Nereus’s eyes widened slightly. The blessing on Saltmere has been in place for decades, ensuring their prosperity and their survival. To remove it entirely...

“They have earned the wrath of their deity,” I continued, my gaze fixed on Maris’s trembling form above. “They have tortured and abused the one meant to be their queen. They will feel my displeasure until they learn the magnitude of their sin.”

“Yes, my lord,” Nereus said, but his voice was hesitant. “And how long—”

“Until I have her,” I said simply. “Until she’s mine and they’ve paid the price for every tear she’s shed.”

I turned my attention back to the surface just in time to see Maris standing on shaking legs. She looked around—checking to make sure she was alone—then began to peel the ruined dress from her body. The fabric stuck to her wounds, and I saw her wince as she pulled it free.

Nereus cleared his throat uncomfortably and averted his gaze. He knew not to watch her undress; this wasn’t the first time she had stripped down to wash her wounds in the salt water. I’ve always tried to look away during these moments, tried to give her the privacy she deserved, and tried not to take advantage of her vulnerability.

But tonight I couldn’t look away. Not when I saw the damage they’ve done to her back.

Red blemishes crisscross her pale skin, angry welts that will scar if left untreated. The cane has torn through flesh, leaving deep gouges that weep blood. I counted them—one, two, three... fifteen strikes. Fifteen times, they brought that cane down on her defenseless back.

She walked into the shallow water, her movements stiff from pain. The moment the salt water touched her wounds, she gasped and looked around in sudden panic, as though afraid someone heard her. The water had sloshed too loudly, disturbed by my barely controlled rage.

I forced myself to be still and calm the churning seas around me. I couldn’t let her know I was here yet. But I also couldn’t let her suffer like this.

I brought my hand to my mouth and pierced my palm with one sharp claw. Dark blood—the blood of an ancient deity—welled up immediately. I closed my eyes and concentrated, directing it through the water toward where she knelt in the shallows. My blood had healing properties, would ease her pain, and help the wounds close. It was a small thing, a temporary relief, but it was all I could give her right now without revealing myself.

I watched as she cupped water in her hands and poured it over her shoulder. She winced with each touch, biting her lip hard to keep from crying out. Her face contorts with pain, but she makes no sound.

My throat bobbed as I counted the marks again. Fifteen strikes now for the crime of existing, for the crime of being different.

They will pay for this. Every single one of them will pay.

They’d beg for death before I was through with them, and I’d deny them even that mercy. They’d learn what it meant to hurt what belonged to me. They’d understand the full weight of a deity’s vengeance.

I watched as my blood reached her, invisible in the dark water. She won’t notice the faint warmth that began to spread across her back as her wounds were already beginning to close. She only knew that the pain was starting to ease, just a little, and probably thought it was the salt water working its magic.

If only she knew. If only she knew that I was here, that I’ve always been here, that I would burn the entire world to ash if it meant keeping her safe.

She was mine. She has been mine since the moment I first saw her dancing in the moonlight. Soon, she would know exactly who she belongs to. Soon, I would claim her properly.

I watched her finish cleaning her wounds and slowly made her way back to shore, pulling her tattered dress back over her damaged skin. She was exhausted, barely able to stand, but she forced herself to move.

She stumbled once, catching herself on the rocks, and I nearly surfaced right then and there. I nearly threw caution aside and revealed myself just to catch her, to keep her from falling.

But I didn’t.

Soon, I promised myself as I watched her disappear into the darkness, as the surrounding water grew cold. Nereus had already gone to fulfill my commands. By tomorrow, Saltmere would begin to feel the first touches of my displeasure. I sank back into the depths, returning to my palace with her image burned into my mind—her red hair, her green eyes, her scarred hands, her wounded back. My beautiful, broken Maris.

Mine.

She has always been mine. I’ve just been waiting for the right moment to take her.

And that moment is coming soon.