by Zoe Chant
Neridia stared from the sea dragon to the peaceful city below, and back again. “What pandemonium?”
Jane looked at her in surprise. “I am sorry, I didn’t realize human eyesight was so much poorer than ours. Can you not make out the hordes thronging the Sun Plaza?”
Neridia followed the dragon’s pointing finger. The air bubble surrounding the tower also covered a wide circular area just outside the palace gates, about the twice the area of a football pitch. There was no doubt that it was the Sun Plaza—thousands of golden tiles set into the gleaming white paving formed a huge circle with intricate, spiraling rays.
It was quite easy to make out the design, given that the vast space was mostly empty. There were quite a few scattered groups of people milling around, but it was hardly what she’d call a scene of pandemonium. The plaza could easily have accommodated a crowd ten times the size.
“You mean those people down there?” Neridia asked Jane, wondering if maybe she was missing something.
“Yes! Have you ever seen such a crowd? If there are this many in the Sun Plaza alone, most of the city must be out in the streets!”
Neridia did a quick head count and estimate, just in case she was being misled by the size of the plaza. But she still couldn’t come up with more than a couple hundred people, at the very most.
She looked back at Jane. “You’ve lived in Atlantis all your life, right?”
“Yes. Many sea shifters prefer to reside in the deeps, saying that the city is much too crowded and busy for comfort, but I like being where everything happens.”
“And…how many people live here?”
“Oh, a great many,” Jane said earnestly. “Though most divide their time between the city and the open ocean. There are sometimes as many as three thousand people residing here!”
There were three thousand residents just in Neridia’s tiny home village. Inverness, the nearest city, had forty thousand people, and she knew that Londoners considered it to be a rural backwater.
Neridia stared out at the crowded tiers of buildings dropping away to the distant sea floor. “There are only three thousand sea dragons in this entire city?”
Jane looked startled. “No, of course not. Most of the residents are other types of shifter, of course.” She sighed. “We are not as numerous as we once were.”
“Why not?”
“Not enough of us find true mates, these days. Unmated pairs can still attempt to breed, of course, but they tend to produce only one or two eggs at most.” Her melodic voice hushed, as though speaking of something taboo. “And sometimes…sometimes the young are not even shifters.”
Though Neridia wouldn’t wish her own misfortune on anyone else, her heart still skipped a beat at the news that there were others like her. “Really? They can’t turn into dragons either?”
Jane gave her an odd look. “No. They cannot turn into humans.”
“Oh.” Neridia frowned as something struck her. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. But, if you don’t mind me saying, I thought your people kind of looked down on humans.”
Jane made a wry face. “Many do, I am sorry to say. There are those who would claim that we should have no connection to them. But even the staunchest traditionalists cannot escape the inconvenient fact that we are only fertile in human form. That is another reason why we keep parts of Atlantis under air.”
“So you live in water, but have to breed in air? Like frogs, only backward?”
The sea dragon lifted an indigo eyebrow at her, a smile tugging at her full lips. “I suggest you don’t say that in the hearing of one of our males. I am not sure they would take kindly to the comparison. But yes, that is essentially the case.”
Neridia nodded as the problem became clear. “So those of you who can’t shift…”
“Can never have young of their own. They are dead ends.” Jane’s turquoise eyes darkened with sorrow. “And so our people slowly dwindle.”
“Hmm. Speaking as a conservationist, it sounds like your gene pool is too small.”
Jane’s forehead wrinkled. “You think that we should mate in pools?”
“No, I mean, your breeding population is too small to be viable. You need fresh blood.”
“Ah, I understand now.” Jane made a graceful, sinuous shrug. “I agree, but where is it to come from? Every sea dragon in the entire ocean is known and named. If we sing for our mate, and he does not answer, there is nothing we can do.”
From the sad, minor key of her musical voice, Neridia was certain that Jane was speaking from personal experience. “Well, John found me on land. Maybe that’s where you should be looking too.”
Jane’s eyes widened. “You—you think I too might have a human mate? Me?”
“Why not? John did. My father did. Why not you?”
“I might have a mate,” Jane breathed, looking thunderstruck. “I might have a mate.” She seized Neridia’s hands, swinging her around in a dance of joy. “I might have a mate!”
“Don’t get too excited,” Neridia laughed, trying to keep up with the sea dragon’s exuberance. “I have to warn you, finding him might not be easy. There are, um, a few more humans than there are sea dragons.”
“I don’t care if I have to spend years searching. For my mate, I would go anywhere, do anything—oh.” Jane stopped dancing, as suddenly as she’d started. “But I won’t have the chance. The Sea Council would never allow me to walk above the wave.”
“They let John go, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but that was a special case. The Knight-Commander sent him to investigate rumors of the lost Emperor. It was a matter of the utmost importance.”
“Well, saving the species is of the utmost importance too,” Neridia pointed out. Then she hesitated. “Though maybe I’m wrong. I’m not exactly a good advertisement for sea dragon-human cross-breeds.“
Jane looked at her sidelong, biting her lip. Then her mouth firmed. “My brother is convinced that you will shift. Will you give me permission to look for my mate on land, when you become Empress?”
“Um. Sure, of course.” Neridia’s own mouth twisted. “But don’t hold your breath on that one.”
At Jane’s blank expression, she realized that the expression probably didn’t mean much to a creature with gills. But before she could explain what she meant, the door swung open.
Jane gasped, quickly dropping her gaze to the floor. “Honored Knight-Commander of the First Water, Voice of the Emperor-in-Absence.”
The huge man in the doorway didn’t even glance at the sea dragon woman. Neridia flinched as his gaze fixed on her. Even with his face hidden behind his elaborate dragon-faced helmet, she felt the intensity of that stare like a hot iron.
“You are the human?” His deep voice vibrated her bones.
Dry-mouthed, Neridia could only nod, silently. He was as tall as John, and seemed even more superhumanly massive thanks to his dazzling diamond-encrusted armor. The hilts of two swords protruded over his hulking shoulders. One had a pommel set with a fist-sized, pure white pearl; the other bore a pearl of deepest midnight.
The Knight-Commander studied her for a moment. Whatever he was thinking was hidden behind his jeweled helm.
He turned, gesturing with one gauntleted hand. “You will come with me.”
Chapter 26
Wake up. John’s inner human prodded him insistently. Something’s wrong.
John lifted his head from his coils. He hadn’t intended to doze, but the currents gently circulating through his sleeping-chamber had been too soothing for his weary body to resist. Shifter-fast healing required a great deal of energy.
Nonetheless, he shook himself, forcing his stiff body into a state of readiness. His wounds were already starting to close up. Blinking bleary eyes, he cast around for whatever had disturbed his inner human.
Nothing immediately seemed awry. Evening had fallen while he slept. The strip of sea visible through the small window-slit in the ceiling had darkened from brilliant turquoise to a deep in
digo. The sleeping-chamber was dim and peaceful, lit only by the soft glow of a single uncovered light-pearl.
He flared his gills, tasting the water, but couldn’t detect any sign of an intruder. He couldn’t hear anything either. The thick stone walls of the Order’s headquarters muffled all sounds of the city outside.
Perhaps it was the very silence that woke me? John wondered. He’d become accustomed to sleeping in human cities, after all, surrounded by their unending din. He suspected his instincts had become warped by his long stint on land.
No, his inner human insisted. It’s our mate. She called out to us. We have to go to her, now!
John concentrated on the mate bond. It was pale and nebulous, as though Neridia was distracted, or veiling her thoughts from him. But surely if she was in any great distress, he would sense it.
Of course she isn’t distressed. She is home at last, safe in the heart of the sea. What harm could come to her in Atlantis?
His inner human promptly filled his mind with a flurry of pointed, vivid images. Sharks hunting her through the streets at their Master’s bidding. Assassins secreting poisoned sea urchin spines in her royal bed. Disdainful aristocrats making hurtful remarks. Feral moray eels. Deadly jellyfish. Fire.
“Fire?” John said out loud to himself. “Really?”
All right, so maybe that last one was a little far-fetched, his inner human grudgingly conceded. But we can’t just sit on our ass, blindly trusting that others will protect her in our place. She is our mate! We have to be at her side!
John stirred uneasily, his own instincts in full agreement. But the Knight-Commander had ordered him to remain here. He was honor-bound to obey.
“She will be fine,” he said, as much to reassure himself as his agitated human. “The Knight-Commander promised to guard her personally.”
His inner human rolled its eyes. And we all know what a kind, thoughtful, and sensitive person he is. And how much he loves humans. Yep, I see no way this could possibly go wrong.
That was far too close to being a treasonous thought, let alone a dishonorable one. The Knight-Commander was the Voice of the Emperor-in-Absence. To criticize him was only one step removed from insulting the Pearl Throne itself.
John crushed his inner human back down into the depths of his mind, resolving not to listen to its baseless fears any further. Circling round a few times, he tried to make himself comfortable again.
But not even the gentle rocking of the sleeping-chamber currents could relax his taut muscles. A deep unease gnawed at his soul.
No matter how he tried to tell himself that his inner human was being ridiculous…he couldn’t shake the feeling that Neridia was in danger.
Chapter 27
“Where are you taking me?” Neridia asked, yet again.
Just like all the other times, the Knight-Commander made no sign that he’d even heard her words. He strode on through the maze of corridors, never so much as glancing back to check that she was still following. Even with her long legs, Neridia was hard-pressed to keep up with him.
Despite his intimidating appearance, Neridia was starting to get annoyed.
“Look,” she said, panting a little. “I know you don’t like me, but there’s no reason to be rude.“
“I neither like nor dislike you,” the Knight-Commander said, without looking around. “You are a human. I have no more of an opinion on you than I would have on the personality of a particular sea slug.”
Neridia scowled at his muscled back. She stopped dead in the middle of the corridor, folding her arms. “Well, I don’t like you. I’m not taking another step until you tell me where we’re going.”
She immediately regretted her unwise show of defiance. She couldn’t help shrinking back as the towering sea dragon turned on his heel, his armored body dwarfing hers.
“We are going to find out for once and for all whether you are truly a sea dragon.” His powerful shoulders shifted a little, the pearl pommels of the swords strapped across his back glinting in the light. “Or would you prefer for me to simply assume that you are not?”
Neridia gulped, wishing with all her heart that John was by her side. “How—how are you planning to find out if I can shift?”
His foot tapped on the mosaic floor. “If you stop wasting time asking pointless questions, you’ll find out.”
Every instinct screamed at Neridia to turn back, to run and find her mate…but even if she knew where he was, she’d be caught before she went two steps. The Knight-Commander was fully capable of flinging her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and she had a nasty suspicion that he wouldn’t think twice about doing so if she didn’t obey him.
The Master Shark’s cold grey eyes and warning words rose from her memory. You must not go to Atlantis, he’d said. A powerful enemy awaits you there.
Neridia stared up at the diamond-covered, dragon-faced helmet sneering down at her, and wondered if she was face to face with her true enemy at last.
John, John, where are you?
“Your mate is recovering from his wounds,” the Knight-Commander said, as if he’d read her mind. “He was gravely injured, in your defense. If you want him to recover, you must not disturb his healing trance.”
When she still hesitated, the Knight-Commander heaved an irritated sigh. “You don’t need to look at me like that, human. I am not going to eat you. I give you my word, all I am trying to do is discover whether you are capable of claiming your birthright. There is one final test that will settle the matter for once and for all.”
The Knight-Commander might be rude, but he was still a knight, sworn to the same vows as John. From what she knew of sea dragon honor, Neridia couldn’t believe that any knight would tell a flat-out lie.
It can’t be him. He didn’t want me to come to Atlantis at all, until John forced his hand. And anyway, it wouldn’t make sense. He can’t have been responsible for my father’s assassination. He would hardly have sent John up onto land to search for the missing Emperor if he knew that he was already dead.
Neridia squared her shoulders, squashing down her instinctive fear of the intimidating warrior. “Okay then. If this will determine whether I can shift…I’ll come.”
“I did not require your agreement, or your permission.” The Knight-Commander turned away again. “Keep up. And stop broadcasting that irritating whimper. You will disturb your mate.”
Guiltily, Neridia withdrew from the mate bond. The Knight-Commander was right. If John thought she was in trouble, he’d race to her side even if he had to do so on four broken legs. She couldn’t let him sense her irrational bad feeling.
The Knight-Commander led her deeper into the palace complex, the corridors becoming ever grander. They were still in air rather than underwater, but the architecture had definitely been designed with dragons in mind. Even John could have walked down the grand, arched passageways without having to dip his horned head.
Yet despite the ornate stonework and lavish mosaics, there was a sense of mustiness in the air. There was no dust, but Neridia had a feeling that this part of the palace hadn’t been used for many years. Maybe even decades.
Maybe not since my father left the sea…
A huge, closed door blocked the way ahead. It was formed from carved planks of coral—Neridia hadn’t seen a single thing made from wood in the entire city so far—inset with gold in curling, abstract wave patterns. A single massive pearl the size of Neridia’s head shone from the exact center.
“The first test.” The Knight-Commander gestured at the door, light glittering from his diamond-encrusted gauntlets. “Only those of royal blood can open the way.”
There was no sign of a lock or keyhole. Tentatively, Neridia put her hand flat against the carved coral surface, pushing. She might as well have tried to open solid stone.
She glanced at the Knight-Commander, but the visor of his dragon-faced helmet just stared back at her impassively. It was clear he wasn’t going to give her any hints.
This
is the Pearl Door, her inner voice whispered. And we are the Pearl Empress.
Neridia looked up at the huge pearl inset into the door. She stretched up on her toes, straining her arm as far as she could. Even with her height, she could only just reach it.
The moment her fingertips brushed the smooth surface, the pearl lit up with a soft, silvery glow. Neridia nearly fell flat on her face as the door swung inward under her hand, dividing in half. Without a sound, it opened.
Behind her, the Knight-Commander said something…but Neridia wasn’t listening. All of her attention was fixed on the Pearl Throne.
There was no mistaking it. Though the audience chamber was vast enough to hold a hundred dragons, the Throne still dominated the room. It stood eight feet above the floor, on a plinth formed from seven concentric circles that echoed the seven tiers of Atlantis itself. The edges of the circles were etched with images of the city. The lowest three tiers were carved from coral; the next three were gleaming silver; and the top dais, supporting the Throne itself, was pure gold.
And the Throne, oh, the Throne…
The Pearl Throne rose from the dais like a cresting wave. It was unmistakably designed for a shifter. A human could sit in the heart of the wave, shadowed by the great curving canopy, or a dragon could curl around the flowing form, resting its head and forefeet on the top. In either form, whoever sat on that throne would command utter respect.
It shone like the full moon at midnight. It couldn’t possibly have been carved from a single pearl—not unless the oyster had been the size of a whale—but the smooth iridescent surface was utterly flawless, without hint of join or crack.
Though on first glance it appeared perfectly white, as she drew closer she began to see the secret, shifting hues gleaming where the light struck the polished curves. All the colors of the ocean lay hidden in those translucent depths. The warm turquoise of a tropical lagoon and the dark indigo of ice-covered seas; the golden glitter of sunlight on the surface and the electric green flash of phosphorescence in the deepest abyss.
