by Zoe Chant
A little murmur rippled through the watching crowd as the knight stopped in front of the girl. Martha couldn’t catch the words, but the general scandalized tone was unmistakable. The sea dragon nobles knew who—or rather, what—she was.
And it was clear they did not approve.
For the first time, the girl’s composure cracked, just a little. As the whispers grew, her shoulders lifted, as though she was drawing in a deep breath. And then she was still once more, back straight, ignoring all those glowering glares. She fixed her whole attention on the knight in front of her, and waited.
Martha saw the moment that the knight came to a decision. Saw the slight twitch of his gauntleted hand, as though he’d started to reach out and then snatched it back. The knight shot a final furtive, defiant glance at the Imperial Champion, and began to turn away from the girl.
That was when Finn moved.
He stepped out of the shadows, silently joining John. Next to the tall, broad-shouldered sea dragon, he didn’t look imposing. He wasn’t even wearing his armor or carrying his sword. Just an old man in a faded Hawaiian shirt and khakis; stooped and scarred and weathered, with empty hands.
But the rising mutters cut off instantly. In that sudden, ringing silence, Martha distinctly heard the seventh knight swallow hard.
“Forget your past name.” The knight tapped the girl on the shoulder; the briefest contact, but enough. “You are Seventh Novice now.”
“HA!” Martha whooped, breaking the appalled silence. “You go, girl!”
Every eye stared at her—well, almost every eye. The newly named Seventh Novice didn’t so much as twitch at the unorthodox outburst.
“What?” Martha lifted her chin at the nearest group of sea dragon nobles, who were all goggling at her as though she’d just thrown a handful of live crawfish like confetti. She jabbed a finger at Seventh Novice, beaming ear-to-ear. “Now that’s discipline. She’ll be the greatest knight the sea has ever seen, you mark my words.”
Seventh Novice completed her solemn bow to her sponsor and turned toward the tower. Even as she did, Finn faded back, retreating out of sight once more.
When the girl bowed, it was to the Imperial Champion only. And for the first time, John smiled as he nodded back.
“Stop hiding, you.” Martha tugged on Finn’s sleeve, which had about as much effect as trying to haul a tractor with her teeth. “At least let her know that you came to watch.”
Finn shook his head. “She has chosen them.”
Martha wasn’t quite sure whether by them he meant the knights or the sea dragons. “But she’s still a shark shifter. One of your people.”
“Yes.” Finn’s gaze stayed on the girl. “But she is the one who must decide what that means.”
Seventh Novice followed her sponsor back into the fortress. It might have just been Martha’s imagination, but she had the impression that the seventh knight still looked disgruntled.
She hoped it was just her imagination.
The carved coral doors swung shut behind Seventh Novice. The crowds who’d gathered to watch the ceremony began to disperse. Martha had expected them all to be abuzz with outrage, but there was a certain tight-lipped look about all those noble faces. Apparently the sea dragons were going to handle this scandal the way they dealt with most things that threatened to upset their ordered existence; by thoroughly ignoring it, in the hopes that it would go away.
“Ha. That girl’s isn’t going to slink off into the shadows,” she muttered to herself. “She’s just getting started. She’ll kick down every barrier you put in her way. You just wait.”
“I entirely agree,” John said, rejoining them. Quiet delight lit his usually solemn face, and he let out a soft breath of laughter. “And those were much the words the Empress used as well, when the Order at first refused to let the child even join the training cohort. My mate will be very pleased. You have both our gratitude, Master—”
Finn looked at him.
The sea dragon made an apologetic gesture and quickly corrected himself. “That is, Lord Finn.”
“Just Finn,” Martha’s mate murmured. “And in any event, I did nothing.”
Martha wound her arm about his waist, squeezing him. “But you do it so well.”
John laughed again. “Indeed. Now, my apologies, but I must be about my duties. The Empress departs on a state visit to the Arctic waters today, and there is still much to prepare. My mate sends her apologies, by the way. Alas, the matter of the ice dragons fully occupies her attention at the moment, leaving her little time for personal visits.”
“We understand,” Martha said. “We need to be getting home, anyway. Finn’s got a swim meet tomorrow. You just make sure Neridia is eating right and getting some sleep, you hear? Don’t let her work herself into the ground. Or the sea, I suppose.”
John inclined his head in a solemn bow. “I do my utmost to remove what burdens I can from her shoulders.”
Martha narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t you go exhausting yourself either. You both look after yourselves and each other, or my hand to God, I’ll come back down here and haul you out of that palace by your ears. You two need to remember to take a proper vacation once in a while.”
“I suggest Shifting Sands Resort,” Finn said, the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth. “It certainly worked for me.”
“I will attempt to cajole Neridia into taking a short break there, once this current diplomatic crisis is resolved.” John sighed. “Though it seems there is always some new crisis brewing in the depths of the sea. Or closer to home.”
“All those nobles and politicians can keep the wheels on this overgrown apple cart through a few bumpy turns,” Martha said firmly. “What’s the point of having a Sea Council if you can’t leave ‘em in charge for a few days?”
“I am confident in the Sea Council’s ability and loyalty. I am certain they would be more than capable of handling the day-to-day running of the Pearl Empire in the Empress’s absence.” A slightly pained expression crossed his face. “Handling the Prince and Princesses, however, is another matter.”
“The kids?” Martha said, surprised. “What’s the problem there? You’ve got a whole city packed with knights and magicians at your disposal. Surely there must be someone capable of babysitting the royal family for a few days.”
Whatever John might have replied was forestalled by a clatter of boots on tile. A Knight of the First Water appeared at the top of the steps, out of breath and with helmet askew. John took one look at the panting man and heaved a deep, heartfelt sigh.
“The Prince,” John said. It was a statement rather than a question.
The knight collapsed to his knees, with a sound like someone dropping an entire set of pans out a window. Martha wasn’t quite sure whether it was out of penitence, or because he’d just sprinted across half the city to reach them. Possibly both.
“My—my heartfelt apologies, Champion!” the knight stammered out. He fumbled for his sword, holding the sheathed blade out across his palms. “On my honor, I only stepped out of the room for a moment! Please, take my sword for this failure!”
John waved away the offered sword with the weary air of a man who could have collected enough weapons from shamed knights to outfit a small army by now. “I don’t suppose anyone saw where he went?”
“N-no, Imperial Champion.” The poor knight now looked like he was contemplating throwing himself on his own sword. “We are searching the city even now, of course, but—”
“But my reprobate son has the morals of an eel and the guile of an octopus,” John finished for him.
Martha was pretty sure those were not precisely the words the knight had been about to say.
With another long-suffering sigh, John turned to Finn. “While I am aware you are retired from the Empress’s service, I must beg your assistance once more. You have senses beyond those of your other kin. Would you be so kind as to locate my errant offspring?”
Finn tilted his head. His gray eye
s unfocused. Down the mate bond, Martha could feel him reaching out, searching for the Prince’s trail in the way that only a shark could.
“I strongly advise, Imperial Champion,” Finn said after a moment, “that you make your way to the novice quarters of the Order of the Cresting Wave. At speed.”
“Once more, the Pearl Throne owes you a debt.” John gestured to a couple of waiting knights, and they fell into formation behind him. “I regret having to so abruptly and rudely take my leave of you both, but I fear that if I do not, the Crown Prince will set the city on fire. Again.”
John bowed to them both, in a gesture of deep respect. Even after all these years, it still struck Martha as hilarious—the strapping sea dragon Imperial Champion, mate of the Pearl Empress herself, genuflecting to a dusty old desert dog.
Her inner coyote flicked an ear. He is young and strong. We are old and cunning. The cub knows his place.
“Smug, self-satisfied beast,” Martha muttered. And then, at Finn’s raised eyebrow, “Not him, me. Just talking to myself.”
He made the dry, near-silent rasp that was the closest he ever got to actual laughter. “Your animal knows your worth. As does the Imperial Champion.”
She squeezed him again. “Just so long as you do.”
He brushed a strand of her hair back from her face, his rough fingertips lingering on her cheek. His voice dropped to that deep, soft rumble that never failed to make her toes curl. “Oh yes.”
“Stop that, you. We’re in public.” She swatted his hand away, but couldn’t control the fool smile that spread across her face. “Shall we head for home?”
A thoughtful kind of rumble echoed through his thick chest. “I think we must make a small detour first.”
She jabbed him in the side. “Don’t you go getting all enigmatic on me now.”
He laughed again, though no one else would have recognized the sound. “I would not dare, if I did not know how much you enjoy it.”
It was true, she had to admit. There was nothing a coyote loved more than sniffing out a secret. Any hint of mystery set her fool beast’s tail wagging. And Finn was all mystery, even after fifteen years of marriage. She knew him in all his moods, as he knew her, yet every day was still different. He was like the ocean itself; constant and ever-changing, unfathomable and endlessly fascinating.
Maddening man, Martha thought fondly, and felt his love wash over her down the mate bond, strong and eternal as the tides.
2. The Prince
Hand in hand with Finn, she descended from the tower—carefully, because at her age, even shifter knees started to creak a little. Finn led the way, turning off the coral-paved main street to follow the base of the wall enclosing the headquarters of the First Order.
Atlantis was built on seven tiers—no doubt for some important traditional reason that Martha didn’t know. Even the smaller streets tended to be grand and spacious, which only made sense given the ridiculous size of the average sea dragon, even in human form. This, however, was just a narrow, uneven alleyway, a kind of forgotten space between the knights’ fortress and the steep-sided cliff rising to the next level.
Martha opened her mouth to ask where they were going, but Finn gestured for silence. He drew her into a shallow, shadowed alcove, pressing her back against the cool rock. His lips moved, silently counting down from ten.
On zero, he stuck out one arm.
“Ow!”
Martha peered past Finn’s bulk. A sea dragon youth dressed in dry-lander clothes lay sprawled on the slick stone floor, wheezing.
“Joe?” Martha exclaimed.
The boy flashed her a somewhat pained grin from flat on his back. “Hi, Grandma. Hi, Grandpa.”
Finn dropped his arm back to his side. “Good evening, Crown Prince.”
“Finn Hernandez!” Martha goggled up at her mate, scarce able to believe the evidence of her own senses. “You lied to the Imperial Champion?”
“He asked me to locate his errant offspring,” he replied, unruffled. “He did not specify which one.”
Joe blinked. “Huh?”
Finn gazed into the distance, eyes going abstracted. “I believe that at this very moment, your father is breaking up a duel between three aspiring knights and your youngest sister.”
“Little Kaia?” Martha yelped. “She’s only seven!”
“Mmm. A fact for which I suspect the aspirants are deeply grateful.” Finn returned his attention to Joe. “It is fortunate your father reached them before someone got hurt.”
Joe mumbled something in sea dragon. Martha didn’t speak much of the language—no dry-lander could—but she’d picked up a few words. Specifically, those words.
“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” She folded her arms. “Don’t think I don’t know what you kids were actually teaching each other during all those ‘language lessons’ last summer.”
Joe winced. “Sorry, Grandma Martha. And about Kaia, Grandpa. I told her to stay home.”
Martha narrowed her eyes at him. “Maybe you should consider setting her a better example. Joseph Finley Small, what on earth are you doing sneaking around back here?”
Joe offered her a broad, guileless smile that could have melted an iceberg. “Looking for you two, of course.”
Finn leaned down, clasping the prince’s hand and hauling him to his feet without effort. “You could have sent a messenger.”
“I had to see you in person.” Joe brushed off his backside, wincing again. “Unfortunately.”
“A bump on the butt is no more’n you deserve, devil-child,” Martha scolded him. “Your poor bodyguards. You’ll be giving them all white hairs before their time.”
Joe shrugged, looking unrepentant. “This is Atlantis. I’m the heir to the Pearl Throne. You can’t throw a rock in this city without hitting three knights honor-bound to protect the Imperial bloodline. What could possibly hurt me here?”
“Yourself,” Finn murmured. “Evidently.”
“Prince or no prince, you need to stuff some sense into that fool head of yours, boy.” Martha fixed Joe with her best glare—having to lift her chin to do so, as even at fourteen, the sea dragon already topped her by a foot. “If not for yourself, then for the sake of your parents. Your father is worried sick.”
Joe’s cocky grin faltered. He looked down, shoving his hands into the pockets of his scruffy jeans.
“No, he isn’t,” he muttered. “Just disappointed. No doubt I’ll get to hear exactly how much later.”
“Your father loves you,” Martha said firmly. “And so does your mom. I’ve brought up enough hell-raisers myself to know some ties can’t break. You never stop loving your babies. Not even when you want to wring their necks.”
Joe blew out his breath, not looking entirely convinced. “You aren’t my dad.”
“Be grateful for that.” Martha gave him a mock-swat on the side of his curly head. She was barely able to reach. “If you were one of my boys, you’d be washing dishes for weeks after a stunt like this.”
“An unnecessary stunt,” Finn put in. “You must have known that we were attending the choosing ceremony. Your father would have been pleased for you to make a formal appearance as well.”
“No!” The word leaped from Joe’s lips. He flinched, as though startled by his own forcefulness. “Uh, I mean, I hate that all that royal duty and wave-to-the-crowds stuff at the best of times. And why would I care who gets into the First Water this year, anyway? Let alone want to go watch some dull old fossils selecting their next batch of victims? It’s all a con. No matter what the knights bleat about honor, miraculously it’s always the candidates from the oldest and richest families that turn out to be ‘most worthy.’ Everyone else gets thrown back like stunted crabs. The whole thing stinks.”
“For someone who professes no interest in the subject,” Finn observed mildly, “you seem to have a great many opinions on it.”
Joe scowled, shoulders hunching. He scuffed the toe of one sneaker against the rocky path.
“Well, maybe the times are changing,” Martha said, thinking of Seventh Novice. “And you’re in a position to shake things up even more, you know. At least eventually. People will listen to you, precisely because of all that tradition you hate so much.”
Joe flinched again. “They shouldn’t. I wish they wouldn’t.”
“I know, kiddo.” Martha patted his arm. “I’m not saying that’s right or fair, but it is what it is. Like it or lump it, you are the heir to this whole rodeo.”
“If you want things to change,” Finn rumbled, “make them change. You have more power than you know.”
“Oh, I know exactly how much power I have.” Joe let out a harsh, bitter laugh that had no business coming out of any kid’s mouth. He rubbed at his eyes. “That’s the whole problem. I wish I could get rid of it. I wish I could get rid of it all. Sea, I’m tired.”
He did look tired, Martha realized. There were smudged shadows under his eyes that his rich skin tone couldn’t hide. He’d always been a gangling, lanky kid, but there was a new hollow gauntness to his cheeks that made her want to start cooking tamales right then and there.
“Are you coming down with something?” she asked in concern. She stretched up on her toes, trying to feel his forehead. “You aren’t looking too chipper.”
Joe dodged her hand, with the all-too-familiar expression of a teenage boy who’d rather swallow rusty nails than allow himself to be cosseted. “I’m fine, Grandma.”
“Don’t you try to pull that stupid alpha stoicism on me, kiddo.” She put her hands on her hips, looking him up and down. “I can tell you haven’t been eating right. Or getting enough rest.”
Joe cracked out that strange, humorless laugh again. It didn’t sound like him at all. “Oh, Grandma Martha. You have no idea.”
