Rise of the Sea Witch (Unfortunate Soul Chronicles Book 1)

by Stacey Rourke

  Silently watching my brother’s spectacle, I obeyed.

  “Today, your destiny claimed you. That is a rare fortune few are granted.” As he spoke, Alastor positioned the shell between my collar bones and tied the reeds behind my neck.

  He meant to comfort me.

  There was no way he could have known.

  The shell granted enchantment to those without magic. With my given attributes its pull was hypnotic. My skin warmed the second contact was made. Every cell of my body sang out in an electrified rush. A monsoon of bolstered power coursed from head to tailfin.

  One cynical brow raised in the direction of my mother, who scowled her disapproval in a ghoulish display that once would’ve haunted my nightmares. I thought it, and she vanished in a whirl of eddying wisps.

  Closing my hand around the shell, a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. Armed with my new treasure, I felt a long lost piece of myself had been restored … and that piece craved chaos.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Two Moon Cycles Later…

  I long to be thinner. Ca-can you do that?”

  Offering the adorably plump mermaid a winning smile, I tossed my head back, my curtain of hair brushing over the small of my back. “Darling, helping downtrodden merfolk, like yourself, is my very reason for getting out of bed each morning!”

  My patron’s shoulders rose. Beaming in my direction, a deep dimple sank into her left cheek. “It seems rumors of your kindness left out your limitless generosity … uh … Princess? Alchemist? My apologies, I’m unsure which title is most fitting.”

  “Please, calling me Vanessa is more than adequate.” Floating to my cabinet of potions and ingredients, I snatched one vial of a chalky white concoction from a line of others identical to it. For the fun of showy spectacle, I returned to the table in a half-turn, back-flip and handed her the vial. “Here, drink this twice a day and have a sensible dinner.”

  “Thank you, Vanessa,” she exclaimed, hugging the vial to her chest, “You have no idea what this means to me!”

  At that same moment, Triton filled the doorway. His mighty hands clamped on either side, he leaned. “Vanessa!”

  Instantly, my patient dipped in a formal bow, her cheeks reddening in surprise.

  “Your Majesty! I … she … I called the princess Vanessa!” she blurted in an awkward confessional.

  Glancing over her shoulder, her eyes widened in hopes I would come to her rescue.

  Forehead pinched tight, I stared back as if she were mad.

  The moment her panicked head whirled back to Triton, I shot him a wink to let the poor mer off the hook she found herself wriggling from.

  “That is her name.” Triton’s forced scowl lost a bit of its potency with the contradictory humor twinkling in the pools of his eyes. “I would wager she has been called far worse. Now, if you would pardon the intrusion, I need a moment with my Royal Alchemist.”

  “Yes! Of course, my King!” she said, backing out the door in a series of bows. “And thank you again for the potion my … Vanessa.”

  Clamping her lips shut on the high-pitched whimper of embarrassment that eeked out, she darted out without another glance back.

  “Another satisfied customer!” I giggled, throwing my arms out wide. My heart swelled with pride to finally be doing something to help the people of Atlantica, even if it didn’t look as I pictured it would.

  Responding with a noncommittal huff of laughter, Triton swam farther into my parlor. His wandering gaze scoured every wall, investigated every nook, mostly like in search of outwards signs of the misery he felt sure I wrestled with.

  “The elixir that maiden left with, is that similar to the tonic I have seen a slew of others toting about in the town square?” he asked in that same tone mothers use when they are trying to catch their young in a fib.

  “One and the same.” Plopping down in my carved-coral chair, I draped an arm over the back of it and flopped my tail onto the matching desk. “Why? Have there been complaints?”

  Taking the seat opposite me, Triton rested his elbows on my porous desktop. “Not as of yet. Amphrite never maintained set hours to tend to them. For now, they’re just thrilled you’re seeing them.”

  Biting the inside of my cheek to fend off a smirk, I dutifully took the bait. “For now?”

  Lips screwing to the side, one brow lifted expectantly. “All of those merfolks receiving the exact same tonic? I know you’re disappointed, Nessa, but word will spread.”

  Flipping my tail under the desk, I leaned in, mirroring his attentive posture. “That’s why you think I prescribed that? Disappointment at my new station in life?”

  Triton’s kingly masked cracked, revealing my sweet-natured brother beneath. “I can’t remember a time you weren’t working tirelessly to prepare for the throne. Then, fate swayed another way. Anyone would be disappointed by that.”

  Rubbing my chin with the palm of my hand, I tried to keep the sardonic edge from my tone. “And that’s the only reason I would give them all that same tonic? Because of my own discontent? Did you ever think that maybe I gave them the same elixir, of water lilies and plankton, to placate them because there is nothing wrong with any of them? That all they actually needed was someone to listen to them? Take my friend that just left. She feels she needs to be thinner to find love. The truth, that she is absolutely perfect the way she is, totally evades her. You tell me, my dear brother, what harm is there in handing her a vial of confidence? One, without side effects, she can gulp down and see herself for the vision she truly is.”

  His gills expanding, Triton deflated in a gush of water and bubbles, concern still clouding his features.

  “As to your claim of my disappointment, let me let you in on a secret, little brother.” Dropping my voice to an urgent whisper, I rolled on with my exposing outburst, “Never before have I been so free. Free from my endless pursuit to win Poseidon’s good favor—Mother Ocean rest his soul. Free from my quest for a throne I never stopped to ask myself if I even wanted. And free from the spirits that plagued me each and every time I delved into magic.”

  The rub of everything that unfolded? I was being completely honest. Every day I awoke feeling a leaden anchor had been lifted from my shoulders. People hear my name now, and think of me as eternally hungry for power. That wasn’t the case. Shortly after the coronation, Triton gifted me with my own little parlor at the bottom of a dune shadowed by the castle. There, I performed my civil duties as the Royal Alchemist. The space was cramped, the storage lackluster, the furniture outdated; and I loved every alcove and cranny. I didn’t have to fight for it, didn’t have to prove myself worthy. I need only to be, because it was the path fate had chosen for me. Plus—and this is just between us—everyday that Triton was king that boy aged another five years. I was certain another three or four more moon cycles and his blond hair would be completely platinum. I did not envy him that.

  Triton’s expression—a swirling menagerie of horror and confusion—reminded me there was a key point to my tale I had forgotten to clue him in on.

  “Oh, yeah. Haunted since I was three. Saw our decomposing mother. Did I forget to tell you that?”

  Triton leaned back as far as the limits of his chair would allow, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. “We are clearly going to have to have a longer conversation about that at some point. Right now, however, my focus is the plethora of fresh power you were bestowed with. If you aren’t using it to benefit Atlanticans, what have you been doing with it?”

  A beaming smile dawned on my face, my cheeks aching at the strain. “Oh, I’ve found ways to keep busy.”

  Raising one hand, I snapped my fingers over my head.

  Floteson and Jetteson appeared from the shadows in an instant, slicing through the water with their mismatched gazes locked on target—namely, their mama. Jetteson curled over my shoulders, Floteson twining up my arm.

  “When I first granted them voice, they were little more than puppets, spewing my own thoughts
back at me,” I explained, giving each of my sweet boys a scratch under the chin. “Since then I have found a way to bring forth their personalities and allow them to speak their minds.”

  “He’s an inadequate king!” Jetteson hissed, baring his fangs. “Overthrow him and claim the throne that should rightfully be yours!”

  Feigning shock, I pinched his beak-like mouth shut with two fingers.

  “Oh my! Children do say the darnedest things! You’ll have to excuse him, he’s a bit of a cheeky one.” Out of the corner of my mouth, yet plainly for Triton to hear, I muttered, “None of that treasonous talk, sweetness. I would prefer not to see you served on a platter at the next royal banquet.”

  “The princess will prove herself with her surplus of skill,” Floteson countered, peering up at me with adoration. “The people will learn to love and trust her, while her brother’s inadequacies will become glaringly obvious.”

  After Floteson wriggled off, I folded my arms over my chest and pressed my lips into a firm line. My fingers drummed against my triceps. “Well … this is awkward.”

  Triton’s massive shoulders quaked with a chuckle. “How many fish died so you could teach them to give those responses on cue?”

  “Numbers can’t determine value,” I countered, returning his grin.

  “Believe it or not,” Triton muttered, dragging his fingers through his beard, “I didn’t come all the way out here for a performance of your predatory marionettes.”

  Lower lip jutting out, I pretended to console two zebra sharks that were completely indifferent on the matter. “Don’t take it personally, boys. Truly unique art is seldom appreciated.” Shaking off the guise, I tilted my head in Triton’s direction. “So tell me, my King, what did bring the ruler of Atlantica out here to my quaint establishment?”

  “I hate it when you call me that.” Triton’s nose crinkled. “Especially when you know all I really wanted was to be King of the—”

  “Manatees, I remember.”

  Triton glanced nervously over his shoulder, as if to confirm no one was listening—a hard thing to be sure of when some of his subjects had sonar hearing. “It’s Calypso and the Caribbean merfolk,” he said in a barely audible whisper that made lip reading mandatory. “There are rumors their army of soldiers are headed here to Atlantica. They feel my failure to launch a counter attack against the humans after Father’s death is evidence I’m not fit to rule.”

  Gliding my knuckle back and forth over the ursela shell’s smooth surface, I mulled over the threat this presented. “What reason are they giving for providing such a strong military force here in the capitol?”

  “Right now, it’s all hearsay. My guess? They’re going to try to use the power and station they’ve acquired to overthrow me.” Nostrils flaring, Triton shook his head in disgust. His crown wobbled with the motion, as if even it was unsure it belonged there.

  The fingernail of my index finger clicked against the center swirl of the shell. “The Pacific merfaction won’t stand for such treachery. We could be looking at civil unease in the bloodiest fashion. What exactly is it you think I can do to help?”

  Shoving his chair back, Triton sprang up to swim the length of the room. “I need to know what the humans are doing. If I had intel to bring before the council I could rally them back to the proper cause with all merfactions united. We would need to know what kind of numbers they have, the weaponry we are up against, and where their armies are stationed. The question becomes how we would go about acquiring such intel?”

  “Listen to you sounding like a proper king.” Catching a lock of onyx hair that wafted beside my cheek, I rubbed the end of it between my thumb and forefinger. My voice trailed off as I contemplated the situation. “What we need is a bird’s eye view of what we are up against ...”

  Triton spun on me. His eyes bulged, and jaw swung slack at what I guessed to be the first idea he had ever experienced. “Want me to recruit a seagull? I know a guy!”

  Blinking, I stared at him. “The manatees would’ve been lucky to have you.”

  “Your Majesty! King Triton!” Doralious called from outside. A beat later he leaned against the stone arch of my doorway, his gills rising and falling in fevered pants. Simply the sight of him set my teeth on edge. “The delegate from the Gulf claims to have further information into our …” his icy glance sliced right through me, “… sensitive matter. Your presence is required immediately.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be right out.” After a curt nod dismissing his man, Triton cast me one final, beseeching look. “Please, Nessa? Anything at all that you can find out could be of use. And we both know you have … ways.”

  Blood bubbling in my veins, I glowered at the space Doralious had vacated.

  “Doralious is still in service to the crown?” I spat the accusation at my brother, not even attempting to mask the loathing in my tone.

  “This is a sensitive time.” Triton’s wide shoulders sagged, his stare pleading for understanding. “I need all the help I can get, and Doralious has the benefit of years of experience. Once we restore the necessary order, I will see to it that he answers for what he did.”

  “What he did was taunt me while I was having my tongue be ripped out!” Slapping my palm against the table, I exploded to full height. Floteson and Jetteson coiled around my waist, hissing their own protest.

  “And I had Neleus beached for that, lest you forget!” Triton shot back, easily matching my intensity. “As the newly appointed king I cannot afford to make enemies in the infancy of my reign! Not until my authority is asserted and recognized in all seven seas.”

  “I seem to remember you vowing to punish all that were party to my victimization. Has my protective younger brother been silenced by political posturing?”

  Triton’s shoulders sagged. “That’s an over simplification of a—”

  “I detest him!” I interjected.

  “I know.”

  “He’s not to be trusted!”

  “On that I agree.”

  “If he crosses me in any way I will turn him into a sea slug!”

  “I expect nothing less.”

  Irritation slowing to a simmer under Triton’s stoic calm, I relented with a sigh. “At least promise me you’ll watch your back on all matters pertaining him, little brother.”

  One corner of Triton’s mouth tugged back in an almost grin. “Does that mean you’re agreeing to offer your aid?”

  “Get out of my parlor.” In place of a confirmation, I jerked my chin toward the door. “Go be a king. I’ll let you know if I come up with anything.”

  Following him out, I leaned my shoulder against one side of the arch and watched him shrink into the distance.

  “Floteson, Jetteson,” at the mention of their names, two little heads popped into my periphery vision, anxiously awaiting orders, “keep an eye on my brother. Report back with any potential threats against his rule.”

  “Yes, Princess,” they chorused, dutifully dipping their heads.

  Side-by-side they swam off to honor my command, their bodies braiding together with sleek fluidity.

  Chapter Fourteen

  A fter searching the palace kitchen, stables, and courtyard, I found Alastor in his sleeping quarters. Never having ventured into his space before, I stopped short at the narrow archway. The servant’s quarters were modest: a burrow in the soft sea sand for a bed, one boulder carved into a bench seat, and whatever personal effects they chose to decorate with. Even so, that wasn’t what made me pause before ducking inside. It was the hypnotic beat that resonated from his room.

  Tail flipping in a slow and steady tread, I placed my shoulder against the wall to settle in and listen. Mahogany hair was knotted at the nape of his neck, one loose strand falling forward to brush his cheek. With serene focus, he thumped a rhythmic cadence on three hollowed turtle shells. Swaying with the tempo, the muscles of his torso flexed with each motion. Only when the music released him from its spell did Alastor glance my way. A slow smile curled
across delectable lips. “Didn’t know I had an audience. I would have rose for the ovation. How long have you been there?”

  “Long enough to have a new favorite song.” Stooping under the archway, I caught sight of a tightly rolled knapsack in the crater of his bed. “Going somewhere?”

  Moving the turtle shells aside, he floated to full height.

  “I am, actually.” The steadiness of his tone was countered by the nervous pinch of his brow. “Your brother wants me to be his right hand and head of his personal security. Not at all surprising, he doesn’t have much trust in those currently in place. To do that, however, I have to leave my position at the castle and begin basic training with the Royal Guard.”

  Pursing my lips, I nodded with fictional understanding. “In case you didn’t notice, we’re at war. I know because someone harpooned my dad.”

  Don’t give me that look, you judgmental little polyps. I am well aware my comment was crass. In my defense, the man I thought was my father died, my lifelong dream was squashed, and twisted family secrets came with startlingly revelations of my linage. All things considered, a little teenage sass was justified, if not expected. And you’re basically foliage, so back off.

  If Alastor was offend by my attempted snark, his magnetic smile didn’t let on.

  “Lucky for you, I’m a complete coward with every intention of flipping away as fast as my fins can carry me at the first sign of danger. It’s basic training, Nessa, not the front line. Three full moon cycles and I will be back here with a new station and my same charismatic charm.” When I didn’t answer right away, he playfully swatted at my tailfin with his. “Before Triton offered me this opportunity, my only prospect for the future involved following in my mother’s footsteps and remaining a servant to the throne. I admire my mother, I do. But I don’t want her life. You can’t fault me that.”