The tunnel ahead opened wide, and we stepped into a hollow chamber of blue light set over white stone.
Ahead, alone in the center of the room, stood Sidra, Queen of the Juile Sea, unlike any other Naiad I’d seen before.
She was old.
It hadn’t occurred to me before that all the Naiads I knew appeared young. Or, in Thaan’s case, at the mid-point of life. But seeing Sidra in the flesh, the fact suddenly became unavoidable.
Delicate wrinkles lined the contours of her neck, her white hair long and smooth, ending in soft flourishes below the blades of her shoulders. She wore the same silk dress as everyone else, though the dips and hollows of the fabric suggested a body of aged maturity.
Still, I couldn’t deny she was beautiful. Her eyes pierced mine with silver, her lashes still thick and dark, and the soft pink of her mouth curved into a thin smile. A static shiver shot down my spinal column, sharp enough I clenched my teeth as I waited for the sensation to end.
Olinne halted. She clasped her hands at her center, bowing her chin to her chest, closing her eyes. Nori stepped toward thequeen, whispering something in her ear before bowing as well, and I quickly did the same.
I felt Sidra move, her feet shuffling softly over the floor. A hand tilted my chin up, and I opened my eyes to find the Queen’s face inches from my own.
“You’ve come home,” Sidra said.
57
Maren
“Your blood is tainted,” Sidra observed. It wasn’t an accusation like the one Aegir had once hurled at me across the sand. She said it casually, the way she might have something as banal as shifting clouds, though her silver eyes cut into mine with anything but nonchalance.
“Yes,” I said, deciding it best to not lie.
“And you are claimed,” Sidra continued.
Not knowing how to respond, I kept my eyes firmly on the queen’s.
A half-smile lifted the corner of Sidra’s mouth. “A brief tour of our nest?” she offered, extending an open hand in invitation. “Have you ever been inside a house of Naiads?”
“I haven’t.” I glanced back at Nori and Olinne as I stepped forward. They remained exactly as they were, heads bowed, eyes closed. Biting my lip, I followed.
“I seem to remember inviting you once before,” Sidra drawled, her narrow back to me as she strolled ahead.You rejected my request,lingered unsaid in the air.
“I’m sorry,” I said, drinking in the sweep of the stone, easy and flawless under the blue light.
Sidra turned sharply on her heel, forcing me to stop. Her eyes cut across my face. Evaluating. “Someone has taught you manners.”
I fought the urge to step away. “Someone has.”
Sidra gave her half-smile again. “How loyalty crumbles under the weight of a single dry season. I raised you, child, and you keep secrets for another.”
“I keep nothing that isn’t mine to share.”
“Speaking in riddles, too? How Naiadic of you.” She tilted her head, amusement playing with her mouth. “Do not worry. You may keep secrets from me, you may keep secrets fromhim, but Theia knows all, and there is nothing you can keep from her.”
“Him?” I stopped under an open, arched threshold that led out to what resembled an empty ballroom. The long floor ended in twin staircases, grand in their simplicity. Intricate patterns lay carved into the walls and ceiling, too small for me to decipher, and there were no railings on the side of each stairway, nothing to catch someone if they misplaced a step.
“This is where you will dine,” Sidra said, ignoring my question to wave a careless hand across the room.
I glanced at the open space ahead. There were no tables or chairs, nothing at all to seat a group of people for a meal. Though it was smooth under my feet, it was also unyielding. Did they eat standing? Sidra watched me carefully, as if waiting for me to ask.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, unwilling to take the queen’s bait, though I didn’t quite know why. It seemed like a benign question. But some instinct deep inside me warned the answer was treacherous.
Straightening her shoulders, Sidra turned again, passing through the open entryway under the joining stairs. I trailed her, padding quietly on the cool stone. She led me past a flock of opentunnels, each leading down, out of eyesight. “The rooms of myDomus,” Sidra explained, stopping at the final passage. “And my private quarters.” She inclined her head, inviting me first into a room elegantly bare. Unlike Laurier Palace, no decorations adorned the walls, no statues or tapestries. No furniture, no chandeliers, no golden candlesticks. The room resembled the inside of an eggshell, domed high and round, as if the pounding of the sea had carved the stone into itself.
A pool of water sat in the center, surrounded by the strange spiky plants, the water a soothing shade of blue, lit from within. Shallow stairs led to the middle of the waiting water.
