“She can’t be,” said Serena. Suddenly, the angry hiss turned into a sob of despair. “She just can’t be! Oh, Hazel!”
The sudden mood swing did not startle Hazel. That was just Serena now. Her own daughters spoke quietly around her, as though loud noises might trigger a change that turned a small smile into a furious outburst and a magical shock to the backside over something trivial like asking to go to a friend’s house. The number of citizens lining up for audiences was shrinking. Athena was part of the process now, and Serena often contradicted her decisions even if the citizen was deserving of help. For instance, just last week she had refused to help a farmer cure a disease in his red algae crop simply because Athena had spoken first and said they would help. And though Serena wouldn’t ever fully admit it to herself, she refused some audience requests because she found herself wondering if the merperson before her had cheered for Athena that day on the balcony. She felt, deep down in a place she didn’t like to look at, that her merpeople had betrayed her.
Serena swam into Hazel’s arms, wailing. Hazel felt her own throat tightening as she stroked Serena’s hair and tried to calm her. She knew what this meant to Serena. Triton turned to Athena for everything now. He backed her decisions when it came to helping citizens and passing laws. He turned to her when he had a new idea for improving some aspect of the kingdom. He regularly went out into the city with her, while his once weekly outings with Serena had become sporadic at best. Hazel couldn’t really blame Triton for pulling away. Serena could become downright dangerous without warning, and the perpetual gloomy scowl on her face wasn’t very inviting. Even now, as she held Serena, Hazel was preparing herself for pain if Serena’s mood changed again. She had been shocked many times because she was standing too close when Serena lost her temper. It was all about to get much worse. The only thing Serena had still had that Athena did not, the only thing that she and Triton could talk about without having a fight, was their daughters. Now Athena was going to have a child of her own. She was going to have everything. The thought made Hazel’s little monster growl in outrage.
Serena suddenly pulled back, and Hazel screwed up her eyes, waiting for pain, but none came. She slowly opened her lids a tad and saw that Serena had a wide-eyed look of fear, not fury, on her face.
“What if it’s a boy?” she whispered. “I couldn’t give him a boy.”
“Serena, even if it is, Triton—“
Serena’s hair stood on end and her eyes narrowed. Hazel could almost feel her fury like a wave. “He’s going to love her child more. He’s going to toss our babies aside.” Her eyes widened again, but this time they had a mad sparkle instead of a dull terror in them. “I won’t let it happen. I won’t let it.”
“And you shouldn’t,” said Moira, appearing so suddenly that Hazel jumped. Moira’s jaw was tight. The violet flames were in her eyes as she saw her life in the palace flash before them. “We must get rid of her, Serena. I’ve been telling you this whole time. At this rate, we’ll be back in the kelp forest by this time next year. She’s taking over. You can’t let it happen.”
Serena locked her sparkling, mad eyes on her mother and gazed so intently that Hazel was sure she was going to swim up to the cauldron room and start on the poison that instant. But what Hazel didn’t know was that Serena was holding on to a shred of hope. It was tearing apart and becoming weaker by the day, but it was still there, and she was clinging to it like a frail, fraying, worn out rope. She wanted Triton back. She wanted it all back. And as long as she saw any inclination that it could happen—a smile from Triton sent down the dinner table, a brush of his hand as he spoke to her, a gentleness in his voice when he said her name—she refused to jeopardize it that way. The spell was broken. Triton’s suspicions would not be held off by the love potion. She wouldn’t risk it.
Not yet.
— — —
“She’s so cute!” Maren squealed, her hands pressed to her smiling cheeks in delight.
“Oh, look, look! She’s looking at me. Hi, baby,” said Ariana, waving into the stone crib where little Cordelia lay looking up from a bed of lush sea grass.
“Can I hold her?” said Fiona, clasping her hands in front of her as she pled with Athena. “Pretty, pretty please?”
Athena laughed, making the large crystal necklace resting on her collarbone bounce. “Sure, Fiona. Everyone can get a turn if they want.”
“Even me?” said little Rona, her face cherubic, big blue eyes wide with wonder.
“Yes, dear.”
Serena flinched and clenched her fist in an attempt to keep it from lashing out at Athena’s face. She hated when Athena called her children “dear” or “sweetie.”
“It’s not as if you can really drop her,” said Athena with another laugh, gesturing around at the salt water.
Athena bent into the crib and pulled the baby out. Cordelia’s sea foam green tail flicked once as she locked her new blue eyes on her mother. Athena slid her into Fiona’s arms.
“Look at her sweet little cheeks,” said Celine, hovering over Fiona’s shoulder and running a finger down Cordelia’s chubby cheek.
Serena watched it all in silence with a frightening fake smile stamped on for show. Her own children were smitten with the little monster. She kept her eyes locked on Triton. He never took his eyes off the child, even for a moment. He was as smitten with her as he was with her vile, sweet-talking mother—even more, in fact. His breathing was coming out in deep, uneven sighs, as though he kept forgetting to breath, and when he finally did remember he needed to, he forgot how. As Serena watched, he reached out with a fixed, dreamy look on his face (as if he was aware of nothing but the child) and plucked Cordelia from Fiona’s arms. Fiona blinked once, staring at her forearms where the baby had rested just a second ago. Then she looked up at her father cuddling Cordelia and running his hand over the little tuft of bright red hair on the top of her head, and she smiled.
Serena’s fake smile vanished in an instant. Her mind was becoming more fevered, cynical, and paranoid by the day, and it revolted at this sight. I knew it, a little voice whispered. He will cast aside everything in favor of her child. They’ll take everything from us, take everything from my children. Mother was right. Something must be done.
Chapter 9
Sound the Alarm
“They have to go, Mother,” said Serena, gripping the edges of her cauldron so tightly her knuckles shone white as pearls, “her and the little brat. You were right all along. They’ll take everything. If I didn’t know how utterly useless she is, I’d suspect her of being a witch and putting her own spell on him. She has power over him. It’s only a matter of time before she drops her little ‘peace and harmony, best friends’ façade and decides she wants to be the only queen in Adamar.” Serena closed her eyes, pain etched into the lines of her face. Her voice was a cracked whisper as she said, “And he will give her what she wants.”
Hazel bit her lip against a coy smile. Moira was going to make Serena writhe. She had warned Serena of this ever since Athena showed up. She would say, “I told you so.” She would act as though she wouldn’t help, saying, “How can I possibly conspire to commit an act so dangerous with someone who doesn’t trust my judgement, who doesn’t heed my warnings. Your plan will be foolhardy; you won’t listen to anything I say. I cannot help.” And even though she didn’t want it to, the idea made Hazel’s jealous little monster perk up and cock its head to the side in anticipation.
Casius looked as though he expected the same. His eyes were narrowed at Moira as he floated at Serena’s shoulder. He was always there lately, like a strange, massive, many-limbed version of one of the hunting birds that humans used. He and Serena had always been close, but ever since Serena had begun spending less and less time at Triton’s side, Casius had begun staying at hers, so close that he was almost like a new addition to her body, a str
ange growth. And his skin was rarely his natural bright red-orange anymore. Right now he was blotchy—a mixture of deep crimson and ugly, bruise-colored purple. Hazel thought he looked horrendous.
“Of course he will, darling,” said Moira softly, a deep sadness in her voice, her perfect lips etched into a frown. Serena’s grip on her cauldron slackened as she looked at her mother, and her face crumpled from hard, angry edges into soft, downturned curves of sorrow. Moira held out her arms. “Come here, my love.”
Serena rushed into Moira’s arms, and Hazel’s gut twisted in anger. Their mother still had never embraced her that way. But with a great effort, Hazel scolded herself and shut the feeling off. If Mother and Serena’s suspicions were correct, they needed to be united now more than ever. Hazel was fond of her grand, luxurious bed, her delicious meals prepared by the kingdom’s finest chefs, and her sparkling tiara. She was even more fond of being respected, recognized, and appreciated when she went out into the city. She wouldn’t give it up.
“Hush, hush now, darling,” said Moira, her fingers in Serena’s hair. “That’s enough of that. You must be strong. You must be level-headed. Getting away with this will be no small task. Like you’ve said before, some merpeople may very well grow suspicious. Although, Triton is the one we have to fool; he’s the only one who counts. But it will be hard. She’s his true love.” Serena flinched and her lip curled in a snarl. “It’s true dear,” said Moira, one scolding eyebrow raised. “You’ll have to admit it sooner or later. He will not take her death well. And now that he’s found his true love and she’s broken the spell, he can never be reenchanted. Just her memory will be enough to keep that from happening.”
“Then why even bother!” said Serena, throwing her hands up to cover her face in despair. “I will be as haunted by her memory as I am now by her person.”
“Keep your voice down,” hissed Moira, snatching Serena’s face roughly in one hand and forcing her eyes to her own—as if Serena were still a child and not a queen in the prime of her life. Serena pressed her lips tightly together and cast down her eyes. “And that’s a load of nonsense, and you know it. True, he will mourn and remember her, but you will be the one he turns to for comfort if we play this right. He will lament the child even more, no doubt. And he will hold your children even more dear and love you all the more for giving them to him.”
“Do we really have to kill the child?” said Hazel, regretting it the moment the words left her mouth.
Moira’s head whipped around with violet flames already blazing. Despite the years that had gone by, she still looked as beautiful and fearsome as ever—not a grey hair to be found on her head, not a wrinkle to blemish her fierce, angular face. It paid to know how to create your own beauty products. Hazel cowered under her terribly beautiful fury, but still, baby Cordelia’s sweet face nagged at her conscience. To Hazel’s surprise, it was Serena who answered, her voice a growl that made Hazel think of bared teeth and sharp swords dipped in blood.
“The child must go,” she said, her eyes dancing with blue sparks.
“I…I understand that,” said Hazel, unsure why she was risking the wrath of her mother and sister this way, “but do we have to kill her? Couldn’t we just take her far away—drop her off in another city?
“He will never stop looking until he finds her,” said Moira, looking at Hazel like she was a particularly nasty scale fungus. “The child must die. He must see her body.”
Hazel blanched at the thought and looked to Serena. Serena’s face had softened, and the sparks had fizzled from her eyes. She looked as though she was considering Hazel’s suggestion.
“I agree with Hazel,” said Casius. “I won’t take part in the murder of a child.”
“Let’s figure out how to get rid of Athena first,” said Serena. “We will decide what to do with her ugly little offspring later.”
Moira looked displeased, but she didn’t object. Instead, she said, “I believe you were right when you said poison is too risky, Serena. We— ”
Moira cut off as a servant swam past the cauldron room. After a few seconds, she whispered, “We will have to come up with another way. I think I know someone who can help us, but we’ll need doubloons. Lots of them.”
— — —
Moira was tired from her journey. She pulled herself up onto a rock not far from the shore of an island and waited, breathing in the fresh air and watching the sun dance on the surface of the pristine, royal blue water. She dipped the tip of her tail in the water and leaned back with her arms bent at the elbows and rested on the rock, sunbathing, enjoying the warmth of the sun attracted to the dark surface of her black tail and hair and tattoos.
The ship appeared on the horizon, and Moira shielded her eyes from the sun as she watched its slow but steady approach. When it eventually pulled up alongside her rock, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and winked at the pirates hanging over the edge, whistling at her, some of them with their tongues lolling out past their yellow, rotting teeth.
The captain pushed his way through his horde of sailors. The rim of his black hat was almost ludicrously wide and floppy. A large, fluffy ostrich feather, dyed blood red, was stuck into the hatband. His long, coarse black hair was so matted it was almost dreadlocks, and Moira tried hard not to wrinkle her nose in disgust when she saw something that looked very much like bird poop in his bushy, black beard. He smiled at Moira, one of his front teeth gleaming gold, the others almost as yellow, and Moira gave him a come-hither smile back.
“Captain Kaidan,” she crooned, waving her tail in a fan-like motion that sent droplets of refreshing water splashing onto her chest and face, “it’s been too long, darling.”
“Aye, it has,” said Kaidan, his voice gravely, like he’d swallowed a handful of dirt. “Perhaps this time I can convince ye to come aboard and come abed?”
Moira’s laugh was high and musical, and she threw her head back, her violet eyes clear and lustrous in the sun. Kaidan eyed her hungrily.
“Now you know I can’t be out of the water for that long, darling,” she said with another wink.
Kaidan’s returning smile was heinously large and lecherous. “Got your message,” he said. “That hoodoo you do still amazes me. I’m up for it, long as you got the gold.” His eyes lit up at the word; he almost purred it.
Moira snapped her fingers and a large, iron chest broke the water’s surface, propelled up and held there by a jet of bubbles.
“Hoist ‘er up, boys,” Kaidan said with an upward motion of his hand.
A net was cast, and the chest was pulled aboard. Kaidan set it on the boat’s edge and opened it up. He plunged his hand into the mass of golden coins and laughed as he picked up a handful and let them run through his fingers.
“You, my lusty, buxom sea witch, have got yourself a deal!”
— — —
“Hurry up.” Hazel’s voice was high and squeaky. Her hands gripped the nursery doorframe as if a rip tide was trying to pull her out into Deep Ocean. Her eyes were wide with fright.
“Hush, Hazel. I don’t want to wake her yet,” said Serena in a hissed whisper.
Hazel bit her lip and then resumed peering around the doorway, watching for anyone approaching.
The nursery was bright and clear in the morning light. Sea horses were carved into the stone walls. Bright coral and sea plants of all colors adorned the walls. It was a happy place. It was where all five of Serena’s daughters had grown from infants to toddlers. Athena’s bedchamber was right next door so that she could hear the child cry. Serena reached into the crib slowly, clenching her teeth as she prayed the child would not wake and begin to scream for its mother.
Cordelia was snoozing peacefully, one arm up beside her head, the little hand clenched in a fist. As Serena wrapped one hand behind the child’s head and one under the thickest part of her tail, Cordelia’s eyes popped open.
They were Triton’s eyes—big and sparkling and the color of the ocean—and Serena froze, a knot in her throat. Could she really cause him such pain? She scrunched her face, waiting for the first cries, but they never came. Cordelia looked up into Serena’s face, her eyes alight with her mother’s curiosity. She reached out a small hand and grabbed Serena’s wrist clumsily. The knot in Serena’s throat tightened.
“Serena, what’s taking so long? She could wake up any minute,” said Hazel.
Serena turned her head to snap at Hazel, and the mobile strung from the ceiling brushed her head. Pearls, crystal hearts, and white seahorses and sea otters carved from limestone spun overhead for the baby’s delight. Serena had made that mobile herself for Maren. She stared at it and her jaw clenched. She lifted the baby out of the crib and rested the little head against her shoulder, making soothing shushing noises. Cordelia did not make a sound.
Hazel sighed out a stream of bubbles in relief as Serena swam silently past her and into the corridor. They swam together over the balcony after peering over it to make sure no servants were in the atrium to witness their exit. No one would question them now, but when the alarm was sounded later, Serena did not want anyone coming forward to say they had seen her with the child at all.
“Thank goodness,” said Casius, floating just outside the palace doors. He handed Serena a large picnic basket. “What took you so long?”
Hazel raised her eyebrows at Serena, who waved her hand at both of them as she made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat.
The Sea Witch (The Era of Villains Book 1) Page 17
