by Marie Hall
Time was running out for her.
For two weeks, Stygia had studied that vial, vacillating between a need for vengeance and the overwhelming but painful surety that there was naught she could to change the course of what’d been wrought between her king and his chosen.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she thrust the basket into Cook’s hands. “I had Maiven bake them, as I am a terrible cook. But”—she shrugged—“I did not think I’d be accepted back into the palace just yet.”
Frowning at the basket of cakes, Stygia could see Cook waging an internal battle. All knew that Maiven made the best cakes in all the realm, but Cook was right not to trust Stygia.
“For what it’s worth”—Cook finally looked at her, warm brown eyes full of sympathy—“I think the queen and king would receive you at court again, if you learned to approach them with kindness.”
Clamping down on her tongue, she glanced at the tip of her tail fin. “Nimue would never forgive me. Without that, neither would Sircco.”
If he only knew what she’d done, her king would obliterate her. Stygia trembled, wanting nothing more than to end this conversation and swim away.
“I think you’d be surprised what that tiny legger would do. She is not so bad as you may think her. She might be cursed to bear legs, but she’s the heart of the folk.” Cook dipped her head. “Thank you for the basket, I shall see to it that she receives it promptly.”
Stygia turned, swimming for home. There might not have been much time for her to make things right between her and Sircco, but she had to try. The only way to do that was by going through his legger.
*
A knock sounded at Nimue’s door. Frowning, she flicked at Sircco’s nipple. “Beluga, were you expecting someone?”
The only person who ever knocked at her door was Sircco, and even he’d stopped that as of late. Now he simply tossed her door wide and entered. Good thing he was so adorable.
Stirring beside her, he squinted open an eye. “I am expecting no one. Come back to bed,” he growled, wrapping his arm around her waist and dragging her to his chest.
She giggled, rubbing her toes against his.
Every night still, he turned himself into a human. And though she loved the sex, she was more than ready to experience the fishy kind. Still, she had no idea how to exactly tell him so.
His teeth nipped at her left breast, and she moaned, wrapping a leg around his waist. Then another more powerful rap sounded at her door.
“I hear you in there,” Cook bellowed. “Open up, or I shall knock it down.”
“Bloody hell,” Sircco groaned, burying his face between the pillows of her breasts.
Smothering a laugh, Nimue cried out, “Hold your horses, harridan. Let me get decent.”
“No you don’t,” he said, twisting her around so that he had her plastered onto her side, and immediately wrapped one of his legs around her hip, pinning her fast.
Knocking Sircco’s leg off, she struggled up to a sitting position. “Stop it now, you officious whale, or so help me, you’ll live out your days missing one of your precious jewels.”
He hissed when she clutched him in her palm.
“My, what sharp teeth you have, my barracuda.” His eyes danced.
“Oh, bollocks.” She growled, tugging at the sheets. “Get off.”
She pulled so hard that she exposed him in the process. Growling, he reached for part of the sheet when Cook had obviously had enough of her waiting and shoved the door open.
She took one look at the king and arched a brow, staring not at his penis, as any sane woman might, but at his legs. She huffed then tutted with a curl of her nose.
Nimue choked on her laugh while Sircco glowered at the presumptuous cook.
“Cook,” he warned, “speak of this, and you shall not live to see the next sunrise.”
“I know not of what you speak, my king.” She sniffed. Then, turning toward Nimue, she said, “My lady, I had chance to run into Stygia this morning. She has brought you treats as a peace offering.” She wagged the basket in her hand.
“And you saw fit to interrupt our coital—”
“Sircco!” Nimue clamped a hand over his mouth, blood rising to her cheeks as Cook fought to keep from laughing. “You may place the basket on the vanity, Cook. Thank you.”
Sircco nipped at her hand when Cook turned, set the basket down, and promptly left, closing the door behind her.
“You, awful, odious—”
Laughing, Sircco snapped his finger, locking the door, then wrapped his arms tight around her and dragged her back down onto the bed. “Hush your face, hag, and kiss me.”
And she did.
*
Sircco had planned to bring Nimue to the star pool several weeks ago, but he’d become rather obsessed with his legger as of late, and plans had fallen by the wayside.
But not today. Thanks to Cook’s interruption, neither of them had been able to fall back to sleep.
Today was warmer than it’d been in some time, and she’d seemed restless enough that he’d suggested the diversion, to which she’d readily agreed.
Floating gracefully down from Thunder’s back, she smiled as she stared at the entrance of the underwater cave. This part of Seren was imbued with wild magic thanks to the hundreds of glittering folk souls that enriched the sands. He saw the cave as though for the first time as she flitted toward it, a smile lighting her lovely features.
The cave was made of a type of silicate rock that gleamed an almost unnatural shade of white so startling, it appeared bone like. Blue glow illumined the entrance and the outer rim of the carved doorway. It rested upon a colorful array of sea coral that stretched for as far as the eye could see. And down here, in a place untouched by humans, Calypso tended to her own garden. So that it burst with flowers unknown within any other part of Seren.
The garden was a wild amalgam of sea and land and lovelier because of it. Nimue smiled as Jian swam from her hair toward a thick brush of seaweed and began snacking delicately on them.
Moving to the side, Sircco admired her silhouette. The sharp profile of her chin, the pointy, upturned nose, and the mouth that brought him to his knees when she suckled him.
His heart was full. Complete.
In all the years he’d craved Talia, he’d never known this depth of peace. Talia had been like an unremitting itch, painful and unyielding. But Nimue was his calm center. His lady of the lake meant everything to him, and he hoped she truly knew it.
“This place is so beautiful, Sircco.” She clasped her hands to her breast.
“This is nothing. The true beauty is inside. Come.” He held out his hand to her.
Walking toward him, she slipped hers into his, and his heart trembled. Would he ever get enough of her? Was there an end to love? Or was it something endless, without void, that only grew and grew until it consumed its host?
He rather hoped for the later. There could be no better way to die, surely.
The moment they stepped through the arched opening, the phosphorous glow brightened to a near-blinding intensity. Mingled with the utter darkness of the void, it truly looked as though they walked among the stars.
And then the song began.
The mermaid song.
The voices of the dead, who were not truly dead at all, but merely sleeping, singing now of their lives, their loves, who they’d been, and who they’d wanted to be.
When he turned to look at her, she was crying.
“Nimue?” He brushed her cheek.
Looking at him, she gave him a tender smile. “It is so beautiful, Sircco. I feel like I’ve just been given a gift.”
Smiling broadly himself, his chest puffed with pride. “This is a gift, Nim. Here rests the souls of my people. And now, your people.”
Turning into him, she wrapped her arms loosely around his waist, making him feel weak in the tail. How did she do that to him?
“I love you so much, my little pirate.”
She trembled into h
is touch. “I wish I could speak to my parents, Sircco. Let them know that I’m staying. That I’m happy.”
“I have told them, my love. They know, and they are happy for you.”
“I know, but...” She sighed. “It is different. I wish it to come from me. Wish I could just hear my mother tell me she was proud of me, of the decisions I’ve made.”
They’d had this talk before. He knew she understood why they couldn’t reach out to one another. Such a lengthy separation often made loved ones do foolish things, like try to come to the rescue.
“Nimue, it is not so much that you cannot speak to them, only that it makes it harder to stay away. And the terms with the hag means you cannot for any reason go into the above before the six months expire, or she’ll have a rightful claim to you again.”
“I know this, Sircco. Of course, I know this.” She hugged him tighter. “But I’m two weeks away from that time. Could you at least let me have a looking mirror? Just for a moment, so that I could speak to them. I doubt very much they would come to snatch me away now. They know I am well, and I miss them terribly.”
Weakened by her pleas, he sighed. “I can deny you nothing, my barracuda.”
Laughing, she flicked at his nose. “You are a sensible beluga.”
But soon, their laughter turned into something else, something richer and deeper. He leaned in for a kiss.
She stepped back. “If you touch me now, I will have you. And I am not certain that we should do this—”
Grasping her hand, he brought it to his lips. “This is not a graveyard, Nimue. This is life. And there can be no greater gift shared than one of love.”
She melted into him. “Well, since you put it that way.”
Closing his eyes, he made to call his magic, but he stilled when she settled her palm against the curve of his jaw.
“No.”
He frowned at her softly spoken command.
“I do not wish you to change yourself anymore. I have fallen in love with a merman, not a human. Do not be a legger simply because you think it pleases me best.”
Swallowing hard, at a loss for words, Sircco felt nothing but humbled gratitude. “You do not like me with legs?”
“Oh, Sircco.” Her laugh was bell like. “I love you anyway you come, but I wish to know you as you truly are. Would you do that? For me?”
Gritting his teeth, he nodded then watched as she stripped off her skirt and bodice. The water within the pool was warm, but even so, her rosy-tipped nipples pointed tantalizingly in his direction, begging him to touch.
But this moment was not for him.
“Stand still and let me touch you, as I’ve always wanted to.” She glanced at him.
Heart thundering in his chest, he dipped his head once, and the ground trembled the moment her hand caressed the line between flesh and fin.
Closing his eyes, he lost himself to the sensations she tugged out of him. The wonder of her. The terror of feeling so weak in her presence. And yet also the strength he felt because she was his.
Kneeling before him, Nimue ran her hands down his tail. Her fingers massaged then scratched at him, breaking him out in a wash of need the likes of which he’d never known.
And then she found him, the hidden flesh behind the fin. And her kiss was tender and sweet. She did not suckle as she would when he wore legs, but this was not merely tempestuous desire. This was so much more. This was a unification of his soul to hers.
Rubbing her face against the side of his tail, she breathed along his shaft, “You are beautifully made, my king.”
And he lost his strength, crashing down, and dragged her up so as not to crush her in the process.
She sprawled against him, and somehow, her legs were around his tail, her warm inviting center wreaking havoc with his senses.
“I have never seen you shake so, Sircco.” There was awe in her voice.
He’d never wanted to tell her how having legs had muted so much of his sense of touch. The pleasure had been great, but this was almost beyond what he could bear.
It was like being kissed by lightning.
Panting as the waters around them began to churn and the folk song rose to an exultant pitch, he framed her beloved face. Smiling sweetly, she impaled herself, sheathing him completely and making him cry out with wonder as the world began to fade to black.
The golden wash of magic he always kept a tight leash on, the one that could kill or bestow grace, suddenly exploded out of him. Filling every crevice, every inch of the space, it was too much to be contained within the star pool alone. And so it spread outward, casting an eternal net throughout the breadth of Seren.
The waters rolled; the lands shook.
Her eyes sparkled as she rode him, unafraid of his elemental nature. She was not afraid as his nails tipped into claws. His features shifted just slightly, turning him from merely a merman into a demi-god, who, in a rage, could slaughter hundreds of thousands of leggers with one strike of his trident.
His Nimue did not fear him. His Nimue adored him and cherished every part of who he was. He was a man. He was a god. And he was all hers.
Howling, she tipped her neck back, clutching onto him for dear life as her orgasm spilled from her into him.
And when he roared his own release, Calypso smiled.
*
They returned to the palace later in the evening, famished.
Nimue had made love to her merman, and by the Gods, had it been amazing. Stumbling into her room, she kicked off her boots and sighed dreamily. He’d left her only long enough to procure them some food and a looking glass. But her stomach was grumbling, and spying the basket of cake, she tore off a corner section and crammed it into her mouth. Her great-mother’s cake was as delicious, as always.
She loved him. Well, of course she’d known she loved him. But this went so far deeper than what she’d thought love could be.
Sircco had been breathtaking in his elemental form—wild and savage—and her heart melted, thinking of the pleasure he’d brought her.
“No more legs. Definitely not.” She smirked then picked up her dagger. She twirled it about, spinning the tip of the blade on her finger as father had once taught her to do, so happy, she began to dance.
Swaying about the room and looking utterly ridiculous and not giving one fig. She was in love, and nothing else matter— Frowning, she pulled up short, all of sudden catching the glint of a familiar-looking object resting on the center of her bed.
“What is this?” Rushing forward, she reached for the looking glass—Ariana’s looking glass.
The mirror inside wavered. Had her friend been by? Was this a peace offering? But immediately, those questions were shoved aside as the ability to speak with her mother suddenly impressed itself upon her.
Delighted, she tapped her finger to it, smiling as the colors within coalesced. One only needed to think of whom they wished to speak with, and it would be done.
“Mother!” she squealed, before the image even had a moment to settle itself. However, when it did, it wasn’t her mother’s face she saw, but Peter Pan’s—and he was leering.
“It’s about bloody damn time, fish lover!” he snapped.
And then she screamed as an invisible hand tugged her through the mirror in a dizzying rush. The next thing she knew, she was back in the above, surrounded by a swarm of devils dressed in green.
Chapter 17
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Ariana sat at Maiven’s table, drawing with desperate fingers. Her friends were bad people—bad leggers. She did not know their names. But she knew their faces. They’d told her to do a bad thing. And she’d said, “No. No. No!”
But they’d done something to the mirror. She’d lost it. It was always in her pouch, and now it was not, and she was afraid.
“Ariana?” Maiven said in an arched voice. “Please, girl, what are you doing?”
But she did not listen. She had to draw them so she could show them to the king.
; “Mirror gone. Gone. I say no. They say yes.” Her words came out a ramble. She couldn’t think well right now. Her head hurt.
She scratched at the paper with the pencil, tears streaming from her face. They had to save her friend.
Then Maiven gasped. “Ariana. Where have you seen that boy?” Her words were low but pricked through her frenzy.
Sobbing, she turned to stare at Maiven and whispered, “Above. They gave me shinies, and she told me not to trust. But I did. Because the shinies were pretty.”
“Oh, dear Goddess.” Maiven’s clutched at Ariana’s shoulders, shaking her roughly. “Are you telling me that they’ve got Nimue?” she screeched, whites of her eyes wide and dripping panic.
“Can’t find mirror. Can’t find mirror. They said they would. I gave it back. And then it just kept reappearing and reappearing and reappearing. They told me I was bad, and then they said they magicked it to her, and I’m so scared, Maiven.”
Grabbing two shawls, Maiven tossed one at Ariana then said, “Come with me now and bring the drawings.”
Clutching them to her chest, Ariana followed behind her friend, swimming as fast as they could to the king. Sircco would find her. He would save her.
It wasn’t too late.
It couldn’t be.
Nimue was her friend.
*
Sircco hummed a tune beneath his breath as he swam through the door, but he frowned when he could not find Nimue.
“Nimue?” he called out. Setting aside the tray of food, he rushed toward the bathroom as a sick, disquieting feeling began to worm through him. “Nimue!” he tried again, but the bathroom, just as the room, was empty.
Twirling, feeling a rise of panic, he was almost out the door when, from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Jian lying in a heap upon the bed, gasping and shuddering weakly.
Nimue would never abandon her dragon.
Fueled by terror, he rushed to the dragon’s side and cried out to his sister, “Sirenade, to me now!”
The waters of the palace began to churn, whipping into a frenzy of fury.