Page 17 of The Dark, Dead, Deep

I wondered what my mother would say. Would she chastise me for callously hurting Liam’s feelings?

And what of Moira? I hadn’t even begun to think about how she would feel. Especially as she had only recently admitted to carrying a torch for Liam.

It was a horrible and tangled mess that added more stress to the day.

What if I reached magical majority, and found my shíorghrá on the beach? What if I opened my eyes to my magic and saw the golden markings that only a soulmate could see… on Liam?

The bells chimed again, and I startled from my reverie, my movements sluggish even though I tried to rush.

I had no idea why we had to be so impaired as we made the journey to the Frosted Sands.

Even though the front lines were nowhere near the path of migration, the idea of leaving the city of Cruinn left me feeling exposed and vulnerable, before I even began to entertain what reaching magical majority would feel like.

I wondered if becoming Sídhe would make me more confident inside—to help make the face I showed the world a reality instead of a mask.

Something told me that was unlikely.

I made my way through the castle, keeping to the back corridors and little known paths that I favored. The hustle of the courtyard and the buzz of excitement was loud enough to direct my feet even if I hadn’t known the castle like the back of my hand.

A pang of sadness rocked through me every time I allowed my thoughts to drift to my two best friends, and how we should have been making the journey to the courtyard together.

When I finally reached the courtyard, and eyed the edge of the crowd, it became apparent that everyone had split into groups. We were all the same age, so it made sense. The undine from the city all coalesced together, and the courtiers did the same.

It didn’t take long for me to find Liam and Moira, though they were not together. Liam stood with the other fae males. The courtiers, server’s children, and city undine that attended the training camps with the captain of the guard. Each one hoping to become a Troid Sídhe, once Belisama granted them their magic.

Moira stood on the edge of the other ladies in waiting. Daughters of other undine courtiers, or my uncle’s harem. Even though they were due to make a long and arduous journey by their own fins to the Frosted Sands, their outfits were glittering with gemstones, pearls, and long fluttering trains that would surely hinder their swimming.

I tried to get Moira’s attention, but her eyes slid off me as if I wasn’t there.

It was almost time. The air was charged with the frenetic energy of a hundred undine youths. I wondered how long it would take—before their hunger no longer sharpened their excitement, but ravished it like an octopus.

My uncle stepped onto the balcony over the front doors to the castle. His crown atop his head, and a grin on his face. I didn’t like my uncle’s smile—his eyes were black and empty like a sharks, and his smiles never reached them.

King Irvine cleared his throat and the attention of the chittering crowd shifted like an army regiment turning midstep. The focus of every undine youth in the courtyard was sharp enough to draw blood.

“Children! Today is the day that you become Sídhe! That you gain your magic. For the good of the kingdom. For the good of the undine. For the good of the gods and for yourselves!” He clapped his hands in front of himself. “Once the conch call sounds, you can leave the gates and begin your journey. The faelights will guide you on your path to the Frosted Sands, but remember, there is safety in numbers.”

The crowd shifted as those that had chosen groups moved closer together. My uncle swept his arm out and gestured to the servers that swam through the crowd. Each one holding a tray with small bone cups—their lids designed to hold in liquid until it could be sucked free.

“The blood wine!” King Irvine announced. “May the blood of the Sídhe guide you to your destiny. Savour it. It will be the last thing you drink until sunrise tomorrow.”

I eyed the servers as they darted and wove through the crowd. Each tray emptying faster than I could reach. With a huff, I stepped forward, determined to enter the fray of excited undine and to procure a cup for myself.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder and pushed a bone cup into my hand. Liam.

I opened my mouth to say something, but he gave me a tight-lipped smile and turned away, heading back to the crowd of fae males without another word.

I looked down at my cup. My stomach roiling. Around me, each of the other younglings slung their blood wine back as if it was Solstice.

“May Belisama grant me favor, and welcome me unto his arms.” I sniffed the cup. “But not today.” And with that last word, I threw back the contents of the cup and swallowed the blood wine without savouring the taste. My mouth felt dry, and my tongue stuck to my teeth.

The crowd began to shift, as they moved in single file to the bridge leading back to the city. Along the darkness of the Abyss hovered faelights, marking the path, like a night sky above the surface.

I waited my turn, as one by one, the crowd kicked off and began to journey to the Frosted Sands. I tried to get closer to Moira, or even Liam, but the fervour of the crowd pushed me further back.

My neck prickled and I looked over my shoulder.

King Irvine’s unwavering stare greeted me.

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