“Maybe he was just tired. Maybe it was dark,” Visola responded. “He can’t really have thought you were me.”
“Oh, he did,” Sionna confirmed. “It was dark, but it was bright enough for us to speak in sign language.”
“Did he say anything about the elopement?” Visola asked.
“Yes. He said he did not get a chance to talk to his father last night, and he would do it first thing in the morning. He said that he would send word to you by noon.”
“Maybe it was just a mistake,” Visola murmured. “You can play a very convincing me when you want to. I still want to run away with him.”
“No. You can’t,” Sionna said. “Please, Visola. Do not make this mistake. A man who really loves you will be able to tell the difference between us easily. By a single word, by the look in your eye. You’re special, and you deserve someone who sees that. Someone who loves you for you. You and I—we’re as different as two identical people can be.”
“There must be some mistake,” Visola said.
“Has Zuri ever once confused us with each other? Has Elandria?”
“No,” Visola whispered.
“That’s because they love each of us, as individuals, for who we are on the inside. That’s the kind of love that lasts a lifetime. The love of friends, of sisters. I know they will love us like that until the day we die, and even beyond that. Don’t sacrifice your friends for a man who doesn’t know you. Please.”
Visola lowered her eyes and nodded in disappointment. “Thank you for telling me this.”
“You’re lonely right now, Visola. You’re weak and insecure, and you’re clinging to the first person who shows you any sign of affection. But it’s not real love. It’s just sexual attraction—just a passing fascination. A momentary obsession.”
“I know that I am insecure, but that’s why I was attracted to him.” Visola rested her chin on her knees. “I liked him because he was strong. He pushes me to be stronger. He makes me do things that are new and exciting—he pushes me until I’m uncomfortable, and that teaches me a great deal.”
“I promise you,” Sionna vowed, “you will find a man someday who is ten times stronger than Taranis. Maybe in fifty years, or a hundred years. There is a man, somewhere out there, who will be worthy of my sister.”
Visola shook her head stubbornly. “I like Taranis. He’s so remarkable—you just don’t know him well enough. I mean, he’s the Prince of Atlantis! And he likes me. Maybe he doesn’t know me well enough either, but that will happen with time. We’ll grow closer.”
Sionna gave her sister a half-hearted smile. “Honey, the only reason he prefers you over Aazuria is because you have breasts, and she does not.”
Visola seemed wounded by these words. “Sionna…”
“We should talk to her about this,” Sionna mused. “We should tell Zuri what’s going on.”
“Please don’t,” Visola whispered. “She’ll despise me even more than she already does.”
“I don’t know where you’re getting this from, but Princess Aazuria does not despise you,” Sionna said with a sigh. “Just take my advice, Viso. Don’t elope with this man. You’ll live to regret it.”
Visola had not received a message from Taranis all day. She had found herself feeling sick to the stomach as she swam down to the hall. She had never opened up to someone the way she had done with the young prince. She had never been so vulnerable and exposed, and she had the nauseating sensation that she was about to be crushed. It had taken her hours to choose a gown to wear for the occasion, and to style her hair. She usually did not care about these things at all, but today, every tiny decision felt momentous—like the world would come to an end if she slipped up.
The gathering was to be a gigantic banquet in the ballroom of the Atlantean castle. When Visola entered the room, she was impressed by the beautiful, swirling fabrics of the dancing courtiers. Soft music and laughter filled the water in a haunting way. She felt her mind somewhat eased. The place was too beautiful to continue to be nervous. She did not often go to parties like this, and she intended to enjoy the event. Scanning the crowd for Taranis, she found no sign of the young man. She did, however, see the person she was supposed to protect at all times.
The young princess was sitting by herself in a dark corner. Her hands were folded in her lap, and her eyes were cast down to the ground. While her gown was gorgeous, and her pure white hair was styled elaborately, it was evident that she was deeply unhappy. Visola accidentally swallowed a bit of salty seawater in a guilty gulp. When the girls had parted last, they had both said some unpleasant words to each other. Visola found herself swimming toward Aazuria, pushing aside her pride and apprehension. The girl just looked so sad, that Visola knew she had to cheer her up.
Hovering before Aazuria’s face, Visola smiled and gestured to the dance area, before communicating in sign language. “Why isn’t the best little ballerina I know dancing?”
Aazuria forced a feeble smile as she looked up at Visola. “I have just learned that I am about to lose two people that I care about very much.”
Visola’s frowned. “Do you mean… did Sionna tell you about what I intend to do?”
“Yes,” Aazuria responded. She lifted herself from her chair and hovered in the water across from her friend. “I understand that you do not feel your place is with me any longer. I want you to know that I wish you well, wherever you might go in life.”
“I never meant to leave,” Visola told her, glancing around to see if anyone was observing their conversation. “This just happened. It came out of nowhere, unexpectedly.”
Aazuria smiled and moved forward to hug her friend. “As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters to me.”
“Hey! You’re the princess. I’m supposed to make sure that you’re happy!” Visola teased.
“No. Your job is merely to keep me alive,” Aazuria told her. “I have never been happy. I doubt I ever will be.”
Visola felt guilt wash over her. She knew that she had made a promise to King Kyrosed and her country that she would never abandon Aazuria. Now, here she was, throwing her entire life away for a man. Visola felt her forehead wrinkling in deep thought. Was Prince Taranis worth this? As soon as the question crossed her mind, it was answered. Of course. He was worth everything. He would be her husband, and he would fill the rest of her days with love, laughter, and music. She did not need to continue risking her life for a nation that did not appreciate her.
Aazuria looked away from Visola and frowned. The ballroom was clearing aside as the young Prince Taranis entered with his father, King Atlas Evenor. The king was large and burly, and full of smiles.
When Visola first saw Taranis, her heart leapt into her throat. Although dressed in grand finery, and looking more handsome than ever, the poor boy was standing with his body hanging limply in the water. His head was lowered. It was hardly the posture of a prince. Visola stared at him, trying to scrutinize his face, but he would not make eye contact with her. She wanted to go to him, but she knew that she could not embrace him in such a public place. She watched as Taranis followed King Atlas into the center of the room, where the Atlantean king met with King Kyrosed Vellamo. The two men shook hands. They began grinning and chatting happily, as if they had both struck a great bargain.
Visola felt Aazuria grab her arm.
“Something is wrong,” Aazuria mouthed slowly into the water.
Visola nodded. She continued to stare at her prince, drinking him in hungrily with her eyes, until he finally looked up. Both Aazuria and Visola gasped, sucking in giant breaths of water. Prince Taranis’ face was bruised, as though he had just been in a rough fight. His lip was broken and his cheek was swollen, and he was sporting a new black eye. The two women turned to look at each other in helpless understanding. Visola felt her chest constrict. She closed her eyes tightly and bit down on her lip. She did not have to look at King Atlas’ fist to see the bruises that were there. Prince Taranis had often complained to her
about his father’s administrations over the past few weeks. However, to the onlookers in the ballroom, the prince would merely look like he had been involved in rigorous physical activity, or athletic competitions.
If there was any man in any of the world’s oceans that could be as abusive, cruel, and controlling of his children as King Kyrosed, it was King Atlas. There was a reason that the men had maintained such a formidable alliance for so long. Visola felt a small hand squeezing her own. She looked to see Aazuria sending her a look of such compassion and understanding that she could not breathe. Visola knew she had lost everything she had hoped for.
When King Kyrosed and King Atlas began gesturing for Aazuria to move toward them, the young princess tightened her grip on Visola’s hand. She frowned and pushed her shoulders back, before releasing Visola’s hand and swimming into the center of the room.
Visola moved backward until her back collided with the wall. She was having trouble keeping her legs straight, and she was afraid that she would sink to the ground without a bit of structural support. She stared at the prince’s face, remembering how only yesterday, he had made such confident promises to her. Only yesterday, he had made love to her on the beach, and promised her a life together. Now, this was happening.
“We thank you all for joining us here today, in our home, for this special occasion,” said King Atlas with his hands. “For the first time in the history of Atlantis, the heir to the throne will be taking a bride who is not one of our proud countrywomen. Instead, to usher in the dawn of the seventeenth century, Atlantis will be moving forward and expanding our foreign influence. Please welcome my good friend, King Kyrosed Vellamo to our nation.”
Kyrosed moved forward, greeted by the ‘applause’ of the hundreds of people in the room. The clapping of sea-dwellers underwater consisted of moving one’s hands in waving motions to stir the water up around their fingers. “Hello, my Mediterranean friends. We are honored to be your guests here today, to seal our alliance with the eminent King Atlas. Together, we will stand strong against the brutality of Ker-ys, and work together to create a flourishing and powerful empire for our children to rule in Europe, and eventually, the rest of the world. We will show them the ancient wisdom and glory of Atlantis! We will show them the resilient strength and fierce pride of Valhalla! Our enemies will all fall before us.” King Kyrosed reached out to his daughter, and shoved her forward before the crowd. “As a gift, and a token of my commitment to your people, I give you my greatest gift—my beautiful and most beloved daughter, Princess Aazuria.”
Everyone in the room created a visual applause in the water once more, excited at the prospect of a glitzy event like a royal wedding. Aazuria, however, stared only at Visola. Her pale blue eyes were stricken, displaying the look of an innocent animal who was about to be slaughtered. It was easy to see that she was horrified at the thought of breaking her friend’s heart.
Visola suddenly realized what her own face looked like, and she tried to gather her composure. She tried to straighten her body and force a smile onto her face. She could not make this any harder on the young princess than it already was. Tears poured forth from Visola’s eyes, but they were invisible in the softly lamp-lit water. She tried to send courage to Aazuria by giving her friend a slight nod of permission. She knew that Aazuria’s marriage was meant to end a war between nations. Hers was just the whim of two children. It was easy to understand the correct decision.
However, she still felt like her heart was being trampled when Taranis lowered himself in the water, so that he was down on one knee. Visola had never actually seen Taranis wearing such elegant clothes. She had met him in the castle armory, where she had wandered one day, out of boredom, in order to check out the training of the Atlantean royal forces. She had not known he was the prince, for he had been wearing such drab and common clothes. However, his fighting technique was impressive, and his choice of weapon was unusual. He used the old-fashioned trident, and wielded it with grace and finesse. She had watched for a while, before jumping in and beginning to train with the men.
“This room is not for girls, Miss,” Taranis had told her with warning when he had noticed her presence. “I’m going to have to suggest you leave. Things could get dangerous around here.”
Visola had smirked. “That’s funny. I was about to say the same thing to you.” They had engaged in mock combat for hours, accessing greater stores of energy than the older warriors in the room. They had laughed and fought, and insulted each other, until they had finally reached a stalemate. Only when they were finally both lying on the ground, too exhausted to move, had they introduced themselves.
“Lieutenant Visola Ramaris from the North Sea.”
“Sweet Zeus,” Taranis had said, panting. “Are all northern women like you?”
“Naw. I’m special,” Visola had said with a smug smile. “I come from a long line of fearsome Viking warriors.”
“Vikings, huh?” Taranis said in wonder, examining the unusual color of her hair. “You’re the stuff of legends. You remind me of an Amazon.”
“Shucks. Thanks,” Visola had said, pushing herself off the ground. She extended a hand to help him off the ground. “This was fun. We should do it again sometime.”
“I’ve never seen a girl fight the way you do,” Taranis said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Or at all, for that matter.”
“Then stick around,” Visola said with a wink. “You haven’t seen anything yet. This was just a warm-up.” She began swimming away, but then turned back at the last moment. “Oh! I forgot to ask your name.”
“My name?”
“Yes, so I can find you and beat you up again tomorrow.”
The boy smiled. “I thought you knew. I’m Prince Taranis Evenor of Atlantis.”
“Okay. Wait—you’re what?!”
Now, several weeks later, that same sweet boy that she had grown to care for, was down on one knee before another girl. He wore large, elegant lace sleeves and a large ruffle at his neck. His torso was swathed in an elegant, embroidered doublet that denoted wealth. A handsome baldric was fastened diagonally across his chest, holding his sword at his waist. He truly looked like a prince. It was obvious that he was far out of her league, and that she was foolish for ever having believed they could be together. Still, she felt like he belonged to her. She felt like what they had shared together was too profound to not be real. Part of her still hoped he would stop in the middle of his proposal and swim to her and kiss her. He could still change his mind, and fight for her—like he had promised.
“Princess Aazuria,” Taranis signed. He hesitated, placing a hand on his knee. He was wearing ornate, jeweled gloves, to signify his status.
Visola could see his fingers twitching inside the gloves. She waited. She waited for a sign of strength, rebelliousness, and independence. She waited for him to be defiant. He needed to be, now more than ever, in this crucial moment; there would be no other moments.
“Princess Aazuria of Valhalla,” he began again.
Visola held her breath.
“Will you do me the honor…” Taranis trailed off. He turned to glance at Visola, only for a fraction of a second. There was an apology in his eyes, but there was also shame, powerlessness, and worst of all, resignation. She could see that this was difficult for him. She felt an unbidden wave of sympathy for him, even as he committed a grave betrayal. She felt like the situation was hurting him as much as it was hurting her. But it could not have been, or he would never have done what he did next. Taranis turned back to Aazuria, and pulled a ring box out of his pocket. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
The entire ballroom began to chatter in excitement. Everyone was all smiles and good cheer. King Atlas clapped King Kyrosed on the back.
Visola wished for a sinkhole to appear under her feet and swallow her whole. She noticed her sister standing off to the side, with the Atlantean physicians. Sionna did not look pleased.
“No.”
Everyone in the
ballroom slowly began to focus their attention on the young princess. There were murmurs of shock and expressions of surprise. Aazuria’s hands were clearly held in the position for the universal undersea sign of refusal. Both of her small fists were clenched, and her wrists were crossed. There was murder on her face.
“No,” Aazuria signed once more for emphasis, slamming her wrists together vehemently. Small bubbles began to float upward from the point of impact. Her perfect, porcelain white features were entirely expressionless. “I will not marry this man. It is my understanding that he is engaged to another woman. If Prince Taranis has any honor, he should fulfill his prior commitment.”
King Atlas stepped forward and grabbed his son by the shoulder. Prince Taranis flinched slightly.
“Is this true, my son?” the king asked in anger. “Have you promised yourself to another?”
Taranis lowered his head in humiliation. “Yes, Father.”
An uproar went up from all the onlookers. There were expressions of shock and outrage at the scandalous behavior of the young prince.
King Kyrosed moved to stand beside his daughter, trying to regain control of the situation. “That does not matter now. Any prior engagements or promises are null and void. This is a marriage that will promote the prosperity of both of our nations! A marriage sanctioned by both of your fathers—wise old kings!” Grabbing Aazuria’s slender arm, just above the elbow, Kyrosed discreetly crushed her limb within his fist, causing her to wince under the force of his threat. “This is a marriage that both of you have agreed to beforehand,” he reminded her. Turning out to the audience King Kyrosed laughed and placed a hand on his daughter’s back encouragingly. “My friends! The children just have cold feet. They are young and intimidated by the prospect of marriage. We can assure you that they will reconsider their engagement, and be married within a few short years.”
Aazuria ripped her arm away from her father and swam back a few feet. She shook her head defiantly, and it was clear that she could not be coerced. It was clear that she would never marry Prince Taranis Evenor. “Unfortunately, I am firm in my decision,” she told her father.
Maelstrom Page 18
