by Zoe Chant
It was all tame enough to Reiner’s eyes—just people out enjoying the balmy summer evening—but John’s scowl deepened with every step. The sea dragon stalked along as though he was being forced to wade through an orgy.
“Sea, protect my sister,” he muttered, glowering at a particularly loud, cheerful group of college students clustered around a doorway. “This city is filled with peril. We must find her quickly, ere it is too late.”
“John,” Reiner said. “That’s a kebab shop.”
John sniffed, as though the mere existence of delicious convenience food was an affront to the honor of sea dragons everywhere. “If my gentle, innocent sister has wandered into such a place, I shall—”
“Cut off yet another one of my body parts and fashion it into a fetching piece of home decor,” Reiner finished for him, wearily. “Yes. I know. You’ve already made your intentions quite clear. For the sake of my genitals, I suppose I’d better pray we don’t find her in a strip club.”
“A what?”
“Never mind.”
Chase stopped so abruptly that Reiner nearly walked straight into his back. The pegasus shifter swung round with a wide smile. He gestured at a set of stairs leading down to a basement-level door like a magician revealing a rabbit.
“And here we are!” Chase announced. “Unless my pegasus senses are mistaken, which they never are—”
John murmured, “Neridia’s pearl?”
“Unless my pegasus senses are mistaken, which they almost never are,” Chase corrected himself, without missing a beat. “The very lovely and remarkably elusive Jane is down there. Along with quite a crowd, I might add. Which is, perhaps, unfortunate for Reiner. Sorry, Reiner.”
Reiner glanced at the pink neon sign glowing above the door and winced. He had a fleeting wish that Jane had managed to find her way to a strip club. That would at least have been easier to explain.
“I’m afraid you two will have to take it from here,” Chase continued. He rubbed the back of his head, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. “I’m banned from this place. There was an incident.”
“How—” Reiner started, and then pinched the bridge of his nose. “On second thought, I really don’t want to know.”
“Well, I found myself in unexpected possession of several gallons of glitter—”
“I said I didn’t want to know. John, it might be best if you waited out here too.”
John drew himself up to his full, extremely impressive height. “She is my sister.”
Reiner sighed. “Fine. Just try not to spontaneously combust, all right?”
The door at the bottom of the stairs was guarded by a bored-looking bouncer. He glanced at them in disinterest, then did a double-take at John.
This was understandable. John was eye-catching enough when dressed normally—which, at the moment, he very much wasn’t. John had reluctantly conceded that he couldn’t carry his sword on this quest, but not even Griff had been able to persuade him to leave his armor behind.
After much argument, John had grudgingly swapped his spiked shoulder guards for a borrowed t-shirt, but this still left him mostly dressed in skin-tight leather and articulated metal. It was… a look. Reiner had prudently decided not to tell him what sort.
The bouncer straightened, barring John’s way. He was by no means a small man, but he still barely came to the sea dragon’s shoulder. The human had balls, Reiner had to grant. Or possibly just nothing between his ears.
“Think you’re in the wrong place, mate.” The bouncer jerked a thumb down the street. “Leather bar is four doors down.”
John blinked at the man in clear bafflement. Reiner repressed a smirk.
“He’s harmless. Just very into historical re-enactment.” Reiner pulled out his wallet, fishing for a couple of twenties. “Here’s our entrance charge. Keep the change.”
“Thank you, sir,” the bouncer said, pocketing the cash with a broad grin. Opening the door, he waved them through. “Enjoy your night.”
John followed Reiner inside, needing to bend nearly double to get through the doorway. “You bribed him?” the sea dragon hissed.
He made it sound as though Reiner had offered the man carnal favors. Since John couldn’t see his face, Reiner allowed himself to roll his eyes.
“No, John,” he said with exaggerated patience. “I tipped him. It’s a difficult job with low pay. And besides, there’s a non-zero chance we’re about to cause a scene. If there’s trouble, I want the bouncer on our side.”
John made a sound that was still mostly growl, but which held the faintest undertone of respect. “That is surprisingly good tactical thinking.”
“I do have my moments. Come on. Jane can’t be far now.”
A short, dark corridor led past a coat check hatch to a set of swing doors. Pulses of strobing, blood-red light leaked through the gap between them. Reiner could already feel the bass rattling his sternum. John reached for the door, but Reiner halted him with a gesture. He turned to face the sea dragon.
“John.” Reiner locked eyes with the knight, hoping against hope that for once John would listen to him. “What you are about to see may shock and distress you. For Jane’s sake, swear that you won’t make a scene.”
John stiffened. “I am the Imperial Champion and a Knight of the First Water. Your limited mind could not comprehend the horrors that I have battled in the abyss. Whatever lies beyond, I can face it without flinching.”
Reiner shrugged. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He flung open the doors. A tsunami of sound and light hit them.
John recoiled. One hand shot to his shoulder, reaching for the sword he wasn’t wearing. Whatever he said was in sea dragon language, but Reiner could guess the general sentiment behind the words.
“No!” Reiner had to yell to make himself heard over the tooth-rattling din. He grabbed John’s arm, holding him back. “Jane’s fine! It’s not a battle!”
The whites showed all around John’s eyes. “What in the name of the Sea is this horror?”
The noise crescendoed, drowning out the end of John’s question. Dozens of voices—mostly female—lifted as one, belting out four simple letters.
“Y! M! C! A!”
“That, sir knight,” Reiner shouted up at John, “is disco.”
Chapter 9
It was wonderful.
Jane flung up her arms, joining in the chorus at the top of her lungs. Even to her own ears, she sounded awful. Her pitch was off. She still hadn’t picked up more than a handful of the words.
And no one—not a single person in the whole crowded room—cared one bit.
She had never felt so free.
All around her, women danced with equal abandon. Under the bright, glittering light of a spinning faceted ball, they moved as one, their arms shaping letters in the air. Not with the precise, practiced unison of a rehearsed troupe, true, but their joyous energy that more than made up for any lack of precision.
“You’re amazing!” Tallulah yelled in Jane’s ear as the music faded. She dropped her hands, forehead gleaming with sweat. “You weren’t kidding about being a professional dancer. Is this really the first time you’ve ever tried disco?”
“Yes.” Jane reluctantly lowered her own arms. “I had no idea such marvelous music existed. Is there more?”
“Oh, you sweet summer child.” Tallulah fanned herself. “Whew! You might be able to dance through the whole 70s without a pause, but I need a drink. You want anything?”
She’d been so caught up in the joy of dancing, she’d lost all awareness of her own body. Now she realized she was ravenous.
“I am hungry,” she admitted. She bit her lip. “Is there, perhaps… ice cream?”
Tallulah chuckled. “I’m afraid not. The bar here is good, but not that good. But I know a little place near here that does great desserts. We were planning to head that way later, but I want to dance some more first. That okay with you?”
“Yes.” The music shif
ted into a new song. Notes pulled at her like a riptide, impossible to resist, and all thought of hunger vanished as though it had never been. She rose on her toes, arms spreading as the melody flowed through every part of her body. “Oh, yes! I could dance forever!”
Tallulah laughed. “We have got to get you on TikTok. You’d be a viral sensation. I’m gonna go get us some drinks. You stay here and enjoy yourself, you hear?”
Tallulah swept off in a flash of sequins. Her squad—who were not, Jane had discovered, in fact oath-sworn warriors, despite their intimidating appearance—followed her like a shoal of pilot fish around a shark.
Left on the dance floor, Jane tipped her face up to the whirling ball overhead. The little brilliant flashes of light glinting from it reminded her of the shifting surface of the sea, seen from underneath. The Mirrored Void, it was called, in her own tongue. Her own school of dance was named after that liquid, ever-shifting brilliance.
Third Dancer of the Mirrored Void. The name felt too tight, like skin before a molt. With all her heart, she longed to peel it away and leave it behind her.
“Jane Doe of the Disco Ball,” she murmured, closing her eyes as the light played over her face.
The music drummed through her like a second heartbeat. A fierce female voice sang lyrics that speared right to the heart of Jane’s soul. Words of defiance and unbreakable will; of boundless, indomitable endurance.
She’d come onto land in search of her true mate. That dream had popped like an air bubble… but the words of the song were true.
She would survive.
More than that. As she embraced the music, as those powerful words reverberated through her bones, she dared to hope again. That she would not only survive… but thrive.
Despite her earlier devastation, she had still found joy today. She had walked amidst bright flowers and danced under dazzling light; seen such beauty and been met with such kindness. True, she had made mistakes and blunders, but each time she had found the strength to pick herself up and carry on.
She’d been looking for her mate. She’d lost him, but found something else. This world—this wondrous, raucous, boundless human world, in all its strangeness and magnificence—had filled the emptiness in her heart.
She had lost her mate. She would not lose this too.
In the silver light of the disco ball, everything became clear. All Jane’s self-doubt dropped away. She would stay on land, no matter what the cost. If she had to, she would petition the Empress Neridia herself to grant her leave to remain. Even if the Empress refused, Jane would rather be banished from the sea than never know this joy again.
I am home, she thought, in wonder, and knew it to be true. I am finally home.
“Hey, hot stuff! You need a partner?”
Jane opened her eyes to discover a man dancing up to her. He twisted his hips in obvious invitation.
Males, Jane thought in fond exasperation. It was not the first such proposition she had received that evening. Some things were still the same, above the sea or under it.
He was a good dancer, and she had always liked a bold, direct approach. Once, she might have indulged herself. But she no longer had any heart for casual dalliance. There was only one male she could desire ever again.
And he would never be hers.
But all the rest of the world would be. That was enough for her.
With a smile, she shook her head at the man. To his credit, he took her rejection with good grace. His hopeful expression fell for an instant, but then he shrugged and flashed her a rueful grin.
“Had to ask,” he called over the music. He shimmied in a complicated dance move, as if to show her what she was missing. “If you change your mind, I’ll be—”
An armored hand clamped around the man’s neck. He let out a strangled yelp as he was lifted bodily off his feet.
“Elsewhere,” John growled.
Eyes bulging, the man squeaked in fervent agreement. John opened his hand, not bothering to lower it first. The man landed in a heap on the dance floor. Without a backwards glance, he scuttled off like a crab.
“Brother!” All Jane’s elation fled, like the poor hapless human had done. “What are you doing here?”
Jaw set in a grim line, he reached for her wrist. “Taking you home.”
“No!” She jerked out of his reach, backing away. “I do not wish to leave.”
He pursued her, every heavy tread out of time with the music. “This is not a discussion. We are leaving this appalling place. Now.”
With a supple twist of her spine, she evaded another grab. “John, stop. Please, calm down and listen to me. I have made up my mind. I—”
“You are not in your right mind, little sister,” John interrupted. His voice was as cold as his eyes, merciless as a riptide. “You are mad with grief. Nothing else explains the sheer reckless insanity of this entire escapade. What were you thinking, running off into danger like this? You know nothing of the human world. You are as soft and defenseless as a newborn hatchling, and it is a miracle that you have survived this long unharmed.”
His face was set in an expression she’d never seen before—except, she realized, she had. She’d just never been on the receiving end of it before. He’d looked like that when he was fighting for his mate’s life; for all their lives.
For the first time, she understood what it must be like to face him in battle.
She knew to the marrow of her bones that he would never, ever hurt her… but in that moment, he wasn’t her brother. She looked at him and saw only the Imperial Champion; the living embodiment of sea dragon honor, towering over her like the Pearl Throne itself.
Her resolve faltered in the face of that implacable authority. Who was she, to dare to stand against thousands of years of tradition and custom? When the Imperial Champion told her she was wrong, how could she do anything other than bow her head and apologize for her foolish mistake?
John’s iron expression softened a fraction. He took her hand, and this time she let him.
“I understand why you fled,” he said, more gently. “But you cannot escape pain by running away from it. I learned that myself, to my cost. I know what it is to be so grief stricken that self-destruction seems preferable. But I will not let you throw yourself into the abyss of meaningless, petty pleasures. Open your eyes, I beg you. Look around. You must see that these foolish fripperies could never fill the emptiness of your heart. This is no place for you.”
John wasn’t the only one glaring at her. With an unpleasant jolt, she realized that their altercation had attracted attention. All around, people had ceased dancing, drawing back. They muttered to each other, glaring at Jane in clear aggravation at the way she had disrupted their enjoyment of the music.
She stood alone in a bare circle of dance floor, and everywhere she looked she saw nothing but disapproval.
Her last remaining shreds of defiance crumpled. She bowed her head, hiding from all those unfriendly eyes.
“Yes, brother,” Jane said dully. “There is no place for me. I see that now.”
John squeezed her fingers. “I know you think me overprotective, but I truly do only have your best interests at heart. You are hurting and in despair, and it is making you reckless. But I promise, all will be well. Things are not as dark as they seem. Now come. I will take you home.”
“No,” said a cold, furious voice.
Jane caught her breath. Despite everything, her heart shot up on sudden wings. He couldn’t be here, he shouldn’t be here…
But he was. Reiner stalked through the crowd, people parting before him like water. He planted himself in between Jane and her brother.
“No,” Reiner repeated, eyes blazing feral gold. He was nowhere near John’s height or bulk, yet he glared up at the knight without a trace of fear. “No, you damn well won’t.”
Chapter 10
John’s expression hardened. He let go of Jane’s wrist, but Reiner was pretty sure that was just to free both hands in readiness for a fi
ght.
The sea dragon squared up to him, toe-to-toe and chest-to-chest. Or rather, nose-to-chest, given the height difference. Reiner held his ground. He lifted his chin, holding the knight’s icy stare.
“Your opinion is neither required nor desired,” John spoke in a low, dangerous growl, pitched for their ears only. “And you agreed to let me handle this.”
“That was before I knew you planned to charge in and throw your sister over your shoulder like a goddamn caveman,” Reiner snapped. His lion snarled in agreement, claws flexing. “For pity’s sake! I thought you people were supposed to be honorable!”
“We are.” John’s fists bunched. “Which is why you are still breathing. Do not make me reconsider that courtesy.”
Reiner turned his back on the sea dragon, in a deliberate show of disregard. “Jane. What do you want?”
“I…” Her eyes darted from him to the staring crowd, then down to her feet. “I do not want to cause trouble.”
Reiner cast a hard stare around, letting his lion show in his eyes. “This isn’t Love Island, people. She’s not here for your personal entertainment. Show the lady some basic respect and mind your own business. Can’t you see she’s upset?”
He wasn’t Griff, able to compel obedience with alpha power, but people still flushed and dropped their gaze. As the gawkers sheepishly went back to dancing, Reiner touched Jane’s elbow.
“We need to talk,” he said gently, drawing her aside. He glared over his shoulder at John. “You too, idiot.”
Jane didn’t lift her gaze from the floor, but she let him guide her off the dance floor. John had no choice but to follow, though Reiner could practically feel the sea dragon fuming at his back.
“There,” Reiner said, as they reached a more private corner booth. He released Jane, though not without a twinge of regret. “Now we can discuss matters like civilized people, and not bloody Stone Age barbarians.”
