Fathoms of Forgiveness
Book Two of the Sacred Breath Series
By Nadia Scrieva
Copyright © 2014 Nadia Scrieva.
All rights reserved.
Novels by Nadia Scrieva:
Sacred Breath Series
Thirty Minutes to Heartbreak
Novellas
For Melody Bernal. Your enthusiasm is my rocket fuel.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Tremendously Effective Threatening
Chapter 2: My Boat Exploded
Chapter 3: Napoleon of the Undersea
Chapter 4: Elegant Crimson Calligraphy
Chapter 5: Goddess of Zimovia
Chapter 6: Ring of Fire
Chapter 7: Violin or Clarinet
Chapter 8: Desperate and Convenient
Chapter 9: Tell me Something Good
Chapter 10: Doubt my Stylishness
Chapter 11: Sunday, February 23rd
Chapter 12: A Game of Chess
Chapter 13: Sort of Alive
Chapter 14: Firebird and Falcon
Chapter 15: Barrel of Piranhas
Chapter 16: Sheer Power of Rage
Chapter 17: Goodbye, Terrestrial Dwelling
Chapter 18: Scent of Sarcasm
Chapter 19: The Suicide Sisters
Chapter 20: Correcting Her Attitude
Chapter 21: An Intimate Activity
Chapter 22: Playing Dead
Chapter 23: Only Two Syllables
Chapter 24: Kill the Girl
Chapter 25: Letter of Resignation
Chapter 26: Conversations on Ice
Chapter 27: Aazuria Goes Apeshit
Chapter 28: Battle by Armada
Chapter 29: Week of Airosen
Chapter 30: Better than Othello
Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes;
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
- Shakespeare, The Tempest
Chapter 1: Tremendously Effective Threatening
“If you ever attempt to harm her, I swear on the souls of my Viking ancestors that I will not hesitate to shoot you again.”
He swallowed. “I believe you… grandma.”
Visola snorted at being called this. She moved her slender fingers up to fiddle with the barrel of the rifle on her back. “Young man,” she almost sneered. “Don’t you dare think that just because I’m now aware that you’re my grandson anything is going to change between us. I have been Aazuria’s defender for five hundred years, and she is more than a job to me. She is my friend, she is my mentor, she is my monarch, and she is at the top of my list of females I would totally experiment with if I ever happen to develop lesbian curiosities. The last time I shot you? Consider it a warning spank on the bottom. Next time I won’t be so forgiving.”
Trevain lifted a hand to scratch under his ear sheepishly. This encounter was not going as smoothly as he had hoped. He glanced at Aazuria, who only gave him half of a shrug (one of her shoulders had been badly injured) and a half-encouraging smile. He still was not accustomed to the changed appearance of his fiancée. Aazuria’s snowy-white hair had been garnished with dozens of strands of freshwater pearls, and gathered into a stylish side-ponytail which hung over her good shoulder. He could not look into her newly cerulean eyes without feeling a small jolt of electricity travel through him. It was silly and superficial that the melanin draining from her body would have such a profound effect on him, but it was what they represented that thrilled him most: her true self was bared to him, all her secrets exposed in her new skin.
They would be married soon, but not soon enough for his liking.
He realized that he felt a bit jealous of his grandmother; he wished he could have been at Aazuria’s side for five hundred years. The loyal bond between the women was so fierce that he could hardly understand or relate to it. He had never loved anyone that hard, or for that long. There was his younger brother Callder whom he had taken care of for most of his life, but that relationship had been strained even at its best. As Trevain beheld Aazuria’s stately posture he realized he was hoping to learn what it was like to be devoted to someone for centuries. He was only a normal almost-fifty-year-old man, and not too long ago he had considered himself elderly. How quickly everything had changed.
Aazuria sent him a puzzled smile, and he realized that he had been staring at her, lost in thought. He cleared his throat before turning back to Visola. “I’m very sorry to have stolen your woman, grandma.” He was lying. He was not really sorry.
“Okay, cool it with the ‘grandma’ shtick. It’s making me uncomfortable. Just call me ‘General’ for now.” Visola grimaced. It was a peculiar situation, because the red-haired warrior woman still looked like she was in her twenties. “For the record,” she said, “I’m completely straight, and so is Aazuria, but I was just trying to demonstrate the unparalleled breadth and intensity of my love for her. She is as close to me as my own sister—and my own sister is my identical twin, in case you haven’t noticed!”
“I noticed,” Trevain said, glancing at the other green-eyed redhead in the room. The quiet doppelganger was leaning against a wall with her arms crossed, rolling her eyes at her sister’s temper and unobtrusively observing the conversation. He feared having to deal with another overbearing and aggressive matriarch like Visola. (One was truly enough.) However, his curiosity and politeness won out, and he extended his hand in greeting to the woman in the shadows. “We haven’t been introduced.”
The woman straightened and moved towards him to accept his greeting. “I am Sionna,” she said simply. He was immediately surprised by the difference in her demeanor. Although she was a duplicate of Visola, her expression was infinitely calmer, and her voice was infinitely more tranquil. It was impossible that anyone would confuse the two sisters after a few seconds of hearing each of them speak. Once Sionna clasped his hand, she seemed to realize that it was not affectionate enough, and she smiled and gave him a gentle hug. “I’m delighted to meet you. Aazuria has told us great things, but some of us did not believe them.” She glanced at her sister dryly as she said this, momentarily forgetting that she had been just as suspicious and disapproving.
“Should I have believed her, Sio?” Visola immediately snapped. “He did try to hurt her. Several times. If I hadn’t been there…”
“I doubt he really meant to… but it does not matter. The past is in the past,” Sionna said to her sister. She turned back to Trevain with a warm smile. “Don’t bother calling me great-aunt. That would be strange. Technically I have the same DNA as your grandmother, so I could be considered—oh, never mind. I sometimes ramble on and on about everything biology-related, so just stop me if I get boring. You may call me Auntie Sio if you like. That’s what your mum used to call me when she was a wee thing.”
Trevain was a bit surprised at the thought of his mother being young; he had never known anyone from his mother’s side of the family. Now that he was in Adlivun, he could fill in the pieces of his life that had always been missing. “It’s great to meet you, Auntie Sio.”
Visola frowned. “Don’t get too cozy with him, sis. He may have our blood, but he was not raised among us. We have no idea what large, crucial fragments of common sense he’s lacking. He put my little girl in an insane asylum for forty years!”
“Psychiatric hospital,” he corrected, but he had lowered his voice and head shamefully.
Aazuria stepped in then, seeing his discomfort. She slipped her arm arou
nd him gently. “This has been a rather touching family reunion. Thank you both for so warmly welcoming Trevain.”
“Welcoming?” he asked her in an undertone. “Warmly?”
“Darn, I forgot to pop a fruitcake in the oven,” Visola said, snapping her fingers. “I guess I was too busy winning a war.” When Trevain sent Aazuria an awkward look, Visola cheerfully took her rifle off her back and pointed it at Trevain. “Hey, grandson, do you want to see how my nifty underwater assault rifle works?”
“No, thank you.” He rubbed the wound near his elbow, remembering the impact of the previous bullet which she had delivered neatly between the bones of his forearm. The injury had not completely healed, but he knew that he had deserved that bullet. Long after the scar had faded, it would still be depressing to remember his own actions which had earned him the sniping from his grandmother.
“She’s just bluffing,” Sionna informed him. “That particular gun fires a heavy tungsten dart and it’s only meant for shooting underwater—it doesn’t aim as well in the air due to different dynamics.”
“Don’t tell him that!” Visola hissed at her sister. She moved forward, placing the muzzle directly in front of his face. “Can’t miss from this range. I will shoot you, kid. I will shoot you in a much more painful location than before.” As she said this, she glanced down at his nether regions and wiggled her eyebrows menacingly. Visola’s threatening stare had been expertly honed over several generations of threatening, and it was tremendously effective.
“Uh, I…” Trevain took a step back warily.
Aazuria could not hold back a chuckle. She gently elbowed her husband-to-be. “Do not worry so. Visola is the most terrifying thing in all of Adlivun. That is why she is my undefeated general.”
“She still has a gun pointed at my face,” Trevain said matter-of-factly.
“Oh, sweetie. Forgive my impolite sister,” Sionna said, putting her hand on the weapon’s barrel and lowering it. “She’s just very, very new to being a grandmother. Just give her some time, Trevain, and she will warm up to you.”
“I’m warming up to him already,” Visola said with a frosty smile.
“I can see that,” Trevain muttered.
“Dear, how about we check on your mother and Callder?” Aazuria asked, trying to ease the tension in the air. “Sionna will give you a tour of the infirmary.”
“Sounds great,” Trevain said. His head had jerked towards Aazuria at the mention of his younger brother, and he was fairly confident that if he had been a dog his ears would have perked up in recognition of a word that he was particularly fond of. Trevain had not seen his brother in weeks, and he had missed the drunken lout much more than he thought he ever would.
Poor Callder. The Coast Guard had declared him dead months ago.
Chapter 2: My Boat Exploded
“When you said that the commoners lived in ‘volcanic caves’ I imagined… well, I imagined plain old caves,” Trevain said, looking around in awe as they navigated the ornate corridors.
“They are caves, are they not?” Aazuria asked in confusion.
“Yes, but they’re…” he looked around, trying to find the words. “They’re…”
“Did you think we lived in primitive Neolithic dwellings with stick figures decorating the walls?” she asked him with amusement. Her indigo eyes and silvery hair glistened in the firelight of the gilded candelabras they passed.
“I just didn’t imagine this! I feel like I’m walking through the hallways of the Palace of Versailles.”
Aazuria nodded once, not missing a beat in her brisk stride. “That structure is exactly what our designs are based on. My family moved here from Europe around the same time that Versailles was being expanded. It was the popular palatial style, and Papa was partial to it.”
Trevain shook his head, smiling. “I have to admit that when your sisters first told me about your underwater world, I didn’t expect such a high quality of life. Libraries, schools, mines, marketplaces and hospitals. You’re pretty much self-subsistent. Growing acres of mushrooms and farming huge pools of fish and domesticated manatees—which, by the way, are delicious.”
“We even have a natural reserve for a tame, lovable creature that humans hunted to extinction everywhere else. Have you heard of Steller’s sea-cow?” Aazuria asked him. When he shook his head, she smiled. “Of course, like land-dwellers, our people still fish and hunt for sport and for delicacies, but we try to respect the purity of the Arctic waters and sustainability of life here. We are a very independent people, with hardly any trade or commerce between the various undersea nations.”
“This is all so mind-blowing. I have always fished so close to these islands, and I had no clue all of this was under here,” he said with wonder. He turned to glance at her again, observing the proud silhouette of her nose and chin. “If I had known that such treasures existed, I would have gone hunting for them in my youth.”
“Do not even begin lamenting your youth again. You are but one twelfth of my age!” she said, shaking her head. “Your own home is of comparable grandeur, just with a modern layout. Besides, you know that what is mine is now yours to share.” She glanced at him, and saw that he was looking at her with admiration. She had misunderstood. He did not mean the treasures of her kingdom. She felt her cheeks flush with heat—she knew that her blush was exponentially more visible through her now-pale cheeks.
“I just wish I had met you sooner,” he said softly.
A smile came to her lips. “Each meeting occurs at the precise moment for which it was meant. Usually, when it will have the greatest impact on our lives.”
“We’re here,” Sionna called out to the couple. She and her sister had been walking ahead of them and conversing quietly. The candlelit corridor extended out into the infirmary. “We have unusually high numbers of wounded at the moment due to the recent battle…”
“And it was only the first wave,” Visola added with a frown. “We have to get everyone healed and start preparing immediately for the next. It could be at any time.”
Sionna nodded. “The infirmary isn’t usually this chaotic and crowded, but we have some of our allies from Japan here as well. The Clan of the Ningyo.”
“Ningyo?” Trevain asked curiously as he followed the twins. “Like the weird fish-people from the folklore?”
Sionna regarded the ceiling with exasperation. “Please, Trevain. You’re an intelligent young man. Just forget everything you know about sea mythology. They’re exactly like us: just people, no tails.”
“They have incredible fighting skill though,” Visola said. “Many of them trained with the samurai. They still follow the code and teach it to their young. So be respectful when you run into them. Especially Queen Amabie! You want to bow deeply when you greet her. She was known and feared in feudal times—speaking of which, her millennial is coming up in a few years, and we’re going to have a huge bash. I have no idea what to get her… what do you get for the queen who has everything?”
“Her millennial?” Trevain asked in disbelief.
“Her thousandth birthday,” Aazuria explained to him. His face registered surprise. How could he possibly bow deeply enough to honor a thousand-year-old samurai queen?
“Intensive care is through those doors,” Sionna said, pointing. “If you ever need me and I’m not at the palace, this is usually where you will be able to find me. There are a few other wings over there, but Callder is in… hey! Zuri, get back here.”
As soon as Sionna had turned away from the intensive care wing, Aazuria had tried to slip away from them. She paused and turned back to face Sionna with a distressed look on her face. “I need to see her,” she whispered. “I held Elandria while she almost died in my arms.”
Trevain understood her position, having recently gone through the experience of believing his own brother dead as well. He still urgently needed to see Callder’s face for confirmation that it had all been a lie. He moved to Aazuria’s side and slipped a hand around her waist co
mfortingly. She sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. It was her injured sister, Elandria, who had helped him to cope with his loss, however blissfully false it had ended up being. Elandria was a quiet girl who never spoke with her voice, but only used sign language—despite having the angelic voice of a professionally trained opera singer. He loved her like she was already his own sister, and he could not imagine life without her. She had to pull through, or Aazuria would be inconsolable and he would be devastated.
Sionna frowned. “Elandria only just got out of surgery. Her right ventricle was damaged. She has all kinds of tubes placed in her, and an apparatus helping her breathe. We need to allow her to rest, and I won’t allow any contaminates in the water. She lost a lot of blood, and she can’t risk infection. Aazuria, trust me. Just be patient for now.”
Aazuria closed her eyes and nodded. “Fine. Take us to Callder.”
The twins began moving through the infirmary, and Trevain followed with his arm still around Aazuria. He observed as many women in simple green dresses rushed around, carrying various implements. It was the strangest hospital he had ever seen; it looked more like an exotic luxury spa. Picturesque hot springs were scattered throughout the massive candlelit room with mossy paths between them.
“Where are all the patients?” Trevain asked in confusion.
“Submerged,” Sionna explained. “In individual ‘pods’ of water. The minerals have healing properties that expedite recovery. That’s not hogwash either, it’s fact. By the way, Aazuria should be soaking her shoulder.”
“This little stab wound?” Aazuria asked, trying to be flippant. Her tight grip on Trevain’s arm betrayed to him that underneath her carefree words she was rather tense. “Why bother healing it up when I will surely just get impaled in the same spot again as soon as it is better?”
Fathoms of Forgiveness (Sacred Breath, Book 2) Page 1
