The Tantalising Taste Of Water (Elemental Awakening, Book 4)

by Nicola Claire

  Slowly, I lifted my eyes to the ceiling, thinking I really did not want to see what my mind was telling me would be there.

  Pisces glared down at me with glowing red eyes, a sharp tipped spear in his hands that I honestly could not have said, right then, was not real.

  I breathed in a terror-filled breath of air and lowered my gaze to the Rigas.

  “You require a show of faith,” the Nero King surmised, making it somewhat easier to breathe again. “A reason to trust us.”

  I didn’t dare move an inch for fear the hope I’d just felt would be shattered.

  “Very well,” the King said. “We shall prove our intentions are sound. That our goals are your goals. That our word can be believed. That we can be trusted. Nero is on your side, Aether. It calls for you; it cries out for your help. You will not be able to deny it for long. But to ease your mind, to make this journey more comfortable for that which remains human inside, we will endeavour to prove our worth.”

  It was a fine speech. One I was sure he’d prepared beforehand. His conviction was to be commended, but my confidence in him and his people was not sound. Plus, I wasn’t sure I liked the condescension when he referred to my “human” side.

  I was as immortal as he; a mad scientist had proved as much on his surgical table underneath Pyrkagia’s Pyrgos.

  I suppressed the shudder that wanted out and raised my eyebrows at the Nero King.

  “Perhaps we will start with the Hataera,” the King declared, his eyes on his son.

  I glanced towards the Prince, who looked contemplative. His slightly glowing, arctic-blue eyes met mine. Mention of this Hataera, which meant absolutely nothing to me, made his Stoicheio surge. But he controlled it.

  “An interesting choice, Pateras,” he remarked. His eyes coasted over my body, the first time I’d felt any physical interest from him in the slightest. He’d lured with his siren call. He’d soothed with the tantalising pull of his power. But he’d not so blatantly shown attraction before.

  “I think I have the exact Hataera for such a position,” he added. “Please allow me to see to his assignment.”

  The King chuckled. It was warm and welcoming. And it was entirely a lie. These beings were ancient; he was undoubtedly an elder, one of Aetheros’ firstborn. I was merely a chess piece on a board I hadn’t yet determined.

  This was a show, the Rigas and his son put on. A well practised act. One perfected over millennia. One I did not trust at all.

  “Very well. Arrange for your Hataera to entertain our guest,” the King said. Then to me, he added, “You will dance with us, Aether. But first, you shall learn to relax.”

  I snorted. It was purely accidental. And entirely unattractive. Which served two purposes right off the bat. I was a Gi first and foremost, the one who should be most relaxed out of all of us. He was an old man set in his old ways trying to pull the wool over my eyes.

  My smile this time was condescending. He might be King, but I was Aether. Maybe he needed reminding.

  Don’t; his voice sounded out inside my mind in warning. You are a guest in our realm. Guest rules apply. Abuse them, and you will feel my wrath. The sea air filled my lungs. The clicking sound of crustaceans met my ears. The soft stroke of seaweed drifted down my arm. The taste of something divine reached my tongue; salty, succulent, sensational. I was sure I’d never tasted anything quite so beguiling.

  Despite the beauty of the sensations the Nero Rigas made me feel, the threat was implied. Nero itself might call to me, but the King ruled Water and could make it dance or dive. I was thinking; the diving part might be a little like a minnow being eaten by a shark.

  I could control Air, Fire, and Earth, but none of that helped me here. The threat was understood and received. If I reached for Gi again, the Nero Rigas would reach for his Water. He may need me, but I didn’t have to be in one piece to achieve what his people required.

  The Gi and Pyrkagia had proven exactly how free and easy they were with guest rules. I was thinking the Nero would be the same.

  “If trust is what you seek,” the King said, “then prove yourself worthy of ours. Destroying our home would not achieve this,” he pointed out. “You are welcome in Atlantis, Aether. But your Stoicheio are not.”

  “And my Thisavros?” I asked, refusing to feel chagrined at my earlier outburst. A show of power was often all these beings respected.

  “I regret, at this time,” he murmured, “we have no way of retrieving him.”

  “You ‘retrieved’ me,” I argued.

  “And your grandfather paid in flesh for the loan of such coveted power.”

  I held his steady stare, saw the question there: Would I ask?

  Gramps had a lot to answer for. I still didn’t entirely trust him. But I loved him, and he was family. Still…

  I inclined my head to the Rigas - curtsies and me just don’t work - and turned toward the Prince, leaving the room.

  Maybe dismissing the Nero King in his own throne room was gauche of me, but frustration made me brash, and anger had its claws firmly in my psyche. And the Nero were not to be trusted.

  My grandfather’s involvement left me feeling uncomfortable, too. He was meant to be imprisoned in CERN by the Alchemists. If he was imprisoned, how had he aided the Nero King?

  The Nero Prince brought me to a well-furnished room that undoubtedly was to be my not-prison. Cool blues and muted greens, gauzy whites and sunshine yellows. It brought to mind the Mediterranean Sea and villages along the coast of Amalfi.

  Not for the first time, I wondered just where Atlantis was. Being submerged was not the only hurdle Theo would have to climb to find me.

  Lightning could strike here; I knew that. How else had the Rigas brought me from Wellington? But I had not landed on an island. I’d arrived in the depths of the sea. We could have been in the South Pacific for all I knew, but something told me we were not.

  The Nero were just arrogant enough to stay near Greece.

  I turned to look at the Prince, who stood at the entrance to my rooms patiently.

  “Will it be locked?” I asked, nodding towards the door.

  He cocked his head at me and frowned. “I thought we’d established, Aether, you are not a prisoner here.”

  “But I lack the necessary skills to leave.”

  He smiled. “You shall not want to in due course.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  His frown deepened; he seemed genuinely upset I would think that.

  “Of course not. But there is much to enjoy being Nero.”

  “I’m not Nero.”

  “But you could be.”

  For some reason, I didn’t think he was talking about my Awakening. But I couldn’t determine what was hinted at below the layers of warmth and intrigue.

  “So, what now?” I asked instead. Was I to remain here and twiddle my thumbs until I relented and allowed the Rigas to guide me?

  A knock sounded out on the door as if on cue. The Prince smiled, gave me a reassuring glance, and then opened the door in a movement that could only be called a dance.

  They were mesmerising, the Nero. Mesmerising and dangerous.

  A tall man stood on the other side of the doorway, the spitting image of the Prince before me. All Nero look similar, but this was too obvious.

  “Your twin?” I asked.

  “Yes,” the Prince declared. Indicating his brother should enter the room.

  The twin Prince walked forward smoothly in a manner the first Prince did not. It wasn’t merely a dance; it was a performance. An entire play in one simple act.

  Something foreboding skittered down my spine. I swallowed past a nervous lump.

  “May I introduce my Hataera, Aether,” the first Prince said. “Aquarius,” he added simply.

  This was no monster on the ceiling of the Rigas’ throne room. This was a man, full-grown, endowed with an impressive physique, and a healthy dose of siren.

  I’d already taken a step toward him before I managed to stop my
self.

  “Good,” the Prince said, looking first at me and then at Aquarius. “I shall leave you to become acquainted. I expect great things.”

  He spun on his heel and left, but whether his last words were for his brother or me, I couldn’t tell.

  “Aquarius, huh?” I said, feeling entirely too uncomfortable. “And that would make your brother, what? Gemini?”

  He smiled. It was dazzling.

  And it made me take a step closer.

  I clenched my fists tightly, feeling the cut of nails in palms.

  “He is the Prince of Gemini,” Aquarius said in deeply smooth tones that reminded me of the sea. “But he is not a Hataera.”

  He said that as though Gemini lacked something.

  Whatever Hataera were, they were important.

  Thoughts clashed with fears, merged with memories, as I tried to reason what a Hataera could be. Every possibility was frightening.

  But I am no coward.

  “And what exactly is a Hataera?” I asked thickly.

  The Prince moved forward too quickly to track and knelt at my feet. He looked up at me with a type of self-confidence that seemed out of place in his current position.

  “I am yours, Vasilissa,” he said, and I frowned. “Do with me as you please.”

  Oh, this could not be good. Not good at all.

  Chapter Three

  I Am Athanatos; I Can’t Die

  I knew what a Basilissa was. I’d met a crazy Ekmetalleftis Queen in Gi. But Vasilissa was new to me.

  “I am trained in all the arts,” Aquarius announced from his position at my feet.

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” I muttered quietly.

  “I attained the level of Hataera many, many moons ago,” he added enthusiastically. “Not all Pallakae achieve the highest level of our training.”

  Oh, God. This was getting away on me.

  “I will not disappoint you, Vasilissa.”

  I let out a wounded sigh. Why me?

  “Am I not pleasing to the eye?” he asked genuinely.

  “Um,” I managed.

  “Should I disrobe?”

  “No!”

  “Would you like to test my abilities?” Not really. “Which first? I would be happy to oblige in any.” He sounded like he meant that, too. “But especially in a few.” His hand reached out and stroked up my leg, resting above my knee.

  I took a step backwards. It felt like I was walking against a current. Almost too strong to remain on my feet. I teetered precariously, arms outstretched for much-needed balance, as Aquarius rose to his feet without obvious effort and moved toward me.

  “Whoa!” I cried. “Slow down!” I added. And finally “Stop!” made it to my lips.

  He halted.

  I took the necessary steps to reach a chair in the corner of the room and collapsed into it.

  For a moment, I simply couldn’t think. Then anger consumed me. A deeply rooted anger that had the power to annihilate everything.

  How dare the Nero do this! How dare the Rigas so blithely ignore the fact I had a Thisavros. Was Theo always to be brushed aside as if inconvenient to these people? Someone who needed to be ignored in order for them to get what they wanted?

  Well, not to me.

  I looked across the room to Aquarius. He hadn’t moved an inch from where I’d escaped him. I had a feeling he wouldn’t until I allowed it.

  Just what the hell was a Hataera? I had my guesses, but I needed facts.

  “So,” I said to the overly quiet space between us. “What exactly is a Hataera?”

  “Whatever you need him or her to be.”

  “Perhaps we’ll start with specifics,” I suggested. “What is your role?”

  “To please you.”

  Was he being evasive on purpose? Or was this just how the Nero talked? How Hataera talked?

  “And how do you achieve that?” I asked.

  “By doing as you wish and excelling at it.”

  I clenched my jaw and scowled.

  “We are highly educated courtesans,” Aquarius finally murmured. “Concubines who have reached the highest level of training to be everything an Athanatos can need.”

  Concubines. Courtesans. What were these people thinking?

  But that’s just it, isn’t it? Nero weren’t people. Never have been. They were ancient Elementals, hailing from Greece and an era where such things were once acceptable.

  I let out another sigh. “Let me get this straight,” I said. “Pallakae are concubines?”

  “Yes, Vasilissa.” We’d get to that term in a minute.

  First things first.

  “Sexual slaves?”

  “In a manner of speaking. They are trained in every aspect of the sexual act and in some that have never left Nero.”

  I did not want to know about underwater gymnastics.

  “OK. And Hataera are educated courtesans?”

  “Yes, Vasilissa.”

  “In what way are they educated?”

  “They are trained to discuss any subject the Athanatos may wish to indulge in. Educated to converse in any language that may be required of them. Able to escort the Athanatos to any event at any social status and not misstep. And in some regards are considered trusted advisors.”

  “They aren’t required to perform sexual acts, then?” I queried.

  “They were once Pallakae. Of course, they can perform sexual acts. It is part of who we are.”

  He was proud, I realised. Honoured to be this thing. This…courtesan who was formerly a concubine.

  “And what does Vasilissa mean?” I eventually asked after much deep breathing. And not that kind of deep breathing.

  “It means Queen.”

  “Basilissa means Queen.”

  “Basilissa means Ekmetalleftis Queen. Vasilissa means Hataera Queen. You rule me. You command me. I cannot disobey. I am yours.”

  “And you want that?” I all but blurted.

  He smiled; it was that dazzling one. The one that had me swaying toward him when I really didn’t want to. His eyes flashed a mischievous ice-blue.

  “Stop that!” I hissed.

  My body stopped swaying.

  “In answer to your question, Vasilissa,” he said, sounding contrite. “I am honoured to have been born second.”

  “Second?”

  “The Second twin is always trained as a Pallakae. But not always do we reach Hataera.”

  “But you’re the Rigas’ son!” I cried.

  “And one of his most favoured.”

  I realised then that a type of crazy existed in amongst the Nero, too. Not like the rot of the Gi or the insular strangeness of the Aeras. Or the outright power-hungry madness of the Pyrkagia King. But something not altogether sane either.

  “How old are you?” I asked, uncaring if the question was thought rude.

  “I am four thousand years old, Vasilissa.”

  Four thousand years of being a slave. And proud of it. Where humans had evolved, moved on from such subjugation, the Athanatos of Nero had not. I looked up at the ceiling of the room, thankful it wasn’t painted in a mural. And wondered if their home of Atlantis, hidden beneath the waves, was to blame.

  I huffed out a breath and ran two shaking hands through my hair, lifting it up off my nape, seeking a breeze. There was no Air here to help cool me. No Earth to soothe my ragged soul.

  No heat from Theo.

  My eyes found the patient and expectant gaze of Aquarius.

  “You have to obey me,” I said.

  He cocked his head and studied me.

  “Did you not hear the part about me being educated?” he quipped, offering me a soft smile to ease the sting. “I am a Hataera of Nero, Vasilissa. Your wish is my command. When it does not cross Nero.”

  Of course, how silly of me. Not that I’d been thinking of escaping as such. But now he had me fuming at the reprimand, no matter how it had been delivered.

  “I have no intention of attacking Nero,” I snapped. “But I
also have no intention of using a Hataera.”

  For the first time since he’d arrived, he looked truly worried. And it wasn’t for me.

  “What is it?” I asked, unsure if I wanted to feel sympathy. What I wanted was for the Athanatos to stop manipulating me.

  “I have been assigned to you, Vasilissa.”

  “For starters, stop using that term.”

  “But it is your honourable title; now you possess a Hataera.”

  “I don’t possess anything,” I countered. “Least of all a sex slave.”

  “I have offended,” he said sorrowfully, lowering his head and looking for all intents and purposes contrite.

  I studied him. This Ekmetalleftis who could control Water. This Athanatos who was four thousand years old. This Prince of Nero.

  Nah. Didn’t work on me.

  “Quit being so melodramatic,” I growled. “I know exactly what Athanatos are like and they aren’t remorseful.”

  His lips twitched in a barely there smile, but he kept his head down.

  “Your father spoke of trust, Aquarius,” I said after a moment’s hesitation. “This is not how to gain it.”

  His head snapped up, and he narrowed frosted eyes at me. I felt the tantalising pull. And I fought it. For a moment he almost won.

  But I am not so easily swayed. I have had to fight for every inch of ground I have gained in this preternatural world. I have had to battle evil. Stave off madness. And conquer heartache.

  Of the three, the last has left me stronger than ever.

  I would not yield to these creatures.

  “I do not need a concubine. I have a Thisavros,” I declared. “I do not need a courtesan, either.”

  “Then what do you need, Aether?”

  “A friend,” I finally said. A friend to replace those who had been denied to me.

  “My role is what you need it to be,” Aquarius replied. “I shall be your friend.”

  Words were easy. Words were hollow platitudes without an act to back them up. Words meant nothing in the scheme of things. And I’d come to realise just how scheming things could be around Athanatos.

  “Then give me a fire. A friend would fuel another’s Stoicheio.”