Chapter Twenty-Five

Larimar!

The storm is coming.

I must see the storm.

I must see the sky.

Larimar!the voice says again, more urgently, laced with annoyance—a voice that makes my skin crawl.

I stare up at the surface, caught halfway between it and the Syren yelling at me from the fathoms below.

But I must see the sky.

I pump my tail to swim up, but claws reach out and hook into my fins, one of them tearing right through the delicate tissue. I growl and spin around to face my attacker.

Ullan leers up at me, holding my tail so I can't swim away, his mouth stretching into a macabre grin of jagged edges.

The hate I have for this Syren is palpable, and there's no doubt he feels the same way. He's the reason why I have so many scars among my fins and tail. He's what makes me regret joining the kingdom of Zellebos all those years ago.

Not that I purposely sought them out. After what happened with Priest, after I turned back into a Syren, I swam for my life. Even deep below the surface, I could see his giant, leathery form overhead, no doubt searching for me. I had to disappear so he could never find me.

Yet, part of me wanted him to. I wanted to know what he would have truly done with me. He transformed into the monster he always feared, but was that monster trying to kill me in the church? Or was it just trying to possess me in the only demented way it knew how?

In some ways, I think maybe I could have tempered the beast. I knew something about appealing to the monster inside. After all, I am one too.

But self-preservation is a powerful thing.

So, I swam. I swam through the depths of the dark seas, heading out into the open ocean. I was lost to myself, lost to the currents. My heart was shattered, and my lover was gone along with my legs, which meant the chances of trying to find Maren again were nonexistent.

I lost everything when that church went up in flames.

I don't know how long I drifted in the southern ocean, bumping listlessly against icebergs, being sized up by packs of leopard seals. I wasn't eating; I couldn't even stomach the taste of raw fish. It was as if being forced back into my Syren body was punishment after being on land.

I was half-dead when the Syrens of Zellebos found me. The queen, Sipha, brought me back to her kingdom, mended the wounds on my tail that still remained even after my legs transformed. She made me eat, even though I didn't want to, and protected me from the harm of the wild sea.

Everything was both fine and awful at first—fine because most of the Syrens of Zellebos tolerated me. They were suspicious of newcomers, and most of them were cold and unfeeling, but Sipha took a liking to me, so I was largely left alone. I had her protection.

It was also awful because I couldn't stop thinking about Priest, couldn't stop remembering the way his hands felt, the way his cock worked inside me, the way he would look at me sometimes like I was a treasure to behold, something more heavenly than anything God promised. When he looked at me, I felt that in my bones, which is why I kept thinking about our last night together, trying to figure out what I did to turn him into such a rabid beast, into something that only wanted death and destruction.

Because it had to have been me. It's something I did that made him flip, though I can't for the life of me figure out what it was that night. He had untied me, took me outside to his cottage. I cried when I felt the cold night and saw the stars. He told me he found God in me. Later, he read a book called Don Quixote aloud until I fell asleep in his chair, curled up by the fire. I was human. I was whole.

He had been my captor in every sense of the word. He held my mind, body, and soul, but my heart was last to surrender.

He brought me to his bed, bound my hands in his rosary, and told me he wasn't sure how he lived so long without knowing me.

I looked into his eyes and saw something that wasn't there before.

I didn't want to think too much of it.

I was too afraid.

But what I thought I saw that night was my own feelings reflected back to me. I thought I saw his heart, open for once and completely mine.

And then I fell asleep in his arms, wrapped up in his strength and warmth, comforted by his steady breath and slow heartbeat, almost like a lullaby.

When I woke, he was gone.

I found him in the church.

And I immediately knew this was the end for us.

Our love lines had become hopelessly tangled, and his claws ripped them apart.

Larimar, Ullan sneers, what do you think you're doing?

He jerks me downward, and I cry out. I always try to give him nothing, since my reaction is what he wants. This Syren lives to torture me, and I've been fair game ever since Sipha died and the kingdom fractured.

Always going for the surface, he says, hands digging into my shoulders as he holds me in place. It's like you're trying to escape what you are. You think the world up there is any better?

I want to tell him I've been there, that I know it is.

Better the devil you know—isn't that the saying the humans use?

And I did know Priest. At least, I thought I did.

There's a storm, I say to Ullan, trying to keep my voice blank.

And that's interesting to you? Come on. Stay with the group. We're going for the shallows.

He lets go of me and swims off toward the shallower water near the banks of the island. I glance up at the surface. Though it's daytime, there is barely any light that filters down, all of it swept up in the big swells. The storms have always attracted me. I want to breach the surface and take in the wild and unforgiving sky that stretches above. It mirrors the stormy depths of the ocean in some ways, made more alluring by the fact that it's forever out of reach.

I follow Ullan to the shallows. I know if I don't, he'll physically make me, and I don't feel like having a fight at the moment. I never win.

Ullan took over as leader of the colony when Sipha died. She had been captured by a passing ship—at least, that's what Ullan said. He was supposedly with her when it happened. I always thought he killed her, one way or another. Perhaps he took out her heart, or perhaps there really was a ship hunting Syrens, and he enabled her to get caught. He always wanted her out of the way, as well as so many of her followers, and he swiftly stepped into the role. He has no royal Syren blood, just the ability to use violence in every situation until he managed to appoint himself King.

Either way, I obviously don't trust him or those who carry out his orders, but some days, I know better than to push my luck. Other days, though, I push it anyway, just to feel something, just so I'm not forever swimming in the darkness, numb to the world. Those days, I want a fight. I almost like it when he maims me. It nearly reminds me of Priest, though it's not the same. There is no obsession or devotion in Ullan's eyes when he makes me bleed—there is only hatred.

Sometimes, I feel so blank and empty that pain is better than nothing at all.

I keep swimming toward the island. The shallows consist of dark rock with the occasional strand of sand that stands out like a bright patch against the void. Sometimes, we forage here for crab; other times, we brave the leopard seals and sea lions to try and capture some of the penguins on their daily feeding trips. If the other predators outnumber us, we usually move on. Depending on the time of year, the ice build-up can extend into the depths, though, at the moment, the ice is mainly contained to a flow on the other side of the island, giant chunks of it breaking off into the ocean, the water turning milky as the fresh water mixes with it.

But as the shallows come into view, I notice only a few Syrens, their bodies silhouettes against the bright blue strands of sand. None of them seem to be Ullan.

I swim toward them, and everything seems normal—there are two females and a male, all of them overturning rocks, looking for crab. My heart flutters in my veins, my gills feeling sticky. I'm anxious for reasons I can't figure out, possibly because every time I approach a group, I worry I'll be further ostracized. Once upon a time, I never took it personally when I was rejected by others—I was completely focused on finding Maren—but ever since Priest, I feel like every part of me has been worn thin.

As I get closer to the Syrens, though, I recognize them as being three of Sipha's closest confidants: Esmerelda, Vialana, and Meriw. They've always been kind to me, at least more so than the rest.

And yet, my anxiety hasn't retreated. I still feel as if there's something wrong, something I'm not seeing.

Larimar, Meriw greets me, his voice more curt than normal. We've been waiting for you.

I look at him in surprise. Waiting for me?

Yes, Esmerelda says, her tail twitching as she breaks apart a shell. Ullan said you wanted us to meet you here to forage for urchins.

I whip my head around, on high alert as I look for Ullan. He's still nowhere in sight. No one else in the colony is here either; it's just us four.

Sipha's greatest supporters.

It's a trap! I call out.

What do you mean?Vialana asks, sounding panicked but not panicked enough. A trap set by who?

Ullan, Meriw says. Then, his eyes widen as he looks over my shoulder. Ship! Ship! Retreat!

I turn to see a large vessel heading toward us, similar to the one that snatched up Asherah. With the narrow curve of the bay, we will have to swim under it to escape; otherwise, we'll beach ourselves.

There's a chance, of course, that the ship isn't here for us. Perhaps it's heading toward the shallows because it's about to drop anchor, the bay protection during the storm.

But I'm not about to find out.

I swim fast along the bottom, heading toward the deep so I can pass underneath the ship undetected, when suddenly, Vialana screams.

I stop to see her tangled in a net while Meriw and Esmerelda swim away.

I can't just leave her there.

She's trying to rip the net with her claws, but to no avail. The net must be made of some kind of metal.

Larimar, she cries out frantically. I can't get out.

I reach her, my claws coming out, and I do my best to free her from the net, trying to saw through.

Go, she says. Save yourself.

Hold on, I tell her, trying to get her to focus on me. I'm going to get one of the clams. Their shells can cut through anything we can't.

But the moment I turn from her to dive downward, the water starts to become sliced into many squares.

It's a net rushing toward me, as if it had already been there.

A trap that had been set.

I yelp, and before I can swim out of the way, the net rushes up around me until I'm caught the same as Vialana.

And then, the net is hauled to the surface with me inside.