I pressed my hand to my temple, closing my eyes to stave off the dizziness. “Why aren’t you bothered by this sensation?”
Cormac shrugged. “Perhaps I’m a shade moredeadthan you.”
“Don’t joke about things like that.” I cracked open an eye to glare at him.
Cormac ignored my condemnation and turned back to the water. “I’ll go.” He nodded staunchly, a warrior walking to his death.
I rolled my eyes. “Fecking eejit.”
Before he could step forward, I stepped into the waves, praying to Belisama that I would not remain above them.
Whoever was listening to my prayers answered, as the cool water submerged my ankles and I felt the sand move to cradle my feet. I laughed, the sound free and buoyant, as I rushed forward—bending down to cup the water.
I should not have feared the water. I was Undine, after all.
The crystalline lagoon felt different. Though its physical touch was much the same as any water.
Where the Twilight Lake was a playful friend, and the Dark Sea was an ancient behemoth, the lagoon felt empty. Devoid of life.
An illusion.
Cormac remained on the shore; worry painted on his features as I ventured further out. My unfamiliar shift was soaked to the bone, the fabric clinging to every part of my body. I waved at Cormac, shooting him a bright smile before I sank to my knees and allowed the water to rise up to my waist.
I pushed off the shelf, diving under, my hunger dissolving with every moment in the water—even if it was an illusion.
“Maeve!” Cormac shouted from the shore.
His voice was muffled as I remained submerged. The water was a bright turquoise, clean enough to see for miles.
The same pristine sand lined the seabed. A rainbow of coral, and clear water for miles.
But no fish.
Puzzled, I swam deeper, as my gills sprang from my throat and my scales pushed to the surface of my skin. As I extended my arms, a flash of red caught my eye. My scales had changed color. No longer the delicate periwinkle and opal that I shared with my mother, but a pinkish hue had overtaken them, with ruby red dotted throughout.
I couldn’t afford to dwell on adornments, though such things were essential to an Undine.
Cormac called my name again, and I broke the surface, showing my face to put him out of his misery. Cormac strode into the water with all the grace of a beast stuck in mud. His fear was masked by the heavy frown on his features, his green eyes flashing with anger as he made his way into the sea.
I waited for Cormac to turn back once he reached the seashelf and the water grew too deep. I had no idea if his tail had followed him to the Tuatha Dé Danann, but Cormac seemed tohave no trouble swimming. I guessed his strong shoulders and oversized arms were good for something after all.
It took only a moment for the Mer King to reach my side, his head remaining above water the entire time. His golden locks were stringy and wet.
I dipped his head under the surface, but he had no tail, just two legs, kicking hard to keep him afloat.
Tails were a point of pride with Mer-folk.
I remembered the stories of Manannán mac Lir and the fisherman. Though the Undine legends had claimed the tails of the Mer as a punishment, the Mer themselves felt differently.
Though stories were stories, and no one truly knew the origin of things.
When I broke the waves, a smile on my face as I readied myself to make fun of Cormac, I noticed the tears shimmering in his eyes. The muscle twitching in his jaw as he held back his sadness. Cormac had lost a vital part of himself. His tail. The red scales that proved he was king.
Any jokes I wanted to make died on my tongue. Instead, I swam forward, my scaled arms outstretched as I pulled him toward me and rested my head on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
I meant it. I was sorry. It was all my fault. Drunk on power from the stone, Cormac had tried to save my life. He had made the ultimate sacrifice for me.
