Page 85 of Seas the Reckoning

“I didn’t forget you. You are the best dog anyone could have asked for. I will buy you so many toys and treats after this is all over. I promise.”

“All right, you lot. Line up!” Starla yells.

The guys get in a row in front of her. Pickles is in Jackal’s arms for the moment.

Starla rubs her hands together, eyes and fingertips glowing as small, bright orbs form around everyone’s heads. Pickles’s is comically small, and his ears wrinkle up to fit.

Once everyone is outfitted, we swim out. The naiads and mermaids are waiting, and they fixate almost immediately on the basset hound.

“What kind of dog is that?” demands the dark-haired naiad.

“He looks like a seal pup! But with longer ears,” adds the mermaid with shorter hair.

Pickles tries to swim over to them. I help him along, propelling him toward the others but ready to intervene if necessary.

I needn’t have worried. They’re crooning over him, giving him pats and utterly besotted within moments.

“If I’d have known all I needed was my dog, I might not have bothered singing at them,” I tell Jackal as he swims up to me.

“I know the idea of me offering to help you swim is silly, but if your song has depleted your strength, I’ll carry you if need be,” he offers. “It’s been hell, feeling like I’m not much help to you during all this. I want to be there for you.”

I’d kiss him if it weren’t for the air bubble surrounding his face.

“You are, in the most important way. You support me, and you uplift me. If I need help swimming, I’ll let you know. Thank you.”

Jackal smiles.

The water around us sways and shifts as Thomas shrinks down, transforming into a man. He gives me a thumbs-up once he’s back in his skin, his dark curls floating on the water.

“Ready for the cave!”

“You can still breathe in this form?” I ask him.

“Whale perk. Almost as good as a naiad, huh?”

“Better,” I admit. “I can’t transport more than myself.”

Technically not true. I did push several people to safety when Leon’s men blew up our boat earlier this year, but it took a toll.

Our group swims after the mermaids and naiads, who have taken it upon themselves to help Pickles along. Now that I’ve proven my worth—or more likely now that they have an adorable sidekick—they’re almost docile, if not overly friendly to the rest of us.

“I gather they don’t get a lot of guests this far out at sea,” Starla says as we descend into the tunnel.

“We’re not often this close to others,” the short-haired mermaid admits, clearly overhearing her.

I try to think of a way to ask what I’m curious about gently, but Starla beats me to it.

“Is that because you’re normally luring people to their dooms and don’t take time to get to know them?”

Queen of finesse, that one.

The mermaid actually chuckles.

“We’re not killers. Not generally. We just live more naturally. Sticking to long stints in the water and then short stops in port towns. We may sing to people for the purpose of getting certain supplies, but we send them away physically unharmed unless they approach us with ill intent first.”

“Modern-day pirates,” Starla muses.

She nods.