Page 110 of Defy the Fae

Without hesitation, his callused palm clamps onto mine. “I’ll never do that.”

His words are soaked in Lark, Juniper, and Cove. The foreign sensations of admiration and inadequacy squeeze their way through my bones. They percolate like a vortex, assaulting me to the core. If it weren’t for me and my brothers, he would not have to say this.

I nod once, shackle Cerulean’s wrists over my sternum, and lower myself into the water. The eddies splash. The chilled flux vibrates. Submerged, my skin drinks in the fluid, and my limbs weld together.

The man’s stunned gasp resounds as my serpent tail whips beneath me. However, he recovers from the surprise long enough to fill his lungs.

Normally, I would have flipped headfirst into the stream. With a limp sibling plus a mortal attached to me, I dunk under the surface and melt into the water.

With a swat of my tail, we shoot into the depths. Gravity vanishes. The depth parts as we shave through. Water braces Cerulean’s wings, as if they weigh little more than a single quill.

Holding my brother and my lady’s father requires my tail to work harder. Though, not as much with the stream reinforcing me. Another lash of my appendage, and we launch across the current.

My scales draw liquid in and out like a pump. I detect a school of fish and pivot around them. The mortal’s hand tightens at the sudden jolt.

The distance grows, the channel broadens, and the depth increases. Picturing Cove’s face and thinking of Cerulean’s empty lungs, I plunge lower. My tail burns, a foaming maelstrom of bubbles skates down my spine, and my mane flares behind as if windblown.

Moments later, the temperature rises as we smash through the boundary. The river’s taste washes past my lips. Its balmy warmth rolls down my body.

At the crashing echo of a waterslide, I take a nosedive. To the mortal’s credit, he doesn’t scream and plug his lungs, nor does he panic as we crash into a pool littered with sharks. Still, he does use his limbs to punt the water, the motions harsh.

I hear the gills flapping, the fins swaying. I count twelve dwellers.

At our approach, the sharks scatter like missiles. It might be only me, but Cerulean’s wingspan is likely another culprit, the panels startling the fauna.

I push deeper, propel through an underwater duct, and loop upward. We break the surface. Waves jet into the atmosphere and audibly smash into walls of polished rock.

The man heaves, “Hellfire and brimstone!”

That shall be the least of his problems here. We bob in a whirlpool that throws steam into the air, with a cascade splashing into its surface.

I swim to the ledge and beseech the water, which thickens around Cerulean. It acts as a brace, allowing me to prop him upright on an underwater bank meant for lounging. His head lolls against the ledge, but with the extra support, he shall not sink.

I divest my brother of his clothing. As my fingers pass over his back, fresh rancor spasms me in place. Scabs pulp across his skin, the lashes marking the areas where they’d beaten him, whipped him with something shaped like a rod. It seems, Tinder had prepared us only marginally.

A snarl curls in my throat. Carefully, I remove the rags that used to be Cerulean’s clothing, then let the garments float like rafts, so the water may consume them as well. They’re far too tattered to salvage.

I crawl out of the well on all fours. As my legs materialize, I slump to the ground, exhaustion sawing through me.

Cove’s father splatters from the basin and drops onto the rim at my side. I decipher his limbs floating over the edge while he sucks in air and absorbs our surroundings. I imagine his first view of this place, embedded far beneath the earth. The cavernous ceiling and interconnected caves. Curtains of blue, green, and gold mist. Waterfalls glisten with unearthly hues, from aquamarine to emerald, illuminating the darkness.

“Where are we?” he marvels.

“The Deep,” I answer.

“The domain where you rule?”

“Yes.”

“But where specifically?”

Amusement nudges the corners of my lips. Now I know where Cove has inherited her inquisitiveness.

I heft myself sideways off the tiles, my palms flat on the ground to brace my upper body. “It is called The Mer Cascades.”

The human’s baritone remains calm. “As in merfolk?”

I nod once. Humans know of the three realms in the Solitary wild. Because the man does not interrogate further, I suspect he’s scanning the enclave with its whirlpools and shower alcoves. His silence does not suggest he is frightened, nor impressed. Rather, it is the quiet of someone observing through a lens, someone searching for answers in every corner.

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