Shattered by the Sea Lord (Lords of Atlantis Book 8)

by Starla Night

  “What is it, exile?” the lieutenant asked with irritation.

  “I am Ciran of Atlantis. On behalf of my city, which has no war with you, let me and my bride go.”

  “Atlantis?” Lieutenant Orike lifted his brows. “Ha ha. This must be an Undine joke. Or has your insane king re-christened your city to match the fable?”

  “We are a new city. Is Lusca so sad at being cut off from the ocean it does not even bother to listen at echo points?”

  “We do not waste our time with the affairs of the losers.”

  “How silly. Ignorance kills.”

  “Yet gullible fools are the first to die.” The lieutenant waved to one of his warriors. “Tell our king that Undine insults him. It is time for our giant squid to teach them their place.”

  “Sir!” The warrior saluted with the slash gesture.

  Ciran shook his head. “I warned you.”

  “And I warn you.” The lieutenant kicked to the other side of the open, barely symbolic marker dividing them. He lowered his trident. It took all Ciran’s will not to flinch. “You ventured into our territory. Leave that coward’s hole and face me.”

  Ciran flexed his empty hands. “When a warrior challenges an unarmed male who is the real coward?”

  “That depends on whether or not he is an exile.” Lieutenant Orike jabbed the trident at the coral.

  Ciran kicked back, out of reach.

  Lieutenant Orike’s lips curved. He veered away and swam to the ocean leaving behind one warrior to patrol.

  Well, that went as successfully as Ciran could have hoped.

  He kicked toward the shore. Dannika made excellent progress. She was starting to believe. And if she could make her fins and her shield, they could leave and seek help on their own. They’d have a real chance to…

  Itime and Konomelu swam in front of him.

  “You waste your time with that squid-sucker,” Konomelu said.

  “You are wrong.” Ciran kicked to the side to swim around, “But I will not share my opinion, because you have not asked for it.”

  Itime paced him. “Wait.”

  “I will not waste your time, either.”

  “You do not. Stop. Atlantis warrior, I ask you.”

  Ciran flipped to hang upside down.

  “I wish to hear your second plan,” Itime said. “And so does Konomelu.”

  “He has an odd way of showing it.”

  Itime tilted his head in acknowledgment.

  Konomelu rested his palm on his own chest. “I have guarded this island, these young fry, and our brides for twenty years. And for three years, I have done so without my prince. I was not born to rule, but I have. All the brides and young fry under my charge have remained healthy and secure.”

  “May you succeed another twenty.” Ciran turned.

  “Wait, you. Listen!” Konomelu darted in front of Ciran.

  Ciran rolled right-side-up and lifted one brow.

  Konomelu realized he was listening, and waiting, and he sputtered. “Itime, you explain.”

  “Atlantis warrior, Lusca has been isolated for a long time. We are not used to the ways of other warriors. In your city, what rank are you?”

  “Second lieutenant.”

  “That is…” Itime trailed off. Both warriors looked surprised. He rallied. “Were you not trained to obey your king without question?”

  “I was, but King Kadir listens. He respects my observations and experience. I would not serve him if he forced me to be silent. And that is why I will not be silent now. I had to watch too many avoidable tragedies in Undine. Never again.”

  “This Atlantis really is different.”

  “It is. Will you never tell me to be silent?”

  Itime turned to Konomelu.

  Konomelu gritted his teeth. “I vow it.”

  Good enough. “Just now, I tried to goad the lieutenant to go to the nearest echo point and brag about my capture. Some are eager to announce their prowess, but it sounds as though he will not.”

  “No, Orike is too sure of himself for that,” Konomelu muttered.

  “Then we must go ourselves.”

  “It is too dangerous.” Konomelu shook his head. “A unit frequently passes by and watches for foreign warriors. They must have caught Prince Ankena and Lukiyo.”

  So, an echo point occasionally guarded by one unit was dangerous, but an entire city guarded by many more warriors was no concern?

  But Ciran focused on the point. “The warriors of Atlantis will hear of our plight and send an army to rescue us. They would bring queens who could teach your brides their powers.”

  And they were back at queens.

  The slightest shadow of confusion passed across Itime’s normally expressionless face. “Your bride’s shield was so small.”

  “Because it was her first.”

  “You speak with such confidence. Are queens really so powerful?”

  “Like in the myths,” Ciran said. “And more.”

  Both warriors shook their heads in awe.

  “And that is why you must help your brides increase their resonance.”

  “Mine will not even enter the water,” Itime said.

  “And mine has no wish to learn the skills of a warrior,” Konomelu said.

  “Whatever the reason, you must change their minds. We have time to do this. You have already endured twenty years on this island. Can you not endure twenty days? Or even two?”

  Both warriors looked beyond him at their young fry, the too-old trainees supervising, and the lattice that separated them from their destinies.

  “We can wait,” Itime said. “But can our sons?”

  “They will wait,” Konomelu growled, then grimaced. “Very well, Atlantis warrior. We will do what we must, and we will test them slowly. But if your queens cannot perform these powers on command, we must act. Alone.”

  “I will act. With Dannika.”

  Konomelu pressed his lips together from the effort of not exploding in protest. Itime blinked, expressionless, and yet he seemed to disagree.

  That did not matter.

  If these warriors could not resonate with their brides, Ciran would pour all of his training into Dannika. He would wait patiently until she was ready. She would shield him and he would defend her.

  And together, they would conquer the enemies that lurked in the ocean.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ciran emerged from the water that evening to find the sun setting in the sky, the young fry milling around Val aimlessly searching for food, and the women just returning from the lagoon. When they sauntered into the camp, Dannika gave him a look.

  His whole body came to attention.

  Power emanated from the glow of her chest.

  He drew her to his side. “You have done it.”

  Dannika grinned. “We’re on our way.”

  The other brides glowed equally strong.

  Meg clasped Itime’s hands with excitement. “I made my fins!”

  He blinked, his usual blankness even more surprised. “In the ocean?”

  “In the lagoon.” She forced his hand up and clapped it in a human high-five. “Congratulate me. This is a big step.”

  “Congratulations,” he said placidly, and she preened as if he’d gushed compliments.

  Angie put her hands on her hips and posed in front of Konomelu. “And I made mine.”

  His jaw dropped. “You did? Then, let us go into the ocean now and—”

  “No,” Angie said.

  Konomelu’s shoulders lowered. “No?”

  “First, this is a moment of celebration.”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “And second, we have to practice. I have very limited control.”

  “Ah, then—”

  “And third,” she drew up proudly. “It is past dinner time. Our guests must be starving. I’ll live down a lot of things, Konomelu, but never the reputation of a bad hostess.”

  “No, you—”

  “And I will deserv
e the reputation if we don’t put something on the table right now. Everyone?” Angie clapped her hands twice. “Dress and take your positions. It’s time for dinner!”

  Everyone sprang into action. The young fry fastened on their loincloth skirts, the older trainees and adults put out the day’s leftovers supplemented with stored supplies, and soon, a full meal spread across the reconstructed table. They lit stinky tallow candles, which, to Ciran’s nose, had no scent.

  And they celebrated.

  The dinner was lively, with the women engaged in light-hearted jokes to each other, loving comments to their husbands and children, and laughing. So much laughter filled the small enclave. The doom that had hung over their previous night lifted. The young fry played boisterous games and the older trainees indulged with them kindly.

  Hope infused the sparkling night.

  At the end of the night, Konomelu stood. “My fellow warriors, brides, and guests.”

  He smiled at the young fry to show that he included them in the “warriors” part of his greeting.

  “Today, thanks to the help of Second Lieutenant Ciran and Queen Dannika, we have a new way to make war on the warriors who confine us. They are the true traitors. And when we save Prince Ankena, everyone will know.”

  Angie’s smile faded, along with her soul light, and she crossed her arms.

  Hmm. Konomelu himself had said he did not feel fit to lead, and this example of a speech did not rouse or inspire the important listeners.

  “In one week’s time, my bride will demonstrate her powers.” He put an arm around Angie’s shoulders. “And then she will make Orike flee like the coward he is.”

  She eyed him skeptically.

  “In one week.” He squeezed her and straightened again, then raised his arms. “We will crush our opposition, free Prince Ankena, and rule Lusca.”

  The trainees hooted and cheered, the women politely clapped, and dinner ended swiftly. They cleaned up and all retired to rest and focus on growing their resonance. Ciran and Dannika strolled back to the lagoon alone, divested their clothing, and sat on the ledge kicking their feet in the calm, glowing water.

  Dannika leaned against Ciran. “Why do I feel like Angie’s soul light might have dimmed after her husband’s speech?”

  “Because you are a wise and intuitive queen.”

  “Queen…” She shivered. “Ooh, goosebumps. Can I really be a queen if we haven’t done the ceremony in Atlantis? I haven’t pledged myself or anything?”

  “You use your powers. You are a queen.”

  “You were stricter with Indigo.”

  “Indigo is not my bride.” But Dannika was right. “If she makes her powers on Bermuda and not in Atlantis, I will call her a queen.”

  “Very generous.” Dannika nudged him with her elbow. “I’m glad to hear the geographic requirements are off.”

  “The more defenders we have in Atlantis, the safer we make the city for our young fry. But.” He gestured at the vines dangling through the ceiling in this hidden grotto. “We could really help here, too. Especially you.”

  “Everyone here already found their mates.”

  “You are more than a matchmaker, Dannika.” He hooked his arm around her waist and splashed her into the water, and after she had shifted, he nuzzled her gently. “You are my queen.”

  She glowed.

  His own chest ached. She was so beautiful and strong. And for the first time, she had stopped saying she wished he would be with someone else. She was beginning to accept herself and open to him.

  Her smile twisted and she curled her fingers around his hardening cock. “Then make love to me, my warrior.”

  He eagerly obeyed.

  The second time, her body was more familiar, and he knew what she would like and how she would moan. But every touch was still a discovery tinged with newness, and delight fueled their arousal, until their bodies united and their souls combusted with shuddering heat of release.

  He held her in the soft stillness of the aftermath pressing kisses to her forehead and tucking her gently under his protection.

  Her soul glowed with steady fire. “Do you think a week is enough to develop our powers?”

  “I do not know.”

  “It feels like it’s not enough time, but on the other hand, every hour we delay leaves Hazel and your warriors in danger.”

  He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I have seen queens struggle for weeks. And I have seen those same queens come into their full power in an hour. It is not time that will decide your path to developing your powers. It is you.”

  A small smile tugged at lips. “Like how you walk by the same dating agency every day, lamenting that you haven’t found love, and then one day you decide to go in and change your life.”

  “Yes. This happens to me often on my walks.”

  She vibrated a laugh at him. “All the walks you take underwater, I’m sure.”

  “Every day. Twice during festival days.”

  “Sure.” Her smile faded and she brushed her fingertips over his heart tattoos, green entwined with coffee brown. “Will you watch us train tomorrow? I feel like I’ve gotten a good start, and Meg knows her power. Bex is ready to storm Lusca. But the one person I can’t seem to reach is Angie.”

  “I will come.”

  “Thank you.”

  He hugged her close. She fisted his mating gemstone, pressing it between them like a talisman of strength. He would be that strength for her as long as she needed it. And someday, she would be strong and fearless in herself. Her fractured soul would heal.

  And then she would come into her full power and they would leave this island.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The warriors joined Ciran and the queens-in-training in the lagoon after breakfast, but quickly it became apparent that they couldn’t stay.

  First, the young fry splashed and frolicked, moving the boulder, scraping themselves on sharp coral and crying for Meg, and squeezing squids. They reduced the women to vibrating shouts and breaking up disputes, and only Meg practiced her healing power.

  Itime and the older trainees herded the younger fry out, especially once it became clear that no one was “sparking off fireworks underwater,” and Meg performed a crossed-her-heart-and-hoped-to-die pledge to call them back right away if anyone did.

  Next, the lagoon was much calmer and emptier, and the boulder returned to its place, leaving the women to their practice. Ciran floated at a respectful distance, but Konomelu kicked right up to each of them and barked orders like he was evaluating trainees for the next test.

  “Serious face. Why are you smiling? No talking there.” The soul lights of the women all diminished as he barked at them, and they flinched away. He reached Angie. “You must focus with all your might.”

  Angie’s soul light flared. She jammed her hands on her hips. “What do you think I’m focusing with?”

  He zoomed to her. “When a warrior attacks our sons, will you return with this comment? No. You must attack. Grrr. And parry. Graaah. Then your enemies will know to flee from your blade.”

  Her soul light dipped. “I don’t have a blade.”

  “Ah, of course.” He patted the dagger sheathed on his bicep. “I will supply you with a training knife now. You will take the dagger of the first enemy you defeat.”

  Her soul light darkened even further. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and pushed away in a warding gesture. “I don’t want to carry a dagger. Ick. What if I had to use it?”

  “Then you would be grateful to carry one.”

  “No, no, no.” She shuddered and made more warding gestures. “Forget it. You do your warrior stuff. I’ll be sure dinner is hot on the table and your sons are neat as a pin.”

  “Do you want to save Prince Ankena or cower on this island?” he demanded.

  “Yes.”

  “Yes? To which do you say yes?”

  “Yes to both. I’ll stay here with Val. The rest of you can have fun breaking kneecaps and causing traumat
ic brain injuries.”

  “Are you a warrior or are you afraid?” he roared.

  She refused him with her whole body, darker now than Ciran had ever seen her.

  This was not working.

  Ciran vibrated a soft interruption. “She is not a warrior, Lieutenant Konomelu.”

  The furious orange warrior stiffened. He seemed still unused to being addressed by his respectful title. Then he gestured harshly. “I know, and I am trying to make her into one because only a warrior can storm Lusca.”

  “Actually, you are wrong.”

  He whirled on Ciran with wide, dangerous eyes. “You dare to disagree with me? Second lieutenant?”

  “Yes. Because Angie can contribute to rescuing the prince.”

  “As a warrior! That is my point.”

  “No, because Angie is not a warrior,” Ciran repeated patiently. “And look. Her soul light brightens every time I repeat that phrase. ‘Angie is not a warrior.’ Do you see it?”

  Konomelu whirled and glared at Angie.

  She glared right back. “You heard him. I’m not a warrior.”

  “You must be.”

  “No,” Ciran emphasized, “Angie is not a warrior because she is a queen.”

  Konomelu blinked. “You…are right. Her soul brightens. But she is fierce like any warrior.”

  “No, she is fierce like any queen.” Ciran nodded at Angie. “Some queens protect their city through battle. But some protect it in other ways. Honor your bride’s desires so she can strengthen her powers, and then she will accomplish all that you wish without ever touching a blade.”

  “But I…” Konomelu shook his head, his hands empty at his sides, lost. “I do not know how to help you in this way.”

  Her shoulders lowered. “You’re trying to help me?”

  “Of course. You are a fierce protector. If Second Lieutenant Ciran is correct and the other brides must rescue him, you will not be satisfied by staying behind.”

  She lifted one hand and brushed a bit of sparkling plankton off his hair. “I might be. For a short time.”