My nightmares are filled with pain and grief. I see myself floating in front of Jonah, shock and disbelief flowing through me as he revealed how he knew Mica—his connection to her. I see the pain and regret in his eyes as he spoke of his past.

But the one image that is permanently etched in my brain—that will haunt me for the rest of my life—is the expression of absolute terror on Jonah's face. I barely have time to lurch towards him, my fingers barely brushing his arm, before I hear the sound of the dagger slicing into his flesh.

My mouth is open, but I can't tell if I'm screaming or crying or both. He's a deadweight in my arms, but I rally my strength and prepare for the dauntingly long swim back home. Blood is on my arms, my hands, and my face and it's all I can do not to start screaming again. I hear the sound of Jonah's breathing—a wet, raspy sound—and have to bite back a sob.

When the palace looms in the distance, a sob slips free from my lips. Broken, wild with grief, I nearly collapse as I approach the entrance. "Help! Somebody help!" My voice breaks on the last word and I know I'm on the verge of hysteria. 

Guards in black-and-red uniforms speed towards us, alerted by my voice. They look at me first, clearly alarmed by the blood on my arms, hands, and face, then focus on Jonah. One of the guards gently takes his weight, and it's all I can do to keep upright. When they exchange a glance, my heart stops. They don't even have to look up at me. I can read the words in their eyes as clearly as if they were written down.

"No!" I scream. I lurch towards them, towards Jonah, limp and lifeless in the first guard's arms. But even before I reach him, I know it's too late. I have his blood on my hands—I remember the sound of his breathing, wet and raspy. As I lean down and put my head on his chest, I hear his heartbeat. Weak and stuttering, it beats once, twice, before finally faltering.

I'm clutching his shirt, my knuckles white. Tears slip down my face, landing on his chest. "Please!" I sob, as if my words would make him open his eyes.

I don't remember closing my eyes, but when I opened them again, I was in my bedroom. My heart was racing, my breathing rapid and shallow. For a moment, I was terrified that I was still dreaming—that if I looked down at my hands, I would see Jonah's blood coating them.

I took slow, bracing breaths, trying to calm my racing heart. My first thought was of Jonah, if he'd made it to the infirmary. As if in answer to my question, a gentle knock sounded on my suite door. "Come in," I called out as I swam out of bed and into the bathing room. I put on my usual concealer and washed my face, cringing at the hollowness of my eyes.

I had just swum into my closet and was pulling on a red-and-black dress when I heard a deep voice respond from my bedroom. "It's me, Faye." Drew's voice brought tears to my eyes, but I furiously blinked them away.

He had a concerned expression on his face when I swam back into the bedroom. "Jonah. How is he? Any news?" The words burst from my lips before I even had a chance to take a breath.

My brother took my hands and led me to my sitting room. He sat beside me on the couch, never once letting go of my hands. "Your friend—Jonah, was it?—was very lucky. The dagger went clean through his shoulder blade, barely missing one of his lungs. The doctors were able to remove the dagger, but the fracture will take months to heal."

I sensed there was more he wasn't saying. My heart pounded as I waited for him to continue. When he didn't, my heart stopped dead. "He's okay, right?" The tension in the room was so thick, you could have cut it with a dagger.

Drew blew out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face. "After the dagger had been removed, he finally regained consciousness. I'd be willing to bet that the blood loss was the only thing that kept him under that whole time. The first thing he'd asked was if you were okay. I said yes, then introduced myself. He then explained who he was—how he knew you. After that, he told me about Mica, her connection to both of you."

When he looked at me, worry and shame filled his eyes. "Why didn't you say anything earlier, Faye? You could have been seriously injured." The shame in his voice sent daggers of guilt straight to my heart.

Guilt wrapped around my heart, squeezing tightly. "I left a note—" I broke off at the expression on Drew's face, not even finishing the sentence. "I knew that if I'd told you or Mom or Dad, then you'd tried to talk me out of it. I'd debated whether to go or not—weighed the risks and benefits. I finally decided to just go, take my chances."

My hands trembled. I hadn't considered how my family would react—but judging from the shame in Drew's voice, I obviously should have. "I tried to ignore the ball of fear forming in my stomach as I swam, concentrating on my breathing. It wasn't until I'd left the palace and was approaching the outskirts of Pelathas that I heard someone behind me."

Drew's face was stone, not a flicker of emotion in his eyes. I took a shaky breath, then continued. "Taking a steadying breath, I spun around. I couldn't stop the shriek that escaped from my lips as I came face-to-face with Jonah. He appeared unperturbed, giving me a genuine smile and bow. 'So nice to see you again, Faye.' What looked like genuine worry appeared in his eyes as he noticed my gaze, my stance."

My chest hitched as tears welled in my eyes. I furiously swiped them away, angry at myself for crying. "He put his hands out in front of him, showing that he was unarmed. 'You have nothing to fear from me. I'm sorry if our interaction yesterday was somewhat...' He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. 'Unnerving.'"

Concern flashed in Drew's eyes, but he didn't say anything. It was as if he knew what was coming. "I tried my hardest to banish the one image that appeared in my head as the word left his mouth: the dagger piercing Dad's skin. I took a shaky breath, then let it out slowly. 'What do you want?' I'd asked, forcing my voice to remain steady."

My hands were clenched into fists at my sides; I was tense. "To say I was caught off guard by his next statement would have been a gross understatement. 'I know you're a Siren.' Before I even had the chance to open my mouth (to say what, I had no idea), he was speaking again. 'I'm assuming you're familiar with the name Mica Brooklyne?'"

Drew let out a tight breath at the name. Clearly, he still harbored misgivings towards her, even though they'd only met in person once. "Shivers of fear had traveled down my spine as I'd nodded. Jonah took a deep breath. 'Two years ago, I was...' he trailed off a second time, again rubbing the back of his neck—a habit of his I at the time had just begun to associate with nervousness. 'Romantically involved with her. I had no idea that she was a Siren when we got together—had never heard of or seen one in person before I met her.'"

I let out a breath, swallowing. "I wasn't sure what was more shocking—the fact that I'd never even considered it a possibility that she could be romantically involved with someone, or that the merman in question was floating in front of me. He'd paused for a minute—undoubtedly to let the bomb he'd just dropped sink in—before continuing."

Drew was silent, eyes locked on me. "'At first, it was just stolen kisses or rushed moments in passing. Then it became more—late-night talks and the occasional date here or there. It wasn't until we'd been dating for a couple months that she revealed her secret. I was awed—nearly begged her right then and there to sing for me.'"

A lump formed in my throat, but I swallowed hard, forcing it down. "Pain had filled his eyes at that point, his voice becoming heavy with heartbreak and regret. 'She knew what she was doing. Her plan quickly became clear to me—entrance me with her voice, then use me to help bring in more 'sisters.' By the time I knew what I was doing, it was too late to back out. I'm sure you know how that feels.'"

Regret and shame came together to form a knot in my stomach. "I'd nodded because I did—I knew bettter than almost anyone. 'I haven't seen her since then—didn't even know where she was until I started hearing whispers of 'the mysterious Sirens.' I guess what I'm trying to say is, I know how you feel. I want to take her down as much as you do.'"

I rubbed a hand over my face as I finished speaking. When I dared a glance at Drew, his face was pale, eyes wide as he stared at me. His voice was hushed when he spoke, nearly a whisper. "She found him, didn't she? Mica."

Tears filled my eyes, spilling down my cheeks as I nodded. "I'd asked him if she'd known he was there, terrified that she'd been lying in wait somewhere, waiting for the opportunity to strike. He'd quickly shaken his head. 'No. At least I hope not—I didn't tell anyone what I was doing.'"

A shuddering sob broke free from my lips. I gave him an abbreviated version of the rest of the story—stumbling slightly over the part about sharing some of my story and her reaction to it. Drew's hands clenched into fists, eyes blazing with anger, but he never spoke. My voice finally broke as I described how Mica had delivered the blow—how I hadn't been fast enough to stop it. A phantom ache spread through my body as I talked about the dauntingly long swim home, the sudden relief that had spread through my body as the palace had loomed in the distance.

"I tried to help him," I whispered brokenly, shame and regret slicing through me. "I got him to the entrance of the palace before—" My voice broke again, yet another sob breaking from my lips.

Drew nodded as he swam to me, wrapping his arms around me. "You did everything you could," he whispered. "I'm sure he knows that."

Exhaustion seeped into every crack in my body, flowing through me like lava. When the sudden knock sounded on my door, I could hardly hold my head up. "I'll get it," Drew said. He reluctantly let go of me and swam to the door. I looked past his broad frame, barely able to make out the glimpses of purple-and-grey peeking out from in front of him. He must have been speaking with a guard.

My heart simultaneously leapt and sank. Jonah?

I waited with bated breath as Drew thanked the guard and closed the door. He turned back to me, his face expressionless. When he finally spoke, his voice was filled with relief. "He's asking for you." He gave me a once-over, clearly noting the exhaustion in my gaze, my stance. "Are you sure you feel up to it?"

I was already moving towards the door. "I need to see him." Even as a dagger of shame hurtled toward my heart. I was almost positive that he wouldn't blame me for what had happened—but how could I explain to him that I blamed myself?

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