Page 102 of In Rising Tides

“Why?” Caius asked, the skin around his eyes tightening as they narrowed.

Caspian clasped his hands behind his back. “Lyra wasn’t the only mermaid not to return from the Tithe. A mermaid from my court, Adella, did not return. Her parents were adamant that something terrible must have happened; as friends of Marmoris, I felt it was my duty to figure out why.”

Drystan nodded. “And what did you discover?” There was a sense of urgency in his question.

“It was as we suspected. There are always only twelve that return. No more, no less—except this last time. But we know why now.”

Caius tilted his head to the side. “Are you saying that there’s always one that doesn’t return every single tithe?”

“From the sparsely recorded information I was able to recover, yes. Twelve only. We always lose one.”

Lir scoffed. “That doesn’t prove anything. We should be grateful for the ones that do return. They received no training. It’s a miracle any of them survive the horrors on land at all.”

Lyra felt warmth blooming in her chest. “Exactly,” she hissed. “We are paraded on land with no weapons, no armor, nothing to defend ourselves with and are expected to kill? We receive no formal training besides limited reminders on how to get back to the sea and the time limit that hangs over our heads like proverbial swords.”

The words came out so fast she gasped for breath before proceeding. “There should be far fewer survivors. And the fact remains that the majority of us do make it every single time—it’s statistically impossible. But those are big words for you, I gather. Shall I draw you a picture?”

Drystan pinched the bridge of his nose, while Lir’s eyes nearly bulged from his skull.

“How dare?—”

“Lyra is right,” Caspian said, cutting off Lir from what was sure to be an incredibly long and pointless tirade. “It should be impossible that twelve return every single time. There should be some variability. Which is why we began researching the Tithe.”

Adamaris crossed his arms over his chest. “Were you able to find anything else out?”

Caspian shook his head. “Our shelves were surprisingly empty when it came to information on rituals. Would there be anything in Zeal?”

Adamaris shrugged. “Perhaps. I will look into it, but there are more libraries in Naguni.”

Ishmael crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. “I will look, too.”

“We couldn’t even find its origin,” Caspian muttered. There was a dull sort of sadness in his expression.

Lyra inhaled sharply through her nose.

If they only knew.

Drystan floated from side to side. His long, powerful tail swished softly in the current. He stroked a hand across his jaw. “Say Lyra is right—and the Tithe is a bargain. The humans wouldn’t have agreed to it without receiving something beneficial in return.”

Lir choked. “You can’t possibly be entertaining this! We have a witness that she entered into a bargain with the High King. We should be parading her head through the streets.This is treason!”

Lyra flinched at the graphic description.

But Drystan’s body went still. He looked like the tightening of a rope on the verge of fraying.

“What did you just say?”

Lir didn’t back down. “Never in the history of our world has a mermaid made a bargain with an elf! It can’t be allowed now.”

The room was utterly still. Even the current seemed to surrender to the wrath swirling from Drystan.

“You so much as move in her direction,” Drystan said, pointing at Lyra. “And I will rip your heart from your chest.”

“Your Majesty,” Caius said quickly, his eyes volleying between Drystan and Lir. The distance was closing swiftly. “Violence is forbidden in this chamber.”

Now. The voice in the back of Lyra’s mind whispered.

It sounded strangely feminine.