Page 100 of The Dark, Dead, Deep

“I’m not taking this well. I’m not taking this at all.” I let my fork fall back to the table. “I fully expect to wake up at any moment. I’m still trapped in Cormac’s dream, after all.”

“Afraid not, princess,” Rainn chirped. “Cormac Illfin plans to take you as his wife.”

“I don’t see how that will bring together all five creeds,” I said dryly. “My mother was as mad as a mackerel fish, yet everyone is touting her word as gospel.”

“Was she mad?” Shay lifted his icy blue eyes for the first time. His voice was delicate.

The question made my entire brain twitch, and my mouth struggled to form a response. “No one has ever asked me that before,” I admitted.

“I suspect not.” Shay’s braids shifted as if they were trying to get closer to me. “I suspect your diligence towards making sure everyone thinks you are as insane as your mother is a shield. Perhaps it was a shield for your mother as well.”

I snorted. “Interesting theory.” I smacked my lips together as I wagged my finger at him. “Though patently false. The High Throne very much does cause someone to lose their mind.”

“Is that why your uncle is such a treasure to be around?” Tormalugh said when he finished chewing his food.

“You’ve never been around my uncle.” I pointed out. “Was this the plan all along? To pawn me off to Cormac. To be his bride so my uncle may lay down arms and call it an alliance of marriage?”

Rainn shrugged. “You’re his shíorghrá,” he said. “The gods have decided to end the war.”

I lowered my head until I was close enough that only the princelings would hear me when I whispered. “I am not his shíorghrá.” I informed them on a hiss, not taking my eyes from the offending mer-king as he swam from table to table and laughed with his subjects as if we were in a tavern and not the royal dining hall.

“I am no one’s shíorghrá. Least of all, Cormac Illfin’s fated mate,” I snarled, jabbing my fork right into the meat of the lobster in front of me. The metal fractured the shell, causing pieces to fly out, turning to dust in the water.

Shay sat back, vaguely amused. His braids twitched as if they were tittering with mirth. “Why? Because you have decided to forsake all males? Do you seek a more fortuitous path than finding yourself on a throne next to Cormac Illfin?”

My cheeks grew warm. I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at Tormalugh across the table. “As if I will ever sit on the throne of Tarsainn. This sham will fall apart before that ever happens.”

Rainn drained his goblet. “How so?”

“I have not reached my magical majority,” I stated plainly, placing my palms on the table.

“A fact you so often remind us of.” Tor’s voice was bone dry.

“My point being,” I continued, “I cannot have a shíorghrá because of that fact.”

Shay’s eyes turned stormy, but Rainn and Tor exchanged glances.

“That cannot be.” Rainn’s fingers twitched, and he shifted in his seat to move the coat on his chain to his lap.

“Wild-fae are in tune with their magic from birth,” I reminded him. “Undine are not. We do not recognize our shíorghrá until we become Sídhe. Much in the way of the land fae.”

“Nymphs are the same.” Shay eyed me curiously. “We do not recognize the shíorghrá until we make the journey of becoming.”

“Like migration,” I added unnecessarily.

“Are merfolk like the wild-fae, I wonder?” Tormalugh tapped his fingers on the table, bored.

“I should think so.” Rainn chewed his bottom lip.

“All of this pondering means nothing.” I sighed, placing my utensils on the table. “A shíorghrá bond is a two-way thing. No one knows how it truly works, only that it requires magic. Of which I have none.”

Cormac approached us, a swagger in his gait and a cup of blood wine in his hand. “Friends.” He smirked before tipping his drink in my direction. “Bride,” Cormac said by way of greeting.

I was unamused.

“I was just tellingyourfriends how this entire scheme will fall around your ears when they realize I have no magic and therefore no shíorghrá. Least of all,you.”

Cormac crossed his arms over his broad chest, and for a moment, my eyes caught the scar that marred the skin over his heart. “Is that so?” He cocked his head to the side.

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