Biting her lip, she flushed. “I think what happened yesterday gave me a nightmare. That’s all.”
“A nightmare where—”
“I’d rather not elaborate.” She looked down, feeling slightly empty when he stepped back and his palms left her waist.
“As you wish, wai lily.” His outstretched hand entered her vision. “Back into the labyrinth with us then?”
Weak little Asaria, falling in love.
She swallowed, hesitating with her hand above his. But it wasn’t weak to fall in love. Especially in her situation. If she did fall, she would have to face so many new things, likely responsibility above and beyond running a business. Nothing would be the same. And even if he never intentionally hurt her, he had already done so once. There could still be fights, pain, compromise.
Nothing about it would be easy. Everything about it would require strength.
Asaria clasped his fingers, breathing when her stomach flipped with a mix of fear and excitement. Everything about it would be like riding a wave. A rush. One she couldn’t wait to experience.
24
Fallen
The fourth day, everything changed. Nearing the end of the caverns, and growing used to the return of casual conversations and lingering glances, Asaria stopped, horror-stricken, when a grain of sand trickled through the glass to settle at the bottom.
Yuval looked down right when another began to fall, then a third.
“Wyre’s gaining ground,” he said, jaw tight.
“We only have three days left.” Asaria watched another grain tumble. “We’re so close.”
Determination hardened Yuval’s expression. “Yes, we are. It’s not much yet, and the tides turned once already.” He clasped her hand and squeezed before releasing it and continuing forward again.
She kept at his side, snagging a moondrop as they went. Of all the foods they’d come across, the tube-like fruits had to be her favorite, but maybe she was stress-eating. When the sand had reversed, she’d been allowed a reprieve from her guilt, but now it was coming back to haunt her.
“What’s wrong?” Yuval asked, his gaze remaining forward as he swam beside her.
“What do you mean? The sand—”
He spared her a glance and half a smile. “We’ve spent over a month together non-stop. I know that your eyes look green in dim light, that you sometimes can’t control a laugh even when you’re sad, and that your fins curl when you’re embarrassed. I think I know when something more is bothering you.”
Shocked, she glanced at her tail, and sure enough, her fins had curled.
“It’s not a trait I’ve seen in mermaids before,” he continued, his tame smile growing amused. “Perhaps it’s nostalgic of your toes.”
She was thankful his teasing never felt insulting. Even if it embarrassed her and made her dumb tail curl.
“So . . . what’s wrong?” he pressed.
Light streamed into the cave through the narrow exit, cutting through the foliage glow, and Asaria rolled her lips, squinting when they drifted into brighter water. “It’s all my fault, isn’t it?”
His brows rose. “What?”
“If you hadn’t needed to come with me to break this curse, then you’d be protecting Ocea right now.” She swallowed. “Anything bad that happens in your absence is my fault.”
Every second he didn’t reply opened a hole in her chest, but she forced anxiety and fear down, daring to accept whatever he said. “I suppose.” It still cut. “If you didn’t exist, I never could have made the mistake of forcing things. But if you didn’t exist, I’m certain I would have fallen into villainy myself. With eternity and without hope, it’s only a matter of time before death and pain corrupt someone beyond recognition.”
“But—”
“I don’t mean for this to sound harsh, but do you really believe you’re at fault? Or do you just blame yourself?” He weaved around a coral tree and leaned back against the water to watch her. “You’ve had very little control over the situation. In fact, the pieces you have changed or added have only helped.”
She glanced at the hourglass and the small mound that steadily grew. “You don’t blame me?”
“I blame myself, wai lily. You might be my everything, but you have no part sharing my guilt.” When he held out his hand, she reached for it like his touch would wash all her doubts away. Pulling her against his body, both their bodies floating together as though on air, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “Whatever happens, however things turn out, I’ve come to a conclusion.”
Trying not to focus on his skin brushing hers, she whispered, “What’s that?”
“If I fail, I’ll trust the other guardians to succeed. As long as you’re safe, I’ll treasure the moments we had. Even if this isn’t how we were supposed to meet, and even if I’ve lost you in the final stretch of time, I’ve had the pleasure of knowing you now and waking up with you near me these past weeks, and that’s more than I could have hoped for not so long ago.”
Asaria’s eyes slipped from his gaze, catching on the hourglass. It had paused for now, and she only hoped that meant there was still hope—and time. She trailed her fingers over it, then closed her eyes to dwell on the heat of his embrace. Why had she ever thought to fight this? Of all the things in her life she had no control over, why would she want to rebel against the one that actually made her happy? A person who wanted to make her happy?
“Yuval,” she murmured, resting her head against his chest, “I think I—”
Frigid water broke over them, and his arms tightened. Her eyes snapped open when a crack shredded the quiet. Coral trees crunched beneath the weight of an ice fish.
Yuval released her, propelling her behind him. “Swim,” he said, eyes on the creature’s gnashing teeth. “Swim!”
Gripping her shell, she turned tail and dove through the coral trees, the image of the ice fish burning in her mind. Like the eel and like Yuval in her dream, dark veins cut across the large grey creature, so she knew who had orchestrated the attack. But when could Wyre have taken control of an ice fish? And was he using it to buy himself time?
Heart pounding, she twisted to see how much distance they had put between themselves and the fish. With any luck, the overhang would obstruct the creature enough for them to get away. Only the thickening forest and the distant sounds of battle lay behind her.
Her throat tightened, and anger sparked in her gut. Yuval hadn’t meant they both needed to swim. He’d meant for her to get away. She flicked her tail, starting back toward him, but stopped.
Would she only get in the way?
The darkest parts of her mind confirmed she would. After all, she was an inconvenience, always in the way of the perfect family her parents had planned. Always wrong.
Her hands clenched, and she looked down. Her shell remained clasped, fit against her palm, a reminder of the moments they’d spent fighting off carnivorous plants. They had worked fluidly then, watching one another’s backs, and she hadn’t been in the way. Neither of them could have survived then alone.
And no one had to survive alone.
Eyes narrowing, she gripped her shell and darted back the way she had come. Dark words polluted her mind with every flick of her tail, but she pushed them aside, shoving violently through the chaos of her mind.
She was strong.
A weak body couldn’t surf.
Yuval didn’t need to save her.
They had already practiced saving each other.
Zipping through the trees, she located the ice fish just before it caught Yuval in its maws. She slammed into the side of its head. Her shell skidded against its tough skin, useless, but the force of her attack pushed its aim. Head rattling, she flipped her fins to take her to Yuval’s side.
Already she could pinpoint bruises where he’d taken attacks, but most were superficial, already healing in Ocea’s embrace, so she returned her focus to the enemy at hand.
Yuval grabbed her arm, tugging to place her behind him,
but she didn’t budge. “What are you doing? I told you to get away.”
“I made a choice,” she replied.
The ice fish focused back on both of them, mouth opening. A piercing cry sliced through the water.
Yuval’s hand slipped off her arm. “If either of us get cut, we’ll have to face more of them.”
“There’s some dense forest further along. If we can get to it, we may be able to get away.”
The creature looked between them, then rammed ahead.
Yuval darted left when she took the right, and the fish’s teeth snapped around a tree, uprooting it with a sickening crunch, like a hundred bones breaking all at once. “If I can get under it, I’ll be able to reach its heart and end this,” he called, light building around him.
The fish turned toward him, so she dove over the top, yanking hard on its lure. “I’ll cover you then!”
Glancing toward the creature’s head, Yuval nodded, then vanished beneath it.
The ice fish looped, throwing her off and catching Yuval with its tail. They shot in opposite directions, her back hitting a hard tree that forced her breath from her. The lace of her shirt tore when she pulled away, and an ache spread down her spine; raw throbbing followed.
It took the creature no time to focus on Yuval again, narrowly missing him when it charged.
Panic taking hold, Asaria brandished her shell and dove under the tail-end of the fish. A heartbeat throbbed in her skull, and she pinpointed the location before plunging her shell forward. Force tied around her hand, the water edging the shell like a knife, and it sank deep.
The fish’s cry filled the water when blood poured over her, clouding around her in frozen gushes.
She barely registered when Yuval’s arm yanked her from beneath the crashing carcass and towed her through the trees into the thickening coral, not stopping when shrieks chorused behind them as other ice fish fought over their meat.
When the trees were so dense they could barely be beside one another upright, he slowed and let deep breaths flow out of his heaving chest. His eyes caught hers, and she stared back.
Even as air sawed through her lungs, she couldn’t shake the sensation. “Was that . . . ?”
“I think so.” Yuval’s eyes dropped to her hand, his fingers grazing her shell. “There’s definitely a residue.”
Her grin unfurled, eyes brightening with a craze she couldn’t hide. “I have magic?”
Chuckling, he locked eyes with her. “You’ve already used it before, in the cavern with the plants.”
“What? I thought that was just my manipulating what was in the necklace.”
He shrugged.
“Why didn’t you tell me!” Her mind raced to keep up, and she pressed her shell against her chest as though it could calm her stampeding heartbeat. “Does everyone here? And why didn’t you tell me!”
“Only some are blessed with it, and I didn’t think you’d have any while cursed.”
Something about his tone made her brows lower. “While cursed?” A brush of cold water passed, and a shiver ran along her skin. Neither had to push the other to continue moving. She bit her lip to hold her smile down. “Yuval, was I born with magic?”
“Not quite, but potential can be awakened here.” Glancing away, he cleared his throat. “As my chosen, in theory, you would eventually accept Beyond as your home and eat something here—humans call it fairy food. Doing so, while fully human and not cursed, would cause you to change into something of magic.”
“And as something of magic, and your chosen, it’s likely I would be able to harness it like you?” The idea thrilled her, and she exhaled. Waving her free hand in the water, she felt it morph, if slightly, to her will.
“Exactly.” His eyes glimmered, but his smile soon melted away. “You are all right, aren’t you? You hit that tree pretty hard.”
“I’m fine.” Dropping her hand, she grinned at him. “But you’re one to talk with the way you greeted the ground.”
His lips quirked. “It was a casual moment. Don’t get jealous.”
“I’ll try not to.” Laughing and averting her gaze, she remembered the moments before the attack, what she almost said.
Yuval’s voice darkened when he spoke again. “It seems we have less time than we thought.”
Asaria looked up, eyes settling on his chest. A substantial pile rested in the bottom of the hourglass, and fear clenched her lungs in an icy grip. Any time of gentle peace had fallen with the sand. And the ice fish.
And her heart.
25
Endings
The round, tall, and shell-decorated homes streamed into view the morning of their third day in Mori. Asaria clasped her shell against her chest and bit her lip. Three-fourths of the sand had long since fallen in the hourglass, so only a quiet intensity settled between her and Yuval when they floated at the edge of the forest.
“I never thought I’d miss something I barely saw,” she began, “but I’m glad to be back.”
Yuval’s gaze shifted to her, his head unmoving. Pain flickered over his expression, and he dropped his folded arms. “Well . . .” Turning, he took her free hand in his and brought it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles then pressed his cheek against them as he closed his eyes. “It’s been a pleasure, wai lily.”
Her brows lowered. “What? Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?”
Dropping her hand, he ignored her and turned to the place where she’d originally entered Ocea. He sank his fingers through the coral trees, drawing back the water and plants like a curtain. Only the single floating light brightened the dark ocean beyond. “Swim straight until you reach the shore, then make a wish on your necklace for your legs.” Realization flickered through his eyes, and he dropped the curtain. “One moment. I almost forgot. You might need pants . . . Not particularly clear on how this curse and clothing works.”
Cheeks flaring, she caught his arm before he could pluck strips of seaweed from a tree and magic them into shorts. “Yuval, I’m not done here.”
His eyes widened, falling to her hand at his arm.
She pulled away. “I’m helping you with Wyre.”
“No. You aren’t.”
His casual tone hit a nerve, so she folded her arms and frowned. “I am. You’ve proven yourself to me, so I’m not going to let anything happen to you because of that stupid hourglass.”
“And I’m not going to let anything happen to you, period.” His stern gaze remained on hers, unwavering, but she held it.
“I’ve been practicing my magic.” Would she ever get used to saying my magic? “I could help.”
“You’ve been playing with water, Asaria. This is different than the plants or the ice fish. This is a spawn from the darkness, something intelligent that you have little to no knowledge about. You’ve already seen what he’s capable of from miles away. I believe in your abilities, but taking on something currently so out of reach would only be dangerous.”
“But—”
“Look!” He threw his arm out, motioning to the homes. “Please.” His voice softened as his fist closed. “There’s no one here. I don’t know why, and I need to find out, so I don’t have time to discuss this with you.” Sorrow twisted in his eyes. “I know where you are, so when this is over, I’ll come for you, okay?”
If he survived it.
She shook her head. “I can’t just leave you like that. I need to know that you’re okay.”
“So do I.” He stepped toward her, settling a hand at each of her elbows. “Please? Go straight home. Don’t talk to sharks.” The barest hint of a smile tipped his lips, but she couldn’t find it in her to mimic the action.
They didn’t have time for this. But the thought of leaving him, not knowing whether he’d succeed, whether the hourglass she had caused would kill him first, it severed her soul down the middle. Why was it so hard to pull away now of all times?
He ran his fingers through her pink hair, pushing it from her tan cheeks and letting it float.
“Go now, please.”
Flicking her tail, she inched up so she was level with his eyes. She had never been bold. She had never been much of anything, but with him she found new pieces of herself locked away that she could let free. Curling her arms around his neck and cupping her shell with both hands, she whispered, “Don’t tell me what to do.” Then she pressed her lips to his, a single—real—farewell kiss. He had already proven he believed in her, so she would believe in him and trust he knew best to save his people.
Even if her anxiety wouldn’t quiet till she knew all was well again.
He caved, his hands pressing flat against her back and pulling her close as he yielded to the gentle movements of her lips. She had to believe it wouldn’t be their last kiss. She had to believe this was the beginning of something incredible. She had to believe everything would be as right as it felt in that moment.
Forcing herself back, she traced a thumb against his cheek and opened her mouth to say goodbye. But she didn’t get the chance.
She choked. Water swarmed in her throat and lungs, burning and gagging her. Reaching up, she clasped her free hand against her neck, pain blossoming throughout her body. Her fingers locked around her shell while fear locked around her chest.
“Wai lily?” Panic filled his voice, and he held her up when she began to sink. His eyes searched her body, but the world blurred.
Tingles coursed through her fins, then the single fluid motions of her tail split. Yuval dragged her against him, kicking off the ground just before her vision spotted black. When the world faded around her, she could still feel Yuval’s hands pulling her onto dry land. Water rushed from her gaping lips like he was pulling out an eel, and she coughed when the first tastes of clear, fresh air entered her.
Rolling to her knees, she coughed until the burning lessened and her vision gradually cleared. Yuval’s hand on her back was the first thing her mind gathered. The second: she was kneeling. She had knees.
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