Page 179 of Cruel Tides

“Wait, what?” I stammered, taking another glance at the complicated glyphs. “I had three mermen try to teach me how to swim. No luck there. I think I’ll pass.”

“There was a good reason for that,” he muttered, and I wasn’t ready for his hand to brush over the scales on my tail. “Use that excuse if you wish, but your brain hasn’t been defiled by a botched-up spell. You can learn if you want to.”

I scanned over the books, weighing his offer. “If I did learn, can any of these books teach me how to use magic?”

With the way his expression opened, he hadn’t expected that. “You want to learn magic?”

Of course, I did. I’d always wanted to use magic. To be stronger and more powerful than I was. Or at the very least, not useless. And if there was even a sliver of a chance that I could stumble upon information or a magical solution among these tomes that could help Leander or the merfolk, I couldn’t pass it up. Maybe then my time stuck down here wouldn’t be a complete waste. “What’s the point of being a sea witch if I can’t use magic?”

“None of these books will teach you magic,” he said, and there it was—disappointment swiftly raining down upon me. Dammit.

“But knowing the glyphs will help. Some of the most potent spells can only be sealed in the form of a written contract.”

“A contract?” I echoed. For a mysterious sea wizard, he sure had a way of making magic sound boring. “What about that smoke thing that you do? Or when youpoofus somewhere? Could I learn that type of magic?”

“Ah, you wish to learn how topoof. Why am I not surprised?” he said, a sigh escaping him. “You could learn those things, yes. But not from a book.”

My eyes widened. “Then how?”

“Perhaps I’ll teach you that as well. But first…” To my surprise, he came closer, his fingers grazing my tail with the lightest of touches. Before I could question him, he returned to his desk, jotting down something that left me all too curious.

“I think I’ve worked through why your presence affects the merfolk’s curse.”

My heart hammered, my hand sweeping over the parts of my tail he’d just touched. “Oh?”

Maybe I’d learn how to help the merfolk sooner rather than later.

“Thiscurselaid over your tentacles,” he began, his quill scratching away, “it’s terribly done. You seem to feel sensations in their replacement, yet you’re unable to make use of it.”

Yes, I was well aware.

He stretched out his hand before continuing. “You see, spells are like the threads of a fisherman’s net, and this one happens to be tangled upon itself, strong yet ineffective. There’s a disconnect between your tail and your natural state, and I suspect that it’s causing interference with the merfolk’s curse each time you come into contact with them.”

“Wait, wait,” I stammered, my voice quivering with a mix of disbelief and frustration. “So, you’re telling me that my curse is so messed up that it’s actually messing up their curse too?”

It was almost too much to wrap my head around. If that were the case…

The sea wizard set his quill aside and offered a solemn nod. “In theory, yes.”

So, all this time, my curse-breaking abilities had nothing to do with me being special or some key to helping the merfolk? I was just… messed up? That was the only reason?

“I’ve gathered everything I need from you for now,” he said, casually rolling up the scroll he’d been working on as if he hadn’t just turned my entire world upside down. With a flick of his wrist, the scroll disappeared into a cloud of magic and was replaced by a sizable conch shell.

“For you,” he offered, extending it toward me. “A protective spell to ward off unwanted guests from entering your chamber. Place it at the entrance after I return you.”

But I was barely listening.

My newest realization hit over and over, crashing into me like an unrelenting wave. My touch was only significant because of my curse, not because of any inherent qualities that made me unique or valuable.

Finally, my eyes followed up to meet his, and it was then that I remembered the conch in his grip. “You’re giving me this?” I asked, but wait… “At what cost?”

“You know me so well,” he muttered, a sly smirk playing over his lips. “I already have what I need, so consider us even.”

Well, that sure was ominous, but I accepted the shell, regardless. “You’re sure it will keep the pawns out?” I asked, just to be sure.

His smirk broadened, as if he were remembering what he’d done to the pawn from earlier. “Absolutely certain.”

I gazed down at the shell, sliding my fingers into its spiral. It felt surprisingly sturdy. Reliable. “And what about you?” I whispered. “Will it keep you out?”

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