Page 116 of Female Fantasy
My loch.
The other half of my soul.
His eyes are shut tightly, as if he is focusing entirely on maintaining consciousness.
“There is more,” Nix says as the iron grip on his throat finally loosens. “The girl has powers.”
The false queen’s gaze locks onto mine. “Powers?” She inches closer to me, sniffing me. Inspecting my energy. “Is that so?”
I wince as she pulls a lock of my hair from my head.
Nix nods emphatically. “I saw her command an entire battalion of angry dolphins. They bowed to her, were loyal to her. Not the prince. It was…peculiar.”
The dorsal fin hidden in my hand beats as if it has a pulse. I clench my fist around it in an attempt to conceal it, a move that is not lost on the false queen.
“And what is this?”
She pries my hand open. And when she sees the fin upon my palm, her face drains of color.
“But that is impossible,” she sputters. “That fin is part of the treasure trove. But the chest has been locked up in my palace for centuries. It refused to open for me…”
She shakes her head again and again, an attempt to knock the notions out of her mind and onto the floor of the ocean.
“You.” She points at me. “You were the one to sound the stolen conch of Amphitrite, the missing item from my treasure trove. Not the crown prince of Atlantia. But you are a mere mortal. That should not have been possible.”
She taps her talons on her chin, lost in thought.
“Unless, of course, you were able to access the rest of the trove, including the Trident of the Gods. That would have given you command of the oceans. The ability to, say, detonate my soldiers with a mere thought.”
Ryke lets out a muffled cry.
He is inching toward me.
And in his unblinking eyes, I see true fear.
“How can a human command the treasure trove when it will not bow to me?” she asks her siblings. “Merriah, your kind has not even entered our waters for millennia. How have you gained such strength? The power you call upon belongs to an immortal. Not just siren or mer. But that of a god.”
She hums under her breath, a seductive siren song.
Then her fangs drag over her lower lip before her mouth falls open.
I know the moment she stumbles upon the truth.
Her voice cuts like a blade. “Of course. A descendant of Amphitrite.”
For the first time since arriving in the cavern, the false queen of Talassa looks truly shocked. “I should have seen it before,” she murmurs. “You were foretold.”
Ryke pulls himself an inch closer, using only his elbows and the tip of his tail.
“Amphitrite’s heir, the loch of the prince of Atlantia.” Talassa laughs in disbelief. “The Fates have quite a sense of humor. Of course, this makes you an invaluable weapon in the war to come.”
I imagine what it would mean to be a tool in the arsenal of the sirens.
A weapon to be wielded by the false queen in battle.
My stomach churns.
“Let her go, Talassa,” Ryke growls, nearly below us now.
