Page 5 of In Rising Tides

“The journey will not be an easy one,” he said to her. “It will be even more difficult if you try to use your power.”

The threat was as clear as the day had been before the terror of the last hour.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lyra seethed, holding her chin high.

He may have been the king of the seven seas, but he would always be Drystan to her.

Drystan scoffed, removing the helm that covered his face. He appeared different from the last time she had seen him. The angles of his face were sharper, but his eyes appeared haunted.

There was a depthless quality to a color she couldn’t quite make out yet. Her body was caught in a riptide between what her mind wanted and what the sea demanded.

Drystan flicked his eyes to the guards and then spoke so that only she could hear. “I am not the enemy you think I am, Lyra. You would do well to remember that.”

He threw the words out like a hook on a reel, but a bone-deep exhaustion was already beginning to take root. Her limbs drank in the seawater, and the salt in her pores bound her to this place once more.

With her silence, he approached cautiously, like one might a cornered animal. “I know you must think my decisions harsh?—”

Lyra glared at him and pictured ripping his tongue out of his mouth.

Fire rolled down her arms, surprising her as it collected on the tips of her fingers before bursting outwards.

Her nails ripped through her skin, elongating and sharpening into steely points.

Without hesitation, she struck, lashing her claws across his face.

His flesh parted easily and collected beneath her nails.

She wanted to do more lasting damage, to give him the same silver scars that lingered on the inside of her arms.

But Drystan was a warrior and much too fast. He grabbed both her wrists in his fist. His grip was as heavy and unbreakable as iron.

The tips of the trident pricked the smooth skin of her chest as he pressed it into her flesh.

Sharp words were spat from the guards who leaned away from them. They were furious, yes, but also—scared.

They were terrified of her and her power.

“The land hasn’t softened you,” Drystan said with wry amusement, easing the trident away from her. “Good.”

His blood floated between them, swirling in the current like crimson smoke.

Lyra inhaled deeply, savoring the taste of it. His blood was not light like shallow water. No, it was rich like the water near fertile reefs.

“The land made me stronger,” she breathed.

Shackles replaced Drystan’s fist, and Lyra flinched as the weight of actual iron settled against her wrists. The guards moved away just as swiftly as they had come.

Drystan cocked his head to the side and studied her with an otherworldly stillness. Through the crimson, he looked every bit the monster she knew him to be.

His broad chest was covered with scaled golden armor. He looked like a portrait in a storybook. But he wasn’t a knight come to save her.

No,hewas the beast that had stolen her away.

“Sadly, those are for your protection.” He frowned at the shackles on her wrists and then leaned in close. “We are not among friends here. Behave.”

He leaned back, letting his gaze drag over her body—from the lavender shimmer of her tail to the diamond-studded kylix cupping her breasts.

The magic was so thorough that not a thread of her human attire remained. Her auburn curls floated freely around her face, freed from the gravity of the land.