Page 32 of The Dark, Dead, Deep

I let out a muffled scream filled with anger and frustration as whoever had caught me stood over me. Both feet on either side of my belly.

I was forced onto my back with two strong arms and pinned to the sand.

The sun glowed behind the edge of his head, golden hair floating on the wind. A scar on his chest over his heart and the sigil of Tarsainn on the strap of his belt.

“Merman,” I snarled; the sound swallowed and coughed out by my gag.

“Hello, Maeve,” the large male purred, his green eyes flashing. “When I first met you, I thought you’d bring me nothing but trouble, but I should thank you. You brought me victory.”

My brow creased in confusion.

He snapped his fingers. “Oh yes. Iforgot. You don’t know who I am.”

My eyes lifted back to the table, scanning the faces of the males that sat there. Something raced through my body when I caught the eye of the three men still seated as they watched me on the ground. A familiarity that I couldn’t place.

“You can call me Cormac Illfin. The mer-king.” He dipped his head. “Come. Share a drink with us. It’s a time for celebration.”

I had no idea why the mer-king wanted withme, but it felt more sinister to be treated as a guest (though bound and gagged) than as a captive.

Cormac Illfin snapped his fingers at one of the men at the table. “More blood wine!” he demanded.

One of the fae stood up and rushed away without question. Cormac Illfin gripped my forearms and pulled me up, half dragging and carrying me to the table. I felt like an oddity on display. Cold, hungry, and frightened. The only thing keeping my eyes open was the adrenaline flooding my veins. Otherwise, I would drop at any moment.

The eyes of every man at the table focused on me, and my mind conjured images of the hundred different ways they could hurt me.

Someone returned with another jug of wine.

“Pour her a drink!” Cormac’s smirk was cocky as he reclined in his chair with his legs spread.

“Please don’t hurt me,” I pleaded, but the words were muddled and warped by the gag in my mouth. “Please. If you want to kill me, just kill me.”

The mer-king ignored me, picking up his knife and fork as he began cutting into the trout on his plate.

My eyes caught on the man opposite me at the table. Sky-blue eyes and moonlight hair. He wore no expression, save for the tilt of his head. Resigned or bored, I couldn’t tell.

A stabbing pain jabbed my eye and I squinted. My thoughts were foggy and sluggish. I needed a healer, and I doubted the males at the table would offer me the services of one.

I studied my captors as they ignored me in favor of the food.

They weren’t all merman; the silver-headed man must have been a selkie. His skin was tied around his waist and secured with a thick chain.

“Let’s raise a glass,” said the mer-king, but his eyes were unreadable. He lifted his arm, and everyone at the table followed, save for the man with silver hair, and the two men next to him. One with braids, the other with dark eyes and a face filled with thunder. Cormac Illfin shook his hand at them, but they did not move a muscle. “More for me,” the king chuckled and lifted the cup to his lips.

I could smell the blood on the sand. A thick, heavy patina. My eyes dropped to the empty place setting in front of me. I was so hungry. It had been a day and change since I had eaten a single morsel, and my stomach churned as it tried to consume the surrounding organs.

Still, I wasn’t sure if I would be able to eat, surrounded by my enemies and dead kin at my feet.

Did the merfolk and other fae at the table know who I was? My family name might have been Cruinn, but my uncle would have rejoiced if I did not return home from the castle.

“Eat,” a male voice rasped, catching my attention. My eyes lifted and met those of the dark-haired fae with a face as angry as a stormy sea.Kelpie.

I said nothing. I was gagged and bound, and any attempt at speaking just seemed pathetic.

They were going to kill me anyway. Why bother to feed me? If not just to make themselves feel less like savages.

I lifted my nose and turned away, refusing to look at the table filled with fresh fish and wine. If I ignored it long enough, maybe my stomach would give up.

It seemed that my body and mind were at odds because my stomach took that moment to let out a loud growl.

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