Sea Witch and the Magician

by Savage, Vivienne

  “No, young prince. You may call me Triton, as you always have in your prayers. Swim as one of us from this day forward and continue to make my daughter happy.”

  Then Caecilia couldn’t stand it any longer and blurted out the one question on her mind. “Are you saying…he’s now—?” Her father couldn’t have made him a demigod. Couldn’t have. Such things almost never happened, a rarity that had only occurred a handful of times throughout the ages.

  Triton inclined his head. “Not yet,” he said, dashing her hopes that Joren could be an immortal like her. “Consider this my gift to you, my future son; the gift of seeing our world and experiencing it as only we can. I could grant nothing more to the man who loves my daughter and saw the beauty beyond her flesh.”

  She stared at her father, torn by uncertainty. “Then why did you send the dagger? Why did you tell me to kill him?”

  “Wait. Kill me?”

  She turned from her father to Joren and dipped her head. “After you left, my sister appeared to me with an offer. If I took your life, my curse would be broken and I’d be allowed home again.”

  “And I would have known your lesson was not learned,” Triton said, drawing her attention back to himself. “I believed in you. Your sister did not. It was her idea to test you once more and determine whether you were truly worthy of returning to us, that you had learned humility and grace, but also the selflessness expected of a ruler.”

  “That is…quite the test,” Joren said, looking a little paler than usual.

  Triton dipped his head toward Joren. “Had I not had absolute confidence in Caecilia, I would have never placed your life on the line as the stake in our bet. I’ve watched her for far too many years to believe she could be capable of taking a life in cold blood, even if it would save her own.”

  “She’s too good for that,” Joren said in her defense.

  “She is,” Triton agreed. “Which is why I changed the terms of the curse.”

  “What? But Ghost Hawk is the one who gave me legs without pain.”

  Her father cocked one brow. “Do you truly think I would let you give up all hope?”

  She blinked furiously, thinking back to every moment in time she’d seen the old shaman. Her sense of time had been so skewed by her immortality that she’d never noticed how he didn’t age at all. Always showing up when he was needed.

  “That was you, Father?”

  “It was. I saw your despair and I couldn’t bear it. I wanted to give you a chance.”

  “Would she truly have died at dawn?” Joren asked.

  “Yes. All magic comes with a price, young prince, as you know. After all, she exhausted every ounce of magic she’d hoarded over the years to save your life.”

  Joren caught her around the wrist and drew her close. “It was you?”

  Caecilia dipped her chin, struck by sudden shyness. “I carried your body in my jaws.”

  “Gods. All along, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I knew you as a serpent and had met you before. All this time and you never said.”

  “I couldn’t let you drown, but I couldn’t save your people either. Not all of them.”

  Joren pulled her in close and kissed her until she was breathless, her heart fluttering in her chest like a swarm of butterflies.

  “Go now, both of you,” her father said, and she heard the smile in his voice. “Enjoy your lives together and know that when you are ready, you will be welcomed home in Atlantis. I hope to see you there soon.”

  She realized, as her father drifted into the depths of the sea, that he hadn’t told her no.

  “Not yet” was what he’d said, and that left room for hope that one day, Joren could truly be like her. If any human was deserving of the distinction of elevating from mortality to demigodhood—bold, courageous, and willing to set aside his own wants for others, it was him.

  …Happily Ever After

  Three celebratory days became two weeks of revelry once news swept across the kingdom regarding Joren and Caecilia’s betrothal. With Triton’s blessing already given, neither felt the need to prolong their engagement. He had no desire for a big wedding, content to cement their bond in Astra’s temple with only Rapunzel, Muir, and a small group of friends as witnesses to their union before the goddess of love.

  With the thousands in gold coin that weren’t squandered on lace napkins, extravagant seven-course meals, and oceans of wine, Caecilia asked for a bride gift that made her truly beloved among the citizens of Jonquilles—every copper was donated to revitalizing the poorer quarter of the city, a district often gone unnoticed by Joren and Rapunzel. She amazed him every day with her compassion, and her ability to see what he and his sister had shamefully overlooked far too long in their own kingdom.

  Each day allowed Joren to discover more about his new bride. Her magic intrigued him, and likewise, his new gift from her father led to hours spent underwater, swimming off the coast of Eisland. It seemed ironic to him that a sailor who loved the sea and fishing so much should become part fish himself.

  Two days prior to his plans to leave with Caecilia for Atlantis, a bright and sunny day dawned, motivating Joren to spend an afternoon on the beach with everyone he loved. He sat with his sister and watched Muir and Caecilia supervising the twins as they splashed in the surf. The water lapped around their feet and their giggles carried on the pleasant breeze.

  “Caecilia is a blessing. The water is never this calm or warm this time of year,” Rapunzel said.

  “The perk of being a mermaid princess: controlling the water.”

  “A perk you have now as well, no doubt?”

  “Jealous?”

  “Me? Never. I still can’t believe I’m related to a fish,” Rapunzel muttered, though her eyes sparkled with the mirth her voice lacked.

  “Eh, it’s better than being an ice queen,” he quipped. “Besides, you’re one to talk when you married a chicken.”

  Rapunzel choked out a laugh and sputtered. “Don’t let him hear you say that!”

  They both laughed after that, leaning against one another, until their sides hurt and they gasped for air. Moments like this were what Joren cherished most.

  After a time, Rapunzel wiped her eyes and released a quiet breath. “What happens next?”

  “You deliver two more beautiful children into this world.”

  “Well, that’s a given. I meant, what’s next for you and Caecilia? Are you still determined to go to Ridaeron?”

  “Yes. I think she and I will fare better going alone. Once we have a clear view of the situation, we can mobilize the fleet.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  He leaned in and kissed her brow. “I know, but I won’t waste any more lives in blind attacks. After our raid on their shores and the destruction of Kaskadehavn, they’ll expect it this time. Before, they were too cocky and arrogant to ever expect us to launch an assault of our own. This is the best way to go about things.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Don’t worry, we won’t be leaving just yet. I have to meet my new family first.”

  Rapunzel sighed, the sound wistful. “Atlantis. We have so many legends and myths, but I never imagined it to be a real place. More like…an idea.”

  “The gods truly are closer to us than we ever believed.” His gaze turned to his wife, and he watched her swoop Soren into her arms and kiss the top of his ginger head. One day, they would have their own children, an idea that brought a smile to his face.

  Not that he was in any rush. They had all the time in the world, and he planned to enjoy every moment.

  * * *

  They sailed to Neverland, enjoying a two-week pleasure voyage aboard Joren’s yacht, unrushed and without a deadline. Their days passed in talk, games, and fishing, while their nights were spent in one another’s arms. Joren taught her the stars and in return she taught him the secrets of the sea. They spent as much time in the water as out of it, exploring the depths of the Viridian and the wonders they concealed.

&nbs
p; Neverland provided safe harbor for their boat, as well as a welcome interlude on solid ground. Thanks to Tinker Bell’s guidance, the little sprites from Cairn Ocland had salvaged the sweetwater fields with days of cleansing rainfall, sending the salt and ash out to the sea. A team of bear shifters aided them by turning over the soil with their earth magic.

  While it would take a few years to restore the island’s bountiful grove, Joaidane’s magic had created strong and healthy little saplings and aided in the regrowth. In the meantime, relief ships from Samahara, Creag Morden, Cairn Ocland, and Eisland brought a bounty in grains and fresh crops.

  Joren and Caecilia enjoyed the hospitality of the Wai Alei for three nights before embarking on their journey to the south without the yacht. They visited a dozen underwater reefs along the way while swimming down the narrow channel between the western coast of the Ridaeron Dynasty and Samahara, each one more magnificent than the last and inhabited by beauty he’d never seen on the surface.

  They encountered energetic dolphins, golden-bodied fish, radiant eels, and friendly whales who accompanied them for part of the journey. Underwater, his vision remained as clear as it had been on dry land, no matter how far they traveled from the surface.

  “Are you ready?” she asked. “We’re almost there.”

  “I think so.”

  She took his hand and led the way forward, taking them past a deep gorge into warmer water, the ocean equivalent of a balmy summer day on land. It should have been cold, distant as it was from the sun, but the whole region radiated warmth and life. They reached the cliff of a trench’s deep drop and stopped.

  “Welcome to Atlantis.” she said.

  Watching Joren’s face as he glimpsed her beloved home for the first time gave Caecilia more pleasure than she’d expected. They floated in the depths, with the kingdom spread before them for miles across the ocean floor, glowing pale blue, deep plum, and vibrant pink. Coral towers rose up like delicate flowers amidst marble arches and shell pathways. At the very heart of it all, the Pearl Palace shone pristine white, a gorgeous edifice of unblemished nacre.

  “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” he whispered, and then his gaze turned to her. “Save you.”

  “I don’t think I can compare to a kingdom.”

  “But you do.”

  The water did nothing to cool or conceal her blush. She took him by the hand and led the way into the city, grateful to have him by her side. Sirens paused their activities to watch them pass, many with surprised looks upon their faces, and not a single one of them with disgust or disappointment.

  Word must have spread, because soon the lanes were lined by her people, come to see their returned princess and her mortal lover. Some called out in greeting and the cries picked up, more voices joining to welcome her home.

  Her father waited for them at the palace gates.

  “Welcome home, daughter. Welcome, Joren. We are pleased to have both of you here in Atlantis.”

  “Thank you, Father.”

  He cupped her face between his hands and laid a kiss against her brow, whispering in a soft voice for her ears alone, “I love you, Caecilia. You have been sorely missed.”

  Then he pulled away and raised his voice for all to hear, moving to stand between her and Joren.

  “Let us all rejoice, for Caecilia is with us once again, and as you all see, she is not alone. Prince Joren of Eisland has wed her in the traditions of his people, and now, I will bless the union before you all in accordance with our customs.”

  Warmth bloomed in her chest, her love for her father surging through her body. Taking both her hand and Joren’s, he placed their palms together. Unlike the solemn silence of their Eisland wedding, the spectating members of her family and the Atlantean court began to hum, a melodic harmony rising from the crowd. She felt the vibrations in her chest, the rising swell of magic and music stirring her heart.

  There were no words, no vows to be spoken, only their shared love and desire burning through a link that went deeper than the soul. Joren laced their fingers together, his gaze riveted on her own. The world faded away around them, and all she saw was him and the limitless possibilities of their future together. The life they had yet to live and the joys each day would bring.

  Caecilia had set out to steal a mortal’s heart to save herself from a lifetime of pain and suffering. In the end, Joren had stolen hers instead.

  * * *

  Need to know more about what happened to Camden after the mages’ miraculous escape? Keep reading.

  And After…

  In the days that followed Cara’s escape, Camden did nothing to draw attention to himself. He’d expected Brynhildr to throw him under the proverbial carriage and be done with him, but she instead cleared him of suspicion with clever wordplay. Her thrall couldn’t be guilty of wrongdoing, otherwise he would have escaped with the mages. And they had escaped. He knew as much, just as he knew Joren had survived after all and launched a spectacular assault against the coastline. He couldn’t enter a room in Steinblomst Keep without hearing hushed whispers about it.

  Raised voices down the hall made Camden slow on his approach to the chapel. The king had returned earlier that day and the whole castle had been in a tizzy since then, thralls scurrying around to meet his every request.

  Cam peered around the next corner and caught sight of both monarchs standing outside the temple door, Bryn standing in the entry with her arms crossed. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d shoved her husband out of the sacred room itself, to keep his yelling from desecrating the goddess.

  “We will take every ship and we will wipe them from this world. The seas should run red with Eislandic blood.”

  “You are every bit the old fool you were the day I married you,” she hissed between her teeth. “Have we not lost enough? Thousands dead, our best ships lost, and for what? This is not honor, Gunnar. This is stupidity. If Jörmungandr has truly taken their side, what chance have we of reaching their shores? I will not lend my shieldmaidens to your negligent warmongering, only to watch them die in senseless battle, devoured by the world serpent. There is no honor in suicide.”

  “You would let them get away with this? Our coasts burn. Our property has been taken. The other jarls are whispering amongst themselves, and they will see us as weak.”

  “The other jarls always whisper!”

  “It is bad enough your thrall was present at the repository.”

  “The mages left him behind, or he chose to remain. We may never know the truth of what happened that day, but he is here among us and that speaks of his loyalty.” Finally, her arms uncrossed from her chest and she placed both hands on her husband’s shoulders. “Listen to me. If you initiate war against Eisland, all the nations of this gulf will stand against us. We will fight not only Eisland but Creag Morden, Cairn Ocland, and Samahara. Liang cannot be trusted to aid us. They are greater snakes than the desertmen, vultures waiting to pick apart our remains if we fail. And we will. Then the jarls will know we are weak.”

  He grunted. “Perhaps so, but we must do something. And it will begin by making your thrall forsake his gods and swear himself to ours, before all the jarls.”

  Tension gripped Camden in his belly at the thought of renouncing the Eislandic pantheon he’d known and loved for over three decades. Protest surged to the tip of his tongue, but he remained silent. If he spoke, if he uttered a word, they’d know they had an audience—and they’d know he had a deeper grasp of their language than he let on.

  Brynhildr’s jaw clenched. “Very well. He will do it.”

  “Good. The jarls are already downstairs.”

  * * *

  The journey took them three days and nights on foot, as was custom on a sacrificial journey. During that time, Camden was bound to silence, told to make peace with his decision and contemplate his new beginning. Liran saw to his needs during that time, bringing him water and food during their rest stops.

  A massive henge stood at the hilltop, tall
white stones reaching toward the cloudless sky with an obsidian alter in the center. He counted one for each of the Ridaeron gods.

  Brynhildr walked at the forefront of the procession alongside her husband, speaking nothing to him for the duration of their pilgrimage. That night, they slept at the base of the hilltop in bedrolls beneath the stars, and Camden listened to the conversations in the dark, struggling to understand the different dialects of the Dynasty’s many regions.

  She woke him at dawn—just when it seemed he’d finally closed his eyes—her callused fingertips on his bare arm and gestured for him to follow her.

  While the others remained asleep, the queen led him to lake at the edge of the meadow carrying a bundle in her arms. “I thought you would like the opportunity to bathe in privacy.”

  Uncertain of whether he could speak, he accepted the bundle and dipped his head, then turned toward the water. The stars reflected in the still water, so clearly it seemed they had come down to the water themselves. He had no idea if she remained or had left, but he stripped without shame and set his dirty clothes aside while setting the bundle on a large boulder for safekeeping.

  He bathed in silence.

  When he turned to the shore, he found Brynhildr seated on the grass, knees drawn to her chest while she watched what remained of the stars in the multi-hued sky.

  “It is very important that you make each dedication without flaw,” she said in a quiet voice. “If you falter, if you shame the gods, Gunnar will gut you and this will become your sacrifice to appease Odin and regain his blessing.” He watched her swallow, still avoiding eye contact as he donned the white garments. “The blót is sacred to our people, our way of honoring the gods.”