I didn’t even hear when he came up behind me, but suddenly his scale-burnished arms were sliding up to sequester me on either side as he reached to add in a harmony on the bottom tier. Without touching me, he ensconced me in his open embrace, and my heart stuttered at the breathtaking combination that waltzed from the unicorn pipes when we played the instrument thus.
I didn’t think I’d heard a more stunning harmony in all of my life.
Yet, so distracted by Coda’s enveloping nearness was I that I inevitably trailed off, unable to concentrate. He continued, prolonging the entrapment, and as the fingers of his right hand started a musical, stair-stepping descent down the keys from the outer edge of the instrument, I did a daring thing and let my fingers come to rest on the middle keys of his tier. Directly in the path of his progression, I invited–practically dared–him to touch me. But he slowed his progression, delaying each note longer than the last, taunting me with the deescalating tip-toe of his fingertips.
Just touch me, ink it. I didn’t even recognize the sentience that took over my thoughts in situations like these, campaigning for stolen moments of bliss. The girl that had been stifled along with my gills was realizing her appetite for such things, the initial testing-of-the-waters liberated and on the prowl for closer encounters.
But Coda was maddeningly in control, here in the city where he had a role and a duty and certain airs to maintain. The music trailed off with one prolonged note, his fingers coming to rest alongside mine. One shift of my pinky, and I could be touching him, could feel that ultra-smooth texture that was his scaled sheen. But I kept it rigid, a single, sheer veil of restraint between us.
“That was enlightened,” Coda breathed, praising the direction our masterpiece had taken. And then, knowing of my less-than-appeased position regarding the mysteries that had summoned me to Atlantis, remarked, “Maybe the Deep spoke to you after all.” After our kiss in the electric depths, he had whispered in my ear that we shouldn’t linger, and that I should secure whatever I had come for. He’d taken my hand and drawn me away from the bluff and allowed me to tread water for a good long minute in the tar-like silence. But at that point I couldn’t quiet the adrenaline, couldn’t curb the paranoia racing all up and down my body that another monster would lunge out of the dark. And so, after levitating fruitlessly in the void for a few tense minutes, I’d accepted defeat.
The motives of the ocean remained a mystery.
Disillusioned, I returned to Atlantis and had essentially holed myself up to sulk in my tower since, but Coda’s sudden bout of inspiration was infectious.
There was, of course, this nagging little voice of mischief that liked to point out I’d gone to the Deep seeking the reason I’d been summoned to Atlantis, and by way of an answer I’d been soundly ensconced in Coda’s affections.
It was ludicrous to speculate that that was my answer, and yet…
“Maybe it has,” I agreed, a gentle murmur that trailed a fiery, daring comet tail.
And so as the aurora changed from aqua to purple to gold to coral, we played tauntingly entwined but untouching in front of the great instrument, trading riffs and runs, fine-tuning our collaboration into a song that would ever bring to mind an eclipse of human and mermaid, of sea and sky, with secret undertones of a fleeting, breathtaking tryst in the Deep. Mysterious and angelic, haunting and sweet, aggrieved with passion and unrequited longing, it was a symphony that I knew would ring long and lasting in my ears.
An eclipse itself was brief, but you didn’t experience that stunning clash without it leaving a lasting impression.
Forever would I remember a time when a merman’s body covered mine, where shadow and light collided.
“What if there was a way for your attendance at the next ball to actually prevent any further incidents from taking place?” Coda asked, a keen spark of genius overtaking his face. We were never far out of orbit from one another, anymore. Every other aurora, it seemed, there he was again.
“How do you figure?” I was lounging on the floor of my tower, head just shy of the sunken level, my hair spilling down the shallow descent. Pastel sulked about at the bottom of the steps, the ends of three tentacles twisting and playing with my curls.
“You have been hesitant to provoke another wave of jealousy, but if we are aware of what it will cause, and are ready for it, we can use it to draw the culprits out of the woodwork for their reckoning.”
“Use me as bait, you mean.”
“Precisely.”
For a moment I considered it, albeit less than enthusiastically, and then Inaja’s warnings came back to me, making me cringe. Jealous mermaids were not the only ones that a stunt like that would rub the wrong way. I didn’t exactly fancy another intervention from the regent’s stiff-finned bodyguard. I sat up, inadvertently bobbing Pastel up into the water. He untangled himself from my locks and squirmed affronted into the shadows. “I don’t know…”
“What do you have to lose?”
I hesitated to say anything, but had a feeling he’d press me until I outed it. “It isn’t only jealous mermaids I’d rather not cross.”
A frown touched his brow. “What do you mean?”
I bit my lip, questioning the wisdom of bringing it up. “Nothing.” Falling back against the stones, I stared up at the eroded dome above. But Coda had caught wind of the secondary basis for my misgivings and wasn’t just going to let it go. He glided into view above me, blocking my view of the ceiling.
“What do you mean, Sayler? Who else do you have to worry about?”
“I’m not worried about him, I just…”
“Him?”
Well, there was little point beating around the bush now. “Inaja came to me. Voiced his concern about me…distracting you from your worthy cause.”
Coda’s face tightened. “He what?”
“He was not necessarily wrong. So, yes, I have removed myself from the festivities. No biggie.”
“I see.”
There. He knew. Now we could move on to other things. It really wasn’t that big of a deal for me to skip the big to-dos at the palace. I still got to see Coda on my own time. And if Inaja caught on to how much time we spent together in private, still, he could take it up with the regent himself. It was Coda who came to my turret all the time, not the other way around.
“Well, I really hoped you’d be there,” Coda persisted, disappointment evident on his face. “I was going to slip our composition to the musicians, grant our masterpiece its debut and let it echo throughout the palace halls.”
Surprise whisked through me. “You were going to play our song at the ball?”
“Just casually slip it in there, yes.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. On the one hand it would be scandalously delightful, hearing it trumpet through the halls and knowing the deep, dark, passionate secret it represented, while everyone else carried on completely unaware–but…it was also our song, and a part of me wanted to keep it that way, wanted it secret and safe, wanted it all to myself.
“Sorry,” I offered lamely. There was no way I’d be able to play off debuting our song at the ball as anything other than the significant, sensual bombshell that it was. I could see it now–my loins tingling, my cheeks warming, the inevitable looks that would pass between the regent and I, and Inaja would know.
“There’s nothing I can say to convince you?”
It took some willpower to meet his imploring silver eyes and stick to my decision, but I was resolute. “It’s for the best.”
He nodded curtly, twining away. “Very well. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
“Do I?”
That stopped him at the entrance, and he glanced briefly back over his shoulder, which seemed just a little tenser than usual. “At the palace, my lady. The doors have always opened to you–you are welcome anytime.”
Then he took his leave, and I was left to reflect on that tidbit–the doors had always opened to me. The gates to Atlantis upon m
y arrival, the throne room doors when I’d first been hauled in and presented to Codexious as a prisoner… I’d assumed that was just because of my mer-heritage, that the gates and doors of Atlantis opened to anyone within the circle of the legendary kin. Was that not the case?
I shook my head, wiping the silly fancy from my mind. Of course it was the case. Coda was only saying I had access to the city and the palace same as anyone else, not that I had it above anyone else.
My head was in the clouds, lately.
Perhaps more accurately in the Deep.
It didn’t matter one way or another–I wasn’t going. So the doors could open or shut or fall off their inking hinges, for all I cared, and it wouldn’t make one iota of difference to me holed up in my doorless tower, refusing to be baited.
And refusing to be bait.
25
The longer I held out, however, stubbornly banishing myself to my own tower, the more restless I became. The age-old curse of itching to do a thing as soon as you denied yourself that thing.
But, really, was I just going to sit here, docile and bored, always trying not to stir the pot or hurt any fishy feelings? A prisoner in my turret? While everyone else, queenly candidate or otherwise, had a grand, uninhibited time at the ball? While Coda played our song, looking for me on the sidelines?
I wasn’t exactly a kick-the-hornet’s-nest type, but I couldn’t deny a small part of me would take pleasure in rubbing all the warnings in everyone’s faces. Hadn’t I been the one to say putting on an unaffected front was the best way to discourage the bullies from messing with me again?
Aside from that…I just really kind of wanted to go.
So–ink it.
I didn’t have to dance with Codexious, or step on any toes–er, fins–or make a grand splash. In fact, I could take it a step further and ensure I really put everyone’s concerns to rest by finding a date of my own. I was willing to bet if I hunted down Dogga, he’d be happy to accompany me.
There, see? Everyone could win, here.
If you change your mind, you know where to find me, Coda had said. Well, I’d changed my mind.
I swept myself back up into a sitting position and was a good few strokes out the door before I realized I’d dragged Pastel along with me, his mischievous tendrils once again tangled in my hair. He had a growing thing for my curls–could not keep his feelers out of the springy mess, lately.
I had to admit he appeared comically delighted, flying like a flag in my wake, I his chariot and my hair his reins. He would take the ocean by storm riding his human slave–!
“Come on, you.” Untangling him once again, I slopped him onto my shoulder, and properly outfitted we headed for the palace.
The doors opened to me like Coda said they would, and after a moment’s hesitation I wandered in. “Hello?” I called to the quiet, empty halls. Being welcome was one thing, but navigating the opulent maze was quite another.
Would Coda be in the throne room? I tried to recall how to get there, but I’d only been there from the starting point of the dungeon. And, really, he could be anywhere. The throne room, the ballroom, whatever chamber served as his personal quarters…
I turned a circle, eyeing the towering reaches of the pillar-propped domes, feeling lost right inside the door.
Well, who didn’t want to spend an afternoon exploring an underwater palace? It would probably be the most fun I’d had in weeks.
“Want to poke around inside the belly of the beast?” I asked Pastel, my cheek pressing against his spongy mass. “Yes? Okay, good.” Stoking my lifelong sense of adventure, I set off into the dazzling twists and turns of the fortress.
It was surreal, levitating down grand halls like some ghost living a charmed afterlife. I drifted through dreamy vast corridors and poked into dormant, cavernous chambers, Pastel reaching to touch garish tidbits every time we passed close enough for the tips of his feelers to skim the architecture or décor. He was as wonderstruck as I, everything so enchanted and shiny.
We were good and lost by then, kicking without reserve ever deeper into the catacombs, now through a pillared courtyard with a many-faceted glass dome high above, now into a new maze of hallways, right, then left, then left, then–
I hung back when I heard voices, heated and sharp. They were male, the baritone nuances vibrating through the water like soft-twanging drums. One of them was recognizable as Coda, but who was he arguing with, and about what? Curiosity getting the better of me, I peeked around the corner, peering down the deep-sea corridor. Ripples of aqua glimmered over the burnished bronze details of the ornate hallway architecture, glancing across tarnished candelabra torches that hung long-dormant on the walls and the decorative archway ribbing that lined the passage every few meters.
I caught the aqua-silver shimmer of scales that confirmed that one was Codexious, and then a rush of turquoise hair that identified the other culprit just as Coda shoved him up against the wall.
My eyes went wide at the confrontation between the regent and his bodyguard.
“Did you feed her to the sharks?” Coda snapped with a sense of finality.
What? Inking Abyss, did he think Inaja had been responsible for that heinous crime against me?
Was this because I’d told him about Inaja’s little talk with me?
Two different flavors of horror slung through me–one highlighted by the fact that I might have caused Coda to suspect his closest ally, and another at the notion that it was possible there was something to the theory.
But surely not…
Inaja’s jaw clenched at the accusation, but he kept his body relaxed, pointedly submissive so as not to present a challenge to the regent. “Of course not,” he denied with a twinge of resentment, and I got the impression that, while he was submissive in order to deescalate the conflict, he would not tolerate the abuse and suspicion much beyond what Coda was heaping onto him.
I could hardly believe it myself, seeing Coda shove him up against a wall. Clearly the regent meant business.
More of that dangerous side of him that lurked beneath the surface.
After letting him sweat just a bit longer, Coda relented, but unresolved fury embered in the tense muscles of his body. Inaja sloughed away from the wall, catching himself and restoring his dignity.
I recoiled from my eavesdropping vantage point, trying to glide silently back the way I had come so as not to clue them in that I had witnessed the conflict. Suddenly, it didn’t seem like the best time to bother Codexious. Clearly he wasn’t in the mood for such trivialities.
I was thoroughly turned around in the palace by then, though, and any sort of effort to make haste to the nearest exit only sent me down new twists and turns. Finally, when I was at least sure I’d evaded Coda’s proximity, I slowed to rest, loitering in a majestic round chamber with large golden circles and symbols rendered across the marble floor, speaking to the function of some sort of arena–a fencing course, perhaps.
I drifted to the center of the room and sank to the floor, laying in the middle of the central gold ring and staring up at the sun-symbol mandala glass dome high above. The rays of the aurora wavered beyond, fading from aqua to green.
An eerie color. Eerie to reflect the suspicion, unrest, and sinister motives creeping unchecked through Atlantis.
I couldn’t shake the vision of Coda’s forearm against Inaja’s collarbone, pinning him to the wall. I had caused that suspicion. Had caused the regent to turn on his own bodyguard, arguably the most loyal subject in his service.
From the beginning, I’d caused a stir. My very presence had started a domino effect of prejudice, jealousy, and now this festering suspicion. They were essentially self-destructing, becoming hostile, unhinged, and now turning on one another, simply because of my presence.
Reflecting on the totality of my stay, I realized I’d had mostly a negative effect since I arrived. And lashing out against me was one thing, but turning on their own…
I was inciting far too much trouble, an u
nrest that nobody needed during this time of turmoil and dire salvation.
Perhaps it had been a mistake, coming here. Not that it had been much of a choice, compelled and bullied and herded by the forces of the Deep as I was, but clearly I’d done more harm than good, infiltrating Atlantean civilization.
Thanks a lot, Abyss, for summoning me down here for nothing. Is this what you wanted? For everyone to unravel into anarchy because I showed up?
I seriously considered leaving, right then and there. But if I’d learned anything it was that you couldn’t just run from everything in life, or it followed you. And stalked you, and wrangled you, and slapped you up one side and down the other until you agreed to lend it the attention it deserved in the first place. Maybe I didn’t belong here, but if I was the cause of this consternation, then it was only right I take an active approach in fixing it.
And ultimately the best way to eradicate the current drama once and for all was to get to the bottom of it, so maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to shoot down Coda’s idea to draw the culprit out of the woodwork for justice.
Maybe that was exactly what we needed to do.
So yes, I would be going to the ball. But that was putting it lightly. This had to end, and it wasn’t going to end by tiptoeing around the issue.
Goodbye tip-toes, hello stomping boots.
26
I may not have been the kick-the-hornet’s-nest type, but like it or not I had most definitely tripped into said nest when I arrived in Atlantis, and once I decided to face the turmoil head-on and ride the necessary waves to get in the game…let’s just say I knew how to make a splash.
Sirens and Scales Page 189
