Chapter 132
Dinner on the deck buzzes with a strange energy.
There’s warmth here, sure—laughter and the clatter of plates—but there’s also something unspoken beneath it all. It’s like everyone at the table knows something I don’t, and it sets my teeth on edge.
The table is long and makeshift, assembled from collapsible sections and draped in colorful, mismatched cloths. It’s surrounded by what looks to be most of the crew, though the majority are strangers to me. It’s covered with platters of vibrant fruit salads, steaming bowls of fried rice, and enormous slabs of smoked marlin, the scent of which makes my stomach growl despite myself.
But I barely notice the food because my focus locks onto one glaring detail the second I step onto the deck.
Tyler.
And his uncle.
They walk across the deck like they own the place, casual and laughing, too comfortable by half. Heat rushes to my face, the bad kind, the kind that prickles under your skin and makes your fists clench before you even realize it. I storm toward them, my steps purposeful and heavy.
“You set us up!” I hiss, my voice low enough not to cause a scene but loud enough to draw a few curious glances.
Tyler’s grin doesn’t falter. If anything, it widens. “Nice to meet you again,” he says breezily, as if I haven’t just accused him of betrayal.
Before I can fire back, Wake steps up beside me, his presence like a shadow at my back. His voice is calm but razor-sharp as he addresses the older man. “Condolences for the house.”
The older man lets out a laugh, rough and good-natured, as though we’re old friends reminiscing over a mild inconvenience. “Ah, what’s a little smoke damage between friends?” He claps Wake on the shoulder, a move that earns him one of Wake’s infamous blank stares. “Now, since some of our stronger companions are on bed rest tonight, would you do the honor of helping me with tonight’s catch? I’d love to hear more about your people.”
Wake’s gaze flicks to me, silent but questioning. I give him a tight nod, and he follows Tai toward the table where the two of them begin hoisting a massive marlin onto a serving platter. This leaves me alone with Tyler.
I cross my arms, glaring at him. “You work for my grandmother?”
Tyler leans casually against the railing, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Technically, I work for my uncle, and he works with Cora. Uncle Tai’s one of Nereid’s founding members.”
“So, he knows about the sirens?”
Tyler scoffs, shaking his head. “That’s a longer story than I’ve got time to tell before dinner. Follow me.”
I let out an exasperated huff but follow him nonetheless. He hands me a heaping bowl of fruit salad, and I set it on the table before grabbing a tray of fried rice. The smells wafting up from the food are intoxicating, but irritation keeps me focused.
“This is a lot of food,” I say, gesturing toward the spread as we arrange the sides.
Tyler shrugs as he ladles kalia pork into a serving dish. “Yeah, we don’t usually eat this well, especially when we’re in dive mode. But Cora wanted tonight to be special.”
I catch the hesitation in his tone, the slight pause before the word special. It’s like he wanted to add something—for you, maybe—but thought better of it. Smart move.
I glance toward the massive submersible docked just off the stern, its glass dome reflecting the deck lights like a beacon. “Was that you coming in earlier?”
He grins, brushing his hands off on his shorts. “I was on the Flounder, yeah.”
“So, when you’re not manning a surf shack, you moonlight as a submarine captain?”
Tyler laughs, the sound easy and unguarded. “More like a submarine captain’s assistant. Uncle Tai heads all the dives, while Cora oversees.”
“What are you diving for?”
He hesitates, the carefree facade slipping just slightly. “It’s... complicated. Like, literally difficult to wrap your head around if you haven’t seen it in person. I’ll leave that up to Cora to explain since I don’t…”
I arch a brow as he trails off. “You don’t know how much she wants me to know?”
He gives a sheepish shrug. “No offense.”
“Offense isn’t a factor here, Tyler,” I reply coolly. “A lot’s changed, and I’m not the only one who’s going to be playing catch-up.”
His brow furrows as he straightens, his casual demeanor hardening into something more serious. “What does that mean?”
Before I can answer, a sharp clang cuts through the air—a cowbell, rung enthusiastically by one of the crew at the head of the table. The sound is met with cheers, and everyone begins gathering around, plates in hand and appetites evident.
I smirk at Tyler, stepping away from the conversation. “Looks like it’s time to party.”
He watches me for a moment, his lips pressed into a thoughtful line, but doesn’t press further. We join the others at the table, the energy buzzing as people settle into their seats. The air is thick with the scent of smoked fish, tropical fruit, and spices, a feast fit for a royal court—or an army.
As I load my plate, the chatter and clinking utensils fade into the background. My mind is racing, tangled with questions I don’t yet know how to ask. Tyler, Tai, my grandmother, Khale, and the Euclidean Enkian—there’s too much to unravel here. Too many secrets hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.
But for now, I take Wake’s earlier advice: I eat, I observe, and I bide my time. The answers will come, whether I’m ready for them or not.
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