Page 58 of Female Fantasy
I nod fervently, then shut my eyes, prepared to commit her prophecy to memory.
“Three men emerge from a shallow pool of damnation.One is made of tree sap and ink. The second, hallucinations and the fog of the mystic. And the third, flesh, fire, and the truth of the histories. When the squatting bird chants twice, go forth to the fallacies of your heart. Do not use your mind or your eyes to guide you. Follow the moonlight of your heart. Beware the goat dressed as a lamb. Only then will you defeat the fool and the red-painted maiden, and land in the arms of the steady tide. For what you seek, you hold in the marrow of your shrouded words.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
But when I open my eyes, the mystic is already gone.
The night of the ball, Mira dresses me in a skintight, serpentine skirt that resembles the tail of a fish. Made of brightly pigmented rainbow scales in the colors of royalty, it swishes around my ankles as I walk. Upon my bosom, I wear a similarly shaded brassiere made of thick mud pearl. It fits my curves like a corset, emphasizing the tops of my breasts and the flat of my abdomen, now toned with muscle. My thick brown hair has been braided down my back with combs of coral, and sea glass jewelry hangs from my neck and ears. Mira insisted on rubbing some kind of serum into my skin so that every time I catch the moonlight, my entire body shimmers.
For the first time in my life, I feel remarkable.
Until, that is, Ryke knocks on the door to my room.
He swims in front of me, his onyx tail strong and thick, swishing behind him. He is wearing a matching long-sleevedshirt that looks like a second skin, the material coarse, like embossed leather. It highlights every finely honed inch of him, from his pectoral muscles to the V shape of his torso, which forces my eyes to trail down his chest. His dark hair has been combed back with a material that looks slimy as squid ink, and his face is hidden behind a gold mask. A disguise, but not one capable of hiding those beautiful golden eyes, sweet as honey and bright as the sun.
When he sees me, those eyes immediately darken.
“You look…” His voice trails off.
I cannot help but blush. “As do you, my prince.”
He offers me his arm, and I accept, careful not to burst my air bubble. But my core strength has vastly improved in the last few weeks. I am now able to control the direction in which I swim without popping the force field around me that allows me to breathe.
Ryke watches me closely. “I am impressed,” he says.
Color creeps up my neck.
“Wait until you see me dance,” I say. “I have been practicing.”
I watch the muscles of his throat work as he swallows.
“I look forward to it.”
As we swim toward the palace, Ryke and I review our plan. We are to enter together, two foreign travelers visiting Atlantia from a faraway sea. To avoid suspicion, we are to do our best to speak to no one. I am to resist the urge to acknowledge Dylan, Guinn, Mira, and Kai. They are known former associates of Ryke’s who had to publicly denouncethe royal family in order to survive. Communicating with them out in the open could put everyone at risk. We will do a round of the ballroom and dance once, after which I will create a diversion while Ryke sneaks into the throne room and steals the treasure trove. He doubts that the mer have moved the priceless artifacts from where they were laid to rest by Ryke’s family, under lock and key.
Lucky for us, Ryke still has a copy of said key.
“Are you nervous?” he whispers.
His breath tickles the back of my neck and makes me shiver.
“Not at all,” I lie.
Ryke chuckles darkly. “You lie so sweetly, little minnow.”
The sand castle is so grand, it resembles a tiny town more than a home. Looking down at it from above, I count six towers, three of which are connected by arched bridges carved with ancient symbols I do not recognize and illustrations of mer using pronged instruments to maim sea beasts with eight tentacles and big teeth. There are spiral staircases leading between the entryways, a moat with a beautiful fountain shaped like a dolphin, and stained-glass windows made of sea glass similar to what I wear around my neck. Flags flutter above each spire, each featuring a mer with blood running from their fanged teeth.
The symbol of the siren.
“Okay, now I am nervous,” I whisper to Ryke.
“Just squeeze my hand,” he says. “I will not let anything happen to you.”
The doors to the ballroom fly open, and we are immediatelygreeted by the sound of glorious music, a band of merry mer playing an upbeat melody I have never heard before on instruments I have seen only in my dreams. On the floor, pairs of mer clad in finery and riches move to the rhythm, their tails hovering above the sand-paved floors. They dance mainly with their abdomens and hips, a sensual mating ritual of sorts. Couples maintain eye contact, practically gyrating against each other, seducing one another with their movements. The sight sets off a tingling between my legs that I am not meant to have.
I press my thighs together to contain the sensation.
In the corners, mer are gathered, laughing loudly and drinking ale. I spot Dylan, Guinn, and Kai doing just that, the latter’s gaze glued to the dance floor, where Mira moves in time with a mer with long auburn hair. When she throws her head back and shimmies, Kai clenches his teeth and downs his entire glass.
