Releases / 18+ · New Adult
Cressida Marlowe
Odessa Hale owes a debt she didn't make — a bargain her grandmother struck with a court of grief-fed monsters beneath the sea. She has a year and a day to survive it. She doesn't plan on falling for the one who's supposed to keep her in line.
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"I need you to listen to me," Nan said now, "and I need you to not argue, because I am dying and that is supposed to buy me at least one uninterrupted conversation."
"I didn't get better because of medicine," Nan said. "I got better because I went down to the shore one night when everyone thought I was too weak to stand, and I made a bargain with something that lives under this town. It called itself the Salt Court, and it had a King in it who was more rot than man, and it took one look at a dying girl standing in the wrack line at midnight and it laughed at her, and then it made her an offer."
"There is no maybe," Nan said. "A debt like that doesn't forget. It doesn't forgive, either. It only waits, and it collects interest, and when the one who owes it dies before it's paid—" Her eyes, pale and wet and terribly lucid, found Odessa's. "It passes to the next of blood."
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