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“On your right, princess.” They hold their hand out, their mouth forming silent words that slip between their splayed fingers and breeze past my ears. “Swing as hard as you can.”

The water sloshes behind me. I gather all of my fury and draw the blade back, whipping it across my chest. The blade connects with the serpent, slicing into its scaled armor.

I spin around and keep pushing into the rubbery flesh. A guttural groan tears up my throat as cold black ooze splatters across my dress.

“You did that so well,” Zephyr purrs. “Now show them your teeth.”

I withdraw the blade and wipe my face, smearing the sludge all over myself as I turn to the crew. They’re all gawking, and Darcy is as white as a sheet.

Let her be afraid.

She only ever got the soft parts of me. I poured my heart out to her, and she called that naivety.

I could have ripped her heart out of her chest. I could have dragged her down to the bottom of the sea.

We’ll get married, but I won’t be treated like an ornament. Not when I’m the superior huntress.

“Fucking perfect.” Zephyr is grinning just as wildly as I am. They close their fist, and their energy stops flowing around me as they clap. “The stoor wyrm’s blood must have attracted a lesser serpent to the area, but it looks like Dee handled it. If there are any others, I’m sure the upcoming winter will run them off.”

“Yes, but there are more important matters than lesser serpents to tend to.” Darcy drops the stoor wyrm’s plate into a storage container and nods to Bijou. “Let’s take them to the secret cavern.”

Crashing waves rush into the cavern. My slippers squelch in the wet sand as we tunnel through its narrow entrance.

A pungent odor of decaying seaweed and wet limestone is locked in the tight space. I breathe through my mouth as we twist around sharp stalagmites, keeping one hand on the damp rock wall because Bijou won’t allow us to bring lanterns into the sacred space.

It’s too damn dark in here.

I don’t realize our group has stopped moving until I bump into the person in front of me. I recognize the taut muscles and back myself against the wall to stand beside them. Our arms touch, and Zephyr’s pinky extends to brush against mine.

“Are you alright?” Their voice weaves through my hair.

I dip my chin, knowing they can see me.

There’s a hiss of air, and a flame bursts to life, illuminating Bijou’s face. Zephyr takes one step away from me as the priestess lights the candles placed on the natural shelves of the cave walls. Dried wax dribbles over the pillars and hangs from the rock ledges, forming tears on the sea serpents carved into the stone beneath them.

“Before we begin, you should know that any knowledge shared in this space is considered sacred.” The priestess blows out the match, and smoke swirls into the air. “By engaging in this conversation, you must promise not to share any information without my permission.”

Zephyr sucks a breath in, and I check them with my hip before they can make a smart comment.

Darcy strides around the cavern chamber, her steps quick with excitement. Her clothes are soaked, but she’s not shivering like I am.

“I’ve brought you all here because you’ve seen proof of the stoor wyrm’s return and swift defeat,” she says. “I believe it confirms my theory that the Mer-King’s five keys have been stolen.”

I hug my arms around my chest, cuddling myself for warmth. “That can’t be.”

“King Morrow likes to hold them over our heads in order to keep us in line while we’re crossing the six seas. It’s not his style to wreak havoc quietly.” She frowns. “No, he’s not the one unleashing them.”

It doesn’t make any sense. No one in my father’s guard knows where all five keys are, and even if they did, they wouldn’t have access to the rune marks they’d need to unlock them. My sisters and I are about the only merfolks who’ve seen his rune scrolls.

“The stoor wyrm’s return could’ve been a one-off, a rogue soldier of the sea betraying the Mer-King.”

Darcy sticks her tongue in her cheek. “That’s a solid thought, but it’s not the first rune-locked monster that’s been used against us.”

“Twenty years ago, a deadly plague hit our island,” Bijou says, her fingers drifting to her eye patch. “It killed hundreds—including the late Duke and Duchess—and left many more of us with lasting health conditions.”

I look to Zephyr, but all I can see is their side profile. Shadows dance in the hollow beneath their sharp cheekbone. “Plenty of people get sick, don’t they?”

“Not like this.” Bijou removes her eyepatch and holds a candle below her eye socket, showing us the tip of a pink claw hooked through the orbital rim. “Days of fever often ended in a gruesome death as tiny creatures burrowed out of our flesh.”