Page 11 of The Dark Sea Calls

I felt the absence of the sea, the dry air on my skin, and the lack of magic that left me tired and inert.

We landed softly, Arden’s knees bending to take the momentum before he released me from his grip. I took two wobbly steps forward, holding my arms out as my bare feet met grainy, painful, dry sand.

I looked over my shoulder expectantly.

Arden tilted his chin toward the doorway fit for a palace. “She’s expecting us,” he said simply, sauntering past me without a care.

I hurried after him. My equilibrium was broken, and my path was anything but straight as I followed on the heels of the stoic Siren.

“Where are we?” I asked, breathless, as my lungs adjusted to the dry air.

“Belisama’s Cradle,” Arden grunted.

“I thought Sirens are water Fae?” I jogged to keep up as the doorway cast shadows over the sand. “Sky and water, I mean.”

“We are.” Arden cleared his throat, gesturing to the cliff face. “But we have made our home here out of necessity. The Dark Sea is not safe for the gilded Fae. Since Everfall gained prominence among the Night Court—growing from a fishing village to a city in its own right—the Sirens have been hunted.” His eyes glinted as if he was imagining what he would do to a hunter if he got his hands on them.

I cleared my throat and quickly changed the subject. “Is there any way that I should address your mother? Anything that Sirens deem offensive?”

Arden glanced at me as we stepped over the shadowed threshold. Our feet echoed against the stone as the wall sconces flashed with faelight. “Just don’t try to kill her. She hates that.”

My eyes widened. “I’ll keep that in mind?”

Arden nodded stiffly, taking my words at their face value. His statement went unexplained as we continued into the depths of the cliff. The cave was wide enough that if I stretched both arms, there would be no hope of touching the sides.

The deeper we went through the winding paths and jagged sandstone, the more moist the air became. The chill of the desert began to melt away as the air grew warmer, and sweat dripped down my brow and off the end of my nose. Before my journey from the Twilight Lake, I had never sweated. It was not something that I had even known was possible, as I had lived under the surface. My uncle, King Irvine, had often used sweat as an example of why land -Fae were inferior, disgusting creatures compared to the Undine.

We came to the end of the walkway, to steps carved into the rock, and the shadows my eyes could not decipher. The faelight seemed dimmer somehow, and when I went to take the first step, Arden halted me with an arm held out at chest height.

I followed his gaze, seeing that the darkness hid the absence of stairs past the first two, leaving a drop that made my stomach curdle. Arden stepped behind me with practiced movements and hooked his arms around my middle, pinning my arms to my sides again. He stepped off the top of the staircase, and his wings snapped open as we glided to the bottom of the drop. When we landed, warm water splashed around our feet. Bubbling through the sand as if struggling to rise to the surface. An underground spring.

We waded through the pond and climbed out at the edge, finding a small doorway. The shadows and shapes were hard to make out, designed to stop anyone from finding their way through the caves.

We hadn’t seen another soul, but Arden didn’t find it odd.

Finally, once we stepped out of the pond, the faelight came back, brighter this time, and we soon found ourselves in front of a doorway, out of place amongst the hewn stone. Ornate, the design, and adornments matched the outside door perfectly.

Arden pressed his hand against the door, waiting momentarily before the bronze figures seemed to sigh at his presence. The feathers carved into the bronze turned and twisted until a hole formed in the doorway, the sharp edges of the feathers pointing at the arch, no doubt ready to slice into anyone who tried to enter when they shouldn’t.

The roar of voices sliced through the silence, highlighting how quiet our journey had been until that point. I had grown unused to the sound of crowds and revelry since my quest across the cold landscape of the Night Court, and I felt myself filled with fear at the idea of having to speak in front of more than one person.

All of my life, I had been pushed to the edge. Sculking around the palace, gossiped about but never called to speak. Whenever I voiced my thoughts, I would be compared to my mother—the Mad Queen.

I had only told Arden of my name, Maeve. I had not mentioned my previous title in the Undine court or my relationship to King Irvine. I hadn’t mentioned that I was the Mad Queen’s daughter.

Did I dare tell them?

When the princelings discovered my creed and bloodline, they set out to use me for all they could. They followed me to the frosted sands and killed my kin. They killed my friends.

I couldn’t trust anyone, even if they smiled and offered niceties.

Though Arden hadn’t smiled once since we had met.

Two winged guards stood at another set of doors as we approached the barrage of voices. They opened the doors for Arden without pause. The scent of wine, food, and perfume hit me like a wall of heat. Heavy discordant notes wove through the jovial air. Everywhere I looked, winged Fae crowded to dance and chat, their adornments shining in the low light—wings of silver, bronze, and gold, embellished with all manner of gemstones.

Arden hooked his arm through mine as if he worried I would get distracted and walk away. He seemed to know where he was going, even in a room packed to the gills with gilded Sirens.

We strode toward the other side of the room and a platform that overlooked the ballroom. A chaotic array of stripped branches and other materials formed a nest above the courtiers. Slowly, the nest began to move, unfurling like an egg hatching. A woman pulled herself to her feet, her body more gold than flesh. Every inch of her skin was adorned with golden teardrops clinging to her form. Her wings hung like an obsidian cloak, with veins of gold along the bones.

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