Treasure of the Tides: Children of the Depths, #1

By Nadine Kirzinger

Discover the captivating love story of Ceit, a young mermaid with an insatiable curiosity for the magic of her people. Disowned and searching for purpose, she embarks on a perilous journey to the surface where she rescues a handsome human named Aidan from the treacherous waves.

Their connection is undeniable, but as their worlds collide, they face insurmountable obstacles that threaten to tear them apart. With a secret plot looming and powerful forces conspiring against them, will their love be enough to overcome the odds and bridge the divide between their worlds?

Set against the backdrop of a dying magic and a quest for treasure, this contemporary mermaid romance will take you on a journey of love, danger, and ultimate sacrifice. Dive into the depths of this enchanting tale and discover if Ceit and Aidan's love can conquer all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Prairie Sea Press Limited
• Release date: Mar 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9781738882809

Book preview

1

It was at the celebration of the Tides when it happened. The entire village had gathered to renew their bonds and celebrate the mysteries of the Depths. Ceit had, as one of the young merwomen in the village, been called upon to serve in the ceremony. It was about to begin and she still wasn’t in place. Instead, she was stuck on the outskirts with her family who, it seemed, had decided that this was the perfect moment to lecture her.

The tension between her and her family had been building since Ceit had first had an original thought in her head. Her mother had always called her too headstrong. They’d butted against each other countless times, the distance between them growing with each independent choice she’d made, and now it was all about to erupt.

Her mother and father had collected her from her home so that they could all arrive together, to show a unified front, she assumed. They were all about appearances. The arguing had begun almost immediately. Her mother hadn’t liked how she’d fixed her hair, never mind that it was how she’d been instructed to pin it back. Then it moved on to her appearance in general - couldn’t she find some nice gems to adorn herself with - and finally, fatally, the way her choices reflected on her family.

They were within a harpoon’s throw of the circle where everyone had gathered, still clashing with words when Ceit tried to put an end to it.

We can discuss this all tomorrow, after the ceremony. I have to go—

No daughter of mine will cavort about aimlessly. Coraline was practically spitting at her in her anger.

You contribute nothing of substance to our community, she continued. Her mate, Dallin, hovered beside her, a bracing hand on her forearm as she berated their middle daughter.

"Excuse me? I’m right here, literally about to take place in a ceremony for our community," Ceit shot back.

You say that as if you volunteered to help, Coraline said. The disgust in her voice made Ceit feel as if she’d just been dissected by a shark.

We both know better. Look at your brothers and sisters: herdsmen, hunters, crafters. All of them have found their place in our society! They each earn their way and contribute. While you! You swim about, only helping when you’re called upon and foraging for what? ‘Ancient herbal remedies ’ pah, what nonsense!

I’m studying under Oona, Ceit tried to interrupt. She could feel the weight from the eyes of the crowd turning toward them as their argument grew louder.

Only a fool would take her word as law. I didn’t raise you to be a fool. Coraline shook her head in disgust, her long greying locks flowing about her head, sparking with a faint blue light, like a halo of her anger.

I have tried and tried for years. She paused, gesturing at her mate. We both have. And you still have yet to grow out of these foolish daydreams of yours.

She shoved an impatient hand through her hair, forcing it away from her face again, but this time when her hand came away, the gathering light from her hair stuck to her hand, clinging and crackling like an angry storm.

It is time for us to let you go. Until you can stand with us and contribute to the community, we must cleanse our hands of you.

So saying, she spun around three times, whipping the water up and around her with her tail, until it coalesced into a funnel of bubbles. And then Coraline stopped suddenly, facing away from Ceit.

Go forth, Ceit, you are no longer a daughter of Coraline. You will find no place with your blood until you have earned your redemption.

She clenched her hand into a tight fist, and the light extinguished.

A sudden weight seemed to press on her throat, and Ceit watched in horror as her father repeated the ritual, followed by each of her five siblings.

In silence, she fought for stoicism. Though the battle was titanic, she kept her face like granite, smooth and unmoved by emotion, until the last, her youngest brother, swam before her to find his place. She cracked.

Faelan, she pleaded, extending a desperate hand to him.

I will try to fix this, Ceit, he said. His voice was thick with grief. She watched as he gulped, his pulse fluttering in a desperate tattoo against the delicate skin at his throat. He shook his head and closed his eyes as he began spinning. He was clumsy and off kilter, each rotation producing fewer bubbles than the last.

His voice trembled on the final invocation, and yet it was enough. A deep, resounding gong thrummed through the water on his last word, the culmination of each pass of the ritual before him, and the shock wave that rode through the water honed in and targeted her and her alone.

Even Faelan, whom she had trusted to stand by her, had left her. Her family had abandoned her. She was alone.

Ceit did not notice them swimming off to rejoin the rest of the gathering. Her bones ached from that final buffeting of waves and sound, and she drifted listlessly down to the bed of rocks which they’d left her beside.

Ceit refused to look up, afraid that everyone in the village would be staring at her, watching her in her moment of shame with the kind of glee that can only exist when you are not involved personally in the drama. The sounds from the celebration seemed unnaturally loud to her ears, and she fought to tune it out. Searching for a distraction, she found her eyes wandering to the bed of rocks she sat on. They were mottled grey, streaked through with bright, bold lines of white quartz. She traced the patterns of the lines with numb fingers, until nothing else existed in the world but their twists and swirls. She was so entranced that didn’t notice the guard come up to her.

Are you one of the Mother’s Shadows?

At his voice, Ceit looked up, disoriented.

Yes.

I’m sorry, he said. But you’re needed at the centre. They’re about to begin.

Thank you, she mumbled, and righted herself. I’ll be right there.

He gave her a brief nod and swam off.

The celebration took place inside the depths of an ancient volcanic caldera. It had been the site of their gatherings for time beyond memory, and as each generation celebrated its triumphs and mourned its defeats in this sacred place, their accumulated power grew and sank deep into the surrounding rocks. This was the seat of their power and protection, of life and vitality. This sacred space made their home a haven and a refuge in times of need, the magic rising and enveloping them with its welcoming warmth. It could also transform into a fortress against their enemies when the village came under attack, those same ancient magics rising like an angry god in their defence, enveloping them in its arms, and guarding them with every bit of its strength. Or so the legends said.

And maybe it used to.

But magic, like faith, could fade from memory from long disuse. Like any protection, the magic needed renewal and anchoring, too. And the preferred anchor for the magics of her people were sacred opalized shells. They used the shells as focuses in the rituals of protection and anchored the magics in their cores.

There were pillars placed at regular intervals all around the caldera, and upon each pillar sat one of these magic shells, placed there in ritual, and anchored with the magic of her people.

However, when the magic stayed focused too hard and for too long on one task it strained them, and sometimes caused them to shatter and lose their inner glow.

In her great-great-grandmother’s time, it had happened only twice, or so the stories said.

In her lifetime alone, she had witnessed five.

They were dying.

Most of the rest of the population was in denial. They didn’t see the lack of food, the encroaching predators and enemies, and their inability to reproduce successfully as things that were connected or related to the dying magic.

They didn’t even believe that their magic was dying.

Instead, they blamed bad luck, changing tides, or the old favourite, humans. But never something that they could control.

But Oona knew better. That old merwoman had a way of always seeing more than those around her. Her runes, she said, had told her it was coming, and her grandmother before her, but as was the curse of the seers, both above and below the waves: people seldom believed them.

---

When Oona had approached her and asked her if she wanted to come and learn their histories and some of the lore, Ceit had almost laughed in her face. And from the amused and tolerant look on her own, Oona had known it. But she was full of warmth and joy, and terribly persuasive.

What, don’t tell me you want to be a hunter, little one, she’d said. Pah, it would utterly waste your talents. Come, swim a while with me. We will see if our paths continue together, or if they diverge come the new moon.

She’d held out both hands, palms up, cupping a glowing pearl, and Ceit had been caught in her trap. She’d reached out a finger to trace along the small, glowing token. Its cool, smooth surface pulsed in recognition of the magic within her, and the glow it emitted strengthened until she felt an echo of it in her heart.

Alright, she had agreed. Because it was just one moon cycle she was asking for and she really didn’t want to be a hunter or a warrior. The sense that there was something more that she was should be doing with her life had never quite left her.

Good girl, the old merwoman smiled, and took Ceit’s hands in her own, enfolding them, and passing her the pearl. Cupping the pearl gently, it was with wonder that Ceit realized she could feel Oona’s magic pulsing through her veins alongside her own. Her eyes flew up to meet Oona’s shining eyes, and she could feel her mouth parting slightly, in awe at its strength.

Oh yes, we will do great things together, you and I, Oona said with a delighted laugh.

---

At the center of the gathering, Enid, the chieftain held court over their people. She lounged back among a throne of coral and shells, wearing her authority like a cloak. Even the water felt different near her. Thicker, charged with energy. As one of the selected handmaids, Ceit had to attend her for the celebration of this cycle of the Tides. She had been selected for her duties during the last full moon, handpicked along with three others from among the unmated merwomen. Despite the honour, she wanted nothing more than to slink away into the darkness, and hide away along with her broken heart. There was little she felt like less than celebrating after her encounter with her family.

Ceit made her way slowly toward Enid and the center, hoping to hover nearby unobtrusively and discharge her duty without calling any attention to herself. She barely noticed her posture shifting to match her mood as she shrunk into herself, making herself smaller, duller, and less interesting.

She blended into the shadows as she passed, allowing her tail fin to droop and blend in, mimicking the effect of the kelp on the waves, and causing her to sink beneath the notice of the celebrants and onlookers alike.

---

Well, almost all of them. One of Enid’s guards, Laith, glanced at her and arched an eyebrow in question. He was unnaturally observant, but she supposed that came from being devoted to learning the skills of a hunter-warrior all his life. They were friends of a sort, she and Laith. They had been close in their youth—for a time she’d thought they might be chosen mates—though their paths seldom crossed these days.

Ceit shook her head subtly, so as not to call any further attention to herself, and looked away, hoping that he would direct his attention elsewhere.

Laith settled himself more comfortably in his seat and glanced up to check on her once more, before his gaze darted back to Enid and their surroundings.

Ceit drifted closer to Enid, her duty to stay close to her chieftain during the celebrations. The Mother’s Shadow, they called her today. The role was as sacred and enshrined in myths as any of their sacred tasks. As the Mother’s Shadow, not only was she playing the role of the cheiftan’s handmaiden, but she was expected to help power the rituals with her own energies. She would bear the brunt of the burden, leaving Enid free for the pageantry and politicking.

She glided along behind Enid, melting into the shadows whenever she could. She spared a nod to the other Mother’s Shadows as they found their places. After the horrible scene her family had made earlier, the last thing that she wanted right now were any eyes on her. No matter that there hasn’t been many others around when it had happened, the few who had witnessed it had made sure that word spread quickly through the crowd present at the celebration. Their eyes weighed on her, and she could feel their judgment burning into her scales.

The ceremony was completed quickly, a sign of a people in decline. The protective net around the village they renewed during the ritual drew only a fraction of their energies, and Ceit could hardly believe the stories she’d been told of her grandmother’s youth, when every Mother’s Shadow had needed days to recover from charging the magic shells that powered it. She was almost happy when Enid spoke, hoping for a distraction from the turn her thoughts had taken. Almost.

I heard what happened, Enid said bluntly. Are you alright?

Bright eyes bored into Ceit, and she wanted to flinch away.

I will be, Honoured Mother, she replied.

Enid stared at her for a long moment and she fought not to squirm or to hide her face behind her tail like a child.

You will be, she confirmed with a decisive nod. But you are not yet.

There was nothing to say to that, so Ceit said nothing, lowering her eye to the ocean floor. She watched as a crab scuttled along the sand, searching its path for sustenance.

You must carve out your own path, daughter of the waves. Look within yourself, and find your great, defining task, and become who you are meant to be. They will come back to you when they see that you are no longer aimless.

Honoured Mother, she murmured in what she hoped came across as a respectful tone, keeping her eyes lowered. She fought to keep her scales free of the colour of her rage. As if the only measure of her worth and of being deserving of love was to have a greater purpose. As if no one could possibly care about her just for being herself.

May the currents carry your words to the Depths, Ceit murmured in response. Enid nodded decisively, the sharp movement startling Ceit into looking up once more.

Report to the sea wolves’ meadow on the edge of the village tomorrow, at sunrise. It is time we gave you more responsibilities. You will care for them.

Without waiting for a response, Enid released her from her duties with a small wave of her hand, gesturing for Laith to escort her away.

Ceit swallowed any response she might have made and fled.

2

Laith followed, of course, dutiful guard that he was.

Wait up, Ceit, he called, riding the currents close on her tail.

Please, just leave me alone, she called over her shoulder, not wanting to slow down and risk having to talk with him.

Go back to the celebration and enjoy yourself, she said. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.

She didn’t need to see his face to know that he saw through the lie, and she winced. But instead of calling her out on it, he carried on.

Enid isn’t expecting me back for a while yet, he said. His tone was casual, with no signs of tension or anger, and she almost wished there were. It would have been easier to escape him if he’d been upset, she was sure.

I can go with you as far as the kelp forest, if you like.

She hesitated for a moment too long. The indecision on how to decline politely cost her any chance of solitude.

"Come, my Heart, let me take you, so that I know you are home safe."

She shook her head and turned, as if to make off on her own once more.

Hey, he called softly, as he gently grasped her hand, proving once again that he was an exceptional hunter for a reason, his speed far exceeding her own.

Don’t run off, he said. He tugged slightly on her hand, hoping to turn her around, but not forcing her to face him if she wasn’t ready.

Why not? Her tears finally broke away from her, melting into the salt water surrounding them. There’s no place for me here anymore.

Shhh, he whispered, tugging her softly into his arms. Your family may be a useless bunch of flotsam, but you’re still one of us. He held her loosely, almost awkwardly, as though he’d never really tried to comfort a crying merwoman before, and did not know what to do.

You matter, Laith said, forcing her to hear his words through her pain. The words were a balm on her soul. You are important. They were idiots.

Her eyes ached, and she rubbed them against his shoulder as he drew her into his embrace. His movements were awkward and unpracticed.

You know I mean it when I call you my my heart, right? It is not me teasing you, or a pet name I use on every merwoman out there just for convenience. You kept me safe from the taunts of the others younglings who called me a wild thing when I came to the village for the first time, to be join you in lessons, and you made me one of you. Let me return this little favour by seeing you safely home.

Something rough and angular that tasted like tears and heartache caught in her throat, and she forced herself to swallow around it. Slowly, she brought her arms up around his midsection and squeezed in acknowledgement, clinging to him desperately as her heart broke over and over again, her family’s words echoing endlessly in her head.

At length, the sound of Laith’s voice broke through the echoes, and she grasped at it desperately, following the low hum out of her memories.

…and if you’d like, I can take my harpoon to them next time we’re out on a hunt, I mean, if you think it might make you feel better, he rambled on. I wouldn’t hurt him too bad though, just a little nick ought to do it, don’t you think?

The absurdity of the offer broke her tears, and she giggled madly. Breaking their embrace, Laith tilted her head up to examine her face.

Right, he said. Harpoon it is then. With an exaggerated nod, a relieved smile crossed his face, easing the worry lines that had appeared there.

Right, she snorted. As if.

Oh well, he said, shaking his head. It was worth a thought, anyway.

Slowly, her laughter eased off, and they settled on some nearby rocks.

Seriously, though, he said. Your place is here. Nothing that anybody says can change that.

Thank you, she replied quietly.

They watched a small swarm of fish go by, their silver scales winking in the dying light.

Now, he said. It’s getting late. You shouldn’t be by yourself tonight, I don’t think. Who should I take you to tonight?

I— I don’t think—

Right, I’m taking you to Oona then, he said decisively. She always heads back right after the ceremony and I’m sure she’ll be wanting to see you.

He tugged her up by her arm once again.

Yes, Oona… Oona would be offended she ever thought that she might not be welcome. She would be safe with Oona.

Gladly, he said. Righting themselves, he held out a hand and drew her alongside him, navigating the path through the kelp forest for her as she drifted and bobbed along behind him, grateful for his kindness.

---

It