My breath came out in a shudder, and I rolled forward, planting my elbows upon my knees and telling myself to simply breathe and not give in to the pain and panic and fear gnawing away at me.
I kept trying to tell myself that I’d done nothing wrong—I’d been set up, brought out here against my will. And yet, my Hook was only-the-gods-knew-where. He could have been dead—or maybe not. The worst of it was that I might never know what actually became of him.
Crowley was stone, and BS would undoubtedly come searching for him. Everyone knew of our beef, so it would be an easy leap to assume I’d been the one who’d caused him to go missing.
Hatter… I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. He would stop at nothing to find me. I knew him well enough to know that. Whoever he really was and whatever he really was no longer mattered to me. The only thing I really wished was that I could assure him somehow that I was safe.
But the truth was, I didn’t actually know I was. I’d been given safe harbor, but if the tribunal decided I was guilty, well… I rubbed my temples, I’d been banished once before. I doubted they would make the same mistake again, especially considering that last time I’d only killed a duke, not a royal or their king. I was in shite up to my eyeballs, and I knew it.
I shivered and brought my knees up to my chest, hugging my arms tightly to my body as I rocked and hummed a song beneath my breath. Anahita had once sung it to me—well, more than once, really. As a child, I’d suffered terrible night terrors, and she had sung it to settle me enough that I could rest.
Once, I could have sung the song with magick in it, but now it had become just a haunting little melody upon my very human tongue.
The part of the dungeon we were in was reserved only for the most wicked of offenders: enemies of the state and traitors. I felt heat burn behind my closed eyelids.
How the hells did this happen? Of all the places in all the hundred realms I’d promised myself I would never again return, here I was, drowning in memories past and present, feeling like that same little girl who’d only done as she’d done because everyone had refused to listen.
“So it is true. The prodigal has returned.”
I gasped. I’d never heard his approach but recognized his deep voice. Even hidden in shadow, I’d have known the court mage anywhere.
“Jacamoe!” I shot to my feet, clutching at the cage of my cell with cold, nerveless hands. The elder mage stepped into a swath of light in the darkness, and I gasped even as a lopsided grin lifted the corner of my mouth. “It is you.”
Dark and swarthy, with eyes and hair as black as night, he moved slowly, painfully. The tip of his cane squealed against the stone floor, and I winced, as I did whenever I saw him.
Once, he must have been a breathtakingly mighty specimen of male flesh, but over the years, his body had become more and more crippled. It was painful to look upon him. His legs were twisted at the knees, his shins bent at a terrible angle. This was worse than I’d ever seen him look before. “What’s happened to you, Jacamoe? You look—” I snapped my mouth shut, realizing just how rude that must have sounded, but I hadn’t censored myself quickly enough.
His lips thinned, and a garbled sound vibrated through his throat. “I was… caught unawares by the witch’s return. It should heal. In time.”
I frowned. He’d fought the witch? Or merely seen her? Had he witnessed what had been done to my sister? My father? I did not ask him those questions. I doubted he would answer them. Jacamoe had once been my very best friend in the palace. But he’d always been an outsider to everyone else.
He was not a siren. He could not shift as the royals did. In truth, Jacamoe was other. He was a man from a foreign land who did not belong, yet he’d been among us for as long as I could recall.
His upper half was as opposite to his bottom half as could be. Where he was a frightfully twisted nightmare from the waist down, his form atop was almost angelic—it was beautiful, magnificent. His face had been literally chiseled by the gods themselves.
Long before the realms had turned on the gods, we’d lived to serve only them. In turn, they’d gifted us with power, and that power sometimes came in the form of a man.
Jacamoe was from the Eastern realms of Grimm—to be specific, he was a Djinn. Once he’d been tethered to a lamp, but now, he was tethered to Undine. I never knew how it’d been done—I’d never dared to ask, and he’d never shared with me. But I had my suspicions.
I sniffed. “It is good to see you again, old friend,” I whispered in a voice grown slightly hoarse.
He moved closer to me. His movements were stiff and awkward—his gait made me want to weep for him. His eyes were clear, his face stoic. He had never wanted my pity, though I’d once made the mistake of giving it to him, and I’d very nearly lost one of the few friends in the under whom I truly cherished.
So I cleared my face of any signs of it and forced a smirk. In seconds, a smile graced his own, full lips. Then he snorted and gave his head a slight shake, and just like that, I felt us sliding right back into familiar roles.
“Only you would say so,” he said. “What are you doing back here, Little Fish? I believe I warned you never to return,” he chastised.
Often, Crowley had called me a fish, and upon his tongue the name had been an insult. But when Jacamoe used it, I heard only deep affection. I winced at his criticism. “You did, and I’m sorry for it, though I’m sure you’ve heard why I’m here.”
He tipped his head. My people might not have liked or respected him, but he was Father’s most trusted mage, and crippled body or no, his power was still formidable. Few would ever try to move against him, though without Father’s protection, I wondered what the new dynamic might be for Jacamoe. I was still certain that he could handle himself.
He stopped before my cell, and the flickering lights from a globe of electrified eels cast his handsome profile in a sinister light, filling the hollows of his cheeks with dancing shadow. “You’ve been marked by her,” he said softly.
I stood still as I watched him reach for me.
His hand was warm when it landed upon my chin, and he gripped me firmly but gently, turning my head from side to side and studying me at length before finally releasing his hold and making gruff sounds beneath his breath. “You feel her darkness, don’t you?” he asked me softly, gently. But even so, it made me swallow the lump that had worked its way up the back of my throat.
I cast a look over his shoulders, sure that the tribunal most be somewhere behind him in the shadows, waiting to hear me implicate myself. But I sensed that he and I were truly alone.
He shook his head as though anticipating my thoughts. “It is just me. The Sovereign Anahita thought you might be more calm this way.”
I snorted and shook my head. “Of course she did,” I said, bitterness dripping off my tongue. I hated how well my family still knew me even after decades apart. But I’d changed too. I wouldn’t have snapped even if they’d sent Anders’s shade to my cell.
Anders—bloody hells, I’d not thought of him in a long time. My brows furrowed, and I shot a troubled look at Jacamoe. “I need to get out of here, Jac. Please.” I shook my head, unable to get the rest of the words out. I didn’t want to get into the details of it all or relive why I had a target on my back and how much worse it got the longer I remained in Undine.
His hand found mine, and he curled his fingers around my wrist. “You should have stayed away, Little Fish.” His fingers, soft and feather light, brushed against my cheek.
I wasn’t sure how old Jacamoe was, only that he was older even than Father. I knew he’d seen a lot in his time, and the pain in his eyes as he stared at me almost broke me.
My knees suddenly felt soft and weak. “You know something. Tell me.” My voice came out stronger than I felt.
He shook his head. “Nothing is set in stone, little siren. Only rumors and rumors of rumors. Your sister has reached out to Grimm PD.”
I pinched my lips, knowing instantly what that
meant. The tribunal must have wished for my death, but by reaching out, she’d bought me time. If Grimm was involved, the tribunal tossing me into the abyss without a proper trial would send Grimm PD so far up their arseholes that they wouldn’t be able to walk straight for a month.
But my sister had made me no friends by intervening. My position had been weakened in the eyes of my peers. If Undine had hated me before, they would loathe me now.
My lashes fluttered as I tipped my forehead against the cold steel bars and took a deep breath. “And Father?”
I didn’t have to explain to him what I meant. He knew instantly. “Still comatose. No better, no worse.” His answer was blunt, not cold but not warm, either. I’d never understood the strange dynamic that existed between Father’s mage and Father himself, but I would have wagered that it’d never been an overly warm one.
I didn’t know why the knowledge that he wasn’t dead yet relieved me. I hated my sire, hated the things he’d done to me. He’d always treated me as different from the rest of my family, but damn it all, he was my blood. And that still meant something to me. I shook my head. “So am I to remain down here until they decide my fate?”
He cleared his throat and stepped back, reaching into his long jacket and rifling around in a pocket. “No, I only need a few questions answered and then you are to be released.” He pulled out a pair of delicate golden cuffs.
My heart instantly dropped as my gaze landed on the thick cuff on his own wrist. The cuffs cut off our access to our own powers. They were modified so that whoever controlled us could access our magick when needed but otherwise kept us mostly castrated.
I snorted then chuckled. “Of course. They never trusted me. Why should they start now?”
He frowned. “Do not feel sorry for yourself, Arielle. It serves no purpose whatever.”
In those words, I heard his own life’s motto. If anyone had earned the right to feel upset about their lot in life, it would be Jacamoe, and yet I’d never seen him do or be anything other than a dutiful servant.
“Do what you must. Prove your innocence to the tribunal, and then for the gods’ sakes, get the hells out of this place before it destroys you too. Now, what were you doing in Never?”
I shrugged. Pursing my lips tightly before saying, “I was on the hunt for a criminal. Anne Bonny. The Slasher Gang had gotten out of control. Killing…” I paused, nostrils flaring as I thought about the countless innocents who’d perished at the gangs’ hands, possibly even Buttons, I sighed, “too many. They killed too many. We were told Anne was leading the gang and that she’d sailed to Never. We followed. But it was a trap. Anne was merely a puppet for the true mastermind, The Sea Witch herself. That’s why I was there. That’s the only reason why I was there.”
He nodded. “You should have let Anne Bonny rot. Now slip me your wrists.”
His words were harsh but true. Bitterness would get me nowhere, especially not in Undine. I had to behave correctly and be who they wanted me to be if I had any hope of getting the tribunal to free me. “Who will own my mark?” Only that person would be able to tap into the powers I possessed.
I waited for his answer, but he never gave me one. I suspected it would be my sister, but I had no guarantees. It had been many long years since I’d set foot in this place, and though much seemed as it once had been, much had changed too.
I felt a cold chill of blackness slither like ghostly fingers down my spine—that terrible and frightful darkness tried to consume me, not keen on the idea of cuffs. Maybe it was a good thing that my powers would be muted. I still didn’t know who I was or what I was capable of.
I shuddered then slipped my arms between the bars, holding my wrists up to him.
Jacamoe clamped the cuffs onto me, and I felt an instant flare of white-hot heat sizzle through my pores, my blood, and right through my bones. I ground my molars, biting down on my tongue to keep from crying out at the burn. But slowly, the heat melted away like water upon sandy shores. I waited for several heartbeats to feel the terrible weight of the darkness bearing down on me, to hear the voice of the witch snarl within me. But it was blessedly quiet. It was only me in my head now.
When I opened my eyes, I realized I was coated in a sheen of sweat, and while I felt a slight prickle at my wrists, I was not otherwise harmed. Wrinkling my nose, I looked up at him. “And now?”
“And now you have one who wishes to speak with you. Follow me.”
The door of my cell opened as though by an invisible hand. The scrape of metal upon metal made me cringe, but I followed him out of the dungeon and up what seemed to be an eternally winding set of staircases. Father always did have a flair for the dramatic, so I was sure he’d built the exit to the dungeon to ramp up the tension and desperation of the guilty as they headed to meet their grim fates.
I didn’t know where I was going—perhaps to the tribunal, but I did know that I wasn’t going to die today. The cuffs meant they still needed something from me. I would live to see another day, at least.
Hundreds of steps later, we finally reached the lower level of the castle. Jacamoe was moving gingerly. Proud man that he was, he didn’t vocalize the pain, but I saw how stiff his shoulders and hips had become.
I began panting dramatically and gasping for breath. “Gods above, but that was exhausting. I’ve not been forced to use these infernal legs for such a lengthy period of time. I’ve need of your arm, Jacamoe,” I said loudly enough that the kitchen staff prepping the day’s meal all heard me.
Their faces were neutral as they looked upon us, but I knew that soon, everyone would hear of Princess Arielle’s every word, move, and deed. I was fodder for the rumor mill, the favorite daughter of all their idle tittle tattle. I always had been.
I slid up next to Jacamoe and grabbed hold of his elbow, but instead of giving him my weight, I took his. He looked at me sideways for half a moment, far too intelligent not to understand what I’d done. But I’d kept his pride intact. He was clearly in an immense amount of pain, for he gave me just a bit of his weight. We walked slowly but steadily onward.
Once we’d exited the kitchens, we began walking the long, winding corridors. Every door we passed and every face we spied along the way caused a surge of painful memories. Some were less terrible, like one of me as a little girl racing away from the kitchen matron’s evil wooden spoon for the crime of daring to steal two freshly steamed crabs from the pots. I’d been starving, but the crabs had been Triton’s own, and if she’d caught me there’d have been hells to pay.
The one that came right after it was worse. I was in chains, forced to swim past a military contingent on my way to face the tribunal’s verdict for daring to kill the duke of one of the mightiest houses in all of Undine.
I swallowed hard. I had slaughtered countless men and women, and yet I was fairly sure the only crime anyone gave two shites about was Anders’s death.
“After you, Little Fish.” Jacamoe’s deep, gravelly voice cut through my heavy thoughts, and I twitched back to the present, confused for half a second about where I was.
When I looked up, I saw something I never expected.
Crowley, staring at me with a hard frown, buttoned the last of the buttons on his shirt. His eyes were burning red, and his face looked more animalistic than I remembered.
His hair was clearly freshly washed. His movements were brisk as he tucked the white tail of his shirt into his black slacks. Those weren’t the clothes I’d last seen him in.
“I’ll see you again, princess,” Jacamoe whispered softly. He backed out and gently closed the door.
Only then did Crowley speak. “You look like shit.”
I blinked. “What?”
His nostrils flared, and I heard a low rumble barrel through his broad chest. “Nothing. What kind of fucking place doesn’t have red meat?” I didn’t think he was actually talking to me so much as muttering angrily to himself.
Once he’d finished adjusting his shirt, he picked up a black tie that’d bee
n dangling over the back of a golden-velvet chaise lounge and jerkily began to put it on.
I frowned harder. Why the hells am I here, watching him dress? There was only one reason I could think of. “You own my mark, then?” I held up my wrists. My words sounded rough and bitter to my ears, but I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. After all these years, Crowley had finally gotten his way. He might just get to see me hang from the hangman’s noose after all—hells, he might even be the one to pull the lever.
The red of his eyes turned nearly black for a split second before he growled, “What the fuck kind of messed up place is this, Detective?”
It wasn’t what I expected him to say. “What?” I asked again, knowing I must sound exceedingly simple, but my brain couldn’t make sense of any of it. I blinked, and he snorted before finally taking a seat on the edge of the chaise. His shoes were off.
He was fully dressed, yet there was an intimacy to seeing a man like Crowley in socks, resting almost casually against his seat. Shaking his head, he rubbed at the scruff on his face.
He’d been naught but stone when I’d seen him last. “You were dead,” I said, not meaning to. And horror of horrors, the words came out full of pain and grit and trembling with sorrow. I was ashamed, instantly assaulted by the feelings and sensations I’d experienced floating upon the waters of Never alone.
I’d been lonely, and that’d been the predominant feeling, followed closely by the weight of failure. Those same feelings came upon me suddenly, crushing me under their weight, taking me right back to the panic and terror of being alone in the Never with Hook and Crowley, not knowing if either of them had survived their encounter. I could taste the adrenaline tang in the back of my throat.
A sound I’d not known I was capable of making slipped off my tongue, and then I was dropping like a stone onto the edge of the unmade bed, my knees suddenly incapable of holding my weight any longer. I hadn’t even had a second to process everything, and it was so far from the time to start, yet my damned traitorous body was trying to do just that.
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