Page 81 of Wicked Depths

Because the ocean itself is hers to command.

The moment her lips part, the waves obey.

A hum rolls through the battlefield, soft yet potent, barely a whisper above the roar of war, but enough to send a shudder through the sea. The tide surges, rising unnaturally, spilling over the rocky shore, pushing forward rather than pulling back. It does not crash—it waits, held in place by something only she can control.

Her magic.

Familiar, undeniable.

The betrayal I braced for never comes.

The humans falter. Their footing is stolen from them, their weapons made useless as the ground beneath them softens, their ranks breaking as the sea rises to meet them. It is not an attack against me—it is a death sentence for them.

Realization dawns, slow and creeping, burning through the thick haze of my rage.

She is not here to destroy me.

She is here to help me.

I hover in the air, wings outstretched, staring down at her, at the sea answering her call, at the fear creeping into the eyes of the soldiers who once stood so sure of their impending victory.

Vaela tilts her chin up, her glowing white-blue gaze locking onto mine across the battlefield, and I know.

This was always her plan.

She didn’t betray me.

The truth strikes me like a bolt of lightning, splitting through the storm of my fury, unraveling everything I thought I knew. Vaela went to him—not to surrender, or to hand me over. No, the sea witch went to him to trap him.

To destroy him.

She fed him lies wrapped in truth and made him a bargain he couldn’t refuse. The whole plan was so flawlessly executed, thateven I had believed it. But I was wrong, and so was he. Vaela never belonged to him.

She has always beenmine.

And now, she is delivering his death to me on a silver platter.

The realization tightens in my chest, something dangerously close to relief, something I cannot afford to feel yet. The battle is not over. The king still breathes.

But not for long.

I glance down at the battlefield, watching the humans flounder in rising water, their ranks thrown into chaos. Their torches sputter out, their siege weapons are dragged under, their screams drown in the roar of the tide.

Vaela stands above them all, a queen in her own right, her hands outstretched, her song weaving into the waves, commanding them, shaping them, killing with nothing more than her voice.

She played the game.

And now, for the first time since the battle began—I smile.

Chapter

Twenty

VAELA

The sea is my weapon, and I wield it well.

The tide surges at my command, ravenous, unrelenting, alive. It reaches up the shore, curling around the battlefield like a serpent, dragging Aldric’s soldiers into the deep, where they will never be seen again. They thrash, screaming, clutching at the ground, at each other, at anything—but it doesn’t matter.

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