Page 31 of Throne of Dreams
“FIND HER,”he bellowed so the walls of the palace shuddered, so his call echoed to Summer’s furthest edge, so his entire Court kneeled in response to his command.
* * *
Maeve couldn’t breathe.
Her lungs were on fire. Her head was spinning. Nausea swept through her, bile scalded her throat, and right as she was ready to cave, right as she was willing to give into the sea and let it take her, the merrow kissed her. Or it felt like a kiss. Her lips fused to Maeve’s briefly—they were slimy and painfully cold—but the wonderful sensation of oxygen, of air, filled her just enough to keep her from drowning.
The merrow continued swimming, pulling her along listlessly, until Maeve spied what looked like an underwater city. Open archways were built into the sides of rock rising from the bed of the sea floor. Pillars of crushed black pearls framed a number of dismal passageways where faerie light barely illuminated the space in an ethereal blue glow. Coral burst from hundreds of sharp, spiraled shells and there were merrows swimmingeverywhere.It seemed almost mythical, too surreal to believe.
She knew merrows existed, or at least, she’d read stories about them. Everything she read claimed they were made creatures, formed from the essence of magic. Long ago, she’d read one particular story where two fae sisters insulted one of the goddesses of the before. Out of spite, the goddess bound them to wooden beams while the tide was out and as the tide came in, they slowly drowned. It was said the sea took pity on them, turning their screams into the calls of sirens, and shifting them into creatures who could live and breathe in the depths of the ocean.
A group of merrows circled around her and she didn’t miss the way their glassy, wide-set eyes latched onto her. Some of them swam too close on purpose, inciting her to flinch and recoil in fear. Some of them were even more daring, reaching out and touching her. Groping her. Their cold, rough palms slid over her legs, waist, and feet. Slightly webbed fingers tangled in her hair, and she winced as they snared in her curls. Some of them whispered. Some of them sneered.
The merrow’s grip on her wrist tightened, and she yanked Maeve to her side, right as a male merrow was reaching for her breast.
“She is not yours.” The merrow’s voice was husky. Deep and sultry. She flipped open her hand and sunk her dagger-like nails into the male’s shoulder blade. He hissed and jerked away from them. “Don’t. Touch.”
They swam through one of the underwater tunnels and without warning, Maeve was catapulted forward. She tumbled through the water on a current so strong it tore at her clothing and squeezed her until she thought she’d be ripped in half. The world spiraled around her in a flash of dizzying color. Her body seized and the water surged, hurtling her into a hole barely big enough for her body. The crevice surrounding her opened wide like a mouth and she was dumped onto a pile of shattered seashells and sand, surrounded by…air.
Maeve sucked in a breath and choked. It was oxygen, and it wasn’t. It tasted of brine, salty and dense. Her lungs seized and she collapsed onto the jagged chunks of broken shells at her feet. They cut into her palms and stabbed her knees. It was nothing but a dull ache compared to the throbbing in her mind, the constant pulsing at her temples which left her feeling like her head was going to explode at any moment. Her fingers curled into the rough bits of shells, and she gasped. Her stomach heaved, clenched, and the sting of saltwater scraped her throat as she vomited.
She swiped the back of her hand across her mouth and stood gingerly, grappling with her balance on the mound of uneven, crumbling shells.
Maeve called to her magic to see if she could access it. To see if she could somehow save herself. Her power was scarcely a low, dull hum. A breath of response.
Charmed. Wherever she was, whatever she was in, was warded against her magic. Slowly, she let her hand reach for the necklace Tiernan had given her. She wrapped her fingers around the amethyst and opal, and holding tight, she prayed to the goddess he would hear her call to him.
She was being held in a sphere of some kind, like a bubble of air. It reminded her of the one she made to protect herself while training against Tiernan, but it was different somehow. It rippled around her, yet she could see everything. The merrows who watched her from the darkened alcoves and shadows. The tiny, insignificant fish that swam by without a care. The massive throne made of decadent, glimmering coral. It was then Maeve saw her. Sitting upon the throne, glaring down at her, was a merrow who was just as terrifying as the one who dragged her down from the surface.
The merrow smiled. It wasn’t kind, but it wasn’t threatening either. It simply looked like it was…uncomfortable for her. Her hair was the same inky shade and piled on top of her head where it was adorned with dark stones that glimmered in the faint glow of faerie light. Pearls encrusted her entire upper body and the scales on her tail were an iridescent black, each one sharpened to a fine point. The water moved, gliding around her so she seemed to float. The longer she stared at Maeve, the more she realized the merrow never blinked. Ever.
It was unnerving, but Maeve found it impossible to look away.
“Where did you get that?” The merrow inclined her head, her eerie gaze focused on the Aurastone strapped to Maeve’s thigh as she ran her tongue along her pointy teeth.
She was half tempted to tell the merrow it was none of her damn business, but not only was she outnumbered by opponents, she was alsounderwater. If she wanted to make sure she got out of—wherever she was—alive, she would have to tread carefully. She needed to keep her answers simple. But more than that, she needed to stay calm.
“Do not make me ask you again.” The merrow’s glittering tail flicked with annoyance.
Maeve stiffened. “I found it.”
“Where?” The word seemed to slither from the queen’s mouth.
Simple.
Just keep your answers simple,she reminded herself. “In the Moors.”
Her response was met with a rise of murmurs, but the merrow sitting upon the throne did not seem impressed. “The Aurastone belonged to my sister. She hid it away before she was murdered by Garvan.”
At this, Maeve clenched her fists until the edge of her nails bit into her palms.
“She told me only the one truly worthy of a throne would ever be able to wield it.” The merrow’s strange smile disappeared. “Yet here it is, claiming a faerie as its truth.”
Maeve steeled her spine. She would die before she ever gave up her Aurastone. Some bitchy fae-fish would never convince her that she didn’t deserve her dagger.
“It has served me faithfully against those who wish me harm.” She let those last few words drop with purpose. “And the dark fae.”
The merrow’s lips thinned until they looked nonexistent. “The Aurastone has a twin.”
