Page 42 of The Dark, Dead, Deep

Her hand fluttered to her chest.

Tor stepped forward and took her arm. “Let’s get you to your room, Elsbeth,” he said, steering her away from me.

Judging by his glare as he walked away, Tor was not best pleased.

When I was led to one of the guest suites, with guards lining the hallway, I breathed fully for the first time since I had stepped onto the Frosted Sands.

I had not been afforded the same luxuries as many of the other courtiers back in Cruinn, and the room I had been given by Elsbeth was a pleasant surprise.

A window of shimmering colored glass looked out to the teeds that protected the city and onto the streets below. The walls of the room were carved into the rock, with a nest-like basket for a bed, woven from the reeds that grew outside and left to harden, filled with plush cushions. There was so much color, and the furniture looked designed to allow for a four-legged and a two-legged form.

A basin made of a jeweled shell sat in the corner above the vanity mirror, filled with soap-silt—a gravel-like substance used to wash.

I stared at my reflection, unable to recognize the woman that glared back at me. I lifted a shaking hand to my missing freckle, running my thumb over the bloody and uneven skin left in its wake. My clothing was bloody, ripped, and dirty. My hair was missing several beads, and my braids were a distant memory.

Until the migration, my entire life had been a series of routines and schedules. Stealing moments of freedom within the confines of my role as the mad queen’s daughter, living off the kindness of my benevolent uncle. Draining myself dry on the High Throne as I spoke to the water.

I dropped to the ground, pressing my chin against my knees as I thought about my hopeless situation. How any of the males in our convoy could decide to try to take me, just like the nameless male had the night before.

I wasn’t trained to fight, but I would scratch, bite, and scream if they tried anything.

Cormac Illfin had protected me. Perhaps Tormalugh could as well.

Maybe my best chance at survival was to try and get in their good graces so that I become off-limits to any of the males that got any bright ideas. Though that idea made me feel sick to my stomach.

I wasn’t a pleasant person to be around at the best of times—I had been told hundreds of times by Elaine that I was too honest for my own good and didn’t understand what thoughts should be kept in my head and what should be let out. All bets were off once I lost my temper, and my common sense ceased to exist.

“What’s going to happen to me?” I whispered.

The water undulated over my skin, forming a whirlpool around my feet as if to comfort me. An image flashed in my mind, so vivid that I lost my balance and stepped back, slamming my hip into the bed. The sensation of the vision was so real. I could feel the grit of the sand and the harsh strike of their blows—I saw myself lying on the beach, surrounded by undine guards, and left for dead.

I felt sick. My head swirled. I couldn’t tell if the image was the past or the present, as my sense of time had warped. It took too long for the world to stop spinning, and when it did, I was on my knees in the center of the room.

A knock on the door startled me, but I couldn’t stand up to answer it. A moment passed before Tormalugh opened the door, striding in as if he owned the place—which he sort of did, to be fair. I felt a moment of sheer unbridled panic at the idea of being alone with a man.

My hands started to shake, and I clenched them into fists and pressed them against my stomach to hide my fear.

“Prince Tormalugh.” I dipped my head. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The kelpie cocked his head to the side. “I would be a poor host If I didn’t check on my guests.”

I laughed without humor as I stood up. “Making sure I haven’t stolen the good silver?”

“If I were you, I’d take the cabinet handles. They belonged to my mother. Made from gold spun from sunlight—a gift from the Day Court many eons ago,” he replied dryly.

“I’ll be sure to add them to my list.” My voice dripped with honey. “The room is most pleasant. Do you treat all your prisoners like this?”

Tormalugh shook his head and tutted. “If you think this is how prisoners are treated, you are sheltered indeed.”

I thought back to the man in the tent. To the bindings on my hands and legs. To watching my kin fight and die on the beach at the hands of undine enemies. My expression turned dark. “You might be right,” I said stiffly. “Regardless, the room is nice. It’s much appreciated.”

Tormalugh took a moment to study me as if he couldn’t tell if I was being genuine or not. I took the opportunity to do the same. His hair, the same dark as his horse’s coat, shimmered when it caught the light, showing a rainbow of colors hidden in the ebony. His eyes were deep and unfathomable, and his mystery wasn’t helped by the expressionless face that he wore.

Prince Tormalugh.

Pain flashed through my skull, making me wince. I stepped away from the basin and pressed my hand against my head.

The kelpie stepped forward, his hand outstretched as if to catch me should I fall. I was overcome by déjà vu as if we had been in the exact scenario before. Which was ludicrous.

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