by Plum Pascal
“Makes you wonder why we’re all coming out of the woodwork now, within weeks of each other,” Kassidy grumbles. “First Neva, then me, and now Aria.”
I continue to shake my head. “How do you even know—” I start, but Kassidy cuts me off.
“Maybe the powers need time to steep or something? I mean, most of us would have been really young when the last war was raging. Maybe it’s fate’s way of preserving our dignity?”
“What do ye mean, lass?” Hook asks.
She faces him with a shrug. “I mean, shove ten toddlers in front of Morningstar and he’d have laughed in our faces before smashing us flat.”
“Stop!” I cry out, at last, flinging my hands up defensively. I can’t stand to hear them prattle on about this when none of it is true! I’m not a Chosen and I never have been. “I’m not what you think I am. There’s no way I’m—”
“You are,” Kassidy insists. “Trust me, I know. I didn’t think it was possible, either, when it happened to me. But you have a truly staggering amount of power, Aria. I felt it. I’ve never felt power like that in anyone else before. There’s no other explanation for it.”
I cross my arms under my breasts, the way I’ve seen human women do when agitated. It mounds my cleavage and I catch Andric, Hook, and Bastion staring before they wrench their gazes away, frowning at each other.
“Aria, think about it,” Kassidy continues. “Just push aside your disbelief for the moment and try to understand how it might possibly be true.”
I nod as I take a deep breath of ocean water and try to rationalize how she could possibly be onto something. “My grandfather, Poseidon, is a god,” I say in a small voice. “Maybe you’re right and there’s untapped potential within me, owing to that? My father did his level best to make me scared of my own shadow from the time I was a small girl, let alone my own power.” The more I think about it, the less sense it makes, and I shake my head. “If there’s anyone that prophecy Sorren mentioned refers to, it’s my aunt, Cassiopeia. She’s incredibly powerful—probably as powerful as my father. The only difference being that he has many more merpeople under his authority. Regardless, though, Opeia is far, far more powerful than I am.”
“Then why can’t she wield the trident?” Kassidy counters. “If she’s Chosen, why didn’t she manage to stymie Morningstar during the first war? Your aunt fought with us, you know. Accompanied our fleets into battle. But she never, not even once, held a candle to Morningstar’s power.” Kassidy grows quiet for a moment or two, her mouth turning into a tight, white line. “It’s you, Aria. It’s always been you.”
It can’t be true. It just can’t be. Because if Kassidy’s correct and I am Chosen, it means I’ve wasted my life in the deeps, cowering in fear of my father. I can’t accept that. I can’t stand the thought of all the wasted years that I could have spent with Bastion. The years I could have known Hook and Andric.
Worse still, if Kassidy is correct, then that means I have the power to challenge Triton on my own—it means I dragged twenty-one hapless souls into the ocean to meet painful ends and it was completely and utterly pointless.
“It doesn’t matter,” Andric interjects before Kassidy can gear up for another argument. I’m backing away from all of them, as if physical distance can make the assertion disappear.
Kassidy’s brow thrusts up and disappears into the messy golden sprawl of her hair. The stuff is so thick, it mostly fills the dome of her suit.
“What?” she demands as she turns to face him.
“I said it doesn’t matter, in the end, does it?” Andric repeats. “Chosen or not, we still have to go up against Triton. The only thing this really changes is whether or not Aria will be able to help in the final battle. But either way we look at it, we need to fight him. That’s non-negotiable. We have to defeat Triton, whether it’s you wielding the trident, Kassidy, or it’s Aria.”
I’m so grateful for Andric's intervention, I could kiss him. Because he’s right. I don’t kiss him, because I’ve already filled my quota for inappropriately timed physical intimacy for the day. I do offer him a grateful smile, though, which he returns.
I’m so glad I gave him a mate mark. With it, I can feel my energy like a distant echo within both him and Hook. It’s a balm to know they’re both whole and healthy. More than that, I can almost catch the tenor of their emotions through it.
Hook’s are all sharp, as fierce and potent as the man himself. Relief, hope, and happiness vie for prominence. He’s a spiraling, tumbling force of nature like the gyre on which we rode here. Andric’s emotions are quieter, but no less powerful. Inevitable, like the push and pull of the tides. He stares at me, brimming with quiet awe and something so tender, it makes my heart ache.
Love, or maybe something close to it? I don’t understand, because it seems too soon. Bastion has had time to fall in love with me because we’ve known one another for years, since our childhood, and we’ve been inseparable ever since. But Hook and Andric? We’ve only been together a short while. What is it that compels them to feel this way about me? I’ve done little to earn it.
Kassidy finally tears her frustrated gaze from mine and nods sharply.
“You’re right, Andric. We’ve got ten hours. Probably closer to nine and three quarters, now.”
“What’s our plan now?” Hook asks her.
She shrugs. Then, they all turn to me in an eerie, almost synchronized motion. “The gardens,” I say finally. “It will be dangerous, but the gardens will be mostly unguarded and they provide direct entrance to the back of the castle.”
“That’s fucking moronic of Triton,” Sorren snorts. “What king leaves his back entrance unguarded? Maybe this will be easier than we anticipated.”
“Less so than you think,” I say with a chilly smile. “Because the garden is full of caro comedenti.”
“What the bloody hell is that?” Hook demands.
I turn to face him and swallow hard. “Flesh-eating plants. If we make it past Triton’s house plants alive, I’ll be more optimistic. They’re deadly and they’re persistent.”
“Any way to get past them, Popsy?” Hook asks.
My lips twitch again. “Yes, but you won’t like it.”
Kassidy huffs another frustrated breath. “Do we ever like what comes out of your mouth? Spill, Princess. What’s the trick?”
So, I tell them.
TWENTY
ANDRIC
If we make it out of this alive, I’ll never eat another ocean creature again. If Aria’s aversion weren’t reason enough, what’s currently facing me is enough to curb my desire, possibly forever.
In preparation for our entry into Andromeda’s garden, Aria encouraged us to first make a stop at a small lagoon, where she revealed a pit of enormous, lazing sea slugs. Enormous as in man-size! After each of us revealed our absolute disinterest in even touching the unsightly things, we proceeded to roll on top of the largest male, coating ourselves in mucus. Perhaps a bit redundant for those in suits, but none were exempt. Better to be slimy than underprepared and dead.
Apparently, this layer, if thick enough, would counteract the digestive juices of the flesh-eating plants within the garden. However, the mucus doesn’t last long, so we must be quick. Even knowing the importance of protecting ourselves with the slimy and sticky stuff, I’m still disgusted by the coating that clings to my skin.
It’s quite revolting.
“Will this stuff ever come off?” I ask, trying to restrain the nausea that churns my stomach. Even the strong ocean current that whips through Triton’s palatial grounds doesn’t seem to affect the mucus at all. It continues to stick to us.
“With dedicated scrubbing or exposure to fire,” Aria answers. “Don’t be so eager to scrape it off, though. That stuff is extremely valuable. Extract of limax mare aeternae can sell for up to a thousand gold coins per ounce.”
I almost choke on my tongue. “What?”
She nods with a secret smile as we approach the edge of the kelp for
est. When we emerge, we’ll be forced to make the silent, eerie journey down the rolling sands and into Andromeda’s deadly gardens. Perhaps I’m being a touch cowardly, but all I want to do is stay at the edge of this shady, peaceful forest and watch Aria until exhaustion claims me. I could do it, too. According to Aria, the mark makes it possible for me to stay beneath the waves indefinitely with no ill-effects. In fact, the longer I live beneath the water with her, the more likely I am to fully transition to a merman—in fifty or so years. And Aria would have to complete the mark, as well. As it is now, neither Hook’s nor my mate marks have been finished. Not that I’m sure I would want to transition into a merman; I’m quite happy living my life on land.
Only Hook and I have the mate-mark advantage. So, I steal the moment, using this new tidbit, to distract myself from the very real possibility of death that may await us in Triton’s halls.
“They may not look like much, but they’re probably the most valuable treasure Triton owns, besides the trident itself,” Aria continues as she looks upon the slugs with a fond expression. “They’re called the eternal sea slug for a reason.”
“And what is that reason?” I ask.
“They’re not quite of this world, so all their secretions have special properties. Applied topically, the mucus can extend life for many years. And injected or swallowed, it can put someone into a death-like sleep.”
“Death sleep?” I echo. “I thought that only happened in stories. Like what happened to Princess Briar Rose.”
“Precisely,” Aria says, turning her attention from the rather ugly sea slugs to me. “The dark fae, Maura Lechance, was the last person to come to Triton with entreaties for the extract. I suspect Maura slipped some extract to the poor babe long ago.”
“And that is why the princess has been asleep all these years?”
She nods.
“Do you think she will wake?” I continue.
Aria rolls her thin shoulders in a distracting manner. It thrusts her breasts out noticeably, making my eyes follow the long, lean line of her body. Gods, I wish she had legs at the moment. Nothing would brace me for this battle more than knowing we’d made love once before I face my potential death. Then I could leave this world a contented man.
“It depends. Usually, certain criteria have to be met in order for the effects of the slug mucus to be reversed. It depends on the slug it was taken from.”
“Which slug did Maura Lechance take the mucus from?”
“I took it from the slug for Maura,” Aria corrects me and shrugs. “If I remember correctly, I think it was from Garrin.” She pauses. “He’s a romantic.”
“A sea slug?” I ask, sounding incredulous. “Romantic?”
“Yes, very,” Aria says with a frown as she turns to face me again. “He was very polite when I asked for his mucus and he was very pleased to know it would be going to a good cause, such as preserving the princess.”
“So, going back to our original conversation,” I say as I try to grasp a few things. “These slugs have names?”
Hook joins us. “An’ ye... talk to them as if they’re people?” he repeats dubiously.
“Well, of course!” she answers. “You can’t very well not respond when someone or something addresses you, now can you?”
Hook frowns and appears wholly confused. I don’t blame him. “I didnae see any mouths upon them, Popsy.”
“How else do you think they speak!” Aria says, as if the rest of us are inane for questioning her. Then she cocks her head to the side. “Well, they can also communicate mind-to-mind, but they do have mouths. They eat trespassers and thieves.”
“They eat people?” I press.
Aria laughs. “Yes, but don’t worry, I vouched for all of you.” Then she pauses, facing the ugly things again.
Kassidy seems as concerned about the slugs eating us as I am, though it’s hard to tell through her suit. I’m secretly glad to be rid of the damn thing. It’s incredibly uncomfortable to wear, not as maneuverable as it needs to be, and days on days of breathing in stale, metallic air is enough to drive anyone half-mad.
On the other hand, if we’re attacked by flesh-eating plant life or fire eels, it does offer momentary protection. So perhaps it’s an even trade.
We all hesitate on the precipice of the garden, even Aria. Lush and lovely as it is, there’s a sense of menace, knowing that among the colorful coral and specially-bred multi-hued kelp and the abundance of sea flowers, there’s a threat lurking. It must have been a minefield for Aria as a child.
Was she even allowed to play? I’ve never met Triton, but his reputation leaves me with the impression of a granite-faced taskmaster. I have to wonder what sort of life Aria lived here before her exile. Has she ever once known what it’s like to feel true, childlike joy?
I look automatically to her, scanning her expression as I’ve done repeatedly since we found ourselves in this situation.
She’s a warrior, and hopefully a queen by the time we’re through here. I should like to see nothing more than for Aria to take her father’s throne. But all of that is secondary. I look at her because she’s just too beautiful and vulnerable for words. And her vulnerability is a peculiar one. It’s not necessarily weakness, but... pain, so naked and raw on her face, it triggers every instinct I have to protect her, even if she doesn’t need my protection.
“Aria?” I prompt gently. “Are we ready to go?”
She shakes herself, eyes icing over with determination, steel bracing the delicate curve of her spine. She nods once. “I think I remember the path.”
She arcs forward, as smooth and graceful as a dolphin. I lag behind her for a few seconds, even as the rest of our number trail behind me. She’s truly a sight to behold, here in her element, the sun glinting off her scales even through the slimy coating we’ve been forced to don. The realization that she’s covered in slug trail and yet I still find her stunning makes me smile thinly to myself as I paddle after her. I’ve fallen fast and hard, haven’t I? Still rhapsodizing about her while she’s covered in the slimiest, smelliest muck I’ve ever had the misfortune to come across.
She leaves a shiny trail of mucus droplets behind her in the water, like a trail of breadcrumbs to follow. Disgusting, but effective.
Hook swims up just behind her, almost as graceful as she is. He’s a born sailor, more comfortable on deck or in the water than he will ever be on land. He was born for this. Born for her.
Not for the first time, a pang of doubt hits me. Aria likes me. At least, I have to assume she does because we’ve gotten along well enough and she’s placed her mark on me. She doesn’t seem to do that on a whim. But what do we have beyond that? It’s clear she adores Hook and, even if she’s not aware of it, Bastion adores her. And she obviously values him; they move together in a sort of synchronicity I’ve never seen outside of long-married couples. Hook matches her on land and sea, and she has Bastion as her warrior consort. What am I, but a title with a person attached to it?
I don’t have long to dwell on my uncertainty. Up ahead, one of the bears strays slightly off of the trail Aria has left in the water. Almost at once, something large, slim, and red darts out from behind a screen of undulating yellow kelp, striking quickly like a frog’s tongue. The bear is quick, even in his clunky aquatic suit, and does a clumsy roll through the water and out of the way.
A closer look at the frond that reached out to him shows the surface is dotted with tiny barbs, similar to those on the exotic plants in Wonderland. There they referred to it as a fly trap. Unbelievably, the fly trap was one of the least-threatening specimens in the Red Queen’s garden. The carnivorous white flowers scared me far more.
Between this garden of man-eating plants and our journey through the gyre, this still isn’t the most frightening thing I’ve seen in my life. But it’s certainly disquieting to watch the frond grope the air where the bear had been. It shoots out a stream of green droplets that glitter like poisoned gems in the water until the sea dilutes them to t
he point of uselessness.
“Fuck,” Nash rumbles as Kassidy berates him for steering off course. Even trying to be quiet, the brute is loud. “That was too close. You sure this slime will hold?”
“It should,” Aria responds in a whisper. “But don’t get hit more than once, if you can help it.”
That’s easier said than done. In the next few minutes, we’re forced to dodge several more of the wickedly pointed barbs, shuffling like skittish crabs along the winding trail that Aria weaves through the foliage. One very fraught encounter brings the acid in contact with my slimed skin.
“Dammit!” I say as I wave my hand, trying to divorce myself from the nasty stuff. The glittering droplet burns halfway through the mucus on my arm before fizzing out like a spark. It’s several seconds before I’m able to swallow against the hammering of my heart that seems to have become lodged somewhere in my esophagus.
At seeing me snagged by the hideous plant, Aria stiffens, her eyes impossibly huge in her delicate face and her pallor almost ashy. The naked fear on her face cuts me. The last time I’ve seen her with this sort of expression, she was facing down a massive merman easily double her height and triple her girth.
“Andric,” she calls as loudly as she dares. “Andric, are you…”
“Fine,” I say, cutting her off as I shake my head, not wanting anyone to panic unnecessarily.
I make a dismissive shooing gesture, urging her forward, trying to marshal my own expression into something comforting. I’m not sure I succeed because she continues to stare at me with concern in her eyes. Yes, she certainly cares for me. I’m just not certain about the depths of her feelings.
But that is a question that will have to remain unanswered because we reach a sweeping ramp that leads down into the gardens.
Aria pauses as her eyes sweep over me once more, concern still evident in their depths. It’s easy to forget that underneath all that truly impressive muscle and stunning beauty, she’s still a woman in the bloom of youth. In some ways, the most inexperienced of us all.
