooth skin.

Undine did not spend much time above the surface, save for breaking the waves on a dare. In fact, most undine never ventured out of Cruinn anymore. When the war broke out between the five fae species that inhabited the Twilight Lake, Cruinn had locked its gates and cut itself off from the world—save for the migration and the soldiers sent to fight at the front line.

Making the journey to the surface and assuming a land-form was something sacred, to be done during the migration and not before.

I reached up to touch my face, only to find a cloth bandage taped to my cheek where my missing freckle had been. The dried and tacky blood had been cleaned from my face.

I sat up, my head swam, and my mouth was dry enough that my tongue stuck to my teeth like a barnacle.

As I remembered being dragged onto the sand by several undine, my heart snapped like a piece of brittle, dead coral.

I had been left for dead.

Butwhy?

My uncleneededme. I was the one that sat on the High Throne. I was the one that gave him eyes across the water and reported back about the front line when missives were too slow or optimistic. We might not have had the best relationship. In fact, he might have wanted me out of the castle and mated to one of his soldiers, but when it came down to it, I was too important to the kingdom to disappear. Or so I had thought.

I needed to get back to the water.

I needed to find the Frosted Sands.

I needed to complete the migration.

I froze when I heard a chair scraping across the floor and a cabinet closing in the next room.

The blanket scrunched under my grip as I waited for whoever had made the sounds to burst into the room, but no one came.

I had no idea who had saved me from certain death on the beach, but I remembered their voices and knew that the lake had called them to me.

I glanced at the ceiling, imagining the sky past that, and thanked Belisama for hearing my prayers.

I had no idea how long I had been unconscious. I had no idea where I was and how far it was to the Frosted Sands.

All I knew was that the protection my youth had afforded me was over. Someone had tried to kill me, and if I planned to go back to Cruinn, I needed magic if I wanted to survive.

I whimpered as I slid my legs from the bed and tried to sit up. The sensation of the blanket on my legs was almost too much for me. Every limb was stiff, and it took longer than I expected before I could place both feet on the ground.

I wriggled my toes, studying the smooth skin without ridges and scales.

I needed a weapon, but as I took stock of the room, there was nothing to be found, save for a water jug on the chest of drawers.

If my saviors weren’t undine, who were they?

Though the war had shut the Twilight Lake from the rest of the Night Court, my uncle was not without supporters and allies in high places. As he often liked to brag.

The last thing I needed was to wake up in the clutches of one of my uncle’s contacts.

A wind chime of drift wood clacked together in the open window, the movement lazy as the wind toyed with the hollow wood. There were a few embellishments but not many—a conch shell on the bedside table and a blanket made of a soft material. As I ran my hands over the jagged woven edges, I couldn’t place what unnerved me about the fabric. I searched for a word but fell short, taking longer than I liked to conclude that the material wasdry. While it was soft enough to feel pleasant, its texture was not something I was used to. I cringed away from the blanket, allowing the material to fall from my hand and onto the bed with a thump.

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