Page 75 of The Dark, Dead, Deep

“Maintenance?”

“To be topped up for the spell to continue to work,” he clarified.

I shook my head. “As far as I know, once his magic is woven into the wire, the spell is indefinite.”

Tormalugh cursed. “How can you break the spell?”

“Other than by breaking the wire?” I replied dryly.

“We broke the wire,” he said, informing me of something I already knew.

I gestured futility. “I’m not sure.”

“Was there anything in the castle that your uncle was afraid of? Anything that he locked away or stayed away from?” the kelpie pressed.

I tapped my lip. “The silvers?”

“Silvers?” he asked.

“My uncle was adamant that the silvers should not be used.” I shook my head at the memory of his decree and then his anger every time he had found me in the room. “Beyond that, I don’t know.”

Tormalugh nodded, resolute. “It’s better than nothing,” he said as he turned to leave.

“Wait!” I reached out and gripped his arm before I could stop myself. “What about me? Am I to die in here?”

“We’re working on it.” Tor placed his hand on mine before prying my fingers loose.

Any hope that I felt that the princelings might help me died. My teeth clenched. “Is that it then? I have to sit in the dark and wait for your benevolence to count on my continued existence?”

“The same situation as Cormac, wouldn’t you say?” The kelpie quirked a brow, mimicking my favorite gesture. “You had no intention of helping him until you knew something was in it for you.”

“You all kidnapped me!” My arms flailed as I gestured angrily. “We areenemies!”

“Are we?” He cocked his head to the side, his voice delicate and somehow more dangerous than I had ever heard. He took a step closer to me until I could feel each rush of water leaving his mouth as he breathed. “Are we enemies, Maeve?”

I tried to step back, but there was nowhere to go unless I wanted to swim backward into a wall. “Tormalugh…” My voice was strangled, both a warning and a breathy confusion.

He ignored my plea and lowered his head until our noses almost touched. “We took you from the beach. We nursed your wounds after your uncle so kindly tried to beat you to death, for whatever reason he so chose. We did not kill you on the beach, though it would have been bloody easy. I took you to the Reeds, and my people fed and clothed you. We kept you safe on the journey from the Frosted Sands up to Tarsainn.”

“Safe?” I snarled, anger choking and mangling the word. “You killed my kin. You stopped me from reaching my magical majority! I wasalmost raped!”

Tormalugh froze. He didn’t breathe. He didn’t blink. “What did you say?”

I scoffed and looked away. “Cormac didn’t mention it? That he had to pull one of his own men off me?” I laughed without humor. “I’d have thought he would have taken every opportunity to rub that in my face.”

Tormalugh’s jaw hardened. “Who?”

“I don’t—”

“WHO?!” He shouted, so loud that the sound echoed through the water. His chest heaved, and his eyes glowed. He reached forward and gripped my biceps.

“Tor?” My brow furrowed.

His eyes were far away as he started to shake.

“Tor, I’m okay. It didn’t happen. Cormac stopped him,” I whispered, unsure of why I was comforting him.

“Tell me his name, and I swear I will pull him apart, scale by scale,” he said. His words were strained as if it took considerable effort to unhinge his jaw.

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