48. Zendaya

Chapter 48

Zendaya

" H ello again, Zendaya of Shabbe. "

I stand on a surface that is as hard as glass and as black as Crow feathers. "Mahananda?"

" Yes, daughter of Meriam and of the ocean. " My skin tingles from the velvet resonance of the voice. " Tell me what you seek. "

I look around me but there's only darkness. "You. Your counsel."

" My counsel or my consent? "

"Both."

A slow hum vibrates the void…vibrates my chest. " Go on. "

"I think I'd like?—"

" Neither Shabbe nor I can belong to someone who is unsure of their heart. "

Cowed, I press my lips together.

" Do you desire your foremothers' onus, or did you enter my realm to ensure I did not bequeath the responsibility to another? "

Goosebumps sweep over my bare arms and rain down my spine and chest.

" What lies inside your heart, Zendaya? "

Fear , I think.

" What else? "

It can hear me?

Of course it can hear me…

" What else lies inside your heart? " It growls. " Malice or integrity? "

I gasp. "Not malice." I part my lips to draw breath, but…the air…it's hot and oppressive and?—

" I'm listening, Zendaya. "

I feel like I'm wading in the toxic Isolacuorin canal that gummed my gills and shrank my lungs. I want to swim back up, but I'm surrounded by nothing. I crane my neck and find five faces peering down at me. Can they see me?

" Speak! " the Mahananda bellows.

I clutch my throat because I cannot. I can barely wheeze. Can barely string thoughts together.

" Do you wish to fall or to rise? "

I sweep my gaze over Lorcan and Fallon, Enzo and Agrippina, Cathal.

" I will ask one last time? Do you wish to ? — "

" Rise! Live! " Oxygen rushes through my parted lips and down my throat. " And rule! " More sweet, delicious air swells my lungs. Keeping my gaze locked on the male with whom I made Fallon, I say, this time out loud, "I wish to carry your voice to the four corners of our realm, Mahananda. To fulfill your wishes and heed your commands."

" Do you swear to never question my decisions? "

I'm about to say yes, but the word that rolls off my tongue is another: "No." I start to seal my lips in case the Mahananda divests me of oxygen once again, but more words press against the seam of my lips. "If you wanted me blind, Mahananda, then why gift me the ability to see? If you wanted me feckless, then why endow me with reason?"

I'm almost surprised when air continues to cycle through my lungs. Not almost. I am surprised. Is the Mahananda delaying my smothering in the hopes of hearing me repent? If that's the case, then it'll be sorely disappointed.

"If ruling means becoming your puppet and pawn, then I do not want the crown." I spin on my heel, grazing the faces of those who shaped me into the woman I've become with my stare. One's missing—my grandmother's. Grief lances behind my breastbone as I picture her, not dimmed by death but vibrant with life, an imperfect woman who tried to love what I'd become. "If ruling means becoming your ally and confidante, then I want nothing more." The darkness eddies around me as though I were rising, but I'm not. I'm idling in the infinite fullness surrounding me. "All I ask is that, if you do not want me, Mahananda, do not keep me."

What feels like two icy fingers glide along my brow and part my hair at the temples before carving through the thick pink mass. When the caress stills and a weight settles on my head, I lift my hand. Though I cannot see my crown, I can feel the miniature ridges of sculpted scales and the sharp points of diamond tusks.

" Your reign begins now, Daughter of the ocean, Daughter of mine. "

As the Mahananda channels my body upward, I scramble to ask, "The Crows' obsidian curse. Can it still be broken?"

" Tomorrow, Zendaya. Tomorrow, I will tell you what can be done. "