Page 65 of In Rising Tides

For the stoic opinion she had concocted of them in her mind, they were downright predictable.

Strums of music floated along the current, and Lyra strained to hear. They were coming from the room they were ushering her into.

The smell of shrimp and sea cucumbers reached her nose, and she inhaled deeply. She had eaten a meager dinner of hard salt bread with a few spoonfuls of roe, so naturally she had woken up starving.

Which probably only aided her sour mood. She still struggled with thoughts of abandonment and still felt powerless to fulfill her bargain.

When they entered through the arched doorway, Angler peeled off and stood behind Drystan, who was seated at the colossal, onyx table.

It wasn’t the same table she had sat at with her father. The previous sparkling, pink coral table had been replaced with a slab of onyx and basalt. The porous stone had been sanded down into a single smooth piece that was now covered in a variety of seafood.

Shrimp the size of her fist rested on beds of kelp. Sea cucumbers had been minced into bowls of oat-like soup.

It was a practical magic that kept the liquid inside. A magic that’s usefulness was often overlooked by everyone but the mermaids who made it possible.

“Good morning, my love,” Drystan crooned as he read over documents and sipped from a cup made of emerald crystal glass.

Lyra frowned at his nickname for her and plopped down in the chair opposite him.

“Eat,” he ordered without looking up from his work.

She didn’t deign to respond and merely crossed her arms over her chest while glaring at him.

He glanced over the stiff parchment in his hand, no doubt spelled to keep the water from ruining it, and looked at her.

“Please,” he tacked on, realizing at last his tone had been sharp.

Lyra continued to glare, but pulled a bowl of soup towards her. Using her sharp nails, she speared a shrimp from the plate nearby and bit into it with a loud crunch.

Drystan stared with a slightly bemused expression before he turned his attention back onto the parchment.

Lyra ate hungrily while analyzing the room for any other changes. The oval-shaped room had mostly remained the same, with light flooding in from the open ceiling, and archways of coral still covered in barnacles and small, fan-like plants.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, setting the parchment down and placing a plate on top to keep it from floating away.

Lyra shrugged, her mouth still full of shrimp.

“I was told Marina stayed late into the night.”

He winced, as if he realized too late that he had given his spying away.

It wasn’t surprising that he had been keeping tabs on her, but it was annoying.

“Is that a problem?”

Drystan’s gaze swept across her unbound hair and the few braids she had plaited, to the lilac kylix she had donned this morning. Her mass of hair floated around her head and shoulders, undulating with the rocking current.

She had absolutely refused to put up her hair, and without the arrival of any servants, there was no one there to make her feel guilty about not doing so.

“It was merely an observation,” he replied. “Did she fill you in on the happenings at court during your absence?”

Lyra nodded and brushed back a braid from her face.

“Good,” Drystan replied with a curt nod. “You’re going to meet the Tidal Master today.”

She shook her head and pushed the cucumber soup away. The gelatinous soup tasted sour on her tongue.

It had been one of her favorite dishes, but now the mushy, salty flavor was bland compared to everything she had eaten on land.