Pregnant With Their Babes

by Kelex

  Just in time to see a blade glide through the water like a shot—striking King Augustine between the eyes. Llyr’s father plunged to the cavern floor, his lifeless body floating in the water. Blood waved in tendrils around the wound to his head.

  When Llyr lifted his stare, he saw the dagger had come from Amyr’s own hand.

  No one moved or spoke for a few seconds.

  “Amyr?” Llyr asked, confused. “Why?”

  Amyr stepped forward, his expression grim. He regarded the guardsmen. “Stand down. There’ll be no battle here today.”

  Llyr trembled as he eyed his brothers and a chill raced down his spine. While he had little love of his father—especially moments before—patricide wasn’t an option he’d have chosen. “Eammon? What is this?”

  Eammon swam closer and planted both hands on Llyr’s shoulders. “It had to be done, brother. Trust me. Father was going to destroy us all.”

  Their guards appeared confused. “You slayed the king—we cannot allow you to get away with such treachery.” Their words held little conviction, though.

  Amyr swam closer, facing the guards. “You heard my father’s admission. He broke mer law when he exiled King Claus’ sister without the mer council’s approval. Princess Deandra was a royal and not of our realm, and my father had no right to do what he did. She was not his citizen to rule, yet he robbed her of her destiny and her legacy. After, he allowed years of conflict and unrest to continue unabated—and the death of countless in our realm—to cover his own misdeeds.”

  Amyr spun to look at Llyr. “When I learned he planned to use my youngest brother as a spy in King Claus’ kingdom—once he was wed to Alphonse—I knew I had to intervene. He wanted King Claus’ family murdered in their beds. Which would’ve started an all-out war among the realms, like nothing we’ve ever seen. The other kingdoms have already pledged Atlantia their support—and the mer council agreed that my father must be taken down.” Amyr shook his head and turned back to the guards. “My father was mad with his need for revenge. He put the welfare of our great nation at risk. His death was unfortunate—but a necessity.”

  His father’s guards continued to seem confused as to what they should do. Without a true leader, they hovered in the water, unmoving. Llyr understood their disquiet. He, too, felt unsure of what Amyr had just done.

  “Revenge? What did Augustine have to avenge?” King Claus asked Amyr.

  “Your father did not force Deandra to wed him,” Eammon answered. “As he thought you should have. In his mind, Atlantia made a mockery of him.

  “He vowed to make you all pay before stealing your throne. With both realms power and wealth at his fingertips, he would’ve been unstoppable,” Amyr said.

  “You would so easily destroy your own father?” King Claus asked Amyr. “Why?”

  Amyr lifted his chin regally. “What I did was not easy, trust me. The Enchantress approached me years ago, with a prediction. In her chain of events, my father killed you today and the whole of the Underwater Realms went to war. Our kingdom was utterly destroyed, leaving nothing behind. A wasteland would be my legacy.” Amyr paused gazing down at their father. “I refused to believe her, but as the pieces began to come together, I knew what had to happen. I had no choice.”

  King Claus spun to face his mermaid guard. “You knew of all this and kept it hidden?”

  “Amyr needed the mer council’s approval before they could act. There was no need until they returned,” the witch said, her focus once again landing on Llyr.

  A shiver trailed down Llyr’s back as her gaze fell on him. “Do I know you?”

  “She’s a powerful sorceress and friend,” the Enchantress said before spinning to face Llyr. “And Dagr’s mother.”

  Llyr frowned, that admission rocking him to his core. As soon as he was able to, he swam closer to the woman. She smiled at him—the smile was the same as Dagr’s.

  “Who’s Dagr?” King Claus asked, frowning. “My gods, I’m confused.”

  “Dagr is your nephew’s friend and lover… and my other mate,” Llyr answered for them. He stared at Dagr’s mother. “How? Dagr said you died.”

  “I did… in some ways,” she said. Her voice held a lilting accent. “I used every ounce of power I had to ensure Dagr survived before I drowned… but then I awakened sometime after. I unsure how or why… but I did. I can never leave the water like the other mers, but I live on here.”

  King Claus sighed. “So, my sister is dead. I have a half-mer nephew living above the surface who is mated to Llyr. My sorceress’ son is also mated to Llyr. Am I missing anything?”

  “One last thing.” Eammon swam to the floor of their father’s cavern and took King Augustine’s crown from his head. He swam closer to Amyr and placed it on their brother’s head. “Aegeaus has a new king.”

  “The king is dead. Long live the king,” the Enchantress spoke.

  Amyr reached up and touched the crown, sadness in his eyes. After a few heartbeats, the guards repeated the phrase the Enchantress had begun. By the next, Llyr did, as well.

  Amyr turned to face King Claus. “I think we’ve more than proven I am no threat to your realm. I hope that we can finally broker peace between our people. A true and lasting peace. No more conflicts at the border. We’ll pull back our warriors if you agree to do the same.”

  King Claus searched between Amyr and Eammon before facing Llyr. A smile crossed his lips. He gazed back at Amyr. “I agree to peace. Under three conditions.”

  “And those are?” Amyr asked.

  “One—a peace treaty. In writing. Signed in your own blood. And mine.”

  “Done,” Amyr answered. “Though it will need a little time to be reviewed by all our ministers and approved before any accord can be signed. Can I ask for a cease-fire until then?”

  “Of course,” King Claus said. “For my next condition—Prince Llyr shows me the location of my nephew. Queen Deandra’s son Oz.”

  Amyr focused on Llyr. Llyr nodded.

  “Agreed. And three?”

  King Claus turned to eye Llyr again, a smile on his lips. “Prince Llyr agrees to the troth between him and the Prince of Atlantia.”

  Llyr cringed. Could he not get away from the little tyrant?

  “What say you, brother?” Amyr asked Llyr.

  “If it brings peace between our nations, I suppose… I cannot… say no,” Llyr said between clenched teeth.

  “Wonderful,” King Claus murmured. “We need to sign the accord soon. I wish to see my nephew as soon as possible. While we’re on the surface, we can have him sign the troth.”

  Llyr did a double take. “What? Why would Oz… sign the troth?”

  “You committed to marrying the Prince of Atlantia,” King Claus murmured.

  “Which is Prince Alphonse,” Llyr replied.

  “Deandra was my sister. That makes Oz a Prince of Atlantia.” King Claus tilted his head. “You did say he was your mate… and you’d already bedded him. While in heat. You could even now be pregnant with a new prince of Atlantia, or so you said. Is all you told me true?”

  “Yes.” Tears burned Llyr’s eyes. “But we cannot wed. No matter how much I wish we could.” A sob rose up Llyr’s throat. “I very much wish it were possible.” He held back from sharing his last secret. If they knew he was already pregnant, they might kill him and his pups.

  King Claus frowned. “Why can you not wed my nephew?”

  “The prophecy,” Amyr said. “A half merman and a dark man of magic—those are your mates?”

  Llyr nodded, tears slipping down his face. “Oz is Deandra’s son to a human king. Dagr was born of a witch mother.”

  “The third omega son of a demented monarch.” King Claus spun to eye Llyr. “You are marked by the stain of a shell?”

  Llyr showed the king his birthmark. “You’re familiar with the prophecy?”

  “Oh yes,” the king said, smiling wider. “Yes, indeed.”

  How could that be a moment of happiness? To know there was a
threat to their world?

  Llyr could only frown, confused.

  14

  Two weeks later…

  Shadowed by the night, Oz leaned on the balustrade above the castle’s grand entrance. He watched the parade below. A bevy of partygoers exited their lavish carriages while liveried footmen rushed to open doors and extend hands to their haughty passengers dressed in more silk and taffeta than should have been allowed by law. Décolletages plunged precariously low in their attempts to show their wares.

  Wares Oz had no interest in viewing.

  Once he entered the ballroom, their searching gazes and whispering gossip would swelter around him until he struggled to breathe…

  Bodies crushed into the large ballroom, packed so tight the heat would send him screaming for the gardens where he’d end up interrupting the secret affairs of more than one, he was sure.

  He wished he could avoid it altogether. After months of searching for a prophecy that didn’t appear to exist above the waves, he’d been unable to stop his father’s planning and plotting. There was no one in the kingdom or outside of it that could transcribe the ancient text Dagr had found—and it had been their lone clue. Oz would be married off to one of the plump, pampered princesses being paraded through the entrance below if his father had anything to say about it. While women didn’t particularly offend him, it was the type of woman he would encounter that night, a veritable who’s who of the region’s overindulged aristocracy.

  A breeze came off the coast, bringing with it the scent of salt and sea. Oz inhaled deeply, letting it fill his lungs. It reminded him of all he’d lost.

  Two loves slipping through his fingers.

  “There you are,” a voice came from the open doors of Oz’s rooms.

  Oz turned from the display below to see Dagr strolling through the shadows. He gave the man a faint smile, but remained silent.

  “Hiding, are we?”

  “Would you not, if you were me?”

  Dagr chuckled. “Luckily, I’m not you, Your Highness.”

  “We’re alone, Dag… you have no need to call me that.”

  “Simply practicing. I don’t wish to slip tonight while there are guests around to hear my blunder… Your Highness.”

  Oz spun to face the man he loved. He sauntered closer and stopped mere inches from the man, lifting his stare to Dagr. “We should sneak away. We can find our own sport for the night in one of the taverns. It would be more fun than this gods-awful gathering.”

  Dagr gazed down at him and from the glint of light he caught in the man’s brown eyes, he was sure the thought was tempting. Sadly, he didn’t receive the answer he’d been hoping for.

  “Your father would murder me if I let that happen.”

  Oz grinned. “Perhaps. If he caught us. By the time he did, the ball would be long over and I could avoid the choice I’m expected to make tonight.”

  “He expects you to pick a wife tonight?”

  Oz scoffed. “He’d be ecstatic if I did.” He shook his head. “I do think he expects a short list of contenders by the ball’s end. It will be most short, I promise. Zero is quite short.”

  “If we did run away, eventually we would have to return… and there would be another ball… your torment extended. You must find one you can exist alongside.”

  Oz sighed, wishing things could be different. He brushed his hands over the elaborately embroidered military jacket Dagr wore. The muscle and flesh below it were more beautiful than anything that could ever cover it. “If only we were back out to sea. Far away from the intrigues of court.”

  Dagr’s smile faded some.

  They both recognized there was no more stealing moments. By his father’s estimation it was time for Oz to do his familial duty—put an heir on one of the comely genteel ladies below. His thoughts drifted to Llyr and the infinitesimal chance there was already an heir below the sea.

  No point in dreaming that will ever happen. Do as Dagr says. Pick one and get it over with.

  Which one was the only question now. That night would be time for him to sort through the pack and see if there was one that he could stand talking to for more than a few moments. Perhaps he’d find a half-witted one who wouldn’t notice his lengthy trips to Clyffsyde or the Dagr’s sized bruises on his ass cheeks.

  “The ballroom is near capacity,” Dagr said while gazing over Oz’s shoulder. “Yet I see carriages as far as the eye can see.” Dagr tilted his head and captured Oz’s gaze. “You’re a catch, it seems. All the mothers are dragging their daughters out tonight in hopes of hooking themselves the next King of Aelymanua.”

  Oz lifted his stare to the heavens. “Perhaps I could wish upon a star… you realize what I’d wish for.” Tears burned the backs of his eyes. This was it. One of their final moments before being torn apart for good. They’d stretched the days out, using the search for Llyr and the truth as a way to prevent the end.

  But there was no more stretching.

  “Wishes rarely come true. Even for the future king.” Dagr took a step back, his expression going blank in the faint light rising from above. “We should get downstairs, Your Highness. The king was asking for you. We shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

  As Dagr spun to leave, Oz reached out and grabbed the man’s arm. “Wait.”

  Dagr turned, a question burned into his features.

  “Say my name.”

  Longing burned in the man’s eyes. “We don’t have time for this.”

  “Say my name.”

  Dagr seemed as if he might argue, but instead, he sighed. “Ozzy… we need to go downstairs.”

  Oz forced his friend to face him. “You will always have a place in my heart. You are my friend, my lover. My compatriot. Life if not worth living without you in it.”

  Dagr’s mouth was a firm line, but Oz sensed there was much his quiet friend wished to say.

  “I love you, Dag,” Oz whispered.

  Dagr dragged him closer and angled his head. Their mouths crashed together in a kiss so ferocious the very ground Oz stood upon seemed to shake.

  Or perhaps it was the thunder in the distance.

  They parted, but barely. Oz clung to Dagr, not wanting to let go. Forehead to forehead, they didn’t move.

  “Never doubt my love for you, Oz. But you understand it’s impossible for us to be more.” He sighed. “I can’t accept a tiny piece of you. I need it all or nothing.”

  The breeze off the sea whipped up, battering against them. Oz’s hair blew back, and a chill washed over him. Lightening crackled in the distance, over the water, and another rumble of thunder shook the very earth.

  “Let’s get inside before the deluge comes,” Dagr said before taking Oz’s hand in his and leading the pair of them inside.

  His hand burned Oz’s palm, the heat of his male scorching him. But there was no way he was letting go until he was forced into it. They walked along the gilded hallway together—until they reached the top of the winding staircase that led to the grand gallery. Below, Oz could hear the tittering laughter, the whispers of the gossips, and the music swirling into a cacophony. It sounded like torture.

  Moments before they descended, Dagr drew his hand away. The lifeline gone, Oz felt his body sway.

  “Take a deep breath,” Dagr whispered before marching on ahead.

  They couldn’t enter together. There were already rumors swelling due to the years they traveled together, as it was. Not that Oz cared much.

  Oz smiled as he heard Dagr announced. “Baron Dagr von Burgstaller of Clyffsyde.”

  He wished he was already inside to see the shocked faces of the nobility. It was the only highlight of the night worth looking forward to, and he missed it.

  A few moments passed before he approached the doors to the ballroom. As soon as they were opened, the herald announced him.

  “Johannes Oswald Hieronymus von König, Crown Prince of Aelymanua.”

  All heads turned in his direction. Silence fell. He could almost hear the anticipation
pulsate through in the room.

  A crash of thunder shook the very walls, and a gust of wind blew through the ballroom, blowing out many of the hundreds of candles filling the room.

  What an entrance.

  Nearly an hour later, Oz was taking a quiet moment from making his rounds through the ballroom. That quiet was short lived. His father soon found him hiding in the salon.

  “Hiding?”

  Oz shook his head. “No,” he fibbed. “I needed a moment to breathe. It’s hot in there.”

  “Quite so. There’s a bevy of young beauties tonight. I would hope you could finally find one who suits you.”

  Oz clenched his teeth, struggling to not say the things he wished to say. How could his father think he could so quickly wed another when his heart belonged to Dagr?

  And maybe a little of it belonged to Llyr, too.

  A seed had been planted. There had been little time to let it grow much, but the inkling it had was enough to leave him devastated by the loss. But then, love was no requirement for his father. The king demanded heirs, so all that mattered were the babes to come. “The night’s still young.”

  His father focused on him. “Every eligible maiden is here tonight. Either you pick one, or I pick one for you.”

  Oz kept the angry growl rising up his chest back. “Stay out of my love life.”

  “As I have thus far? If only you could put a babe on Dagr, your life would be so much easier. Dagr is a fine man and a loyal friend. I can see why you would be attracted to that.”

  Oz gasped inwardly. “If a male could give me a babe, you would be fine with that?”

  “You love who you love. I accept that.” His father sighed. “But Dagr cannot give you the heir you need. So, no—I cannot give you my blessing there.”

  “Of course not. Duty and responsibility come before happiness.”

  “Perhaps you’ll find a wife willing to ignore your… liaisons… with Dagr. If so, you can continue the affair. But that’s all it can be, Oz. An affair.”