“Varia?” she asked in a hoarse voice that did not sound like her own. “Varia?”
She exhaled her warm breath into Varia’s face which was cold as death. “No,” she whispered. Aazuria pulled her glove from her hand. She put two frozen fingers to her daughter’s neck to feel for a pulse. She wished that this was something no parent ever had to do. Her fingers were so frozen that she could not even feel if there was a pulse. She pressed her face against Varia’s sobbing.
“Trevain,” she said softly, unable to believe that she had killed their daughter. “Forgive me. I just wanted to come home. Trevain, I tried so hard.” She would never see him again. Her warm tears were soaking her daughter’s cheeks. She whispered her husband’s name over and over. If Varia was dead, there was nothing left for her. Her fate was to die here, like this, holding her daughter. She wanted Trevain’s name to be the last word that left her lips. His name should be the sound which was carried by her final breath.
But her body was not cooperating, and it would not die quickly. She spent an hour whispering his name. When she became tired of that, she began calling for Visola. She no longer had the energy to cry, only to make the faintest of murmurs against her daughter’s cold cheek. “Viso. Viso, why didn’t you find us? Did you all stop looking for me? Oh, Trevain, please. I can’t do this…”
Her daughter’s lips moved against her cheek.
“What’s a Trevain?” Varia asked her softly
Aazuria released a giant sob at realizing that her daughter was alive. She wrapped her arms around Varia and squeezed as though she could pour all of her love and energy into the girl. But then she realized that her love was not enough; it would take the power of the truth to save her child. “He’s your father, Varia. Trevain is your real dad. Please stay with me. Please hang on.”
“You never told me.”
“I didn’t want to confuse you or make you upset. Prince Zalcan Hamnil is not your father. I don’t love him, and I never will. He kidnapped me. He stole us from your dad.”
“I know,” Varia said faintly
“You know?” Aazuria asked. “How?”
“You never touch him. You never kiss him. You always stand between me and him like you don’t want him near me. Like you don’t even want him to see me. You don’t even let him call me Varia. I can feel that you think he’s a bad man. I always wanted to know why.”
“My smart girl,” Aazuria said softly, raining countless kisses upon her daughter. She had found a practical purpose for kissing. Varia’s face was the only exposed part of her, and pressing her lips to her daughter’s face allowed her to feel the temperature of her skin and assure herself that the girl was living. “I’ll make a deal with you, sweetheart. If you can stay alive until we get back to Vostok, I will tell you everything. All the secrets I was saving for when you were older—I’ll tell you all of them. Just please hang on, Varia.”
“Yes, Mother. I would like that.”
Aazuria would never have believed it possible to be thankful for the tiny cabin, but the warmth and familiar surroundings did actually feel like home. Once she had allowed Varia to spend a week submerged in the warm, healing water of the lake, the girl’s health had naturally improved. Aazuria kept true to her word, and told her daughter everything. She spared no detail.
“He killed your sister?” Varia asked, disbelievingly. “My father… I mean, Prince Zalcan did that?”
Aazuria nodded. “That is why I told him that you were his daughter. That is why he calls you Pearl. That is why he doesn’t know about your special exercises and training. He doesn’t know the real you. These secrets and lies are the most distance we can achieve when we’re trapped in this tiny cabin with him. I just don’t want him to hurt you.”
“I want to go away from here too, Mother,” Varia said softly. “I am sorry I failed. When I get better, can we try again? Maybe a few days?
“No, my dearest,” Aazuria said sadly. “We will have to find another way out. Maybe when you’re a bit older and stronger. Can you get stronger for me?”
“I promise I will, Mother. Whatever it takes.”
“Good. You can rest in the lake for a bit, but stay close to the cabin. I’m going to go up top and try something—I think I can make a giant S.O.S in the snow. Maybe some planes flying over might see it and come help.”
“Do many planes fly over here?” Varia asked.
“I don’t know,” Aazuria answered, her brow creased in worry, “but I have to try everything I can. We have to get out of this hellhole and find a way back to our real family. You have a real dad who loves you, baby. He’s out there dying to meet you.”
Varia looked up at her mother with a curious sadness. “I want to meet him too.”
Chapter 23: Equal to None
“Never fear, Viso,” Vachlan said with a wink. “For like a giant intercontinental bridge-tunnel hybrid thing over war-torn waters, I will lay me down.”
“Stop your poeticizing and get back to work,” Visola commanded, but she could not resist a smile. Five years had passed, and the bridge had not ended up being too horrible for the citizens of Adlivun. The first phase was almost complete. Of course, every citizen over the age of 14 was required to devote a forty-hour unpaid workweek to the bridge, but apparently there were more than forty hours in a week. And apparently, there was nothing like a little bit of hard work and misery to inspire people to do more.
Vachlan had begun writing again. This thrilled Visola to no end; she had been mesmerized by his work when they had first met. She loved watching him pursue his passion. He seemed happy for the first time in his life. Having been a moderately successful playwright in the early 1600s, he had now become a moderately successful writer of scripts for television sitcoms. It was the same principle, and he often recycled old material—he just needed to add a computer or cell phone here and there.
In fact, many of Adlivun’s artists had made quite a splash on land in the past five years. Reasonably skilled young singers from the underwater kingdom became overnight pop sensations while many of the older, more professional singers like Elandria still preferred to conceal their talent and hide from the spotlight.
The summer Olympics had seen the strength and skill of Adlivun’s swimmers as an unfair advantage, but the world had been too enthralled by watching the feats of aquatic superiority to disqualify them. Needless to say, Adlivun had completely swept the water-based medals, and even a few other categories such as archery and fencing. Callder had entered the fencing competition, and despite spending his preparation time drinking, he had placed quite well. Trevain had spent the whole event shaking his head and muttering to Elandria about how much better his brother could be if he tried. At anything. At something.
Needless to say, Adlivun had become recognized as an independent nation. Much progress had been made on the political front, including joining NAFTA and the UN among with a whole host of other important organizations that gave Trevain plenty of paperwork-headaches. He missed the simplicity of crab fishing.
Infrastructure had been increased astronomically, and submarines were now being used as cars. Of course, being extremely expensive, most of Adlivun ran on a public-transit system. It was required for the commuters who chose to live in Adlivun and travel to work on the bridge each day. Most of the citizens were relocating to the new cities on the Diomede Islands (and underneath them) to save time. The best of urban planners had been employed in the construction and expansion of the islands.
Surprisingly, immigration rates had been huge. Adlivun had quadrupled its population within a year of going public and signing the bridge treaty. Most of these new residents were land-dwellers who chose to live on the Diomede Islands while some were academics studying life in Adlivun. Many were just people who genuinely wanted to live under the sea, and they seemed to find a way. In addition to many more specialized, lightweight ‘long-term scuba-wear’ being manufactured, the land-dwellers required night-vision goggles. It was a complicated and costly ar
rangement, but that did not deter those who were truly interested.
Of course, knowing that it was possible to breathe underwater had inspired thousands of people to foolishly ‘test’ if they could manage this in their own bathtubs, or in their local swimming pools and beaches. There were substantial failure rates.
“May I take my lunch break a little early, Gen… Mrs. Ramaris?” asked a former warrior from her army. Seeing Visola’s steely glare, the man cleared his throat. “General—General Ramaris. May I take my lunch break a little early?”
“No,” Visola answered, for no particular reason except to enforce her authority as an overseer and seem firm. “There’s work to be done. You can take fifteen minutes now and take your lunch at the regular hour.”
“Yes, General. Thank you, General,” the man said, giving the old traditional salute.
Visola smiled weakly at this. She waited for the man to leave before she turned her eyes skyward. “Can you see me now, Zuri? Can you see the impossible levels of degradation I must suffer due to your absence?” She frowned. “Of course not. You can’t see my humiliation because you’re not dead. So please, wherever you are—get your ass back here and fix this.”
She hated working on the bridge with a passion. Which is why she still ran a top-secret elite underground military. Once it had become apparent that she was not going to be able to conceive another baby (she and Vachlan had tried very, very hard) and her husband had returned to writing in his spare time, she had needed something to occupy her own spare time and give her personal satisfaction. Nothing fulfilled her heart more than barking offensive, foulmouthed orders at handsome, muscular young men and watching them sweat from a delightful combination of fear and strenuous activity.
Earnestly, she had never really believed in strength in numbers. Her father had raised her with a weapon in her hand, and had taught her that if she practiced daily and constantly improved, and if she was able to control her emotions and override all fear and apprehension, she could be physically equal to a hundred warriors. Mentally, her father had said, she could be equal to none. All limitations were physical, but the mind was unbounded and her mind would always be her greatest weapon.
Now, her carefully selected special forces were the best of the best. Young men and women handpicked from the top warriors who had shown previous promise. Their range of ages was vast, from men barely twenty years old to men approaching four hundred. She trained them the way her father had trained her. She felt more pride in this small group of elite soldiers than she had in her entire army. She had faith in their skill and superiority, and each of them was utterly devoted to her.
So when the blaring sirens on the bridge sounded, indicating that Adlivun was under attack, Visola was revved up and gunning for a good fight with the Clan of Zalcan.
The other overseers began to shout. “Get to the bunkers! Get to safety!”
Visola ignored them. Getting to safety was not her type of business. She was moving in the opposite direction from the crowd traveling to the bunkers when she felt a hand on her arm.
“Darling. Don’t.”
“Pleeease,” she begged, elongating the first syllable in a childish singsong voice. She turned to face her husband and gave him her best puppy dog eyes.
He growled at her ineffective attempt at coercion. “No, Visola. We made this deal for protection so we wouldn’t have to do the work.”
“One last fight. One last good old fashioned fight.”
“That’s what you said last time! You need to know when to quit.”
“I’m a warrior, Vachlan,” she said firmly. “I hate this. I hate this. Here we are in the middle of a fight, and I’m not doing anything. How can I just go and sit in a bunker and relax while other people do my real job for me?”
“What is this, the third attack by the Clan in the past two years? We’re winning a war, Visola. Battle by battle, we’re winning. Wars are to be won by whatever means necessary. Enjoy it; I am. I’d rather be sitting here doing nothing than doing plenty and getting creamed.”
“Then you and I are different creatures,” she said angrily. “You can sit on your ass and write like a lazy mofo, but I am gonna take my boys and head out there in my super-cool, stolen mega-war-sub.”
“Mega-war-sub?” Vachlan asked inquisitively.
“Stolen,” she added seductively.
Vachlan seemed to consider this. He reached up to scratch under his ponytail, which had grown significantly longer. “Well, maybe one more fight.”
Chapter 24: Honor the Living
Trevain swallowed when she opened the door. “I know it’s late, but I just thought we should discuss Phase Two. Now that Phase One is complete, we can examine the complications to improve the procedure…”
“The procedure?” Elandria asked softly.
“Well, I just mean that perhaps we can organize things better to avoid accidents…”
She leaned on the doorframe and gazed at him. “Accidents?”
“You’re making this difficult on me.”
“I haven’t done anything,” she said with a smile of innocence.
“You’re giving me that look, Elandria.”
“You knocked on my door.”
They stared at each other for a moment, neither of them moving. Finally, Trevain cast his eyes downward with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I just… Phase One. Five years of work on the first bridge, finally complete. That’s something, isn’t it? We’re halfway there. This is big, isn’t it?”
“Sure,” she said softly. She reached out to touch his arm. “I heard there have been some engineering innovations for Phase Two.”
He took an uneasy step towards her. “The concrete, right? They fixed that…”
“The cracking,” she responded, sliding her hand down his forearm. “Due to the temperature.”
“Right. And something about the quality of the nuts and bolts?” he asked, tilting his head down to let his lips brush her cheek. “I have no idea what they’re talking about half the time.”
“It is always important,” she responded as her eyelids closed. “We should listen.”
“Sometimes I get sick of it,” he said, lifting his hand to brush her curls away from her neck. “I’m always listening and signing papers. I used to actually do things.”
“You still do things,” she reassured him softly, grazing her soft cheek against his rough stubble. She slipped her hand between their bodies to brush the front of his pants. “The results are just not as instantaneous as you were accustomed to.”
“Elandria,” he groaned.
“And there are so many other people involved that you don’t feel directly responsible,” she added, moving closer to him until her warm breasts mashed against his chest. “You think your role isn’t significant, but you’re wrong. You’re very, very significant.”
“Seeing Phase One completed did give me a small sense of accomplishment,” he told her. He leaned forward to gently nibble on her bottom lip. “But I was more excited about the university.”
“Me too,” she said, slipping her arms around his waist and sliding her hands up his shirt. “Why don’t you come in, and we can talk about it a bit more.”
“No. I really… I really mean to discuss the bridge.”
“Of course. We always discuss the bridge,” she responded.
“We should really stop this, Elandria,” he said firmly.
“You knocked on my door.”
Trevain waited for the muffled moans beneath his hand to cease before he uncovered her mouth and collapsed on top of her. He felt her shoulders shake with laughter.
“Am I that loud?” she asked with a giggle.
He smiled, kissing her forehead and tasting the sweat on her skin. “You’ve got a powerful pair of lungs in there, Elan. I can’t have you waking up the whole palace.”
“Two powerful pairs,” she corrected. She shifted uncomfortably under him. “Trevain… do you think anyone suspects?”
“Do
es it really even matter anymore?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said softly. “It matters. Go back to your room.”
“Why?” he grumbled. “I’m tired. Pleasing you is hard work. You never let me stay the night.”
She reached up and combed her fingers through his grey hair. “I cannot.”
“Why?”
“You know why,” she said, feebly trying to push him off her. “Go away now.”
“I just… Elan. This is a good thing between us. I mean not just this, but…”
“I know. I know,” she said softly. She tilted her head upwards to kiss his lips tenderly. “But if I wake up beside you in the morning, that will make this too real.”
“It is real,” he told her, a bit angrily. “How can this not be real to you? After all we’ve been through…”
“Shh! No conversations. No plans. No labels. I cannot do this! Trevain, you know who I am and how I feel about you. I cannot talk about this, or I will start crying, and I will fall apart.” She continued pushing at his chest, but he was immovable.
“Dammit, Elandria. What is the difference between choosing to avoid speaking about a single subject—possibly the most important subject—and choosing to avoid speaking altogether? You’re just hiding away inside yourself like you always did. I thought you had changed and moved past this!”
“Well, I haven’t. If I’m not good enough for you, that’s fine! Please get off me, because you’re really heavy—have you gained weight? Put your pants on, and get out of my room.”
He sighed, understanding her meaning completely. He moved away from her, hating that he needed to do so. He pulled his pants off the floor and obediently began pulling them on. As he was doing up the button, he turned to look at her fiercely.
“It’s been five years, Elandria! At what point are we no longer doing something wrong? How can you know that we were ever doing something wrong!”
Sacred Breath Series (Books 1-4) Page 82
