Page 94 of The Dark, Dead, Deep

The scene shifted. The women evaporated, and he felt his body grow tiny. His father crouched in front of him, and Cormac realized that he was reliving a memory from his childhood. When his father was king, and he was only small.

“One day, Cormac Illfin, you will be the mer-king,” his father declared loudly.

“I know, Daddy,” the little boy replied.

“You must always be just and listen to those around you,” his father continued. “But most of all, you should always listen to yourself. There is a reason that the gods give some of us so much and other’s so little. The gods favor those who know their mind and choose their own path.”

The scene shifted, his father growing smaller—or perhaps, Cormac growing larger.

The two men stood in Cruinn Castle moments before going to the hall to watch King Irvine crowned. His father kept adjusting his necklace.

“Blasted collar,” the king muttered. “The undine are such a flashy sort. Give me a blade any day over some peace offering made of silver and gold.”

The necklace.

Cormac had no idea why his mind had snagged on that detail. The knowledge that his father had been wearing a necklace, gifted by the Undine King, moments before his death felt imperative. Something that shouldn’t be forgotten.

“CORMAC!” someone screamed. “CORMAC! WAKE UP!”

The voice was familiar. Feminine, but Cormac couldn’t place it.

His father had vanished, and Cormac was left alone. Trapped in a dream that wouldn’t end.

Chapter 18

The moment I had touched Cormac’s head, I was transported somewhere else. Where the water had a strange shimmering quality, and every particle caught the sun as if I was swimming just below the surface of the lake.

The music sounded as if it was miles away, played through a tunnel, though I couldn’t locate the source.

I recognized the hall as the throne room in Tarsainn.

The room was fuller than I had ever seen, and though the music was eerie and distant, none of the guests seemed to have trouble hearing it as they danced.

I looked down at my body, finding an enchanted dress made of sea spider silk floating like a cloud of white. I had never seen the dress before, but I looked like a bride.

I scoffed and turned back to the crowd, trying to find Cormac amongst the fae without faces.

Everyone was dressed in splendor, with jewels rivaling the Undine Royal Family’s adornments. The dancers spun each other in circles as they danced the Ceilidh, and their skirts revealed legs with fins, scales, and webbed toes underneath.

I wondered what had caused Cormac to manifest such a party. The juxtaposition was something that I couldn’t imagine in real life. The Ceilidh was a pub dance that Liam had taught me from his many jaunts into the city of Cruinn. Combined with the outfits fit for a ball of the highest caliber, I felt like I was watching two events playing over each other as Cormac’s mind had begun to cave in on itself from being in a magically induced sleep for much too long.

I felt vaguely sick as I thought of time running out and Cormac’s mind dripping out of his ears with me still trapped inside.

Somehow, even though Cormac was a merman and had a tail, not one of the people in the crowd seemed to be mer.

The women dancing the Ceilidh were laughing gayly as if drunk on life, with their heads thrown back in joy. Spinning each other and swapping partners.

After each section of the dance was complete, the women began to remove a single item of clothing. Their bare feet skimmed the stone as they spun and twisted, weightless in the water, until they stopped for a moment, long enough for gravity to remind them of its existence.

The shoes came off first, and when I noticed that the purpose of the dance was to devest the women of their ballgowns, several Sídhe females had loosened the corsets and allowed the ribbons to drift to the ballroom floor.

I stepped back, fists clenched, as I wondered what sort of parties Cormac had gone to in his past to make up such a dream. People swam out of the way, grumbling and cradling their wine protectively as I began to search for Cormac with more vigor.

It seemed just like something Cormac would do—to dream of breasts, wine, and dancing, while everyone in his kingdom worried if he would live or die. Did he not know how much his grandmother was worried about him? I shook my head, jutting my chin as if I was arguing with the male himself, though he was nowhere to be seen. I planned to give him a piece of my mind when I found the mer-king, crown and tail be damned.

I moved away from the dancefloor when the skirts followed the corsets and the sounds that began to drift over the music sounded akin to the nymph village at night.

Sex and pleasure had always seemed perfunctory to me. Fuel. Much in how a person eats or drinks to be able to carry on. Though I supposed the two things were more alike than I had once thought. I tried to reason that one could not have the same attachment to food as they had to a romantic lover—but I had to admit that more than once, I had grown sad when I had finished the last seaweed roll and wished that I had known so that I might have savored it.

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