Page 78 of In Rising Tides

Mermaids in white gowns, bodies entirely covered and hair pulled back tight.

The mermen all wore robes in varying shades of blue, and carefully blank faces. The entire scene was bizarre.

She could count on one hand the number of religious ceremonies she had attended during her father’s rule.

Near the end of his reign, they had grown in frequency as if his growing years had him grasping for solace. But their kingdom had never looked so soulless.

This was a muted mockery of their traditions.

Where were the jewels? The heirlooms passed down for generations? The house colors that denoted territories?

Lyra locked eyes with Nerida, and her sister brushed a fingertip over her lips.

It had the hair on the back of Lyra’s neck standing on end.

Was she hinting to Lyra to be quiet?

Or was she merely observing her lack of voice?

The scent of the water shifted and took on a spicier quality. The light that sifted through the center of the room dimmed, but it didn’t diminish the ominous glow from all the white gowns.

“We are gathered to celebrate the high tide,” Aegir’s voice thundered, amplified by the dome. “A gift from Ennosidas, God of the Sea and the Tides!”

The singing mermaids drew to a close. The final note resonated through the room like a whimper.

“It is our duty to worship his almighty power so that he may grant us another day of life.”

Lyra bit her lip to keep from reacting. Her tongue felt as if it had burst into flames.

That was not how that worked at all.

Drystan elbowed her. His warnings were growing tiresome, and she looked to the crowd to find anyone, someone, who mirrored her own dismay.

But found no one.

Wilder would have found it absurd.

That thought burned her throat.

“Unfortunately, there are some who do not share our beliefs,” Aegir continued, but his voice took on a disconcerting edge. Lyra stared holes into the back of his head. “In fact, I ask you to bear witness to her punishment.”

Aegir snapped his fingers.

Rattling chains swirled around the room before Lyra saw where they came from. Two guards flanking a mermaid. Her white dress was almost gray and in tatters, with bruised flesh visible through the torn holes.

A twisted and snarled halo of hair surrounded her face. The chain swung beside her, draped from her shackled wrists. She couldn’t be older than sixteen.

Lyra’s frown deepened as she took in the abused state of the mermaid.

As she was escorted through venomous words and disgusted snarls, fury simmered low in Lyra’s gut as she watched the horrendous actions play out in front of her.

Not one person cast sympathy in her direction.

She opened her mouth and then clamped it shut when the burning lanced down her throat.

“Remember what I said,” Drystan murmured. “Don’t react.”

Lyra whipped her head to his, but his eyes stayed on the scene unfolding before them.