Page 92 of Cruel Tides

I often wondered if our mother had possessed a similar gift. It would explain her rise to queendom, considering the family she had come from and its poor standing in our kingdom. And while I’d never picked up anything other than love for my father in her mind, I’d always found it odd that she hadn’t feared his gift.

Everyone feared it.

But if our mother could cloak her mind, she would have no need for fear, would she? If that were the case, I assumed Javalynn was aware of it. Either way, I would never know the truth. My sister regularly taunted me to explore her mind for the answers I sought. But I’d allowed her misleading thoughts to manipulate me for too long to fall for it again.

From inside her office, her voice was sharp and direct. “Come in.”

Pushing through the gilded door, I found my queen sitting at her marble desk, papers scattered and her pen hovering over them. While her collection of paintings and the ancient books lining her bookshelves were impressive, it was the giant circular sand feature hanging high on the wall behind her chair that commanded the most attention.

Above Javalynn’s crowned head, a slow trickle of gray and white grains fell, creating ever-changing patterns of dunes. With each second that passed, the sand swirled, building higher. At times, when she commanded me to do something unthinkable, it felt like I was drowning in that sand.

“My queen,” I said, my voice rough as I bowed to her. Upon lifting my head, my eyes settled past her. Better that than looking directly at her.

Despite the intricate silver circlet woven into her black hair, Queen Javalynn still resembled the sister of my memories. My Lynn, who would seek me out to talk and laugh back when no one else in my kingdom dared to speak in my presence.

But Lynn hadn’t cared about my father’s “stupid law,” as she’d called it. The law he’d set in place to force me to hone my skill. No one could speak to the crown prince. Not even my mother. So, I’d done what I had to do—pry into the minds around me so that I might learn my lessons and be brought my meals.

Until my father’s death, he was the only one in our kingdom permitted to converse with me outside of a mental link. And that was only because it disgusted him to think of me probing his mind as he did with mine.

But Lynn had never cared about the law.

Once, I’d thought I’d known everything about her. She’d helped me learn to speak using my real voice—not the one I was forced to project into the minds of those around me. But that Lynn had never been real.

And now, as an adult, it was painfully clear that I’d never known her at all.

All of her laughter, her worrying, her love for me. Like everything else in our kingdom, it was all an illusion.

“You’ve kept me waiting, Barren.” My queen spoke in our native tongue. She slid a group of papers over to clear a space on her desk. Her grand chair didn’t make a single sound as she sat back in it.

“Well, go on,” she commanded with a roll of her wrist. “Speak.”

There was something dark and tense about her posture. An impatience she would never let anyone in the kingdom who mattered see.

To her, I did not matter.

I cleared my throat, yet it still felt as parched as the dunes forming on the wall before me. “I have the mermaid.”

“And?” Despite me following her exact command, her tone lacked any hint of appreciation. “Where is she?”

For once, I let my eyes drop to hers. Although my queen didn’t flinch, her long nails curled over her desk.

“First, tell me what you plan to do with her,” I said, deliberately withholding the answer she sought.

This time, she flinched. She punctuated her syllables with a lip-curling hiss. “And when have I ever shared my plans with you?” Even if she had, I knew better than to believe her. Dark maroon eyes—our mother’s eyes—glared up at me. “Have you forgotten which of us is in charge?”

I took a step forward and observed her chair rolling back, moved by instinct.

I hadn’t forgotten who was in charge, but at this moment, I found that I didn’t care.

“Let it be known,” I said, my voice carrying through the room with an authority I had no right to. For once, it didn’t matter that she was the one I was sworn to obey. “I will not let any harm come to the mermaid.”

My sister’s eyebrows lifted in a perfect depiction of surprise. Not once had I ever challenged her, even when my title and future had been stripped away from me.

Composing herself, she inclined forward, setting her elbows upon her desk. “Tell me, Barren. Do you know how Father came to be fused with his trident?”

I stood like a statue. This was a diversion—neither of us could have known, for it had happened before either of us had been born. The kingdom had only become aware when the trident vanished, and their king had gained the ability to manipulate dreams and create illusions.

“Mother turned his own weapon on him.” With a cruel glint in her eye, she curled her fingers into a tight fist that she slashed through the air. “Stabbed him right through his heart.”

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