Page 69 of Lore of the Tides

He was going to be torn in two.

Lore screamed his name, an anguished plea.Not him, gods, don’t let him die.

Suddenly, a spear flashed through the murky water, severing all three tentacles that held Finndryl’s left arm. With a scream, the Nikoryxia, three tentacles down, began to convulse. With one arm free, Finn didn’t hesitate; he twisted, his legs wrapping around the remaining beast’s body. He wrenched his spear free from its jaw and plunged it into a bloodred eye, driving it deep into the creature’s brain.

With a shudder, the beast went limp.

But Lore’s relief was short-lived.

Because streaming down from above like harbingers of death were more Nikoryxia.

So many more.

Darkness engulfed her as a tentacle coiled around her face, covering her eyes and mouth.

She was submerged in terror as she fought with everything she had, but there was nothing to be done. There were too many of them, and Finndryl was so very far away. She had been dragged too far; no matter how fast he was, no matter how perfect his aim if he threw the spear, there wouldn’t be enough time to save her.

Another tentacle coiled around her arms, pressing them to her sides. Lore didn’t even have enough breath to whimper. This was it.

This was the end.

Then an eerie, harrowing melody echoed through the library, bouncing off the shelves and swirling around Lore.

The Nikoryxia about to devour her screeched, its undulating body twisting and turning. Its tentacles spasmed, releasing its hold on her all at once.

Too in shock to move, Lore watched the Nikoryxia retract its feelers and turn to flee. But the beast was cornered by the shelves and mad with terror. It thrashed against the bookshelf, writhing, its eyes rolling into the back of its head as the song swelled louder.

Finndryl, his face etched with terror and relief, gathered Lore into his arms, scooped her up, and turned to run past a host of siren guards, their spears flashing in the filtered light.

Lore swallowed bile as she clung to Finndryl, pressing her face into his chest, trying and failing to stop herself from trembling.

Haunting death shrieks echoed down from above as the water ran black with the creatures’ blood.

Chapter 23

Finndryl pressed a kiss to Lore’s temple.

“It’s over,” he reassured her. “They’ve finished them off and are now scouting for any stragglers from the pod.”

Lore unclenched her eyes. They were still surrounded by siren guards.

She looked around, relieved to see that the haze of blood had already begun to clear, thanks to the library’s unique filtration system. Designed by the prince consort himself; Jaladri boasted of its efficiency. Devised to prevent algae from forming on the books and shelves, it utilized well-placed, hollowed-out whale bones and the sea’s natural current streams. She doubted he had imagined that his invention might one day double as a purification method on the off chance copious amounts of monster blood were introduced into the library.

The guards surrounding them parted, heads bowed, to reveal a handsome siren in the doorway. His sleeveless vest, encrusted with radiant rubies, gleamed in the shell lights. A slim crown of driftwood, adorned with polished lapis and translucent moonstone, rested atop his unruly black hair. His pointed chin and proud forehead were adorned with intricate, swirling spirals and lines that hadbeen artfully inked into tawny skin. The tattoos glowed, blue-white bioluminescence in the dim library. Delicately arched, manicured brows sat above storm-cloud eyes.

His prominent, clear voice rang through the stacks. “We aren’t being very suitable hosts, are we? Please don’t hold this against us—I swear, we usually try to keep our guests’ near-death experiences limited to just one.”

Lore squirmed, and Finndryl released his grip on her just enough that she slid out of his arms to stand on her own, though he kept her firmly pressed to him, which made Lore’s curtsy even more awkward than her curtsy to the queen. Oh well, let her curtsy be awkward; nothing could tear her away from Finndryl’s side right now, not even royalty.

“Prince Hazen, you have returned,” a guard with pale skin, green eyes, and a tight bun of copper hair said, rising from a deep bow. “Welcome home, my Liege.”

Prince Hazen dipped his head respectfully to the guard. “Echosmith Jade, excellently spun songwork.” He looked around the library with a grimace. “I see things are worse. Two breaches from the Nikoryxia in as many days?”

“Yes, Prince,” Jade, the echosmith, replied, her voice grave.

“And you two”—he addressed Lore and Finn—“I hope you are not injured. Shall we call for the royal physician?”

Did Lore need a physician? Her mind was still reeling as she assessed her physical well-being. Her fingers trembled where they clung to Finndryl’s arm. She swallowed, suppressing a gag as she tasted monster blood. It coated her tongue, and she could feel it between her fingers... suspected it was in her hair. Her dress was ripped, her knees and thighs scraped raw from where she’d been dragged across the glass-littered sand, and her throat was badly bruised. She ached all over.

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