The Aquarium

by Emily Shore

“Tristan,” I mock. “I am so not going to look for a date for you.”

  Tristan’s bottom lip canvasses his top one, eyes drooping just enough to make him look woeful and pathetic.

  “And why 8.4?” I ask. “Seems like you’d settle for nothing less than a ten.”

  “Where’s the challenge in that?” He elbows me. “What’s the point of a relationship if you never get to change someone?”

  “I thought the point was to change together. Grow together,” I muse. I bring the binoculars up to my eyes anyway, enjoying the view of the busy Commons. The binoculars are equipped with some extra functions. I can read mood signatures, body temperature. Sneaky bastard.

  “Pfft,” Tristan blows off my statement, propping an elbow on the balcony. “Right, like anyone really wants to do that. Besides, I can work my way up to a ten. Don’t mind having some messy, sweaty one-night stands first. What about him?”

  “I’m not helping you scout for dates, Tristan,” I repeat. “You’re on your own. Is this why they sent you?”

  Scoffing, Tristan presses a hand to his chest. “Trust me, princess. The Syndicate has better things to do than send me on a vacation to find my main squeeze.”

  Shifting my weight, I jut my hip out, propping my hand there. He knows what I mean because my grin comes anyway. With a snigger, he sighs and assumes the binoculars again. “No, the Syndicate sent me because I’m a familiar face. Non-threatening.”

  “Charming.”

  “Aw, thanks, princess.” He tilts the binoculars down for a moment to wink. “Quite fond of you, too. Oh, hell no. 4.7,” he comments just after peering through the lenses again

  “Personality counts,” I suggest.

  Tristan turns to me, eyes opening larger than a puffer fish. “How on earth did you ever manage to score that hunk of man flesh husband? Brains and brawn all in one. Sure, you got a great body, but that’s not all—”

  I smirk. “Sky and I…we’ve always been. He saw me the first day I was born.”

  “Ahh…so, that explains it.”

  “What?” I cross my arms over my chest, mocking. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re not the easiest girl in the world,” he hints, winking once before following up with, “But like I said, with your body, you can get away with it.”

  I shake my head, rolling my eyes. “Easy is overrated.”

  “Preach it, sister. Are you ready to tell me about this favor of yours?”

  “I need you to visit a priest.”

  He blinks. “Pretty certain that would only end badly.”

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean back against the balcony and give him my best icy stare. “If you’re finished with the gutter talk…”

  Tristan glides a hand to the door to his suite. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

  Curious what I plan to do with the rest of my day, Tristan decides to follow me around.

  “If nothing else, I’ll be good protection,” he says, giving my mask a tap. “Pretty girls shouldn’t travel alone. Not when the rape rate is 9.6/10 girls.”

  I knew it was high. Never realized how high.

  Once we step into the elevator, I push the button for the first floor where Neil and Lindy live. “So, what does that mean for you?”

  Tristan snickers, both hands behind him on the elevator railing. “You trying to dissect me, princess?”

  I shrug, glancing at my reflection in the mirror right before it changes to an aquarium scene complete with motion-sensing fish.

  He sighs, trails a finger up to the sprite-light aquarium, and taps a nearby fish, watching it skitter away. “Early on in life, I realized I did not do well living up to expectations, whether familial, cultural, or peer. When your worth as a man is dictated by how dominant and aggressive you are toward the opposite sex and you are woefully incompetent at interacting with said opposite sex despite any amount of grooming, you simply make the choice to defy expectations rather than living within them.” He pauses, raising a brow at my befuddled expression. “We don’t all grow up wanting to play with dolls or interested in makeup apps. Sometimes, it’s subtle and intentional.” He adjusts his bow tie, which changes color from a cobalt to a royal purple.

  We reach Neil’s floor, and I embark into the hallway, which is outside where I can still hear the crowd noises from beyond the railing. A warm breeze circulates through the air, carrying hints of salt and sand with it. Even the lights above our heads are solar.

  “And how’s it turning out for you?” I wonder, flicking my gaze to the occasional digital seascape mural depicted on the walls.

  “I got by with the bare minimum when I was younger.” Tristan shrugs, and I remember the front he put on during the Yang interactions. The competition between him and his father, Drake. “But since he passed, it’s better. Never easy. But better.” Just then, Tristan snatches my arm to halt me, gently pulling me back. “And how is it working for you, princess? Defying those expectations?”

  “I’ll let you know once I get out of here,” I answer right before arriving at Neil’s door.

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  I knock a few times before Neil finally opens the door. Today’s theme must be going shirtless. Sky and I are used to waking up earlier due to the twins. Neil’s never been an early bird. That will probably change after he and Lindy have their baby.

  Hearing an intake of breath next to me, I turn to see Tristan’s eyes feasting on my brother. Great. Here we go.

  Tristan swivels his head toward me, commenting, “If I’d known who was waiting behind the door, I’d have walked faster. Hi…” He extends a hand toward my pretty-boy brother. “I’m Tristan, and I don’t have a steady boyfriend who looks like you yet.”

  Chuckling, Neil shakes Tristan’s hand. “I’m Neil, Serenity’s brother, and I’m married to a beautiful and very pregnant lady.”

  “Oooh, nice rejection. Smooth, very skilled.” Tristan braces a hand on the side of the door, leaning toward me. “Tell me, princess, do you have any other attractive male relatives I should know about?”

  “We have a cousin on our father’s side who was once ranked in the world’s top one hundred bachelors,” Neil offers right before his gaze darkens. “But then, he moved overseas and married some foreign duchess.”

  Tristan’s shoulders sink a little. “Oh well. Que serra.”

  “How’s Lindy?” I ask, stepping inside.

  Neil jerks a thumb toward the bathroom. “Hear for yourself.” One moment passes before the sounds of vomiting comes from the closed bathroom door. Morning sickness. Ugh. I remember those days with Bliss and how many trips she took.

  I huff. Faster than a bird swooping down to pluck a fish, I latch onto Neil’s ear, dragging him toward the bathroom door. “And you left her alone?”

  “Ow!” Neil cries out, protesting. “She kicked me out.”

  Now, I switch directions, noting Tristan’s bemused smirk as he observes us. “Then get your skinny ass down to the pharmacy right now to get her some anti-morning sickness medication.”

  “We can have that deliver—”

  “It’ll be good for you.” I shove him toward the hallway. “Take Tristan with you. He has a job to do anyway.” I wink at the other man, referring to what we discussed in his suite.

  “Wait, I need a shirt,” Neil announces, and I scan their belongings in the main area before pinpointing some laundry on the back of the couch.

  “No, you don’t,” Tristan denies with a deep, throaty chortle.

  Ignoring him, I rush for the sofa, grab one of the shirts, and toss it toward Neil. He tugs it on, then grimaces in realization. “Wait, get me another one. This is Lindy’s.”

  “You’ll live,” I say.

  Neil opens his mouth to protest, but Tristan coils an arm around the nape of his neck, fingering the silky material with digital imprints of beating pink hearts. “Adorable.”

  “Be good,” I warn Tristan, raising a finger. “That’s my baby brother.”
>
  Neil blinks right before his brows screw down. “I’m older than you.” He reluctantly pulls on the shirt, and I have to conclude with Tristan—he’s adorable.

  I blow him a kiss. “You’ll always be a big baby. Have fun.” I close the door just as Lindy emerges from the bathroom.

  “Did I just see Neil wearing my heart shirt?”

  I nod.

  “I like that shirt. I better get it back.”

  “You can’t wear it right now.” I motion to her belly bump.

  “I’m almost into my second trimester. Morning sickness should stop soon.”

  Lindy wanders to the couch, then sits right near the mound of laundry. Eyeing the pile, I remind her, “You know they have service drones and auto-organizers for all this stuff, right?”

  “They like the work.” She raises up her hands, kissing the tips of her fingers. “I’m so used to working. Ever since Neil and I got married, I worked. His connections made it easier for me after the Temple fiasco.” I realize I like her word better. It’s a very Lindy word for what happened.

  “But not now.”

  “No.” Her brows descend. There’s a shadow in her tone, almost hinting of scorn. “That bitch won’t even let me do your costumes. Even your makeup. I gotta follow that artless mind-numbing machine!”

  “Listen…” I lower myself onto the couch next to her, changing the subject. “You can’t tell Neil because we both know he’ll overreact. Or do something stupid like let the secret out.”

  Lindy looks up. “What secret?”

  “We might have a way to escape.” When she angles her shoulder to me, extending an ear, I chew on the inside of my cheek and inhale, knowing it’s better to tell Lindy. To give her some sense of hope. I owe her that. “There may be someone who can help.”

  “Was that the other man I saw leaving with Neil?”

  “Tristan, well…” I bite my lower lip, debating on that one. “He can help, but not in the way we want.”

  “We?” Lindy’s hazel eyes darken to a color I don’t recognize, her nostrils puffing in that way she gets when annoyed or flustered.

  “Tristan’s from the Syndicate. They are willing to help get me out of the Aquarium—anyone I want—but the price is me taking my former position as Head of the Board of Directors. As Yang.” I swallow, suddenly a little apprehensive about telling her.

  “And why didn’t you accept their bargain?” Lindy challenges, her jaw clenching tighter than a sea urchin spike.

  Too stunned by the question, I instinctively open my mouth to react but realize it’s not going to help. Instead, I put another question to her. “Should I list the reasons alphabetically or chronologically?”

  Lindy shakes her head, sighs, and lowers a hand to her bulging belly. “If it were me, I’d do anything to protect my family.”

  “To be under the Temple’s thumb—”

  “He’s gone, Serenity,” Lindy snaps, referring to my father. “When will you realize you have no threats anymore?” She pauses, and I lick my lips because it’s not my father I’ve considered all this time. Lindy pinches her eyes, scrutinizing me, and I prickle under her discerning gaze. “I see it now. You’ve only ever been afraid of one person, haven’t you? And that’s yourself. You’re worried you won’t be able to separate yourself from Yang.” I shrink from her gaze because she’s right, but Lindy pursues me, firm hand cupping my shoulder. “We’ve all got demons. In your case, you’ve just got a bit of demon inside you. Maybe it’s time you stopped running from it.”

  “I don’t want anything to do with my father’s legacy,” I inform her, strengthening my resolve.

  “So, don’t.” Lindy leans back against the couch, folding her arms. “Make it your own instead.”

  “How?” I whisper, the notion far too weak to come to anything more.

  Lindy shrugs. “Don’t ask me. I have no leadership skills. But you better figure it out. Because right now, we’re under the thumb of some psychotic killer and her creepy, whackadoo brother.” She blows a frustrated breath, swinging her hair away from her face, and points to her belly. “And I’d really like to have my baby above sea level.”

  “He’s such a good fishy,” I coo in a baby voice to Sharky while introducing someone special to him.

  Sharky swims toward the edge of the tank, creating a triangular ripple behind him right before he swoops into a gliding turn and sends a small wave of water splashing over the tank’s rim.

  Verity giggles, leaning over to touch the glass.

  “You like that?” I kneel on the cement, holding her against the base of the tank so she may press both hands to the glass and watch Sharky.

  “Maybe you’ll get to ride him one day,” I tell my daughter, then pause, remembering Lindys words from earlier. About doing anything to protect my family. Right now, my hopes are riding on Milo. Meanwhile, Tristan dangles this exit right in my face. I consider how we could escape from the Temple later. We did it before, and we can do it again. But like Lindy said, I don’t fear the Temple. I don’t fear the Syndicate. I just fear Yang. For seven months straight, I wore her, so she had just crossed the threshold of my heart. If I don her skin again, she could squeeze right in. Another realization hits me like a choppy wave—I would be responsible for every girl in the Temple.

  Not just the one in my arms.

  Verity laughs when Sharky swishes his tail back and forth through the water, pressing her nose to the glass.

  I want to give her a better world, but I know I can’t. Just like I can’t give all those other girls a better one. Sky could. He was always better at interacting with them. During one lone hour or less with each girl, he gave them a better world, however brief. They saw him as someone to trust. They only viewed me as a symbol—the Swan to exalt, Yang to respect. But I’d want more. They would need to see Serenity, too. But how can I show them Serenity when it’s so much easier to wear a mask?

  “Pretty baby,” Wylder comments, approaching from the opposite side of the tank.

  Verity flicks her head up faster than mine. His footsteps were far too quiet on the stairs just outside the tank room. He has model feet, and he knows how to walk lightly.

  “Doesn’t look like her mother at all,” he goes on, a mocking hint in his tone because he knows what Haven does regarding my late identical twin. “Such a pity.” He lowers his head, eyes pouting when they observe my daughter.

  Suspicious, she blinks a few times before curling one arm closer to me, turning her face away, but not before sinking her brows down so low they deepen her eyes. Revulsion soaks her face. In this moment, she looks more like Luc than ever.

  “It’s okay,” I murmur to her. “If he gets out of line, I’ll just feed him to my shark.”

  At first, Wylder dismisses my comment. When he briefly glances at the tank and Sharky slides through the water near us, it reveals he just might wonder if I’d follow through with the threat. Even so, I listen to my daughter’s expressions and the tenseness in her body and start to walk away.

  Naturally, Wylder follows since he didn’t just come up here to visit my pet.

  “Director Haven sent me to obtain your schedule for the next week,” he says while I try to keep one step ahead of him even as I descend the staircase with its stairway of sprite lights projecting watery ripples upon motion. Wherever I step, it’s like pebbles dropped in a lake, rippling outward.

  “And she couldn’t contact me because…”

  Suddenly, Wylder seizes my arm, almost causing me to fall backward against the stairs. Pride is all I feel when Verity goes so far as to lean over, press her little hand to his wrist, and try to shove him away. Even if it is out of a greedy desire to keep me all to herself rather than to protect me, I can’t help but love it.

  Ignoring her physical protest, Wylder leers. “Get something straight, Swan. My sister runs an empire. She doesn’t have the time to dedicate to the daily tasks.”

  I screw my eyes up, studying his grip on me even as Verity begins to lash out, s
hrieking because she still hasn’t given up on her goal. She’s simply turned her shoves into full-blown slaps. For once, I don’t scold her about slapping. Right now, she’s allowed to be as violent as she desires.

  “Not even for her prize attraction?” I counter, challenging him.

  Wylder stands up straight, cocking his neck at an angle. “You are a bottom feeder compared to Haven. You will never aspire to her level. No woman can.”

  “And no man…” I hint, loud enough to be heard above my daughter’s squeals, grinning when his eyes stray because I’ve hit his weak spot. The inferiority tucked into a crevasse deep inside him, one that dons its head whenever he speaks of his sister. Is that why she whips him? Punishment?

  “I am second only to her,” he admits without releasing his grip, even when Verity begins pinching him. “And you are just a pawn. Your questions go through me. Your schedule goes through me. Your very existence here goes through me.” His dark eyes widen with intent, black as vapors that conceal the past. “You should not even have the right to speak to her.”

  With that, Wylder releases me, unconcerned over the way the skin along his wrist has become enflamed with tiny pinch marks from Verity. While he descends the staircase, I pat her back, coaxing my hand upward to cup the back of her head, willing it to nestle on my shoulder. Verity begins to relax, cuddling into me.

  Rocking her, I wait until Wylder is out of sight and continue to “shh” Verity, calming the storm inside her little body even as I do battle with my own.

  It’s the longest manmade waterfall in the world, and I stand at its base. A beautiful lagoon the size of a small lake. Somewhere underneath, all that water is redirected to an enclosed river that circumnavigates the lower levels before its released to the ocean. One of the Aquarium’s many energy sources. Fortunately, there is a tourist balcony that extends behind the waterfall. Behind the waterfall is a rock-like backdrop where one security camera is positioned, but thanks to the howling water, the noise capacity is limited. With our back turned to the camera, only the waterfall itself can read mine or Milo’s lips. To anyone else, it looks like I’ve made a priestly advocate with which to find counsel. Not at all unusual for our situation.