just to be accepted.
I am Amora Montara, and I will no longer be a pawn. I will be a queen.
* * *
“It’s about time you stopped this charade,” Vataea tells me as we settle into our room that evening. “I was surprised it lasted this long.”
Drawing a pillow over my head, I inhale the freshly laundered lavender scent deeply, doing everything in my power to disappear into it. While I’m glad for the freedom of no longer having to parade around with suitors, there will be a storm in the parchments tomorrow.
But it doesn’t matter. I can’t let it matter. Come tomorrow, it’s time to find the godwoken and change the fate of Visidia one way or another.
Only when added weight creaks the bed do I stir, peeling myself from the pillow long enough to see Vataea’s golden eyes boring into me.
“Are you pitying yourself?” she asks so plainly that, for a moment, I’m reminded of how inhuman she truly is. “Or is this because you’re missing your father, again?”
“I always miss him.” When I sit up, she follows my lead.
“There are many whom I miss, too.” While she says it casually, something heavy burdens her shoulders, caving them in. Light flickers and dims within her eyes. For centuries mermaids have been poached, harvested for their scales and for the most abominable reasons. For someone who has lived as long as she has, I’m sure she bears the loss of many.
“I know his reign was built on lies. And that he did everything he could to uphold them,” I say eventually, struggling to make my voice audible. “I know that. But … I’d give anything to see him again. Even if only for a moment.” I can’t say what causes it, but something within me splinters beneath her glowing stare. The emotions flood through me like a dam has been broken, pouring freely and all at once. “No matter what he’s done, he’s my father. I can’t help but feel that if he were here, he could help me fix this mess.”
“You can’t undo centuries’ worth of lies in two seasons.” Vataea takes a firm hold on my shoulders. “You are doing your best, Amora. That’s enough. There are many I have lost, but I do not allow myself to become lost with them. They wouldn’t want us to pause our lives because their time is up. Grieve, but do not lose yourself to your mourning.”
Her words are far easier said than done. As many people as she’s lost, she was never responsible for the pain—for the deaths—of so many.
“The gods are cruel to have taken him from me.” My words feel pathetic, but I mean them with everything in me. So much so that I send each one at the gods like a punch, hoping they can feel every ounce of my rage with them. “I just wish they’d give him back.” Together, we could restore magic. Defeat Kaven. Spare so many lives.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the look on Vataea’s face was pitying.
“Even I know it’s unwise to curse your gods, Amora.” Vataea slips from my bed to crawl into her own, putting out the candle on her way. “You never know when they might be listening.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Someone’s watching me.
I bolt upright in my bed, breathless.
The only light in the room is from the moonlight that bleeds onto the floor from gaps in the drapes. I squint through its silver haze, yet all I see is Vataea sleeping soundly in the bed beside mine, her breathing heavy and undisturbed.
Cautiously, I settle back into bed, confident it’s my nerves catching up with me as I try to find my breath. But I’m back on my feet the moment a shadow crosses my window, clutching Rukan and poised to wake Vataea when I hear the shadow laugh.
It’s a booming, proud sound that rattles my lungs and nearly brings me to my knees. I’d recognize that laugh anywhere. But … it couldn’t be.
“Father?” My voice comes hoarse and quiet, yet his laughter echoes again in response. It’s all I can do not to weep at the closeness of it.
When Vataea still doesn’t stir, I pinch my wrist hard, knowing this must be nothing more than the cruelest dream. My breath catches when the pinch stings, and I don’t wait another second before I throw a cape over my nightgown, steady Rukan’s sheath around me, and run. I escape through the house in a blur, the cool marble biting