But Reine saw the hunger in her husband's aquamarine eyes.
It was worse than that first night she'd met him, when he'd stared out the castle window. Now and then, in his quieter moments, she still saw the semblance of thought in his frail features. His eyes would shift, and suddenly he'd glance up, seeming to notice her for the first time.
"Yes, it's me," she said calmly, again and again. "Just me, Frey."
He squinted as if recognizing her only then. But any turn of his head exposed his throat.
Triple sets of faint creases marked both sides, like the faint beginnings of wrinkles that would deepen with age. But these were too perfect, too straight and parallel, placed so high near his jawline. They appeared only at the highest tides each year, vanishing again as the tide receded.
Frey suddenly rolled his head toward the opening to the pool's outer chamber.
Reine felt him go rigid in her lap. His eyes didn't blink.
"They're coming," he said hoarsely.
Sick of the terror, Reine couldn't hide it anymore and began to shake. Not because of what might—or would—come … but because he longed for it.
"No," she whispered, and then more sharply, "No!"
Frey rolled from her lap, though she tried to hang on to him. By the time he gained his feet, she'd already blocked the opening. How many times had she stopped him from beating himself nearly unconscious upon the pool's gate?
"Frey, stay," she ordered.
He held his place, staring over her head.
"Listen to me, love," she whispered, hanging on to calm. "The water can wait … until the tide passes. Then you can …"
She lost her voice as his head cocked. His brow creased in concentration as he swayed slightly with effort to stay on his feet.
"Not … them?" he croaked.
Frey's lost gaze drifted down to Reine and then rose beyond her again. Puzzlement in his expression shifted first to suspicion and then hardened to anger, enough that Reine hesitantly glanced over her shoulder.
The outer door was still shut tight, but she heard the softest scrape of metal. Its echo in the quiet left her uncertain where it came from. She backed one step through the opening, glancing toward the pool… .
Reine toppled aside as Frey knocked her out of his way. Her back hit the pool chamber's rear wall, stunning her as she heard the splash. She went cold with fright.
Beneath the pool's rippling surface, a mute wavering form moved along the bottom toward the gate.
Reine leaped off the edge and sank to her chest. She thought she heard another splash, but as her feet hit bottom, she was clawing into the water, trying to find a grip on Frey.
"Chuillyon!" she screamed.
At the tunnel's end, Chane looked through stout vertical bars. Beyond the gate, seawater collected in a wide pool within a roughly hewn chamber. What light filled the space came from the glittering walls and more from an opening in the right wall's far end. Whether someone was in there, he could not tell, but he spotted a stout door in the rear wall's left side. Worse was that it held a white metal oval in place of a lock.
This last gate was smaller than any others, and its bars were not as thick as he had first thought.
"Can you do it?" Wynn whispered.
Her voice startled him, and then he noticed her blue-tinged lips. He had to succeed. They would never make it out of the tunnel any other way.
Wynn mouthed the word "staff" and turned her back to him.
Chane untied it, and she leaned it against the tunnel wall. But how was he going to keep Shade afloat? They could not have the dog treading water.
Wynn placed her pack behind her head, atop her shoulders, and backed up to pin it against the tunnel wall. Her lips quivered again as she mouthed, Shade, and held out her arms.
Chane carefully glided the dog into Wynn's grip. Shade sank a bit in Wynn's arms, struggling for an instant. Once the dog settled, Chane pulled the pry bar off his belt.
Shade twisted sharply and growled.
Her sudden splashing made Chane stiffen. Wynn struggled to keep Shade still, but the dog kept wrestling to get free. He reached instinctively to grab Shade's snout but stopped.
Shade looked down the tunnel and snarled again.
The water's surface rolled, nearly churned, as if the tide had suddenly surged up the tunnel.
A grip latched around both Chane's ankles. He heard Wynn suck a loud breath as his feet were pulled from under him.
Chane lost sight of Wynn as he was jerked beneath the water.
Wynn's hold on Shade broke as the dog thrashed around. Shade clawed the tunnel's side wall as she tried to put herself between Wynn and the churning water. Wynn's breath came hard and fast.
"Chane!"
She pinned the pack to the wall with one hand and groped wildly beneath the surface for Chane. Shade snarled and snapped, but she was struggling to remain afloat. Something light-colored stretched out beneath the water's surface.
Wynn tried to grab for it, but it broke the surface beyond reach, and it wasn't Chane.
A barbed spearhead rose.
She snatched her hand back. The spearhead was nearly white, like Chein'âs metal. Water erupted beyond it as Chane thrashed to the surface.
Shade pushed off the wall, treading water as she moved in front of Wynn.
Wynn barely caught a glimpse of a dim form behind Chane, holding on to one of his packs. She heard another splash behind her, but she reached out wildly for Chane.
"Chuillyon!"
Wynn flinched at that scream from beyond the gate but kept her attention on Chane.
His features twisted in rage, and his eyes had lost all color. He swung back at his attacker as another set of hands rose from the water and latched around his waist.
Chane vanished beneath the surface in a splash.
"Let him go!" Wynn shouted, and reached behind her back, pulling Magiere's old dagger.
Shade suddenly sank with a yelp, and Wynn let the pack drop as she lunged for the dog.
Another spearhead thrust up, driving straight for her face. She toppled backward, pushing with slipping feet, and her back hit the gate's bars. The spearhead on its long shaft halted, level with her throat.
Two slender arms shot out through the bars behind her.
"No, Frey!" someone shouted behind her. "Get back!"
The arms latched around Wynn, pinning her against the bars.
Trapped by the hovering spearhead, she didn't dare try to slash herself free with the dagger. A third arm reached past her head and a small, delicate hand snatched her wrist.
"Release the blade … now," someone commanded.
Harsh as the voice was, it was clearly a woman's, though the arms around Wynn's chest were those of a man. Wynn slowly opened her hand and felt the dagger being ripped away.
Shade splashed to the surface, hacking and coughing. She paddled to the tunnel's wall, clawing for any grip to anchor herself.
"Please," Wynn begged. "Let me help her!"
"Silence!" the hidden woman snapped.
The spear's shaft before Wynn tilted as water rolled around it. Its wielder began to rise. The first of it that she saw was a row of pale spikes.
Slowly breaking the surface, webbing followed at their bases, stretched in a crest over a bald scalp. Black-orb eyes, fully round and too large to be human, watched Wynn. Translucent membranes in place of lids nictitated over them.
The being was covered in slick, smooth skin tinged blue or perhaps more teal. Its face appeared distended, making the orb eyes look slightly pushed to either side of the hairless head. Its nose was only two vertical slits. When its lipless mouth parted, Wynn saw needle-sharp opalescent teeth like those of a sea predator.
When it—he—stood to full height, he was long and slender, but as solid as a full-grown male elf. More web-separated spikes ran along the outside of his forearms to match those cresting his skull. Wynn's breath caught as three slits on each side of his throat flexed like gills beneath a long jawline.