As we pass by each window, I can smell the mist of the ocean. Everyone watches us, as if I’m a legend they’ve all heard of but took bets on if I exist or not. It’s a sea of humans dressed in the same black robes, except everyone inherebears a fire insignia on their chest, whether through embroidery or metal.
Our descent is like moving through an expensive labyrinth—full of tapestries, paintings, rugs, unnecessarily gorgeous sitting spaces, and so much cabinetry. After an absurd amount of stairs, it’s clear we’ve descended to the level of the ocean, my legs already shaking from the exertion. There’s even a lovely sitting area with a piano overlooking the ocean. We pass by it right before entering a darker hall.
Even still, we go deeper.
I numb myself to the best of my abilities as he guides us to somewhere underneath the soil. At least, I assume we are underground, as there are no more windows.
There’s something I don’t like about that.
Finally, the stairs seem to end as we enter what appears to be a rounded corridor, only to realize to our right is a stream of deep, free-flowing water. It’s like a giant stone pipe that’s double my height, like how a bottle would look if filled a fifth of the way and tilted on its side, and we’re walking on the side of it, the ceiling encompassing us, too. Fire sconces light everything we see.
There’s even a wooden board with keys hanging on it, like the idea of someone breaking in here is preposterous.
“We call these tunnels the veins of the castle. We collect water from the ocean here, like a giant pipe. We boil it in massive cauldrons to use as fresh water, and we use the remaining salt for various things,” he casually informs me. There are many inlets with elevated floors, and in one is a giant pile of saltychunks. He nears it, licks his finger, and runs it along one before giving a disgusting, languid swipe with his tongue. “Mm. That metallic, oceanic edge is something the inlands don’t know what they’re missing. Wouldn’t you agree, Jane?”
Oh, no. He’s crazy.“Yup,” I stiffly reply. “That’s what I always say.”
He sighs, like we missed out on a good bonding moment, stepping out and holding an arm out down the tunnel. “Let’s carry on.”
The path is well-lit with many candles on the floor, melted wax forming uneven piles, every bit of flickering light dancing across the stone ceiling.
It’s just us down here, which is quite nice for infiltration, but alsoveryunnerving at the implications thatanythingcould happen. When we round a corner, the tunnel curves as we walk alongside it, passing a small bridge to cross to the other side.
The inlets now have iron bars in front of them.
I don’t like this?—
My jaw drops, and I nearlygaspwhen I see what’s inside one of them. I stare at the image as if it surely cannot be real. And yet, one of the tailsflops,splashing water.
Sirens.
Every one of them has a fat, black metal collar on their neck, connected to a heavy chain that’s unforgivingly bolted to the wall. Their striking, scaly tails rest in the water that’s fed from the main tunnel, all sitting on edges, their chains too short to allow theminside. Many wooden buckets rest on the edges with them.
One siren uses a bucket to dip into the salty pool, leaning forward as far as the chain will let her. A long, thin arm outstretches to fill it, then pours it on herself, focusing on her gills.
“The sirens,” Jesper begins, whispering in my ear as a few of the oceanic creatures look our way. “Are positionedjustfar enough from the water that only their tails can dangle in it. But they have been generously given buckets to splash water on themselves, as you saw,” he says with a smile in his voice. “We’re notterriblycruel, if we don’t have to be.”
I can’t breathe.
In the corner, closest to the bars, is a siren with gray skin and hair so blonde it’s nearly white, the usual wet strands totally out of place with howdrythey are.
Melona.
Her gaze holds me hostage; those nearly black eyes widen as she stares at me like she sees a ghost. Her high cheekbones only add to the drama of her expression, broad lips parting to reveal her sharp teeth.
No emotion—don’t show anything.
I owe Cypress for giving me that privacy.
“I’ll leave you here for a bit, Jane.He’llbe watching.” Jesper waves a finger around, before using it topoke me in the shoulder. What a fucking weird person. Once his hand is off of me, my body loosens. My breathing is ragged as I’m shocked to watch Jesper walk away.
The sirens are completely silent.
Do I say anything? Do I move?Hemeans Misery, right?There’s no way he left mealonehere.
“Jane,” Melona softly mutters.
A shudder seizes control over my composure, and I clasp a hand over my mouth to keep quiet, as if I’ve just given away my position. Another siren tilts her head to look me over. Her skin is a deeper shade of gray, her dried-up hair completely black and coiled, dangling over her shoulders. “Would have been better if it was Mother,” she opines, her rich voice raspy like someone who needs a deep drink.
