The Fierce Reads Anthology(4)

“Excellent! I do get weary of having to defend myself. What can I do for you, my son?”

“It’s about Nalia.”

The queen groans. “Oh, Grom. You know that’s the one thing I can’t—”

“I want her for my mate,” he blurts.

“I…You do?” She clasps her hands together. “Because I was certain that you’d rather mate with a rockfish. In fact, I think you’ve said as much on several—”

“Things changed. She changed. But I want her to want me too.” Sort of. He wants her to want him, so he can reject her the way she rejected him. But that explanation won’t convince the queen to help him.

“Truly? Do you…do you love her, then?”

“No,” he says, even as he feels Nalia’s pulse thrum through him. Ever since their meeting in the Ceremony Chamber, he can’t shake it. Sometimes it’s light, almost like a phantom tickle, easily brushed aside. Other times it’s maddening, strong and intrusive, so that he can’t think of anything else but her. And apparently talking about her triggers the madness. He doesn’t like that. Not at all.

“Then why?” His mother’s lips press into a line.

Grom chuckles, hoping it doesn’t sound as fake as it feels. “Have you seen Nalia lately, mother?”

The queen gasps. “Are you shallow as a clam pool, boy?”

“Triton’s trident! Ever since she was born you and father have twisted my fin to accept her. Now you’re upset that I’m willing to mate with her. I do wish you’d make up your mind.”

His mother grimaces in obvious shame.

“Truth be told,” he says, almost choking on the words, “I think it’s more than love. I think it’s the pull.”

“The pull!” she says, gliding over to him. “Grom, are you sure? What makes you think so?”

Grom shrugs. He should have looked into the whole ridiculous legend further before going around spewing “the pull” all over the place. He has no idea of the supposed symptoms. And symptoms they are, since Grom has always considered the pull a mental defect, at best. The idea that nature could force a couple together in order to produce stronger offspring has always been nonsensical to him.

“Do you think about her all the time?” The queen’s eyes light up. “Do you always sense her, no matter how far apart you are?”

There is nothing fake about his scowl as he realizes he does. Not possible. It’s not possible that I actually do feel the pull for Nalia. He clears his throat. “Er…yes.” The words taste like squid ink in his mouth.

“Oh, this is wonderful. I can’t wait to tell your father.”

“No! Do we have to tell anyone? I mean, it doesn’t matter if it’s the pull or not, right? We would still have to mate, even if it’s not.”

“But wait. If you feel the pull toward her, shouldn’t Nalia feel the pull toward you? Isn’t that how it works?”

Triton’s trident, what a stupid legend. “I’m sure she reciprocates, mother. But given our history, she might be stubborn enough to fight it.” Again, Nalia’s pulse jolts through his veins. He grits his teeth. “And that’s what I need your help with. I want to charm her. Win her over.”

Grom swears he hears pity in the Triton queen’s chuckle. “Oh, my dear boy. Who could resist your charms? I’m sure you’ll have no trouble at all stealing her heart. You don’t need my help. The little princess has no idea what’s coming for her.” With that, his mother flits out of the cave in a wave of feminine innocence. And Grom is sure he’s just been had.



He follows Nalia’s pulse to the shallow waters off the coast of the Old World, in Triton territory. What is she doing in the Human Pass? Is she brainless?

The Human Pass is just that—a stretch of barren waters where the humans pass through in their underwater death ships. As best as Grom can figure, these humans think this is their territory, and they do their best to patrol it regularly. It’s a dangerous place for any Syrena, and a careless place for a Poseidon Royal.

Which is why he’s not really surprised to have found her here. In the weeks since their confrontation in the Cave of Memories, he’s found her in all sorts of unpredictable places. Unpredictable seems to be her specialty.

As he nears her pulse, he senses another one—the female Tracker he first met at the entrance of the Ceremony Chamber. Freya, Nalia’s accomplice in all things bad. He finds them both in Blended form on the bottom of the passage, their bodies mimicking and reflecting the color and texture of the rocky muck. Not bothering to Blend himself, he swims down to the barely discernible shapes. “Why are we hiding?” he says loudly.

Nalia materializes before him and rolls her eyes. “What are you doing here?” she hisses.

Grom crosses his arms. “I’m here to rescue you. I was very alarmed to find my future mate in dangerous waters. I’ve come to help.”

She Blends again and huffs. “You can help by Blending, and shutting your mouth.”

“What are you doing?” he asks, exasperated.

“I don’t answer to you.” Grom is left imagining just what kind of superior expression she has on that lovely face. “No, but she does.” He raises a brow at the transparent silhouette next to Nalia.