The shapes approaching through the water moved impossibly fast.
Not swimming.
Arriving.
Mamta instinctively stepped backward through the current.
Small movement.
Controlled.
But both mermen noticed immediately.
Of course they did.
The younger one turned toward her first, eyes narrowing slightly as she shifted farther from his reach.
Not offended.
Observing.
Mamta kept her expression calm.
Thinking.
Always thinking.
Because the situation had become dangerously simple in the worst possible way:
She was alone.
Surrounded.
In a civilization she did not understand.
At the mercy of people physically built for this environment.
Panic would be useless.
But that did not mean surrendering awareness.
The younger merman moved instinctively to steady her again as the current shifted around the reef corridor.
His hand stopped halfway.
Because this time Mamta stepped back before he could touch her.
Not dramatic.
Not fearful.
Just deliberate.
The pause that followed lasted barely a second.
But underwater, seconds stretched strangely long.
Mamta held his gaze evenly.
"I can move on my own now."
Her voice sounded strange beneath the water. Softer. Distorted slightly by the Veylroot.
The younger merman stared at her for a moment.
Then slowly lowered his hand.
No irritation.
No mockery.
Something quieter.
Understanding.
Which somehow unsettled her more.
Because he adjusted instantly.
No wounded ego. No insistence. No "I was helping."
Just adaptation.
The darker-haired one watched the exchange with unreadable silver eyes.
Mamta suddenly became aware of something uncomfortable.
She did not actually know what counted as normal here.
Maybe underwater people touched constantly for navigation.
Maybe proximity meant nothing to them.
Maybe she was reacting through surface instincts to behavior considered practical beneath the sea.
But still—
Her body had noticed.
Too much contact.
Too much unfamiliar closeness.
And no matter how calm she remained externally, some deeply human instinct inside her kept tightening every time hands settled at her waist or ribs without warning.
Not because he was threatening.
Because he wasn't.
That almost made it worse.
The younger merman tilted his head slightly.
"You're uncomfortable."
Not accusation.
Observation.
Mamta considered lying.
Didn't.
"Not used to this."
His gaze flicked briefly toward the currents around them.
Then back to her.
"Physical guidance is common underwater."
"I figured."
"But humans dislike it more."
Mamta almost laughed at the bluntness of that.
"Humans dislike many things."
That finally earned an actual smile.
Small.
Sharp-edged.
Dangerous in a way she was beginning to realize was natural for him.
Not performed.
The student interrupted quietly before the moment could settle further.
"They're here."
The water shifted.
Four figures emerged from the glowing reef currents ahead.
Kyzzen.
Mamta knew instantly even without explanation.
The same peacock-blue glow traced along their skin in fluid patterns that brightened faintly as they approached. Their movements were terrifyingly synchronized beneath the water.
Messenger caste maybe.
Or military.
Possibly both.
The lead figure stopped several feet away.
His eyes landed on Mamta immediately.
And stayed there.
Not rudely.
Professionally.
Which somehow felt worse.
Mamta suddenly understood what prey animals probably felt like when being assessed by intelligent predators.
Not hunger.
Evaluation.
The messenger spoke rapidly in their language.
Fast syllables flowing through the current like sharpened water.
The younger merman answered smoothly.
Shorter response.
Controlled tone.
The messenger's eyes sharpened instantly afterward.
Toward Mamta again.
The student moved subtly then.
Not in front of her.
Closer to the younger prince's side.
Protective formation.
Mamta noticed immediately.
So did the messenger.
Interesting.
The lead messenger switched languages abruptly.
Trade tongue this time.
"Surface human," he said calmly. "State your territory origin."
Mamta's pulse stayed steady.
Inside, her brain was on fire.
Because how exactly was she supposed to answer that?
India? Earth? Wrong dimension entirely??
Fantastic.
She chose the safest truth available.
"Aryavarta."
Not technically false.
The messenger studied her face carefully.
Too carefully.
"North."
Again not a question.
Mamta gave a small nod.
The messenger's gaze lingered another moment before shifting toward the younger prince.
"Why is she in Kyzzen water."
The younger merman answered immediately.
"She fell into Thornmere currents during a surface disturbance."
"Humans do not survive Thornmere currents."
"She did."
The messenger's expression remained perfectly neutral.
Which meant absolutely nothing good.
Mamta recognized political faces when she saw them.
This one belonged to someone already sending information elsewhere mentally.
The student suddenly spoke for the first time since the messengers arrived.
"She encountered a kelp-wraith and survived armed."
That changed the atmosphere instantly.
All four messengers looked at Mamta again.
Different this time.
Not curiosity.
Interest.
The lead messenger's markings brightened faintly beneath his throat.
A reaction she couldn't interpret yet.
"You fought it underwater?"
Mamta shrugged lightly.
"It was trying to eat me. Felt rude not to respond."
Silence.
Then unexpectedly, the younger prince laughed.
Not loudly.
But genuinely.
The sound moved strangely through water. Lower. Smoother.
And for one deeply irritating second, Mamta's brain noticed entirely unnecessary things again.
Like how unfairly good his smile looked underwater.
Excellent.
Maybe oxygen deprivation had permanently damaged her judgment.
The messenger looked between both of them carefully.
And suddenly Mamta saw it.
The calculation.
Noticing proximity.
Attention.
Instinctive positioning.
Oh no.
The younger prince noticed the messenger noticing.
His expression smoothed instantly afterward.
More royal suddenly.
More controlled.
Interesting again.
Very interesting.
Then the messenger spoke carefully.
"Kesh envoys are already moving toward Kyzzen territory."
Mamta stilled internally.
Kesh.
The strategist clan.
Why?
The messenger answered before she could ask.
"The description sent from Thornmere matched northern Aryavartan appearance."
The water around Mamta suddenly felt much colder.
Because that meant they weren't responding to HER specifically.
They were responding to what she represented.
A human from Aryavarta appearing unexpectedly inside underwater territory.
Political implications.
Diplomatic implications.
Questions.
Too many questions.
The younger prince glanced toward her briefly.
Not concern.
Calculation.
Fast.
Sharp.
Like he had suddenly realized the situation around her was becoming politically larger than whatever impulse had made him pull a drowning human from the sea.
And somehow that expression unsettled Mamta more.
Because concern could be emotional.
This wasn't.
This was a strategist recognizing consequences in real time.
The student noticed it too.
His silver eyes shifted once between the prince, the messengers, and Mamta before settling back into stillness again.
The atmosphere changed subtly after that.
Less accidental.
More official.
Mamta felt it immediately.
Until now, she had been: a strange survivor, an unexpected problem, a curiosity dragged from hostile waters.
But the moment Aryavarta entered the conversation—
she became geopolitical.