The sobbing eventually stopped, mostly because Roxy ran out of hydration.
There was a limit to how much she could cry.
She sat on the edge of the giant clam shell, her knees drawn to her chest, breathing in the damp, salty air of her pearl prison. Now that the adrenaline of panic and the wave of grief had receded slightly, she was left with a strange, hollow clarity.
She looked at her captor.
Caspian was hovering near the coral table, arranging the pile of raw squid he had brought earlier. He moved with a hypnotic fluidity.
Roxy had heard stories of Merfolk. Myths claimed they were nightmares, cold-blooded monsters with rows of serrated teeth who dragged sailors to their deaths. She expected him to look like a humanoid shark, all grey skin and dead eyes.
But Caspian was... distracting.
