Page 65 of Female Fantasy
Fighting breaks out in earnest then. The sirens’ stolen magic clashes with the mer’s natural strength and finely honed skill. Battle cries ring through the air, each more high-pitched and beautiful than the last. The sound sends my body into a state of stasis. Blood begins to spill, clouding the water so that I can barely see.
I blink several times, trying to find Ryke in the fog of the fight.
If I can get to him, I can help him.
I have been training for this.
All I need to do is—
A male picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. “You are coming with me,” Dylan says.
I bang on his back with my fists but fail to break free of his clutches.
“You need to find somewhere to hide until the sirens retreat.”
“Ryke wants me to fight,” I wail. “He has been readying me for war. The prince has given me a choice, and I choose to fight to free Atlantia.”
“Are you mad?” he asks as he swims. “Do you not understand what you are? This room is teeming with sirens looking for a magical pick-me-up. If one of them realizes that you are human, your neck will be between their teeth so fast you will beg for a quick death. And if Talassa somehow discovers that the blood of Amphitrite pumps through your veins, she will destroy us. Not just you, but the whole resistance.”
He dumps my body in a dark room. “Stay here.”
“I can do more than stand idly by while people die,” I protest.
“Fine. Then life will be your gift. I will be back for you once the battle is won.”
Dylan turns to leave, locking the door behind him.
Tears immediately fill my eyes. All the air in my bubble seems to evaporate, and I feel like I can’t draw in enough. My head spins as the space begins to shrink. Memories of my husband locking me in our house, refusing to let me leave, weaken my resolve like the blood of the dead mer.
I try my best to steady my breath, but it is all too much. Pictures of Ryke drained of life fill my mind. His dark lashes closed, that golden sunlight drained from his face. That strong obsidian tail limp in the sand. Wetness pricks my vision, rendering me blind.
And in the darkness, I feel it once more.
The pull.
The quiet request urging me forward. Singing to me.
Tugging me up off the floor and into the darkness.
I gasp at the realization.
Could Dylan have inadvertently led me to the treasure trove?
I follow the invisible string like a sailor’s rope, and it guides me toward a heavy metal object in the shadows. My fingers skate over its ridges, discovering ancient lettering, the hard edges of gemstones.
A chest.
My eyes begin to adjust to the dark. There is a latch in the center, an elaborate cipher that I do not have the time or the language to open. My shoulders droop in disappointment. I attempt to lift the chest, but it is so heavy that even my newly muscled forearms quake with the effort. I am forced to put it down.
But then the tether between us begins to vibrate.
My entire body shakes, every organ so taut, I feel as if I am about to snap.
Take me,it seems to say.I am yours.
“Mine,” I say out loud.
The latch snaps open.
