Page 74 of The Dark, Dead, Deep

Tormalugh shrugged. “You haven’t asked after Cormac,” he noted casually.

My eyes widened. “It’s his fault I’m in here!”

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Hardly. The poor mer is unconscious.”

My throat bubbled with exasperation. “And what do you expect me to do about it?”

Tormalugh glanced around the cell as if searching for a place to sit before leaning against the far wall. He crossed his arms over his chest and crooked his knee. “Tell me of your uncle’s magic.”

I gave him a look. “Revealing that my uncle was behind those weavings is what landed me in this cell. No. I don’t think I will tell you.”

Tormalugh pushed away from the wall, and my heart leaped as he stalked forward. Walking me backward until his larger body caged mine against the wall of my cell. My neck craned up to look at him, his eyelashes cast shadows across his cheeks in the dim light. His black eyes were bottomless and impossible to read, though his jaw rocked with anger.

“Tell. Me,” Tormalugh demanded.

My heart roared in my ears at his proximity, and every part of my body tingled with the need to run, but I couldn’t force myself to move. My breath rushed through my gills as if someone had pressed on my chest. “No,” I whispered.

His eyes turned to icy shards, and he cocked his head to the side. “Your uncle sheltered you from this world,” Tormalugh commented lightly.

“Cruinn is protected. Everyone is sheltered,” I replied back, unable to force my voice above a breathy whisper.

Tormalugh hummed. “The lake is screaming. The Heart of the Lake is corrupted, and flora and fauna are dying. Soon, there will be no food, save for what can be taken from the land. Your uncle did not just kill the mer-king all those years ago. Whatever he did when he took the High Throne stole the Heart of the Lake and sentenced us all to death.”

My lips parted. “You’re lying,” I said, but my words held no bite, only confused contemplation. “The fish aren’t dying. We have enough food. There is always enough food.”

Tormalugh laughed without humor. “For your uncle’s feasts, perhaps, but only the courtiers go to bed with a full belly. I can assure you.”

“But in the Reeds—” I argued.

“The kelpies have fought for the right to hunt and fish on our territory,” he interrupted. “As much as that pains the undine who wish to take our food.”

A strange, sick feeling crept up and saturated my blood with its poison. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Your uncle is not a paragon of goodwill and benevolence,” Tormalugh stated plainly. I knew that it was not opinion but fact. “You do not have to protect him. His guards left you on that beach to die.”

“As if you four are any better?” I spat. “I’m in a cell because of your actions. I should have run when I had the chance.”

He snorted. “But you didn’t. And alas, here we are.”

I sneered, and he met my expression with a placid one of his own.

“If I tell you of my uncle’s magic, I do not want the information used against me.” I bristled as the ice around my heart chipped away, just a fraction.

The kelpie said nothing, just stared.

My eyes narrowed before he nodded slowly. Reluctantly.

“Swear it,” I demanded, knowing his word would be binding.

Tormalugh’s lip curled. “I swear I will not let this information be used against you.”

I nodded once. “Good.”

He rolled his hand, gesturing for me to speak.

I licked my bottom lip. “The courtiers of the Undine Court wore collars made from my uncle’s weavings. It was a status symbol. Someone once mentioned that the collars allowed the courtiers to speak privately without worrying about being overheard. That’s most of what I know about my uncle’s magic.”

“Does the magic fade?” he asked. “Did it require maintenance?”

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