by Carysa Locke
She was the only soul here. No one walked the beach. No one surfed its waves. She could smell the salt in the air. She heard the distinctive cries of gulls, and looked up to find birds winging in the air currents above. But there were no people.
"This is not helpful,” she said aloud. The wind tore the words away as soon as she spoke them. It had picked up in the short time she’d stood here, becoming too intense, stinging where it touched her skin. Like a storm was gathering around her.
She closed her eyes, telling herself they were tearing up from the wind and not from frustration.
Lies.
Mother take it. Can nothing go right?
Alone here, she let her fear, her anger, her worry out in a long scream, lost to the sound of the ocean and carried away by the wind. She screamed her frustration at the waves, spreading her arms and running at them. Cold water rushed around her, swirling to her knees. The force of it nearly carried her off her feet.
It was a cold slap of reality, here in a place that was anything but real.
"I hate this cryptic nonsense,” she said. "If you have something to tell me, just say it.” She watched the water swirl around her feet, stirring the sand. She could see pearlescent glints of tiny bits of color in the black. Blue, green, white, yellow. It was beautiful, and she admired it even as she frowned, weary and sad.
"As you wish." The voice had her spinning around. She expected Lilith, hoped for Sebastian, even though a woman had spoken. She got neither. She stared at the woman standing behind her, struck mute.
It had been so long since she'd seen her, it took Mercy a few seconds to process it.
“M—mom?”
Pallas smiled, that crooked grin that was so achingly familiar. Her green eyes were just as Mercy remembered, bright and intelligent. “Hello, Mercy.”
“Mom.”
This couldn't be real. Could it? She hadn't dreamt of Pallas in since — since before coming back to the pirates. Since before meeting Reaper and finding Lilith. Since coming home. But it was unmistakably her. The face Mercy knew so well. That small frame that vibrated with constant energy. The long spill of dark hair down her back. She was young, no older than the day she’d disappeared.
"My darling girl." Pallas opened her arms, and without a thought Mercy moved into them, holding her mother and being held by her.
"How are you here?" Mercy asked after an eternity. She smelled like Pallas, the lavender scent she liked to use in her hair, and the citrus of her favorite soap.
“Haven't you figured out yet that all things are possible?” Pallas stroked Mercy's hair, her fingers lingering as Mercy pulled away.
“This doesn't make any sense.”
"It doesn't?"
“No. You're—” She took a deep breath. “You're dead.”
“Maybe physically. But I'm always with you, Mercy. Our memories never truly leave us."
"Is that what you are? A memory?"
"If you like." Pallas smiled mysteriously. "I am whatever you need me to be."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer I have for you."
"Fine. Then why? Why now? Why here?"
Pallas looked up. The sky was darkening. Clouds covered the sun, dark and heavy with rain. Mercy shivered as the air turned cold.
Pallas took one of her hands between hers. “You're in danger, Mercy. This is exactly what I tried to prevent when I took you and ran, all those years ago.”
“It is? What are you talking about?”
“It wasn’t only your grandmother I was worried about. Lilith was always going to make you a casualty in her obsession with this other Queen. I wouldn’t stand by and let it happen. And yet here you are, right back where I didn’t want you.” She brushed Mercy’s hair back from her face, holding the strands away when the wind would have whipped them back. “This storm will eat you whole. If you had only stayed hidden.”
“Mom.” Mercy’s heart broke at the sadness in her mother’s eyes. She didn’t speak for a moment as her world shifted beneath her feet. For a second, she even thought the sand was moving. But no. It was just everything she’d ever believed about her mother.
Carefully, she reached up and took Pallas’s hand in her own, squeezing it tight. “It wouldn’t matter. Fareena is going to take control of this galaxy whether I’m Queen or not. The difference is, with me we may have a fighting chance.”
“That’s Lilith talking.”
“No. It’s me. I’m telling you, I have to do this. I’m not the kind of person that can stand by and watch as other people, as my family is destroyed. I can’t do nothing just so I stay safe.”
“Then you’re going into the heart of the storm,” Pallas said. Her face looked pale and stricken. She was afraid, Mercy realized. In everything they had done together, in all of the running, she had never before seen the emotion on her mother’s face. “It will rip you apart.”
“Maybe. But I plan on being strong when I go in. I’ll have family and friends beside me. My consorts. I have no intention of letting Fareena win.”
“Silly girl. You don’t go into a storm to survive it. You take refuge.”
Mercy dropped her mother’s hand and stepped back. “I’m not going to do that. I’m not a child anymore, Mom. And I’m done running.”
Mercy wrapped her arms around herself. The wind tugged at her clothes, at her hair, at her words. She had to yell now to be heard over it. Cold rain began pelting down, fat drops hitting them. “I will fight for what I have. I’m sorry if that disappoints you.”
The storm fell upon them, and whatever words Pallas spoke were lost in the maelstrom. Mercy reached for her, but it was too late. The wind and rain pounded the beach, building waves into a frenzy. Darkness descended as the sun disappeared completely behind clouds, and with it, the beach seemed to swallow Pallas up whole. Mercy had a last glimpse of her mother’s face, her hair wild around it, and then she was gone.
She screamed. No, she would not lose her again!
And then she heard her mother’s voice as a whisper in her ear. Mercy, if you’re going to win, you have to be more. You play at being Queen without ruling. The time for that is past. Wake up.
The waves rose in a wall of water. Mercy turned as it towered above her. There was nowhere to go. It crested, and the water crashed down. The beach vanished.
She woke.
Chapter Twenty-One
Mercy sat up in bed, gasping for air. Why could these little dreamscapes never be predictable? She took a minute to appreciate that she wasn’t surrounded by tons of icy cold water or standing on a dark and windy beach. She went to thread her hands into her hair, only then remembering it wasn’t loose, but braided.
Her eyes had adjusted to the dark. A faint glow took the edge off the total darkness of before, and she realized ambient lights along the edges of the floor provided a faint luminescence. Not enough to irritate, but just a hint, so she could make out shapes in the room.
She turned and saw Sebastian still asleep beside her. Well. That plan hadn’t worked out. She lay back down, facing him, watching the rise and fall of his chest.
He was so different from Reaper. Deceptively quiet, he had a habit of listening to others. When you spoke with him, you felt like every word was important, and he couldn't wait to hear what you had to say next. His whole attention was focused on you.
People mistook that quietness. Other pirates had mistaken it for weakness in the past. To their peril. Sebastian was anything but weak. He watched. He listened. He knew everything that went on around him, and on Nemesis, that meant he knew everything that went on aboard the ship.
He knew, for example, the night a rival had planned to have him suffer an accident with an airlock. Sebastian had been seventeen. His rival, Ferris, was a man of thirty, the man who had served as Captain of Nemesis since Lilith stole her and made her the pirate flagship. But he saw the way Lilith favored Sebastian, and he knew the boy's Talent. He thought he saw an end to his own position of power,
and so he plotted to remove the boy.
But Sebastian saw him coming. He also knew that if he didn't let things play out, he would be blamed for what happened.
So he allowed himself to be injected with a drug and kidnapped from his room in the middle of the night. He allowed them to shove him into an airlock. In those days, no one had understood just how close a bond with Nemesis Sebastian shared. Ferris expected the drug to keep Sebastian too muddled to be able to use his Talent.
He was wrong. Sebastian took a calculated risk, and he won.
In the end, Ferris was found unconscious, all of the air removed from the corridor, and Sebastian sat safe in the airlock until someone came and took Ferris into custody. The security recording, which Ferris thought he’d disabled, had also mysteriously recorded much of the incident.
When Lilith saw the security recording, she ordered Ferris spaced, and Sebastian became the youngest Captain in the pirate fleet.
You underestimated him at your own peril.
But while he could be ruthless, Mercy knew it wasn't his preferred way of being. If she had to choose one word to describe Sebastian, it would be compassionate. He always had a kind word, and possessed a soft spot for children. He was not-so-secretly known aboard ship as the person to go to as a teen or a child if you had any sort of problem. Sebastian would take the time to listen, and help them work out how to solve it for themselves. If the problem was so big they couldn't solve it without help, he gave them what they needed to get it done.
It was one of the things Mercy admired most about him.
No, it was one of the things she loved most about him. She'd been dancing around it for months, just like she was dancing around ruling the pirates. Her mother — or whoever she was — was right. It was time to wake up, and to start making the hard decisions.
She was a Queen. It was time she started acting like it.
She leaned over Sebastian. His lashes were long and dark against his skin, his face peaceful. "I'm sure wherever you are, it's more pleasant than this planet. But I need you to wake up now." He didn't stir. His breathing stayed even. She leaned down and put her lips beside his ear. "Sebastian, I order you to wake up."
Closing her eyes, she connected her mind to his. Keeping the link light and gentle, she whispered the words again. Sebastian, wake up. I need you.
She strained, listening hard for any kind of response from his mind. She thought she felt something, a faint brush of thought.
She pushed harder, pulling on their connection, feeling his Talent, making it her own. She melded their minds together as they had once done to control Nemesis in battle. He still felt too distant. Sebastian, wake up.
Mercy.
That's right. Come back to me. We're safe now.
Slowly, like coming out of a deep fog, she felt him grow closer. More aware. First she felt his thoughts. Then his breathing changed. She felt it, his breath warm against her skin. She opened her eyes to find he had turned his head. His eyes were open, and he was looking at her, their faces inches apart.
"Hey," she said softly.
"Hey," he said back. His voice sounded hoarse. Had he screamed while they tortured him? No, don't think about that.
"Welcome back."
"Glad to be back." He blinked, looking around the room. "Mercy?"
"Yes?"
"Are we in bed together?"
Her face burned, and she was glad of the darkness to cover her blush.
"It, ah, made sense at the time. You've been in a coma."
"Have I?"
“Let me catch you up." Since their minds were still connected, it was easy to show him everything that had happened. Easier than explaining would have been. She took her time, showing him each step of the journey since he'd been taken. She could have edited things out, but she didn't. The time for keeping secrets was past. Her consorts needed to trust and be trusted implicitly. They needed to be a team.
She finished with the vision she'd just had. Or dream. Whatever it had been.
"Are you all right?" he asked. He moved, putting his arm around her and bringing her close. He only winced in pain a little. "It must have been hard, seeing your Mom again."
All of that, and the first thing he focused on what how she was feeling about seeing her mother.
"You've been tortured," she said. "I think I can handle a little dream about my Mom." She snuggled against him, careful of his wounds.
"Is that what you think it was? A dream?"
There was no judgement in his tone. Just an honest question.
So she took her time and thought about it, so she could give him an honest answer.
"No," she said finally. "I don't think it was. Call it what you want - my Mom, my subconscious, some cosmic power playing with me. Whatever it was, it's not wrong. It's time for me to quit fucking around and start taking control of my life. Start making the kind of decisions that are going to get me stronger, and do something with what I am."
She felt his gaze on her. "Where do you want to start?"
Smiling, she ran her fingers up his side. She stopped when he inhaled sharply, but continued when she recognized it as a surprised reaction, and not one of pain. "I thought I might start with you. And officially choosing you as my second consort." She looked down, afraid to see his face. "If you're all right with that."
He captured her hand, holding it tight. "I would be honored," he said seriously. “And I would love nothing better."
Then he pulled her close and kissed her, his lips soft against hers. It took her a second to catch up. She’d honestly been expecting more conversation around this. Or maybe she’d just been afraid Sebastian would say no.
This kiss stayed soft and gentle. But Mercy felt the tug of something more behind it, the stir of warmth in her gut, the feeling of quiet intensity in him. She broke it off. “Are you waiting for me to change my mind?”
His hand stroked her shoulder, and she suddenly felt like she was wearing way too many clothes.
“You’ve had an intensely emotional day. Reaper is missing, Cannon is—in stasis.” He stumbled only slightly over the words, no more willing to use the word dying than she was. “Declan is dead, and everyone we brought with us on this mission is currently in mortal danger, except us.” He took a deep breath. “Let’s just say I understand if you’re looking for comfort, and I won’t hold you to the second consort thing, unless you still want me to tomorrow.”
She wanted to smack him, but didn’t dare. “I’m not going to change my mind,” she said.
“I certainly hope not,” he agreed. “But I’m also not going to be the asshole who takes advantage of you. I want you to be serious. I’ve been serious about you since before we even started this dance. But I care about you enough to give you the space to commit to your decision, or not.” He smiled. “And to enjoy what happens in the meantime.”
She sorted through everything he’d just said. Some part of her wanted to be angry, to take his words as a rejection. But she couldn’t. Besides, hadn’t she just made a commitment to herself to start making decisions about what she wanted and sticking with them?
“I have an idea,” she said. She traced a finger down his chest, stopping when she reached a welt. “It might be a little painful, but I think we should take a shower. You’ve been dragged through the dirt with open wounds, rolled around in decades’ worth of dust, and I think getting clean would be a good idea, especially considering our current lack of medical supplies. I know the water will sting, but it’s far better than an infection.”
“We?”
She grinned. “Well, I think you’re going to need help getting all of these little wounds clean.”
“I think you might be right.”
“And if you’re patient through the whole thing, you could even get a prize at the end.”
“Is the prize you?”
She leaned in and kissed him again, instead of answering, and this time the kiss lingered, stirring things that made Mercy impatient and want to
forget all about the shower.
She made herself get up, breaking contact so she could stand and start stripping off her clothes.
Sebastian lay back, watching her. “Oh, good. I was starting to feel underdressed as the only one not wearing anything.”
Mercy kicked off her boots, laughing, and then went to unseal her chestplate. She stopped, stricken.
“What is it?” Sebastian sat up, alarmed at her expression.
“I forgot. Reaper keyed my chestplate to him, so I couldn’t take it off.” Disappointment crashed through her.
“Did he? Well, let’s take a look.”
“I already tried, I can’t unseal it.”
“Let me have a go.” He reached out and snagged the bottom of the chestplate where it curved over her hip, tugging her closer. “These chestplates have a bit on nanotech in them. I might be able to—ah yes. There we go.” He wore a smug expression as the seal parted.
Mercy frowned at him. “That’s not fair.”
“No, it’s not. But we are pirates. Fair isn’t really in our nature.”
Hmm. She eyed him as she continued pulling off clothing. She’d always seen Sebastian as the most trustworthy one. Now she got the feeling she’d have to keep a sharp eye on him along with Reaper. The two of them would gang up on her if she wasn’t careful.
“What’s that suspicious look for?”
“Nothing.” Shimming out of her underwear, she tossed them aside and took his hand in hers. “Come on. Let’s hope this place has actual hot water.”
It did. The shower was a tight fit with the two of them, but they didn’t mind. At any other time, Mercy would have been distracted by the hard planes of his chest, the cut of muscle along his torso and arms, tapering to his waist. Watching the way the water beaded on his skin would have made her mouth water. It still did, a little.
But she couldn’t ignore his hiss of pain as the water hit his wounds, or the angry, red look many of the cuts and welts already had. She cleaned each one carefully, noting when one of them looked like someone had enjoyed digging the knife in.
