Page 92 of The Dark, Dead, Deep

I bared my teeth in a snarl but swam forward to do what they asked.

Chapter 17

CORMAC POV

The moment he swam into the Whispering Pass all those days ago, Cormac knew that his hubris had royally fecked him in the tail.

He’d had no idea why he’d taken Maeve’s worry as a personal challenge, but the moment he turned his back to the young undine and made his way into the gloom, he had known that something was very wrong—though he hadn’t been able to put his finger on what it was.

When nothing jumped from the shadows, like a hungry conger eel, Cormac and his guards gloated about the extra hours the princes had added to their journey simply because they couldn’t say no to gilded pussy.

Cormac usually thought the undine’s natural adornments were flashy and unnecessary. A trait born to a race that prized glitter above strength. He didn’t want to admit that his stomach did a flip when he thought about Maeve’s pearlescent freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks. His eyes sought her out, despite his better judgment.

Cormac honestly didn’t know what to do about Maeve.

He reasoned that he found her physically attractive, but something inside of her made him revolt. He was struggling to maintain his sanity, though he suspected that the other princes had long since let go of theirs if they were allowing the Cruinn princess to take them ontolandto avoid whatever fictitious monster Maeve had imagined in the shadows.

Cormac had killed one of his own men for her. She should have been grateful. Instead, Maeve Cruinn looked at him as if he had scale rot. It shouldn’t have made him angry. He shouldn’t have cared what the forgotten wretch thought of him—but he did, and hehatedit.

Cormac had scoffed and soldiered on. His confidence was bolstered when they managed half a day’s travel without seeing or hearing another soul. Not even a guppy or a bottom feeder.

The men had settled down for a break, though it went without saying that they could have continued without one. Lunch was passed around, and jokes were made. Everyone expressed a combined relief at finally going home to Tarsainn from the convoy and feeling the security that came with being behind the protective wards of the city.

Usually, Cormac would have sat with his men, laughing and joking. Instead, he chose to hover on the edge, facing the path without turning his back to the darkness.

The dull roar of the falling silt was continuous though it seemed that everyone in the group had grown used to it. Cormac tried to hear past the thunderous sound of crashing sand from the underwater waterfall, but there was nothing. His senses were dulled. His hearing was stolen by the all-encompassing crashing of the chasm, and his sight disappeared in the darkness of the deep.

He shook his head to clear it. He felt stupid for allowing Maeve to get inside his head.

It was all her fault, Cormac had decided.

Those innocent eyes and that wicked tongue. She dared him to back down, and he would not take the bait. Besides, it was much too late to stop now. They were halfway through the chasm; if they kept walking, they would be through by nightfall.

“Your majesty.” One of the guards dipped his head in greeting, his face was hidden by the helmet that all of the royal guards wore, and it took a moment for Cormac to place who he was speaking to.

“Nohel.” Cormac nodded. “Are you well?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Nohel replied, glancing towards the path. “We’re ready to continue when you are.”

Cormac followed the lead of the guards, who soldiered on, though Nohel stuck more closely than he had before. “Nohel?”

“Yes, Your Majesty?” Nohel glanced over at him, his hand gripping his tarnished black trident.

“Do you feel that there is danger ahead?” Cormac asked, keeping his voice light as if he felt only the smallest amount of curiosity and not foreboding.

“It’s a guard’s job to always expect danger,” Nohel replied simply.

It didn’t escape Cormac’s notice that Nohel had not answered the question.

“What do you think of the Cruinn girl?” Cormac sniffed. “Besides the obvious undine disadvantages.”

“Why do you ask, Your Majesty?”

Cormac kept his eyes forward as he spoke. “Perhaps I am thinking too deeply about when we get to Tarsainn. I highly expect that Maeve Cruinn has managed to bat her eyelids and escape into the Dark Sea by now. She is probably a hundred miles away as we speak.”

Nohel snickered. “I doubt that, Your Majesty.”

Cormac slanted a look at his guard. “What makes you say that?”

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