Tides of Tranquility

by Nadia Scrieva

  “It’s done,” Aazuria said, glancing at her sister with a small smile. “You can be happy again—both of you.”

  “Is that why you want to do this?” Trevain demanded. “Do you want to leave?”

  Dylan cleared his throat as he looked up from Yamako’s unconscious body. “I hate to interrupt, but I would like to ask the queen whether she believes she is sacrificing herself for Elandria’s safety, or running away from her husband due to her fear of intimacy? Is this merely a convenient way out? Is she choosing to punish herself instead of trying to conquer this dilemma?”

  Aazuria lowered her head. “It doesn’t matter anymore, does it? I have decided. This is done.”

  “No,” Trevain said, pointing the gun at King Kyrosed’s head. “I’m not letting you walk out that door with him.”

  “What a greedy man,” Kyrosed remarked, his hands pausing on the bomb. He began to stroke Elandria’s hair in a sickeningly sensual way. “You have plenty of wives, King Trevain. Why not share with a fellow?”

  “I—I didn’t intend to marry two women,” Trevain said, blushing hotly. He lowered the gun a few inches in shame. “It was a mistake. I—I’m sorry, sir, if I ever caused any harm or heartache to your daughters. It seems a bit bizarre apologizing to you, considering what you did to my mother—but I need to apologize anyway. What I did weighs heavily on my conscience. It was never my intention to hurt Aazuria or be untrue to her, and it was never my intention to forsake Elandria—but I did both of these things. I feel ashamed every day. They are both amazing women, and I don’t deserve either of them.”

  “You most certainly do not,” Kyrosed agreed. He sized up his son-in-law curiously. “Nonetheless, it is Adluvian tradition for the king to have many women. He just usually doesn’t feel guilty about it. Where did you find this fellow, Aazuria? After killing me, did you run directly into the arms of the first man that you met?”

  She hesitated, feeling an urge to appease the man so that he would free her sister. “Yes. That’s exactly what I did.”

  “I thought so. You were probably so brokenhearted at losing me that you couldn’t think properly,” Kyrosed said sympathetically. “He’s so pedestrian. So very plebian.”

  “Is that supposed to hurt my feelings?” Trevain asked dryly. “Take the fucking bomb off Elandria. Now.”

  Kyrosed absentmindedly fiddled with the bomb on Elandria’s chest. “Let’s have a conversation, Trevain. You see, I had many wives and paramours in my time. At the height of my reign, I had fourteen women—but they are all dead now. I killed many of them myself when they grew to be tiresome annoyances.”

  “Like you killed my cousin,” Naclana said through gritted teeth, “and my sister.”

  “Sure. They were inconsequential,” Kyrosed said with a wave of his hand. “But my daughters—my precious girls who Trevain has claimed as his own in my absence—I never officially gave them my blessing in marrying him. They still belong to me. I was willing to trade Elandria for Aazuria, but now I rather think that I will keep both of them.”

  “Women aren’t property,” Trevain insisted. “That’s not how things are in Adlivun.”

  “Things are how I say they are,” Kyrosed said simply. “I’m the true king—and you’re a fisherman.”

  “You’re delusional,” Trevain told him angrily, lifting the gun again. “And you won’t get away with this. Maybe I failed Aazuria and Elandria as a husband, but I won’t fail them as a friend. I’ll protect them from you.”

  “Protect them from me?” Kyrosed repeated with mock innocence. “I think you need a little demonstration of my power.”

  “Oh, god,” Vachlan said quietly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Trevain, why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking?”

  Trevain turned to look at his grandfather, and saw that everyone had looks of fear and horror on their faces. Queen Amabie was sitting with her head bowed in her hands. Even Visola wore an unusual expression of powerless despair. Sionna was sprawled limply on the ground beside Yamako, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Trevain had never realized what a pillar of strength his great aunt had always been until he had witnessed her dissolving into tears. Dylan had finished patching up Princess Yamako’s neck, and was holding Sionna against his chest and whispering reassurances. How could one man have ripped them apart at the seams like this? Turning back to his demonic father-in-law, Trevain felt a shiver of dread at what the man would do next.

  It occurred to him for the first time that Kyrosed was untouchable. He should have realized this much sooner, and saved his friends and family from what was about to come.

  King Kyrosed pushed Elandria away, sending her lurching toward his servant. The man caught her, still holding the trigger high to remind everyone what hung in the balance. Kyrosed leaned against the table in a relaxed manner, extending his arms to Aazuria.

  “Come here, child.”

  Breathing deeply and slowly to keep from hyperventilating, Aazuria glanced at her sister. She silently prayed for the gentle woman’s safety, and thanked Sedna that Varia was far away from the palace. Seeing no other option, she moved forward into her father’s outstretched hands.

  “Look at you,” Kyrosed murmured as he reached out and clasped her face. He rubbed his thumbs over her cheeks lovingly. “My little girl, all grown up.”

  Aazuria felt nausea and rage mixing together in her stomach. She had killed him once; could she manage to do it again? How could she disable him without causing the bomb to detonate? There were no options but to humor him.

  “Do you really want me back in your life, darling?” Kyrosed asked her gently as he looked into her eyes. He lowered his hands to rest on her waist and rubbed his thumbs up and down her middle, drawing parallel lines on either side of her bellybutton. “Will you let me take care of you, like I used to?”

  “Yes,” Aazuria said at once, without hesitation. She tried to keep her body from shaking in revulsion. “Yes, Father. Whatever you wish.”

  “We’ll be invincible, you and I,” he told her with a smile. “Nothing will ever bring us down. I will save you from the mess you’ve made; you’ll see. When the war comes to Adlivun again, I will be the one to lead my people to victory this time.”

  “War?” Visola asked. It was the only word that could have taken her attention away from her miserable thoughts of her lost daughter.

  “Yes, of course, Colonel,” Kyrosed turned to the redhead harshly. “When the land-dwellers rise up against us, and demand their share of the seas. What did you think would happen after revealing us publicly to those monsters? I have kept us safe in privacy for centuries. Now, you fools have ruined everything. But I am ready.” He turned back to Aazuria, and smiled as he lowered his hands to rest on her hipbones.

  “Leviathan is ready.”

  A silence hung in the air after these words. There were many unspoken questions that everyone wanted to ask, but no one dared speak. Vachlan glanced furtively at Visola, who looked back at him with a guilty and apologetic expression. They both seemed to silently acknowledge that they had been hiding information from each other. Now, in this moment, as they were faced with death, it seemed very imprudent to have done so.

  Kyrosed grabbed a handful of Aazuria’s hair, dragging her face very close to his. “You should have hung yourself,” he whispered.

  “Never,” she told him softly. “If you want to hurt me, go ahead. Everyone’s watching, and I’m sure you can use me to punctuate a point.”

  “Oh, I intend to, dearest.” Kyrosed turned to his onlookers triumphantly, viciously gesturing to his daughter. “Let me tell you all something you don’t know about this courageous, heroic, and noble queen who stands before you all, willing to sacrifice herself for your safety.” He made eye contact with each of them, allowing his gaze to linger on Vachlan.

  “Aazuria thinks she is an independent and rebellious woman; but I have carved her with a chisel. Every soft curve and hard edge of her personality was carefully shaped
by my hands and my willpower. She is far more an ice sculpture than my daughter, but she is my proudest creation.” With this little speech, Kyrosed turned back to Aazuria and smiled before uttering a command:

  “Now get down on your knees before me, Aazuria.”

  “Yes, Father.” She could feel her heart beating in her throat as she complied with his wishes. Aazuria bowed her head respectfully as she sat on her knees, trying to maintain a morsel of her dignity.

  “Kiss my shoes,” Kyrosed demanded.

  Aazuria looked at her sister again, trying to comfort her through her eyes. “Yes, Father,” she croaked, trying to force the words through the unwilling crevice of her throat. She tried to keep her face expressionless and strong as she leaned forward and complied with his wishes. Having done this, she stared in surprise as Kyrosed began to undo the front of his pants. She looked up at him in shock, and saw his eyes leering down at her joyously.

  “You wouldn’t…” she whispered.

  “I would, and I will,” he said as he opened the front of his pants.

  “No,” Visola begged. “Don’t do this to her. King Kyrosed, do you remember when you gave me this bracelet?” She held up her wrist in a passionate plea. “You entrusted me with protecting Aazuria. I’ve worn this piece of metal for over five hundred years. You gave me my first job, and now I need to do that job. So please—hurt me instead. I love Zuri more than I love myself. She’s been through too much.”

  Kyrosed chuckled. “I admire your loyalty, Colonel Ramaris, but everyone knows you’re just a punching bag. I could try my best to make a dent in your morale, but you would die laughing about it. Your aloofness and insanity makes your mind impregnable—I don’t have time to waste in trying to destroy something indestructible.”

  Visola frowned. “Was that a compliment?” She turned to her husband. “I think he just gave me a compliment.”

  “He did,” Vachlan said.

  “Shucks,” Visola said shyly. “I feel kind of warm and tingly inside. Nope—it’s gone now. Back to wrath and revulsion.”

  King Kyrosed smiled derisively as he looked down at his daughter, shoving his pelvis into her face. “Go on then, Aazuria. Show me what you’ve learned now that you have a husband.”

  “Why?” she whispered as she stared up at him in shock.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” he asked. “You said you were the heart of the empire. You and your companions in this room. By publicly humiliating you, I’m demoralizing and destabilizing the whole empire.” He paused thoughtfully. “With my cock,” he added. “You see, a man can do a whole lot with a very little appendage. It’s a shame that most men don’t do more.”

  “I can’t,” she told him in horror.

  “Then I’m going to have my servant release the trigger and turn your sister into a charming display of pyrotechnics. Do it!”

  “Fine,” Aazuria said, grimacing as she moved forward. She shut her eyes tightly and cringed as her lips made connection with his flesh. A sound like a whimper left her throat as she tried to combat her disgust and loathing.

  “Ewww,” Visola said, turning away. “That is vile.”

  “Look at her!” King Kyrosed commanded. “Look at her! All of you!”

  Elandria began to protest through the duct tape that had silenced her. She moaned, begging her father to stop, but he ignored her. Empress Amabie shook her head in disbelief at Kyrosed’s cruelty.

  “I think I’m going to lose my dinner,” Brynne said weakly.

  “Dammit,” said Dr. Rosenberg in distress. “I really thought I was making progress on her therapy! Now on top of everything, she gets sexually abused? Is there ever a day in Adlivun when you people don’t experience life-threatening trauma?”

  “Looks like you’re going to be employed with us for a while,” Naclana said dryly.

  “Assuming we live through this,” Sionna said softly as she wrapped a tablecloth around Princess Yamako’s pale body.

  King Kyrosed grabbed the back of Aazuria’s head and shoved himself into her throat, causing her to choke and gag. Tears began to pour down her face as she began to sob brokenly. She now knew that she had never truly tasted defeat and disgrace until this moment. She now knew that she would rather face the Clan of Zalcan again, or an even bigger enemy in no-holds-barred global warfare, than have to deal with her own father.

  Vachlan was staring at his grandson nervously. He knew that the most dangerous explosives in the room were no longer the ones strapped to Elandria’s body. He knew from the darkening look on Trevain’s face that a beast was about to burst forth into the room and tear King Kyrosed apart. He could feel the uncontrollable violence burgeoning just under the surface of the man’s skin. He could see the predatory, raptor-like hunger in the man’s green eyes, perfectly mirroring Visola’s. Vachlan had never felt more of a hereditary connection to Trevain; and he had never felt more afraid.

  “We need him alive,” Vachlan whispered to his grandson.

  “I don’t care anymore. I really don’t give a fuck anymore. I’m sorry.” Trevain lifted his gun and shot Kyrosed in the neck.

  The white-haired man looked to his son-in-law in shock. He grasped his neck as he stumbled back, crashing into the dinner table in amazement. “But you can’t,” Kyrosed murmured. “Elandria is…” Blood gurgled up in his throat and out of his lips as he spoke.

  “You killed him!” the servant said in disbelief, waving the trigger madly. “You killed King Kyrosed, the rightful pure leader!”

  “I don’t think I did,” Trevain said as he walked forward, standing beside Aazuria. He aimed his gun down at the man’s open pants before pulling on the trigger again.

  Kyrosed bellowed in pain as he clamped his hands around the bleeding appendage.

  “You shot me in the dick!”

  “It was destabilizing the empire,” Trevain said with a shrug. “Tell me about how powerful you are now, Kyrosed. Tell me a story.” Lifting the gun once more, he fired another bullet directly into the man’s mouth. He inwardly delighted at the thought of the metal ripping through his offensive tongue.

  “God, he’s fucking lost it,” Vachlan said in admiration.

  When Kyrosed slumped to the ground, Trevain continued to unload bullets into various parts of the man’s body. He shot until the gun was empty, and even then he kept pulling the trigger. Only after a few seconds did he feel Aazuria’s arms around him. He dropped the empty gun and clasped her against him, crushing her so tightly that his embrace was painful. Burying his face in her hair, he held onto her for dear life.

  Meanwhile, Naclana had rushed to Elandria’s side, and was trying to dismantle the bomb. Frowning as he failed to do this, he used a knife he had handy to slice the bomb away from her skin. “Hold on, Queen Elandria,” he told her firmly. “You’re going to be fine.”

  “This day sucks monkey balls,” Brynne muttered as she moved to help Naclana. She gritted her teeth as she used a steak knife from the table to hack away at the apparatus.

  King Kyrosed’s servant was staring blankly at his master’s limp body. “What have you done!” he shouted miserably. “Damn you. You’re all going to die!” The servant fiercely brandished the trigger in the air as he lifted his thumb off the button. He flung the device across the room proudly. “I hope you like hell, fuckers!” The servant turned to sprint from the room.

  Princess Yamako had been right. The bomb did not fire immediately, but the timer beeped and indicated five seconds.

  “It’s stuck!” Naclana shouted as he tried to cut it away from Elandria’s body.

  “Run,” Vachlan told Visola, pushing her toward the door urgently. “Get out of here!”

  Visola smiled at him, holding her ground. “Forget the bomb, we need mouthwash for Zuri!”

  With only seconds on the clock, there was no time to laugh. Empress Amabie found that a short burst of mirth had made its way through her mouth anyway. “Oh, Visola. I am proud to die by your side.”

  Naclana fumbled as he tried to ri
p the bomb away from Elandria’s chest. “There’s no time!” he shouted. “Everyone, get away! Take cover!”

  Aazuria had swiveled in Trevain’s arms, looking at her sister with terror. Slipping out of his grip, she crossed the room, and lowered herself to Elandria’s side. She pressed her lips against Elandria’s forehead and took the woman’s hands into her own.

  “I’m with you,” she told her little sister, smiling tearfully as they waited for the explosion. “I’m right here with you.”

  Chapter 16: Varia’s Smoke Inhalation

  Varia ran back to the castle as fast as her legs would take her. She glanced up at the giant clouds of smoke, and remembered what it meant to pray. The last time she had begged the gods for something, her mother had been lying in a glass coffin. She felt like heaven and earth had moved for her own personal miracle. The whole universe had temporarily rearranged itself, bending its carefully designed laws just for her. Back then, when she was eight, she had truly believed she was important enough, or good enough to warrant such special treatment from the higher powers. Now, she was not so sure.

  Had she used up her personal allotment of miracles for one lifetime?

  Her legs began to ache as she ran. She gasped for breath, panting as the air became thick with smoke. Shielding her eyes from the burning ashes with her arm, she made her way into the burning blaze. Varia was no longer sure that she believed in higher powers. Stories of fantastic gods and spirits had been much easier to swallow as a child. And if such beings did exist, how could they possibly consider her important enough to help a second time? Knowing the true scope of the vast planet, and how many souls walked and swam the earth, it seemed irrational to believe that the gods even noticed her, much less loved her enough to interfere.

  “Mother!” Varia shouted as she moved through the opaque billows of black smoke. “Mom! Where are you?”

  The heat around her was growing more and more intense, and she felt flames licking at her legs. Her skirts caught fire and she reached down, patting the fabric in a frantic attempt to quell the sparks. “Ow, ow, ow!” she said, hopping around as she felt the flames scorching through her shoes. She ignored the burns and kept pushing forward, holding her hands out in front of her to keep from colliding with anything. The air was so occluded that she could not see even two feet away from her face.