Sacred Breath Series (Books 1-4)

by Nadia Scrieva

  The door to her room creaked open, interrupting her meditation. She was prepared to politely request that the intruder leave her in solitude, expecting the usual culprits of her father or her Aunt Elandria. Instead, it was someone much shorter.

  “You never knock,” she observed.

  He froze. “Sorry, Princess. Do you want me to start knocking?”

  She shrugged. “Nah. It doesn’t matter. Do you want to wrestle?”

  Glais shook his head, holding out his hands. “I brought you a present.”

  She tossed the covers off her legs and moved over to him curiously. She took the square object from his hands, and studied the charcoal sketch in the starlight. Her eyes narrowed. “It’s my mother.”

  “Yeah,” he said nervously, twisting his toe into the carpet. “I remember when my dad died, she took a photo off the wall and told me to keep it. Sometimes I look at that photo and think of him. I thought you should have a photo too.”

  Varia stared at the contours of his strokes, resisting the urge to trace the portrait with her finger. Choking down a lump in her throat, she moved to find a place to hang the picture on the wall. Once it was up, she sighed. “Thank you. It’s really perfect.”

  “No problem, Vari. I’m still learning, so I can do a few more if you want a better one.”

  “No, no. I like this one.” She stared at the picture on her wall for a while before a thought occurred to her. “Hey, Glais, wanna marry me?”

  “Um.” He hesitated. “I’m only thirteen, and you’re nine.”

  She turned to glance at him. “Not today, stupid.”

  He gave her a lopsided smile. “Wow, you must really like the picture if you’re proposing to me.”

  She shrugged. “Mama always said to decide things well in advance.”

  “She also said that you and I were blood brother and sister,” Glais reminded her, lifting his palm to show her the little scar.

  “But we’re not really related,” Varia told him. “She said we should take care of each other, and I think that would be the best way. I don’t want to talk to anybody else but you. I’ve only been here for a little while, but I’ve decided that I don’t like this world, and I don’t like people.”

  “That would be cool with me,” Glais said. “We can do whatever you like, especially if there’s cake involved.” He was pleased to see that this made Varia smile. He was well aware that he was the only one who could still make her smile. “But I’ve heard some stuff, Vari. I heard the Japanese royals saying that they might wanna marry you to Kaito—something about betrothal, because he’s a prince. To officially join Adlivun and the Ningyo people.”

  Varia scowled. “Marry me to someone? They can’t give me orders. The only person I obeyed was my mother, and now she’s gone.”

  “Well, I only obey you,” Glais said, “and sometimes Visola, when she gets really scary. So yeah, if you wanna get married, we can do that.”

  “I don’t want to order you to do it. You have a few years to decide, anyway.” She frowned. “Kaito is a baby! He believes in Santa Claus for Sedna’s sake.”

  “He won’t always. He’s closer to your age than I am,” Glais reminded her.

  “Whatever,” she grumbled. She glanced up at the picture on the wall again. “Thanks for drawing my mom, Glais. I’m tired now and need to rest. Go back to your room.”

  “Sure. Goodnight, Princess,” he said, giving her the traditional bow. “See you tomorrow.”

  She waited until Glais had left her room, and she stood on her tip toes to lift the picture frame off the wall. She moved over to her bed and lay down, hugging the small wooden frame against her chest and resuming her internal chant. Please, Sedna. Please, please, please, please, please. She had never wanted something so badly, and she highly doubted that she would ever want anything this badly again in her entire life.

  Of course, it did not help that what she wanted was impossible. She tried to ignore that aspect of the situation.

  Putting one arm carefully in front of the other, Trevain swam through the frigid darkness.

  In his younger years, he had sometimes imagined retiring at sea. This was not what he had originally had in mind. He spent the weekends at home with Varia and Elandria, but spent Monday to Friday scoping out the North Sea, near the Netherlands. He would fly to various European cities, and just go diving alone for the whole week. As a rule, if he ran into any other sea-dwellers, he was not diving deep enough. As a rule, if his whole body was not in so much pain that it felt like he was constantly being flattened by a steamroller, he was not diving deep enough.

  In his younger years, Trevain remembered searching for four-leaf clovers with his brother Callder. This had been challenging, but not impossible. If one searched for a few minutes, they would almost surely find one special clover amongst the multitudes of common ones. Like any task, it took dedication, and hope, and enough willpower not to quit. Eventually, he would be imagining four-leaf clovers until he saw them everywhere. He would see them etched into his eyelids when he closed his eyes. It was becoming this way with Nehalennia’s fish. He searched for it so hard that he was seeing it appear everywhere. He often searched for the fish with dazed eyes as he stared into his coffee mug, or in the jets of liquid that bounced off the walls of a urinal. He searched for the fish in snow-globes and water-filled paperweights in the souvenir shops he visited to collect baubles for his family.

  As a rule, if his vision was not blurring until he could not see, and he was not passing out frequently on the ocean floor, he was not trying hard enough.

  Sometimes, he even imagined having a conversation with the fish, asking about what Aazuria’s grandmother had been like. In such moments, he recognized that he was taking the legend far too literally, and had crossed heavily into the realm of insanity. But he had never, in his entire life, been irrational other than when it pertained to Aazuria. She had demonstrated, time and time again, that she was worth being irrational over. She was worth the insanity of diving into the Abyssal Zone.

  Sometimes, Trevain did find a fish. In fact, he had found several strange, glowing fish, and collected samples to bring back to Sionna.

  Sionna tucked them away, saying she would preserve the bodies, and later, once she had overcome ‘other obstacles,’ would try to administer the remedy. Only then did Trevain begin to understand that there were many more complex challenges that could not be solved by a miraculous fish-scale cure. Even if he had been able to find the correct fish, it would be impossible to administer the medicine unless Aazuria’s body was carefully unfrozen. Sionna would have a very narrow window to repair any important damage to the body, and administer any cures—as she had said, it was not just a long shot, but the longest shot.

  Trevain was beginning to lose hope and become desperate. He feared that his inability to successfully accomplish anything meant that he was not worthy of being the hero in a story like the one Sionna told. He could not save his queen, and reverse her ailment. On several occasions, he had been so disheartened and distraught that he had not been able to do anything else but seek refuge in Elandria’s arms. It was then he knew that he was not strong enough, brave enough, or valiant enough to succeed. He was unable to prove his merit, or to find the fruits of his courage.

  Don’t forget who you are, he chided himself. You are just an old man with an insane love for a magnificent, beautiful dead woman. You have a distressed daughter and a loving wife, and more responsibilities than any man can feasibly cope with. You mustn’t waste your years away chasing waterfalls. Chasing the ghosts of eroded waterfalls. But I would waste them all away. I would waste every year if it would bring her back.

  Sionna stared at the frozen frog in disappointment. She poked the limp creature with her pen.

  “It’s still dead, Yama.”

  The Japanese princess blew an exhausted whistle out of her lips. “Yeah, but you minimized tissue damage in unfreezing. You should see how far I’ve gotten with the molecular nanotechnology. Basica
lly nowhere. If Kai spilled finger-paints on the queen, it would have a better chance of magically reviving her than my technology.”

  “We’ve tried everything except finger paint,” Sionna said with a groan. “I’m worried about how we’re going to tell him. He keeps bringing me ‘magic fish.’”

  “He really is an adorable little man-child,” Yamako mused. “You shouldn’t have told him about Nehalennia. So many kids spend years and years looking for that stupid fish—he was lucky to grow up on land and not hear those stories.”

  Sionna massaged her temples. “I feel awful. I really love that spoiled little brat.”

  “It’s fine to love your nephew, Sio,” Yamako said softly. “Lots of people love their nephews. They don’t have to raise the dead to prove it.”

  Sionna gave her a grateful smile. “I just have a few more things I want to try. On frog number 19,361. Maybe he’s the lucky frog.”

  “Holy shit. Has it been that many already?” Yamako lifted her eyebrows. “I have a few things I want to try as well.”

  The women separated and returned to work.

  Occasionally, Sionna found herself glancing over at the Japanese princess. Yamako was wearing dorky bright yellow pajamas with huge bunny rabbits all over them. The previous day, her pajamas had been red with giant snowflakes, and the day before that, blue with giant snowmen. She also seemed to own glasses with large plastic rims in every color, for they always matched her pajamas. Sionna looked down at her plain white lab coat, and felt a bit like a boring old woman. She tried to undo a button or two to feel a bit cooler, but her clothes underneath were just as drab, especially compared to Yamako’s vibrant style.

  It was probably a Japanese thing.

  Sometimes when they were working, Kaito bounded into the room and seemed to bounce directly into his mother’s lap. Sionna watched out of the corner of her eye, a bit jealous as the princess multitasked, researching at the same time that she chatted with her son. Kaito did not even seem to notice that his mother was preoccupied as they chatted, and he often fell asleep in her lap as she continued to work. She often did not notice his presence either. It was heartwarmingly domestic, and Sionna understood why her sister had wanted to conceive so badly.

  She had mentioned to Yamako that she could not wait for Visola to give birth so that she could resume her auntie-duties. It had been much fun to take care of Alcyone when she had been a baby, and Sionna was excited for those moments when her sister would surely be engaged in some reckless endeavor, leaving her to babysit the newest Ramaris munchkins. She sometimes took care of Varia, but she felt that there was much more Vellamo than Ramaris in Aazuria’s daughter. The young girl had grown very angry and distant, refusing to talk to almost anyone but Glais.

  It was understandable; Glais had lost his father as well, and the two connected on this shared experience. Both had been exceedingly close to their lost parent, and Sionna understood how traumatizing it could be.

  “Hey, Sio,” Yamako said, with her mouth full of cashews. She often liked to snack on something as she sat cross legged before her computer. “Where are V and V now?”

  Sionna shrugged. “I think they were off liberating the Rusalka from Clan occupation. I haven’t really kept up with their activities since I’ve been immersed in this, but I know that they don’t have many kingdoms left.”

  “Cool. New world order, huh? At least under the sea.” Yamako seemed like she could care less as she munched away. “What about that moron, Marshal Landou? Are V and V still torturing that prick?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Sionna said with a grin. “When they’re at home, they visit him every morning before breakfast. I don’t pity the man; and it’ll teach others not to mess with Visola’s children.”

  “How many limbs does he have left?” Yamako asked, popping another handful of nuts into her mouth.

  Sionna thought about it for a second. “None, I think.”

  “None?” Yamako frowned. “Doesn’t that severely limit their torture options?”

  “Nah. Those two can be quite creative.”

  As Trevain lowered himself to one knee before the woman, he knew that he was far past the point of desperation.

  “Please forgive me for how disrespectful I have been. Now, I believe you are the only one who can help me.”

  He knew that Sionna could not manage the resuscitation. He knew that she was trying her best, but even at her best, it could take hundreds of years for her to be successful; or she could never be successful. This was the harsh reality of the matter. He had asked for too much, and he was ruining his aunt’s life over an unattainable, unfeasible project.

  “I will pay any price. Anything you ask.”

  So he had decided that it was time to cast his pride aside and turn to someone he had seen achieve results. Someone who knew things without explanation or reason. He would have to beg a woman he had once insulted and called a charlatan; he would have to beg her for forgiveness and for her help.

  Mother Melusina hovered before him in Gypsum Cave, with ethereal light glinting off the various crystals. Her expression was serene and unreadable, for her wide blindfold was covering her eyes once more. She considered his plea carefully before responding.

  “Bring me the silent woman,” she signed. “The one who makes magic with her voice.”

  Trevain felt his heart leap in fear. “You want Elandria?”

  “Is it not a fair exchange? A beloved wife for a beloved wife? A sister for a sister?”

  “Are you going to… hurt her?” Trevain asked anxiously. He would not sacrifice Elandria’s life. Not for any reason; not even for Aazuria’s life, which was what he wanted most in the world. He suddenly felt very afraid, for he knew that his obsession could cause him to lose everything. The thought of losing Elandria made his body become paralyzed with panic on the spot where he knelt. For he knew that she would do this willingly; Elandria had wished to give her own life, and she would accept such an offer in a heartbeat. Before he could stop the thought from crossing his mind, he considered killing Mother Melusina to prevent her from ever touching his wife.

  “Do not be foolish,” the priestess signed. “I would never harm the silent one. She is a Daughter of Sedna, virtuous and noble, like her sister.”

  “Then why do you want her?” Trevain asked, feeling shivers of dread run through him.

  “She has a gift from Sedna within her throat. I can teach her how to truly utilize this power.”

  Trevain suddenly understood; but he did not understand at all. He felt torn between the need to protect his living wife, and the need to revive his dead wife. “You want to teach her to do that thing—she’ll be able to kill people with a scream.”

  Mother Melusina’s lips curved slowly. “Oh, dear boy. She will be able to do much more than that.”

  He shuddered, wondering if he was stepping more deeply into trouble. “I will have to see if she agrees. I would never ask her to do anything she did not want to do.”

  “She will agree to anything you ask of her; you know that. She loves you to the point of her detriment.”

  “Then I will have to think carefully about whether I want to even mention this to her,” he signed with a frown. “I do not want to harm or endanger Elandria. I will not allow that.”

  “You are right that she is safer now; a powerless songbird in your gilded cage. If you open the cage door, and let her fly to the sun, she could be a thunderbird. She could release lightning from her breast; but in achieving power, she would become a target for those of power.”

  Trevain had never considered the possibility that Elandria could be more than a sweet, caring woman who sang softly and nurtured and educated the children. Would she want to follow this strange new path? “And if she agrees, you will revive Aazuria?” he demanded.

  “I will try,” Mother Melusina said with an elegant curtsey. “But there is one more thing, King Trevain. As you know, the Sisters of Sedna cannot touch a man. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. You
should appreciate what you have. Are you willing to risk losing both women in order to retrieve one woman?”

  His eyes narrowed. It was not his decision to make. “If Elandria wants to do this, I’m willing to risk anything.”

  Princess Yamako was not wearing pajamas to work today.

  A black silk robe tied at the waist covered a little red negligee. Bits of lace trimmed the sleeves, and embroidered patterns of the Mizuchi dragon emblem were patterned into the fabric. Well, they were still pajamas, but the grown-up type. The woman still sat at her computer in the same way, with her legs crossed, or her knees pulled up to her chin. Sometimes she stuck her legs out and rested them on the desk. Sionna found all of this highly distracting as she watched from the corner of her eye. The clothes reminded her that although Yamako was a modern girl, and a self-proclaimed computer geek, she was still a royal princess who owned expensive, evidently custom-made silk garments.

  When Yamako turned to catch Sionna looking at her, the doctor cleared her throat and looked away. Sionna looked down at her white lab coat in disappointment. The last time she had worn something pretty, she had been using her body to poison a man. That had been quite fun. She was distracted from this train of thought when she heard Yamako’s chair squeak behind her. The princess was probably heading to bed; they had been working insanely long hours, and Sionna did not expect anyone to be able to keep up with her. She raised the back of her hand to her lips, repressing a yawn. She immediately returned her hand to the microscope she had been working with. She was surprised when a small hand darted out to intercept her path, taking her hand away from the lab equipment.

  “Maybe you should rest,” the Japanese princess said softly.

  “I can’t,” Sionna said.

  Yamako leaned against the desk, giving Sionna a sly little smile. “You work so hard. I think you deserve a little R and R, lady.”