Sunken Empire
Copyright © 2020 Brandy Slaven
Edited by Michelle Ann at Inked Imagination
Cover by JODIELOCKS Designs
All rights reserved.
This book is protected under Copyright Laws. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please contact the author.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this story are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
When Rubi finds herself out on a singles cruise headed for the Bahamas, she can’t help but to wonder how her life has gone so horribly wrong. Many speed dates later and one drunken night on the deck sends Rubi head over heels, literally. She finds herself in the cold water of the Atlantic watching the boat she was cursing not long ago, sail off into the distance. Stranded in the middle of the ocean, she knows it’s only a matter of when she dies, not if. When three gorgeous identical strangers show up out of nowhere, Rubi is certain she is drunk and hallucinating. As they whisper dark promises in her ear and drag her into the dark abyss, she says goodbye to her pathetic life. Little does Rubi know, she is about to be thrust into a world full of magic, centuries old prophecies, sea monsters, and mermaids.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Sneak Peek
Other Books by the Author
About the Author
Outside the Realm of Man,
Four Queens Rule the Land
One of Water,
Born of Hatred a Cruel Male’s Daughter
One of Fire,
Protected Under Exile From Her Empire
One of Blood,
Forgotten Faith of Falsehood
One of Magic,
A Monster Within Itself Tragic
Spurning the Empires Unite,
Darkness Consumes the Light
All Realms Will Fall,
Sickness Upon All Will Befall
A King Will Make Himself Known,
No True Claim to the Throne
Until Rightful Heirs Return,
Creatures of Magic Will Burn
One Pure Sacrifice,
Realm Born Shall Pay the Price
Age Old Prophecy
Author Unknown
"That's such a pretty name," a male voice tells me and then goes on to attempt the pronunciation. I found it rather amusing...the first ten times today. As this is my twenty-second, I'm slightly annoyed.
"It's Eurybia, but you can just call me Rubi," I say brusquely. I inwardly curse the obtuse, paranoid cruise line. They could have let me shorten my name this morning before this speed dating thing began, but no. It's “against protocol,” so people can't give out false names, they said. It'll be a great icebreaker, they said. My frustration would be enough to melt any ice at this point. As if in example, the guy in front of me stops talking. He's looking at me like he's expecting an answer. I didn't even hear the question, so my eyes widen displaying my confusion.
He casts me a wary glance. "Well, it was nice to meet you Rubi. I think I'm going to head out for some fresh air."
I watch as he swaggers out the door and almost feel a moment of regret. He's easy on the eyes and dresses like he's made of money, but just like the rest of the men in my life, there was no connection. Maybe I just missed my calling somewhere else, and this is what I'm stuck with.
Allowing myself a small pity party, I bask in the nothingness that makes up Eurybia Murphy. Low class, little orphan Rubi. Living in the biggest shit hole of an apartment that New Orleans has to offer. Absolute crap paying job in retail, where I met my one and only friend Tori. What a wonderful friend she is too. She's the one who booked me on this stupid cruise to begin with. And this is getting me nowhere. Pity parties are for people who don't have an open bar tab and a bubble bath waiting for them back in their stateroom. Suck on that life. While I'm at it, you're welcome Mr. Sexy Whatever Your Name Was. I saved you the heartache that is Rubi Murphy.
"And on that note," I say right before I guzzle the last half of my mojito. A few sets of male eyes watch my actions and glaze over with lust. It's not hard to figure out why. They're hoping I'll get drunk and be an easy target for getting laid. Yeah, in their dreams.
I manage to escape the popular area with only having to dish out one brush off. Once I'm back in my room, I lean against the closed door and let out a sigh of relief. Promptly making my way over to the phone, I call for room service. When it finally arrives, I know the universe is against me. The man who drops my order off looks more delectable than the strawberries and champagne on the silver platter in his hands.
Of course, they've been schooled. "No conversation, no funny business and keep your hands off," I say with a small smile, quoting one of my favorite movies.
"I'm sorry, miss. What was that?" the good-looking steward asks.
Jeez he probably thinks I'm insane. "I was just saying thanks," I tell him as I hand over a few dollars.
"Thank you, miss," he says gratefully before leaving me staring at his retreating back.
I pick up one of the bottles and a bowl of bright red berries. Carting them off to the bathroom with me, I set them within reaching distance as I start the bath. When my toes touch the water, I let out a small hiss. It sends tingles all the way up to where I'm still slowly inching my skin in. Once fully submerged up to my neck, I force my mind to clear. None of my earlier pitiful musings are allowed here. In a completely classy move, I grab the champagne, put it to my lips, and upend it. I give no shits as to how this would look to anyone who should walk in.
Now, if only I could get that sexy steward back in here, I'd be set. My empty hand travels down below my belly button. The sad truth is, I probably wouldn't even know what to do with him. It truly has been so long that even I can't do it for myself anymore.
Growling in frustration, I slap the water sending it splashing in all directions. The bottle gets tilted back for a little longer this time when it touches my lips. Another ten minutes and the bottom of my first bottle has me questioning my IQ. Here I am, sitting alone on a twenty-five-hundred-dollar cruise, that cost all of my savings, filled with hundreds of eligible bachelors, complaining about not having a release in years. Oh, there's definitely something wrong with me.
"Screw this," I say to myself. Ignoring the sloshing of water everywhere, I stand straight up and reach for a towel. "I'm getting my money's worth from this trip," I mumble, not realizing my words are slurring. My feet slip a little, but I catch myself on the sink. Wiping the steam off the mirror, I set my hair and makeup right again. Walking to the closet gives me a small moment of panic. All I packed was decent dresses. No slut dresses until I remem
ber the one Tori shoved at me when I saw her last.
Pulling the slinky black thing from the hanger, I feel skanky before even putting it on. This will get me laid tonight for sure. Thanks, Tori. Watching myself in the stand-up mirror connected to the back of the door, the upper thigh length, spaghetti-strapped dress fits me like a glove. The best feature about it, though, is it seems to change color when I turn. It goes from black to dark purple, to a bluish hue and back to black again. Tori had told me that it was meant to be owned by me considering my hair does the same exact color change in the light. Seeing it on me now, I don't think I could agree more.
Sealing the deal, my feet slip into a pair of five-inch, fuck me heels. I remember to grab my room key and do a double-take at the other bottle of champagne. I shrug and grab it too before walking out the door.
Ok, who is captaining this boat? There's too much rocking going on for a five-foot-five woman in high heels. At least that's what I'm going to blame my weaving through the halls on. In my wanderings, I forget which hall leads where, so I end up at the door leading to the deck outside. I huff in exasperation pushing the door open until the salty wind hits my face.
Getting lost has its perks. Where I'm standing on the deck, the railing looks straight down into the water. Lightning flashes somewhere in the distance, and I see a waterspout on the water. Even in my drunken state, it's one of the coolest things I've had the privilege to see in my lifetime. Leaning over for a closer look, the bottle in my hand catches on the rail and goes tumbling down to the deck. I try to save what little is left by quickly bending down to retrieve it. In my haste, I forget about the rail. Bam! The side of my forehead slams into the metal. Pulling back upright makes me dizzy as I feel warmth creeping down the side of my face. It's then that my foot slides in the mess on the deck. My hip bumps the rail and the next thing I know, I am submerged in a cold black nothingness.
From both the alcohol and the smack to my head, I am in a dazed fog. The only thing that registers is the fact that I am in the water and need to get to the surface unless I want to drown. Finally, when my lungs are giving out, my head breaches the surface. The first pull of air into my throat has me crying out in pain. It feels like I swallowed broken glass all the way down to my chest. I look all around me, but there's nothing but inky black water and the reflection of the stars. When I am finally able to see the cruise liner, my stomach empties itself into the water. How could it have possibly gone that far already? They didn't stop or sound an alarm when I went over. They will never know that I am out here until it gets back to port in four days.
Panic sets in as the severity of my situation clicks in my brain. I'm going to die. Tears leak out of my eyes and do nothing but mix with the saltwater pressing in on me from all sides, making my head hurt worse. If I manage to survive the sharks and worse in these waters, I'll soon die of hunger and dehydration.
I am hurting and so very tired. Relaxing my body allows me to float on top of the water. At least it's a calm night, so the waves aren't too bad. To be truthful, if I'm going to die, my view couldn't have been any better. Millions of stars twinkle down at me from their semi-permanent places in the sky. The water in my ears makes it sound as if there is movement all around me. Who knows, sharks could be circling me at this point. I'm just too tired to care.
Closing my eyes, I begin to imagine hearing voices. They make no sense at first. A little at a time I begin to understand them. Three separate voices. Two are arguing. The third interjects, "Just give her your damn necklace, Zanthus." I hear grumbling, and then something cold and heavy settles around my neck. Despite wanting to ask why I'd need a necklace to be rescued, I just can't. My head pounds and demands sleep. I'm too exhausted to fight it anymore.
"What's it take to get some peace around here?" I ask my intrusive, hyper brother. Usually, if someone takes up roost in their room with the door shut, everyone takes the hint that they're not wanting to be bothered. Those kinds of ideas belong in a world where Zephyr isn't.
Sitting on the floor with my back against the side of the bed, I feel it shift with his weight right before his head falls backward right next to mine. Some of his hair is caught underneath him, but most of it drags the floor like a barbarian. That's what we've been reduced to at this point. To live a painful secluded existence where we're living less than our stated titles. One would think after so many years I wouldn't hold such a heavy grudge against the witch who cursed our race. However, the hate still holds as strong as the day it happened. I wouldn't think twice about strangling the breath from her throat.
"Are you even listening?" my younger, by a few minutes, brother asks in my ear.
Unclenching the drawing pencil from my fist before I break it, I give up on the portrait I'm attempting to sketch from memory. I've awoken from the same dream for a week now and all I can remember ten minutes after my eyes open is a waterspout and hair so black that it shimmers purple like fish scales. When I'd mentioned them to Merrick, our most trusted advisor who turned scholar in our current situation, he had suggested I try to write the details out as soon as I woke. But I can do us one better since the fine arts were always one of my talents, even if I'd chosen to be a warrior over pursuing them. Someone had to learn politics to protect my brothers. They are among some of the greatest fighters in our kingdom, but that'll help none when it comes to strategy. Zale is smart but prefers his books over combat. Zephyr does what he wants like he always has. Mother even encouraged it.
Realizing my mind has wandered again before he's able to hold my attention, Zephyr waves a hand in front of my eyes and whines, "Come on, Zan. Can't you feel it? I've been itching for days now. Let's go for a swim."
Come to think of it, I've been dutifully ignoring the sensation of pinpricks across my skin, begging for a shift. After the war when we came to the conclusion we were cursed yet alive, the relief was overwhelming considering we'd lost so many to the battles. Then came the mourning. Not only had we lost family and friends, but we'd also lost our kingdom. All in one swift swoop and with no one to blame but ourselves and the slimy sea witch. Now, I can't speak for my brothers, but I'm simply angry. Every time we leave our barrier of protection, fury sinks further down into my soul to the point I don't think I'll ever get rid of it.
Unfortunately, though, my carefree brother is right. The sensations we're both feeling are getting harder to ignore. For a split second, I wonder what would actually happen if I did. Would I lose my powers indefinitely, or would trying drive me truly mad?
Not willing to risk either, I rise to my feet and toss the drawing pad to the side as I demand, "Let's go find Zale."
It's no surprise to either of us when we do find him moments later in the study with Merrick, both of their heads lodged between the pages of books. I feel like they've read every available book three times over since getting stuck here, but it doesn't stop them from trying to find the answer to our problem still.
"Zale," I bark, causing them both to flinch and Zephyr to let out a chuckle at my side.
Without speaking a word, Zale sets down his book and moves to follow us out of the room. In all our years, he's never once questioned me or my judgement. Even as I followed the orders of our father and almost doomed all three of us. They both trust me with a faith I don't deserve.
He waits until we're outside the keep to ask, "So, you've been feeling it too?"
At my nod, he adds, "Merrick and I have been searching for what it could mean. We've theorized that it could be her."
"Don't," I warn, trying my best to hold in the snarl that his words bring to the surface.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him shrug and Zephyr toss him a smile. They have as much hope as the men that stop in various duties around us to watch as we make our way to the rift in the barrier. The one small place that allows the three of us to access our magic. I struggled at first to accept this as our fate because our people stuck here with us have no such magic anymore. The curse trapped it inside their bodies, unable to be freed.
We've lost more than a dozen good men over the years after the caging drove them mad. That guilt will always eat at me. I want to have the hope the rest of them do. It's just a difficult task when it all seems to be as lost as our kingdom.
Feeling like a coward, I ignore their optimistic observance and jump face-first through the sliver of barrier between us and open water. I'm expecting the rush of my shift through the lower half of my body and the low-key pops of the sound through the water behind me as my brothers do the same. Nevertheless, the thrill of being in the water races through me. Something doesn't feel right, though. If anything, the tingles that had been radiating over my body while inside the barrier seem to have gotten worse, not better. Plus, I don't think I've ever seen the water as light as it is. From our keep on the ocean floor, it's normally black as night and murky still with our excellent vision.
This. It's something new.
I’ve start to whip around in search of my brothers when a loud sound unlike any I've ever heard breaks the silence of the water. Pushing my tail to its limit, I rush towards the sound, relieved I can feel the water being disturbed in two separate directions at my back and knowing Zale and Zephyr are following. Cautious of the time we've already spent in our true forms with our talismans, we track the sound upwards to a large vessel cutting through the water at an alarming speed. Their sails must be full mast with the wind of the gods riding them.
Zephyr's laugh is full of humor, but I don't get the chance to ask him what it's for. As the ship begins to pass us, the sound of people on board it flows freely into the water under a mechanical whir, which must've been the cause of my brother's amusement. The ship has no sails but is mechanically driven. We have nothing like this in our realm.
"The humans call it an engine," Zephyr informs us. "It allows them to travel great distances in less time."
"Interesting," Zale murmurs.
I shake from my stupor. "Truly, but we're on limited time here, brothers. Has anyone stopped to think that if that's a human boat, we must not be in our own realm anymore?"
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