Lo’s eyes are deep blue with electric blue lines like lightning forking in the middle of the ocean at midnight. They are beautiful. I commit them to memory, too, and the entire Aquarathi shape of him, just as dear to me now as his human one is. Resting my brow against his, I repeat the words again and again in my mind until I know he knows...and he’s sure.
And then I say it for real one last time before I release him and submerge.
I am yours forever.
* * * * *
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
There are so many people I have to thank who made this book possible. First of all, thank you to the tireless and talented team at Harlequin TEEN for all their brilliant work on Waterfell. From the editors to the designers to the publicity team to the digital media team—Tashya, Annie, Erin, Gigi, Lisa, Amy, Michelle, Fiona, Mary, Larissa, Siobhan—thank you! I must admit that when I saw the initial pages of revisions, I balked, but as someone once told me—a great editor is worth her weight in gold. In this case, the indomitable Natashya Wilson is worth hers in platinum. Through all the drafts and revisions, I cannot thank you enough for your insight, your enthusiasm and your expertise in making this book exceed my expectations. Thanks for taking a chance on Waterfell, and on me.
To my fearless warrior princess agent, Liza Fleissig of the Liza Royce Agency, and her partner in crime, Ginger Harris-Dontzin, thank you, thank you, thank you! I’ll never forget that phone call when you told me this book had been sold—thanks for finding me such a great match! Above all, thank you for enduring my panic attacks, for being my champion, for all the laughs, for your unwavering support and for being completely and positively dauntless. That is all.
To the incomparable Kristi Cook, who has seen me through several books, including this one, I owe you a mountain of cupcakes. Not only are you a great critique partner, you’re a trusted friend. Thank you for all your guidance, advice and encouragement over the years, and for keeping me sane pretty much every day. I wouldn’t have been able to make it through the countless rounds of brainstorming, writing and editing without my wonderful writing retreat mavens, the HBK Society—Kristi, Cindy, Danielle, Kate, Angie and Ariane. Thank you for all the cookies, motivation and inspiration. Huge thanks to Damaris and Wanda from Good Choice Reading who have been so generous in their support and friendship over the past few years. It means so much to have you in my corner. A big shout-out to Julie and Marissa from JKS for all the help and publicity—thank you! To my ever-faithful first readers—my mom, Nan Ramsey and Pam Sullivan, what would I do without you? Thank you for never saying no when I ask you to read anything I write, even if it’s the first or hundredth time you’ve read it. First drafts can be brutal—thanks for your honesty.
Last of all, but certainly not least, my family. To my three wildlings—Connor, Noah and Olivia—I love you loads. Thanks for all your impish smiles, sloppy kisses and unconditional love. I am so blessed to have you in my life. To my wonderful extended family and friends all over the world who are my biggest fans no matter what, thank you for your continued love and support. It means so much. Finally, to my husband, Cameron, who sticks with me through everything, who makes me laugh every day, and who fills my life with love, thank you. You are my rock, always.
Nerissa has won her crown. Now she must keep it. Don’t miss the next book of THE AQUARATHI
coming in 2014. Only from Amalie Howard and Harlequin TEEN!
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Prologue
We are savage. We are proud. We are the dark rulers of the sea.
Deep in the ocean near the earth’s core, I survey the Aquarathi people—a firestorm of color—as the three lower courts come to pay homage to their new queen. The Blue Court is flamboyant in their tribute. The Green Court, more demure. But the Red Court, I watch with cautious eyes. Weeks before, they supported a rival queen in her bid against the High Court, and she almost won.
Almost.
Today we celebrate my coronation as heir to the High Court. The crown of bones on my brow pushes forward like a fan of finely webbed coral. Echlios, my handler and captain of my royal guard, is beside me, his body rigid, but I can see the approval flashing in his glowing silver eyes. He nods and extends his long neck, his dark red scales glittering, as he bares it to me in a gesture of submission.
Golden-green lights shimmer down the length of my body, mirroring the deep ruby of his, and I click fiercely in my native tongue to my people, calling water to water and blood to blood.
Bend, I will them silently.
Power ripples along my spine, making my golden colors flare so brightly that every finned head dips in deferent succession. Green to blue, and finally to red in a wave of molten crimson.
I rule by strength now. Not by love.
Trust is a luxury, and the time for compassion in Waterfell has come and gone. If I don’t control my people, all of the humans will all be at risk. And everything for which my father fought and died will be in vain.
I arch my neck, my tail curling through the water, and freeze as a violent stab of pain lances through me. It wraps itself around me like a wave, closing over every inch of me, inescapable. My lights flutter and die. I can feel the startled pulses and the clicks of the courts, but I can’t even focus on them.
All I know is pain...deep, shattering, all-consuming pain, as if a thousand blades are carving into me at once. The navy swirls on my body deepen like ink, sinking into me. Everything disappears and all I know is the pull of the bond...and the one on the other side of the bond calling to me.
In that moment, I know. The threat isn’t here.
It’s there.
1
In seconds, Echlios is glued to my side, the rest of his guards surrounding us in a protective circle. “My lady, what is it?”
“Lo,” I gasp. “Something’s wrong. I have to get back to La Jolla—”
“I’ll go.”
“No,” I insist, nearly doubling over. “He’s in trouble. I have to go.”
Echlios bares his teeth in frustration. His wife, Soren, joins us, her eyes flashing gold fire. Something in them tells me that I’m not going to win this argument, even if I am their new queen and can overthrow whatever she says. It’s a look that I’ve seen many times before, and after four years of human conditioning I’m still not immune to it.
Her voice is gentle, as is the pale green tail fin circling me in a protective manner. “Breathe, Nerissa. Try deep calming breaths. It will help with the pain. Let Echlios go. It is his duty to protect you...and the prince regent.”
I do as she says, letting the salt water enter through my gills and breathing out the sharp pulsing pain until it resembles a dull throb. Nodding weakly to Echlios, I watch as Soren dismisses the courts that have come to pay their respects. I don’t even care what she’s telling them or what they’re saying behind my back, but I have to imagine that seeing their new queen incapacitated on the day of her coronation has to be cause for concern. Still, that anxiety pales in comparison to the urge I’m feeling to take off in a mad rush for the mainland.
“I need to get out of here,” I pulse to Soren.
“Go,” she says to me and then frowns, her eyes narrowing. “Not far, Nerissa.”
She knows me too well. I nod ungraciously and make my way out of the throne room into the tunnels beyond. There are two silent shadows behind me—my royal guard—whom I’m
aching to get rid of, but pulling any kind of disappearing act will only cause more trouble than it’s worth for a few minutes of solitude.
“Stay here,” I click to them at the entrance of our undersea fortress. “I’m not going far and I don’t need you two right on top of me.”
I swim away from Waterfell with a few short, powerful strokes, but stay within watching distance of the first tunnel. The guards’ forms are indistinct, cloudy shapes, which means they can still see me and that’s all that matters. I close my eyes and stay perfectly still, clearing my mind of everything but the feel of the water against my skin and the soft muted sounds of ocean life around me.
For a heartbeat, floating in a sea of space and nothing, it’s easy to pretend that everything is okay. That my parents are alive and in love. That my people aren’t living in fear for their very existence. That the one who has my heart isn’t a million miles away...and that he hasn’t been hurt, or worse.
Lo...the prince regent. My mate.
A flush winds its way through me at the thought of what that means; we are bonded for life now and bound by an unbreakable tie. We belong to each other in a way that only lovers can know. My eyes fall on the bands of navy shimmering through my golden-green scales—the Aquarathi marks of our bonding—and green bioluminescent lights tingle along my sides in automatic response. The longing for him is as demanding as ever. But I was the one who insisted we be apart. I told him to stay in San Diego, to try to find his place alone instead of being in the shadow of someone else. But the truth is I needed to figure out who I was. I wanted to process everything that had happened and my fragile fledgling feelings for Lo and, most of all, I needed to separate the truth from the lies.
I try to push the thought of him—and the thought of his blue-black eyes so like the heavy darkness of the ocean surrounding me—from my mind, but it’s like trying to separate my skin from my body. Every breath I inhale, he inhales with me. As if in response, the tug from before becomes more insistent, less painful now but still sharp. I can only hope that Echlios finds him safe.
As I drift deeper into the coldness, the current tugs at me with unrelenting force and ushers me into a more vicious swath of blue. I’m not afraid. I can handle the ocean at its worst, control it even, but I let it take me, enjoying the feel of not having to be strong for just a moment. I don’t care that I’ve lost sight of my two guards or that there’s nothing around me but pitch-black murky gloom. I’m the worst predator out here; it’s not like I have anything to fear, especially with Ehmora being dead and her allies in hiding. Those whom Echlios hunted down have either sworn fealty to me or were executed.
Despite my effort to not think about him, my thoughts inexorably return to Lo, the son of the very one who had tried to kill me and usurp my throne. Sure, he killed her—for me—but our relationship is still delicate at best, and even at the core, a bond isn’t the only thing that would hold me to him. I’m not sure whether it’s because of the human acclimatization time I spent on the mainland but, illogically or not, I want to choose the one I’m meant to be with, as the humans do.
Then again, it’s not like I hadn’t chosen Lo. I’d given myself to him fully in every way when I’d thought he was human, before the bond was made. I loved him. I still love him. The fact that he hadn’t told me the truth of who he was doesn’t change any of that. But if it doesn’t, then why do I feel so splintered inside...as if everything between us is hinged on a lie?
Would I have chosen Lo if I’d known that he was Aquarathi?
Or worse, would I have chosen him knowing he was a murderer’s son?
Copyright © 2013 by Amalie Howard
ISBN-13: 9781460321027
WATERFELL
Copyright © 2013 by Amalie Howard
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