Page 59 of The Dark Sea Calls

The Reeds were too far from the surface, and I wasn’t sure it was morning when I woke; the room was bathed in faelight, unchanged.

Rainn let out a snore bedside us, curled to the side as he slept so deeply I wasn’t sure I could wake him.

I felt Tor’s breathing change a few moments after waking up as I straddled him with my head on his solar plexus.

Tor played with my hair, and I allowed my fingertips to trace the dark whorls of his tattoos.

Tor’s markings covered most of his tanned skin, forming patterns that seemed to move before my eyes. Swirls and spikes, the same color as his hair, black as midnight until they caught the light in a certain way, showcasing an array of colors.

“I’ve never seen another Kelpie with markings like this,” I murmured, studying Tor’s hard chest. “Is it because you’re royalty? Is that why you’re marked in such a way?”

Like lightning across a stormy sky, a pained look flicked across Tor’s usually impassive face. “In a way,” he said, his voice so low that I almost missed it. He reached up, capturing my hands where I touched the hard planes of his stomach. “What do the markings look like to you?”

I frowned, studying the whorls. I shook my head to clear it. “In Cruinn, the Undine paint themselves with glowing algae before the migration. It’s meant to mimic the markings of the Shíorghrá. The markings don’t look like this, though.”

“They don’t?” Tor sat up. “What do they look like?”

I let out a nervous chuckle. “Like waves. These look like…the spikes of a sea urchin. The shadows from a palm tree. Like, the swirls on a hermit crab’s shell.”

Tor’s stomach moved as he laughed. “Do you like them?”

My cheeks flushed, and something unfurled in my middle. A warmth that I wasn’t used to. Affection wasn’t something I had grown up with. Even as a youngling, when my mother was still alive. I knew I was loved, but Undine didn’t go in for gestures to show those kinds of emotions. I wasn’t sure what was blossoming inside of me on the heels of my decision to stay close to Rainn and Tor—to allow them to keep me safe in exchange for whatever I could offer them. A bargain made in silence to myself with no one else to hear it.

Did I like Tormalugh? Did I…see him as more than an enemy? More than an ally?

Rainn let out a snore and rolled over in his sleep.

I shook my head at the Selkie.

Tor flexed the muscles in his stomach underneath my hand. “Well?” he asked, his dark eyes unreadable.

“Well, what?”

“Do you like my markings?” Tor pressed.

My blush deepened, and I laid my head against his chest. “They’re interesting,” I said, unwilling to tell Tor that his markings were more than that, even if I didn’t understand the feeling.

Chapter 12

The door burst open, banging against the wall and wobbling with the force of the blow, as a head of long, dark hair rushed through, bringing screaming frustration with it.

All three of us sat up, erupting from sleep, bringing the blanket up to cover our naked bodies. Sleep clung to us, even with the imminent threat of an angry female approaching.

For a split second, I wondered if Tor had a wife—but as the female lifted her head and fist, I immediately recognized Elsbeth, Tor’s sister.

I unclenched my jaw to mutter a greeting, pulling the blanket above my breasts to hide them, and the moment my eyes met hers, Elsbeth stopped. Her shins slammed into the bottom of the bed, earning a curse. Her head whipped to her brother, who frowned in confusion at her presence.

Silence.

Rainn looked between Tor and Elsbeth before turning to me. “Should we leave them to it?” Rainn asked. “They might be a while.”

The Selkie’s voice seemed to knock Elsbeth out of her temporary paralysis, and she blinked and shook her head to clear it. “No, Rainn. It’s fine. You don’t have to leave. I just… wasn’t expecting my brother home so soon. No one said that he had guests.” Elsbeth turned to me and bowed quickly before waving. “Hi, Maeve.”

I lifted a hand to return her wave. “Hi, Elsbeth.”

Elsbeth opened her mouth and closed it again, looking at her brother, who she no doubt wanted to berate. Instead, she sighed deeply and flailed her arms as if trying to appease one of the gods above. Elsbeth let out a strangled sound of exasperation before jabbing her finger silently at her brother and uttering a single word with contempt. “Breakfast,” Elsbeth snarled before turning away and stomping from the room. The door slammed hard, letting out a ripple that blew my hair away from my face.

“She’s angry,” Rainn said, rubbing his eyes.

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