Page 72 of Brine and Bone
Shamed, for the unspoken sentiment lived in the ache between her thighs. The ring of bruises left healing at her nape, where Thalos’ venom still tingled with cold. In the slick grease of Nyxarion’s seed still clinging to her walls. Coating her in his scent.
Both of them, claiming territory she’d never meant to surrender.
Head tilted, Sera watched. Absent judgment, for she had no understanding of shame. Instead, her gaze dropped to Kore’s belly. “How are you feeling?”
It was a reserved question. Whistful. An inquiry laced with something raw and hungry.
“I…” Kore swallowed, throat flexing. “I’m tired. Hungry. But… good. I feel good. Strong.”
Nodding, Sera shuffled closer. Predatory in that she forgot to blink. Her pupils yawning wide as she looked. “Forgive me. But… It's been a very long time," Serakh murmured, "since I've been around a pregnantVirelii."
Kore hesitated before she reached. Before her fingers landed upon the other’s wrist.
Spines twitching, the general went rigid.
She felt the tension in theVirelii,the ripple of surprise, and the undertow of danger.
But she pulled anyway.
Guiding Serakh to touch, she lay that clawed palm against the swell of her belly.
For a moment, there was only the warm press of flesh against flesh.
And then the child answered. Squirming. Pressing into the touch.
“It seems well,” Kore said when Sera’s eyes squeezed shut. As if it hurt to touch, but she couldn’t pull away. “Stronger, now. After Thalos’ venom.”
Humming, Sera’s brow lifted at the mention of the Shallow King. But that was all, for her gaze was fixed to the shifting bands of dancing color flowing beneath Kore’s skin. Fingers spreading, a tentative, gentle stroke, and Sera’s breath hitched.Gills trembling as she fought to draw the current between her lips.
Neither spoke.
Content to sit in the moment. Still and silent, absorbed in something beyond either, as the Raskoril crackled and feasted in the gloom.
“Abyssari spawn,” Sera murmured at length. “They grow more rare with every passing tide. FewerVireliiquicken. Less than that survive to birth. And in those thatdo…” She paused, thumb tracing all that grew plump with new life. “We’re losing the old gifts. None of them want to admit it,” she said, and a tiny, sad smile kissed the corner of her lips, “but the bloodlines grow weak. The Queen’s Lightning,” she said, “hasn’t manifested in… generations. Longer than I’ve been alive.”
It was Kore’s turn to gasp. Lips parting as she pulled a sip of brine between her teeth. She didn’t know how long that was, for Pelagorn measured time in tides and seasons, not days and years. But the weight of it was an anvil.
One Kore didn’t know how to lift. And wasn’t sure she could carry.
“They were traits that defined us,” Sera said, humming and low. “Lost. Bred into oblivion in pools too shallow to carry them forward.” Retreating a little, she pulled her hand away from Kore’s belly, despite the way her gaze lingered. “That is why,” she said, and met Kore’s gaze, “they circle you in the dark. Fighting over breeding rights. Your baby. Thalos might dress it territory claims or wounded pride, but beneath all their insufferable posturing?” She laughed, and it was bitter. “Your baby is a talisman, Kore. A beacon to ward off what Pelagorn are losing. What is already lost.”
Looking away from that ancient pain, Kore’s gaze returned to the Abyssari scholar she’d killed and wondered. If he’d had somedormant trait. Some divinity lurking in his blood, waiting to be unlocked.
Something she’d extinguished.
“Extinction isn’t exclusive to the Deep,” Serakh continued, scales shifting against the throne. “They won’t admit it, but…” she laughed. A tight, wretched sound of aching despair. “Their scholars arrived too fast. Too willing. Three elders of Caelith Mare? To examine an ‘abomination’ they’re supposed to destroy? No.” Silver eyes grew flinty and hard. “No,” she said again. “They grow desperate. Just as we do.”
For a time, the proclamation drifted in still water. Shimmering as Kore mulled those words over. And in a moment, she knew in her delirium, in that blind haze of fury that had driven her to kill for her baby...
… she’d been right.
The Accord was a pox.
One she would destroy. Ferrying vigor back into stagnant pools that had once teemed with life.
Watching Kore’s face, as if searching for some glimpse of deeper understanding, Sera nodded. “Nyxarion,” she murmured, head tilting. “This is why he matters. Not just here, in Vorynthar, but to every Abyssari still drifting through the endless dark.”
“Because he broke the Accord,” Kore murmured, and it wasn’t a question.
