“Impressive lineage will do that,” Visola said proudly. “I think he’s a whole inch bigger than you.” When everyone turned to look at her, she frowned and began gesturing wildly at Trevain’s stature. “His height!”
“My name is Trevain Murphy,” the new king said, releasing his wife so that he could reach out and shake his grandfather’s hand. Vachlan rose to his feet, wiping blood from his nose and cheek with his sleeve before shaking Trevain’s hand. “I want you to know that for my grandmother’s sake, I am going to encourage Aazuria to let you live. But if you make a single, tiny misstep, I will finish what she started. I will beat the shit out of you, and I will not stop. Is that understood?”
“It’s nice to meet you, Trevain,” Vachlan responded.
Trevain gestured to the doorway, where Alcyone quietly stood. “That woman is my mother.”
Vachlan looked at the elderly woman, and he saw Visola’s striking green eyes staring back at him from under wrinkled eyelids. Her hair was white with age, and she was thin and small. He could see his own facial structure in her cheekbones and nose. It was like looking at an elderly version of Visola, combined with the frailty of his own mother.
“Alcie, baby,” Visola was saying tenderly. Vachlan was shocked—he had never heard his brassy wife use such a sweet voice. He felt a sudden wistfulness to go back in time, and see what Visola had been like as a mother. He wondered what he would have been like as a father. Would they have had petty parental arguments? Would Alcyone have looked at him with pride, trust, and happiness instead of the utter revulsion that was on her face at the moment? Vachlan could imagine what a lovely little girl she would have been, and he could hardly maintain his composure. He felt Visola squeeze his hand, and heard that she was still speaking to her daughter. “Would you like to come and meet your dad?”
“Mama,” Alcyone said, as tears began sliding down her wrinkled cheeks. “Look at what he did to you. I would rather hang myself than ever acknowledge that man as my father.”
“Sweetie…” Visola began, but Alcyone had already left the room. She sighed, and finished her sentence unconvincingly: “I’m perfectly fine.”
There was an awkward silence in the room, as everyone looked at each other uncertainly. They were vaguely conscious of the fact that they were supposed to be family members, and that there was supposed to be some solidarity between them. Sionna moved to her sister’s side, and began to unwrap the bandages from her hand to examine the wounds.
“I need to get you to the infirmary,” Sionna said quietly, “and you need to fucking eat something.”
“Always thinking about yourself, Sio. Can’t stand being the heavier twin, can you?”
Sionna made a face. “I feel like I’m looking into one of those mirrors in funhouses that make you all stretched and narrow. You were ugly before, but now you’re hideous.”
Visola smiled, and was about to retort, when Vachlan interrupted. “Sionna—why the hell did you give her a suicide pill?”
“The real question is why didn’t she use it? If I was forced to interact with you for as long as she was, I would have. Her body will heal, but the irreversible psychological trauma from having to exist near you? I expect that my sister will either go into a catatonic hibernation forever, or join some sort of strange religious cult which promises her salvation.”
“Oh, Sio,” Visola said with a smile. “You’re just jealous of my hottie husband. I know you want him. I bet you think about him when you mast…”
Visola was cut off by a firm gesture from Elandria, who had been remaining silent, as usual. “I am sorry to interrupt, but before we become comfortable with Vachlan’s unsavory presence, should we not ask Aazuria whether she really permits this? This man is only constant in his perfidy. He is our enemy, and because of him Corallyn is dead. We cannot possibly accept him hospitably! My opinion is that we should keep him imprisoned at the bare minimum.”
“Always the voice of reason,” Vachlan commented. “Without the voice, I mean.”
“You intend to live here among us, Vachlan?” Aazuria asked him bitterly.
“With your permission, Queen Aazuria,” he responded, bowing to her.
“I know that my father wronged you,” she said, “but none of us did, and you should not have taken it out on us.”
“I realize that now.”
Aazuria shook her head sadly. “Visola has always been there for me. She has always protected me, placed me before herself, and even before her family. She shot her own grandson when she believed he was about to harm me. Why is it that relationships are always so one-sided?” Aazuria questioned. “Why is it that one person is always the benefactor, and the other person benefits? One person is always the protector, and the other is the protected?”
She began advancing on Vachlan. “I do not approve of this model. Certain things should be mutual. Just as Visola has served as my protectress, I will be hers. I do not even care if she approves of my actions. You will be accepted back in to Adlivun on probation. If I see you look at her in a way that is not respectful, I will kill you. If I see you look at another woman in a way that resembles interest, I will kill you. If I hear you speak to your daughter in a rude or controlling way, if I hear you talking down to your grandsons, I will kill you. Do you understand this?”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I’ll accept whatever conditions you impose. I know that you are fair, and I don’t deserve your trust. I just need the chance to be close to my family—I need to be able to protect them from what’s coming.”
“Then I guess you want your job back,” Aazuria said derisively. “The Destroyer of Kingdoms wants to help us preserve ours. Wonderful. I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, Visola.”
Visola shrugged. “Nothing I can’t handle. He’s like a trained puppy dog, on a leash of platinum-plated guilt.” Visola made a gesture of pulling on an imaginary leash which was wrapped around Vachlan’s neck. He glowered at her unhappily.
“Very well,” Aazuria said, turning to leave the room. Trevain followed her, with a passing backward glance at his grandparents.
“Puppy dog?” Vachlan repeated in dismay.
“It’s true,” she said with a smile, reaching over to pat him on the head. She scratched him behind the ear. “Say ‘woof!’”
“No.”
“Vachlan, please excuse my sister’s behavior,” Elandria said with her hands. “We have recently learned that Aazuria is carrying a child, and this is certainly skewing her hormones.”
“Holy shit!” Visola exclaimed. “Glad to see they were busy having fun instead of worrying about me being tortured and maimed.”
“We believe that she conceived on land, after Atargatis wounded her shoulder. Anyway, I apologize for her being somewhat temperamental.”
“Temperamental?” Vachlan asked, gesturing to the bleeding gash across his face. “This is what you call temperamental?”
“Yes,” Elandria responded. “If she had not been softened by her condition, and by the unfortunate fact that the child she carries is your descendant, I am fairly certain she would have been more reasonable and slaughtered you without a hint of qualm or reluctance.”
Vachlan stared at Elandria in surprise. He did not know why, but a small chuckle was fighting its way through his throat. It was hardly a humorous situation, but such vehemence from the innocent girl was unnerving. He glanced at Visola’s tired face, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt a sense of belonging and home.
“Glad to be back,” he told Elandria with a smile.
She did not return the expression. “If I were queen I would order you executed,” she signed.
“Let’s make a to-do list,” he suggested. “If you ever become queen, I’ll remind you of the tasks on your to-do list, and you can order me executed.”
“I would not require a reminder,” Elandria said before turning and leaving the room. Vachlan shook his head—he had not known it was possible to feel even guilti
er until he had seen Elandria’s stern countenance.
“Viso,” Sionna said softly. “I’ve been pretending to be you while you were away to keep the army in shape and…”
“You’ve been doing what? No way! How’s that been?”
“Rather enjoyable and enlightening actually. I didn’t know it was possible to act like such a whore and be respected even more in spite of and perhaps because of it. I want your job. Anyway, when you were in the hospital you managed to say one word before the cocksucker cut you off…”
“Hey!” Vachlan complained, but Sionna continued as if he had not spoken.
“…and I knew you’d be back, and I knew that when you returned, I would have to have every ship in our fleet prepared and ready for your command.” Sionna saluted her sister. “Just say the word, and I’ll launch them wherever you like.”
Visola was rendered speechless. “I never knew you had so much faith in me.”
“Of course I do. I believe I have been learning to understand you better through imitation. You’re a complex woman, sis. I think I finally realize why you curse so much. It’s fricking fun. The looks on everyone’s faces—it’s kind of empowering.”
Visola grinned. “Well, I won’t be up to full power for a while. You can be me any day you like. Actually, I need you to be me today. Can you make a quick pit stop on land to meet with my weapons supplier?”
“Sure thing, Viso”
“Great. Oh, and before you go—can you throw Lieutenant Namaka into the most uncomfortable cell you can find? And rip my bracelet off her slimy, traitorous wrist. Thanks, Sio!”
Chapter 28: Battle by Armada
“This attack is not just an attack,” Vachlan said. “It’s a preemptive plan of defense. We have larger concerns than just getting rid of the enemies stationed in Zimovia. We have to begin implementing a long-term strategy.”
“Can we really trust him?” Trevain asked Visola quietly.
“Yes,” she answered as Aazuria simultaneously said, “No.”
“Here’s what we’ll do,” Vachlan said, ignoring the women. “When this battle is over, we don’t cremate the bodies like we usually do. We inform the American government. We explain that we were attacked.”
“This goes against every tradition we have,” Aazuria said.
Vachlan frowned at her. “Would you rather be traditional or alive, Queen Aazuria?”
“I like the idea,” Brynne chimed in. “Trevain’s shipwreck was widely publicized. It made the news nationally, and it’s still under investigation. If Trevain comes forward, and demonstrates that he can breathe underwater, and claims that this was an international attack on his boat… that makes lots of dead U.S. citizens who are already casualties of this war. It will seem crazy at first, but once we can convince everyone, the public will jump at the chance to blame someone for these tragedies.”
“I like her,” Vachlan said immediately. “She’s the girlfriend of my younger grandson? Callder—marry her, kid.”
“I’m trying,” Callder responded with a helpless shrug.
“Later on, after this is over, we’ll talk privately,” Vachlan said. “I have many excellent tips on forcing women to do exactly what you want.”
“Hey, that sounds great!” Callder said cheerfully. He elbowed his brother in the side. “Having a notorious grandpa is awesome.”
“Don’t you enter a room alone with that man, Callder,” Trevain warned.
“Sedna save me,” Visola said, placing the palm of her bandaged hand against her forehead. “Let’s get back to the matter at hand, boys.”
“This decision cannot be taken lightly,” Queen Amabie said. “It is not only Adlivun that will be affected if the American government is involved. It will trouble my home too.”
“Trouble your home?” Vachlan asked. “With all due respect, Queen Amabie, you may have one of the best-trained armies in the undersea, but you won’t be able to stand against the numbers of the Clan. Trust me when I say that Shiretoko is next on Emperor Zalcan’s radar.”
“Shiretoko?” Amabie asked. “How do you know the name of my home? Visola, did you tell him…” When she saw that Visola was shaking her head sadly, Amabie sighed. “Of course, you would not have. So it’s true. They have not given up on destroying me.”
“I’m sorry for my participation in the attack on Yonaguni in the 50s,” Vachlan said slowly.
“You’re sorry? You’re sorry for displacing thousands of innocent people from their ancestral home?” Queen Amabie’s face grew very dark. “If you had not been among them, they never would have succeeded. I blame you, and you alone, for the greatest dishonor of my life. If it were not for Visola, I would have killed you then, and I would kill you now.” She shook her head. “I cannot fight alongside this man. I am leaving, and taking my army with me.”
“Queen Amabie…” Visola said in surprise.
“I am sorry, Visola. Although I love you, and I am thankful for your safety, I must consider Shiretoko. You have chosen your husband over your dear ones.” Amabie paused, and elegantly saluted Visola across her chest. It was evident from the sadness in her motion that this was a farewell. “I understand and respect your decision, but I fear I can no longer be counted among your friends.”
Visola stared in speechless panic as the proud queen walked away. “Queen Amabie!” she called out, but the woman did not turn around. Visola closed her eyes. “Damn—I can never gain something without losing everything I had before.”
“Not everything,” Aazuria said softly, moving to Visola and putting her arms around her. Aazuria whispered against her friend’s ear in a low undertone which the men could not hear. “Viso—given a strategic choice between your husband and the whole Japanese army… I would have gone with Vachlan too.”
“Zuri!” Visola squeezed her friend back so tightly that Aazuria felt the bones in her back crack, causing the queen to laugh in surprise. “Thank you, Zuri. Thank you, thank you.”
“I said strategic choice,” Aazuria whispered again, smiling at the difference between a hug from Visola and her sister. She kept her voice low. “Given a personal, emotional choice, Vachlan will surely break your heart, but Queen Amabie never would. Are you willing to take the risk on Vachlan just to save our skin?”
“Yes,” Visola answered earnestly. “Yes, I have to.”
Aazuria nodded, pulling away, and smiling at her friend with understanding.
“We don’t have to do battle now,” Vachlan said sympathetically as he observed the embrace of the women. He could not hear what they were whispering about but he was sure that it was something suspicious about him. “We could just alert the government before the battle instead of after—I know that neither Viso nor Zuri are in any condition to…”
Both women turned on him angrily. Aazuria was about to scold him for referring to her in the familiar way he used to, but Visola spoke first.
“One last battle,” she told him. “I need one final, good old-fashioned battle by armada before the modern armies take over my job and make me obsolete. Besides, this is personal.”
“I have never laid eyes on something more gorgeous in my entire existence.”
This was Trevain’s reverent reaction to seeing the Tizheruk in all its glory. The trusty old ship had been restored and updated, and looked even better than it had in 1797. When people around him began to clear their throats to suggest that he had made a great verbal misstep, he quickly corrected himself. “Except for my lovely wife, of course.”
Aazuria could not help feeling a blossom of pride in her chest at the sight of the old ship. She glanced at her husband with a smile. “That is fine. I also consider the boat more attractive than you.”
Visola had just joined them, and she was having a similar reaction. “My baby,” Visola said, lifting her hands to reach up to the ship in awe. She looked as if she were about to sing it a serenade. “My dear, sweet baby.”
“Okay, now I’m getting jealous,” Alcyone remarked. “Mama, I don�
�t think you were as excited about reuniting with me as you are…”
“Shhh, I need a moment here,” Visola whispered, as if she had walked into a cathedral of worship her lifted hands remained in the air for almost a minute before they fell to her sides. “Look at the old gal! Vachlan and I fought so many battles on that boat.”
“Australia, India, South America,” he added. “The best part was that it had…”
“Bronze cannons,” Vachlan and Visola said in unison, as they stared at the ship wistfully.
Everyone around them exchanged looks and raised eyebrows at their behavior.
“I am going to get Katie,” Visola announced.
“Who’s Katie?” Vachlan asked.
“A rocket-launcher. A kick-ass Russian weapon called ‘Katyusha’ which we can load up onto the ship. I’ve also got some handheld rocket launchers. I really just want to blow stuff up, you know?”
“I know, darling,” Vachlan said with a smile.
“I bought a new boat too,” Trevain told them. “It should be in the harbor at Soldotna by now. I’ll swing by and grab it and join you guys on the way to Zimovia.”
“I call Trevain’s boat!” Brynne said cheerfully. “It’s just going to be like old times, out on the sea with my captain.”
“Except we’ll be killing people instead of catching crabs,” Trevain pointed out.
“Either way, something dies,” Brynne said with a shrug. “This way feels better because frankly the poor little crabs didn’t deserve it!”
“You sure you want to do this, Brynne?” Callder asked nervously.
“Hey—I used to be a navy woman, but why would I want to be a marine when I could make so much more money working with the sexy Murphy brothers?” She gave Callder a smile. “Besides—these sons of bitches killed my friends. Doughlas, Edwin, Leander, the Wade brothers, Ujarak, and Arnav. Even you nearly died, Callder. Let’s give it to them.”
Fathoms of Forgiveness (Sacred Breath, Book 2) Page 27
