“Retrieving the aether core from Atlantis?”
Thaleia shook her head. “The mer-king wanted to use the Dirga Tiamatu to destroy Atlantis in a fell swoop. All power emanated from the god-king, and with him dead, the Atlantean blight on the Earth would end.” Thaleia’s expression tightened. “But she talked him out of it.”
“She? The mer-queen.”
“We have only a king or a queen. Not both—marriage does not confer royal blood—but back then, the king’s mates were allowed to share in raising their children. The king’s favorite mate was a soft-hearted, and as it turned out, soft-brained, female. She lured the king away from using the Dirga Tiamatu, and instead, persuaded him to retrieve the aether core from Atlantis.”
Ginny braced against the shudder traveling down the length of her spine. “It didn’t work…”
“The mer-king and his elite warriors were captured, tortured, and ritually killed. Their bodies were strung up by their tails at the entrance to the port of Atlantis, and left to rot, their bones pecked clean by ravens.” Thaleia drew another deep breath. “The princess was too young to rule, so her mother—the same half-wit who convinced the mer-king to adopt stealth instead of force—urged the Beltiamatu into war with Atlantis. It lasted for decades, wiping out whole generations of Atlanteans and Beltiamatu, until the princess finally came of age and seized the throne back from her feeble-minded mother. She executed her mother—”
Ginny blinked. “She…what?”
“Executed her mother. For stupidity, ineptitude, or treason. Any of those reasons alone would have sufficed.” Thaleia’s voice showed no hint of sympathy for the poor mermaid who had lost both her mate, and then her life. “Then the princess—now the mer-queen—used the Dirga Tiamatu to destroy Atlantis and end the war.”
“Okay…” Ginny dragged out the word. “I didn’t expect that.”
“The war should not even have started. It should not have claimed the lives of countless Beltiamatu.”
“So, that mermaid was incompetent, or made bad choices. Why would that demand the lives of all the royal mates thereafter?”
“Because that war proved that even the royal house was susceptible to being led astray by those not born to rule.”
“Born to rule?” Ginny frowned. “No one taught her. If someone had, perhaps—”
“Taught? It would have made no difference.” Thaleia shook her head. “Much knowledge can be acquired by learning, but not all. Some things are innate; greatest among them is the burden of lordship, the understanding of how your decisions create ripples for every life in your kingdom. That mermaid, not born to rule, was swayed first by misplaced compassion, then by equally misplaced vengeance. What better way to hurt the ones who murdered your lover by killing them slowly and painfully through a long, drawn-out war?”
“But the Dirga Tiamatu—”
“As horrific as the Dirga Tiamatu sounds, death is swift, almost instantaneous. There can be mercy, even in absolute destruction.”
Ginny winced. “I’m still working on understanding that aspect of the Beltiamatu. You’re just not like any race of merfolk I imagined from all those myths and fairy tales.”
Thaleia laughed. The musical sound wafted over the breeze. “Did you think we bathed in the surf and combed our hair all day?”
Ginny relaxed into a grin. “It’s a pretty image, isn’t it?”
Thaleia’s laugh faded into a smile, but it was tinged with sadness. “The Beltiamatu encouraged that perception. After Atlantis, it seemed wiser to fade into myth and leave the Earth to the humans. No good comes from associating with humans. We’ve learned that, many times now, yet it appears that the lesson refused to stay learned.”
“And what happened to the princess, the mer-queen who ruled the Beltiamatu after the fall of Atlantis?”
“Medea.”
Ginny’s jaw dropped.
“No, not that Medea. Not the sea witch,” Thaleia corrected. “But Medea was one of our most capable rulers. She rebuilt the Beltiamatu empire in the face of devastating losses. Her name became a favorite among the Beltiamatu.”
“Even among sea witches,” Ginny mused, wondering what could have inspired Inanna to take on the name of the Beltiamatu queen who had destroyed the Atlanteans, Inanna’s chosen people. Was it some kind of weird penance? A bizarre way of holding on to a memory? Or to hate?
Thaleia continued, “Medea started by executing the rest of her father’s mates. And then after her first son was born, she had her mate ritually executed, and every merman after that who gave her a child. The nursery then, and thereafter, has been filled with orphaned princes and princesses.”
“It’s a terrible way to live. Don’t those royal babies look at the other babies who have both mothers and fathers, and wonder how different life could have been?”
“The royal children do not lack for care, attention, or love,” Thaleia said, but her mouth twisted into an ironic half-smile. “Take Kai, for example—”
“I don’t think Kai is a good example. Wasn’t he raised by his grandfather?”
“Zamir, the mer-king.”
“What happened to his parents?”
Thaleia chuckled. “It was the biggest royal scandal, likely in the history of the Beltiamatu, but Kai was still raised in the Oceans Court, with all the privilege due to a Beltiamatu prince.”
Was he? Ginny wondered. “Tell me, what happened to his parents?”
Thaleia’s shoulders slumped on a silent sigh. “His father, the crown prince, fell in love and chose a mate, but as her belly swelled with their child, he realized that he could never permit her to die according to Beltiamatu custom, so together, they fled Shulim.”
“And the baby?”
“She was still pregnant when they escaped. The mer-king sent his warriors after them, to capture the wayward lovers, but…”
Ginny stared at Thaleia’s lovely profile. “But…?”
“They returned only with the baby—Kai. The prince’s mate had given birth, far from the Oceans Court, when the warriors finally caught up with them. She could have abandoned the baby. Without the weight of a newborn, perhaps she and the prince could have escaped. But she would not leave her child. When the warriors came, the prince and his lover battled them, and were killed. The infant was returned to Shulim, to the mer-king.”
“And Zamir never doubted for an instant that the child was his grandson?”
“Of course not,” Thaleia said. “The eyes—like sunlight upon the ocean’s waves—betray royal blood. Kai has his father’s eyes. His grandfather’s eyes.”
“And all the burdens and emotional baggage that go along with it,” Ginny muttered. “That’s why he’s so skittish of mating.”
Thaleia’s head snapped up. “What do you—?”
“That’s why he refused Naia. He knows his parents died for love. If he were not prince, he would have chosen Naia in a heartbeat, but he is the only heir to the throne. There is no other to take his place should he give it up. His duty to his people screams louder than love, but neither can he sign off on her death warrant, so he denies himself and rejects her.”
“Is that…” Thaleia’s eyes widened. “I never imagined…”
“She still loves him, right?”
“She never stopped, but Kai… He hardly even looks at her. Scarcely speaks to her.”
“Oh, that.” Ginny waved her hand dismissively. “Among humans, that’s one of the standard styles of mating behaviors. Usually adopted by juveniles, or…” Her cheeky smile vanished. “Those who are determined to not love in spite of the demands of their heart.”
“But he is our prince. Our only prince. He must choose a mate. He must continue the royal bloodline.”
“I’m sure he will. It just won’t be with anyone he actually cares for.”
Thaleia looked toward the bridge and the steps that led down to the crew cabins from which Kai had not emerged for days. “That’s a sad way to choose to live three hundred years.”
Ginny nod
ded. Her breath expressed in a sigh. “Unfortunately, his experiences have taught him that it’s the only way.”
But was it?
Chapter 12
No one thought anything of it when Kai slept for twenty-four hours straight. It was simply the normal sleep cycle for the merfolk. When he did not wake for another twelve hours after that, Zamir, Ginny, and Corey—after an anxious examination—concluded that he was sleeping off the pain or the fatigue.
At the end of forty-eight hours, however, Zamir lost patience. He shook Kai by the shoulder, jostling him hard, until Kai’s eyelashes flickered.
“You have to eat,” Zamir said brusquely, raising Kai off his back, but his grandson slumped forward over the blanket, shoulders trembling, from cold or weakness, Zamir did not know.
“I…didn’t know she would be there,” Kai whispered, his voice straining.
“She? Who?”
“Naia.”
“She was near the submarines, and I led the titan to her.” He squeezed his eyes shut. His hands curled into fists; and his shoulders continued to shake. “I didn’t know…”
Zamir eyed his grandson with growing concern. “She didn’t seem angry, but you can apologize to her if it makes you feel better.”
Kai’s head snapped up. “Naia—she’s alive?”
“Yes, and more than just a little irritated by your closeness to Ginny.”
“Naia… She’s not hurt?”
Zamir frowned. “Did you think she was hurt?” The thought that occurred to him sliced like shards of ice into his heart. “Dead?”
“I…” Kai stared down at his fisted hands. “Badur carried me; Thaleia and Naia swam ahead of him, and I saw the titan’s tentacles come down. Heard Naia scream.”
“Was that the last thing you remember?”
“I remember nothing after that, until I regained consciousness on the deck of the Endling. I know Badur must have returned me to the ship. It’s all…hazy. I scarcely remember the transformation back to legs.”
Zamir nodded. “Whenever you’re feeling up to it, Ginny can transform them back to a tail, and we can see if the plan to heal your broken tail actually worked.”
A muscle twitched in Kai’s smooth cheek. “Not yet.”
Zamir stepped back. Kai’s eyes had lost the bleakness that bordered on utter despair, but there was still something sad and distant about him. “You’re probably well-rested by now. You should eat something.”
Kai nodded, but Zamir suspected he agreed simply because he was too tired to argue. Zamir turned to the door, but before he stepped out, he looked back over his shoulder.
The last time he had seen Kai look so lost, so despairing was when he was drowning in guilt over what he had done to Shulim. But Kai had seemed better in the past week after meeting the surviving Beltiamatu, after realizing that his responsibilities were far from done. It had given him something to look forward to; even if that something was a near suicidal mission to retrieve the aether core from Atlantis.
Zamir’s eyes narrowed. “She’d be the perfect mate for you.”
For a moment, Kai did not react, and Zamir wondered if Kai had even heard him. Then, Kai’s shoulders moved in the motion of a sigh. “No.”
“You obviously care for her.”
The corner of Kai’s mouth tugged up in a half smile. “Not in the way you would wish.”
“I would wish?” Zamir scowled. “You are prince of the Beltiamatu. It is your responsibility to further the royal bloodline.”
Kai’s head snapped up. His eyes flashed; the first sign of an emotion other than bleak despair. “I know my responsibilities, and I will choose a mate when the time is right.”
“You are about to embark on a mission that could likely kill you. How is the time not right? Naia is perfect. She has selected you for a mate even if you haven’t chosen her.”
“Fortunately, mating has to be mutually agreeable or nothing will come of it.” The self-mocking expression on Kai’s face gave way to anger. “I will choose my mate in my own time. I do not want Naia.”
“She’s well-bred. Beautiful. She would do the throne justice.”
“I’m not interested in doing justice to the throne.” Kai flung aside the blanket and shot to his feet. The cotton pants he wore hung loosely at his hips. “What I’m especially not interested in is ritual murder.”
“Murder?” Zamir glared at him. “The ritual sacrifice protects the throne.”
“If we’re too stupid or foolish to make good decisions in spite of bad advice, then perhaps we shouldn’t be on the throne,” Kai retorted. “The ritual sacrifice has killed hundreds of our most talented, well-bred, and beautiful people, because who else but the best would catch the king’s or queen’s eye?”
“The mating has to be consensual or it will not be fertile. That’s not just our custom, that’s our biology. The king or queen will choose who they will, and the chosen accepts willingly, or the mating does not happen.”
“The chosen accepts willingly—knowing that they will die when the child is born?” Kai ground his teeth. “No.” He strode up to his grandfather, stared at him eye-to-eye. “Not Naia. Not in a thousand years, not even if she were the last mermaid alive, would I choose Naia.”
Realization squeezed the breath out of Zamir’s lungs. “You love her.”
“My feelings are not relevant. My choice is. And it will never be Naia.” Kai turned his back on Zamir and on the conversation.
But one did not easily dismiss a king, much less one’s own grandfather. “Is it because you love her?” Zamir asked.
“Did you love your mate?”
Did he? Had he? Zamir sighed softly. He lied easily. “I hardly remember her face. I’m not sure I recall her name.”
“Ysiri,” Kai’s reply was immediate, and he chuckled, the sound ironic, at the astonishment on Zamir’s face. “You were my only family. I had no half-brothers or sisters. No uncles, no aunts. No cousins. Naturally, I was curious about who my parents and my other family were. No one wanted to speak of your mother—little surprise there—but they told me about Ysiri, and about my parents.” Kai’s lip lifted into a sneer. “They called it a romantic tragedy—two lives lost for love. Unnecessarily lost for love. If he were not prince, they would not be dead.”
“If he had obeyed custom, as he should have, your father would not have been dead. You might have had half-brothers, half-sisters.”
Kai’s eyes widened. “Are you blaming him for protecting the mermaid he loved?”
“I am blaming him for not realizing the full extent of his responsibilities when he chose to mate with her. If he didn’t want her to die, then he shouldn’t have chosen her.”
“And now you’re blaming me for the exact opposite—for realizing the full extent of my responsibilities.” Kai mocked. “I don’t want Naia to die; therefore, I am not choosing her.”
“What are your choices, Kai? Who else, within a thousand leagues, could you mate with, if not Naia?”
Kai glared at his grandfather. “I am not mating.” He issued the ultimatum through gritted teeth.
“Kai, we are about to venture into Atlantis with the questionable aid of a blind merman, two mermaids, and a human who has no clue as to what she’s doing with aether. That is a recipe for disaster. There is a real likelihood that we will not survive it. And if you die, the Beltiamatu royal line, which began in the stars, dies with you.” His eyes narrowed. “If you want to protect Naia, if you want to keep her from following you into Atlantis, then mate with her and order her to remain outside. If she carries the heir, she cannot put the heir at risk.”
Kai drew a deep, shuddering breath. “So, my choices are to allow her to risk death by accompanying me into Atlantis or face certain ritual sacrifice when my child is born?” He shook his head. “Why would I trade the possibility of Naia’s death for the certainty of it?”
“Because you have a responsibility to continue your bloodline. And because Naia wants it. She wants you.”
“If that is the price of having you, she’s willing to pay it. You know she is.”
“Yes, I know.” Kai met his grandfather’s eyes without flinching. His voice was quiet when he spoke. “That’s why it’s up to me to say no.”
“You have to—”
The radio on the wall crackled. Meifeng’s voice asked, “Zee, are you in there?”
“Yes.” He strode over to the radio. “What is it?”
“We’re coming up on Atlantis.”
Chapter 13
The Endling bobbed on the light waves, five nautical miles from the cluster of islets that used to be Atlantis. The central island, three miles across, rose above the others, sheer cliffs on all sides, at least fifty feet high. The island was surrounded by a ring of smaller islets. “Ten-mile diameter from the center; a near perfect circle,” Ginny mused. “There’s nothing natural about Atlantis, is there?”
“No,” Thaleia confirmed. “There was nothing here before the god king picked the location for his port. Like Shulim, it was a powerhouse of advanced Aldebaran technology. The defenses are said to be terrifying above water, but even more so underwater. After all, the Atlanteans knew to fear the Beltiamatu more than humans. And the Beltiamatu would take the underwater routes to Atlantis.” She glanced at Ginny. “You said you’ve been here.”
“I came from above ground, with Zee, Ashe, and Varun. Ashe had a way of not taking any obstacles or objections as a reason for stopping, so she barreled right through all of them. I don’t know what it’s like approaching Atlantis from underwater.”
“We don’t have to make the approach from underwater,” Kai spoke up. “If I can persuade the three of you to stay here.” His gaze rested on Thaleia and Badur. He hardly even looked at Naia even though it was clear he included her in his statement.
Naia, however, scowled. “Either you’re king, and we obey you, in which case it is your duty not to throw your life away on a quest like this, or you’re not king, and we don’t have to obey you, in which case we are free to enter Atlantis as we choose.”
Cursed Throne: Lord of the Ocean #2 Page 8
