To Kill a Kingdom

by Alexandra Christo

  The ocean is silent.

  “Lira.”

  I snap my eyes up to meet Elian’s. I still can’t get used to the sound of my name in his accent. Like one of the songs I used to sing. A melody as sweet as it is deadly.

  “If you miss the ocean,” he says, “then Reoma Putoder is the closest water you’ll find. On the holy day, locals throw stones in the waterfall to wish for their lost love. Access is forbidden the rest of the week, but I don’t doubt you’ll be able to find a way around that.”

  He makes to move by me and I sidestep. “Wait,” I say. “I thought you said you wanted me to prove myself worthy of going with you. I told you that I have information on the crystal you’re looking for and now suddenly you won’t even consider a deal?”

  “I’ve made enough deals lately,” Elian says. “And the last thing I need is a straggler on this mission. Especially one I can’t trust. Besides, you can’t offer me anything I don’t already know.” Elian settles his hat back onto his head with a graceful twirl and tips it forward in my direction. “If you go to the Reoma Putoder,” he says, “try not to drown this time.”

  He doesn’t look at me again before he turns to weave his way through the market and toward Kye. I catch a brief glimpse of them standing together and then, just like that, they disappear into the crowd.

  IT TAKES ME THE better part of an hour to find the Reoma Putoder. I don’t ask for help, partly because my pride can’t take another human rescuing me. Mostly, because my patience can’t take another human talking to me. I’ve already been stopped over a dozen times by locals offering me food and warmer clothing, as though I need it in this sweltering heat. There’s something about a girl wandering alone in a wrinkled dress and old pirate boots that unnerves them.

  I bet ripping out their hearts would be more unnerving.

  The Reoma Putoder is a waterfall with a pure white lagoon that, somewhere far in the distance, leaks into the ocean. I heard it before I saw it, lost in the endless bakery alleyways, the smell of pastries clinging to my skin like perfume. It sounded like thunder and there were a few hesitant seconds when I thought for sure that was what it was. But the closer I got, the more recognizable the sound was. Water so powerful that it sent shudders through me.

  I sit quietly at the base of the waterfall, my legs hanging over the edge of the lagoon. It’s so warm that every now and again I have to take my feet out and let them rest against the dewy grass. At the bottom of the water, sitting on sand that looks akin to snow, there are thousands of red metal coins. They peek out from the shingle like tiny droplets of blood.

  I thumb the seashell. Pressing it to my ear brings nothing but unbearable silence. I’ve been trying ever since Elian left me in the marketplace. On the walk to the waterfall, I held it against me desperately, hoping that with time it would speak to me again. There were a few moments when I almost tricked myself into thinking that I could hear the echo of a wave. The rumble of a sea storm. My mother’s bubbling laughter. Really, the only sound was the ringing of my ears. All of that power, gone. A tease of my own self dangled in front of me just long enough for the thirst to return. I wonder if it’s another one of my mother’s tricks. Let me keep the shell so she can taunt me with the echoes of my destroyed legacy.

  I grip it tighter. I want to feel it splinter into my skin. Crack and crumble to nothing. But when I open my hand, it’s intact, undamaged, and all that remains is an indent in my palm. With a scream, I raise my arm high above my head and throw the shell into the water. It lands with an anticlimactic plop and then sinks leisurely to the bottom. I can see every moment of its slow descent until it finally settles against the water bed.

  Then there is a glow. Faint at first, but it soon scatters into orbs and embers. I inch back. In all the time I’ve used the seashells to communicate with sirens, or even as a compass to my kingdom, I’ve rarely seen this. It calls out as though it can sense my desperation, reaching into the waters to search for another of my kind. Instead of a map, it’s acting as a beacon.

  And then, in almost no time at all, Kahlia appears. My cousin’s blond hair is swiped across the water, falling into her face so that her eyes fail to meet mine.

  I jump to my feet. “Kahlia,” I say with astonishment. “You’re here.”

  She nods and holds out her hand. Resting against her long, spiny fingers is my seashell. She throws it onto the grass by my feet. “I heard your call,” she says quietly. “Do you have the prince’s heart yet?”

  I frown as her head stays bowed. “What’s the matter?” I ask. “Can’t you look at me now?”

  When Kahlia does nothing but shake her head, I feel a pang. She once admired me so venomously that it drove my mother to hate her. My entire life Kahlia remained the only one in our kingdom who I thought to care about and now she can’t even look me in the eye.

  “It’s not that,” Kahlia says, like she senses my thoughts.

  She lifts her head and there’s a tenuous smile on her thin pink lips as she fiddles uncharacteristically with the seaweed bodice around her chest. She takes in my human form and rather than look scared or disgusted, she only looks curious. She cocks her head. Her milk-yellow eye is wide and glistening. But her other eye, the one that matches my own so perfectly, is shut and bruised black.

  I grit my teeth, grinding bone on bone. “What happened?”

  “There had to be a punishment,” she says.

  “For what?”

  “For helping you kill the Adékarosin prince.”

  I take an outraged step forward, feet teetering on the edge of the lagoon. “I took that punishment.”

  “The brunt of it,” Kahlia says. “Which is why I’m still alive.”

  A chill runs through me. I should have known my mother couldn’t be satiated with punishing one siren when she could have two. Why make me suffer alone? It’s a lesson she’s taught me so often before. First with Crestell and now with her daughter.

  “The Sea Queen is entirely too merciful,” I say.

  Kahlia offers me a meek smile. “Does the prince still have his heart?” she asks. “If you bring it back, this will be over. You can come home.”

  The desperate hope in her voice makes me flinch. She’s scared to return to the Diávolos Sea without me, because if I’m not there, then nobody will protect her from my mother.

  “When we first met, I was too weak from almost drowning to kill him.”

  Kahlia grins. “What is he like?” she asks. “Compared to the others?”

  I consider telling her about Elian’s truth-discerning compass and the knife he carries that’s as sharp as his gaze, drinking whatever blood it draws. How he smells of anglers and ocean salt. Instead I say something else altogether. Something she will find far more entertaining.

  “He locked me in a cage.”

  Kahlia splutters a laugh. “That doesn’t sound too princely,” she says. “Aren’t human royals supposed to be accommodating?”

  “He has more important things to worry about, I suppose.”

  “Like what?” Her voice is eager as she swipes a string of seaweed from her arm.

  “Hunting legends,” I explain.

  Kahlia shoots me a teasing look. “Weren’t you one of those?”

  I raise my eyebrows at the jab, pleased to see some of the spark return to her face. “He’s looking for the Second Eye of Keto,” I say.

  Kahlia swims forward, throwing her arms on the damp grass by my feet. “Lira,” she says. “You’re planning something wicked, aren’t you? Do I have to guess?”

  “That depends entirely on how much you enjoy playing minion to your beloved aunt.”

  “The Sea Queen can’t expect devotion if she preaches the opposite,” Kahlia says, and I know she’s thinking of Crestell. The mother who laid down her life for her in an act of devotion my own mother could only scoff at.

  It doesn’t surprise me that Kahlia would be eager to turn against the Sea Queen. The only thing that has ever surprised me is her continued alleg
iance to me. Even after what I did. What I was made to do. Somehow Crestell’s death bonded us rather than tearing us apart as my mother had hoped it would. I can’t help but feel smug at the look of cunning in Kahlia’s eyes. Expected or not, the display of loyalty is all too satisfying.

  “If the prince leads me to the eye, then the power it holds would make me a match for the Sea Queen.” I hold my cousin’s gaze. “I can stop her from ever daring to touch either of us again.”

  “And if you fail?” Kahlia asks. “What becomes of us then?”

  “I won’t fail,” I tell her. “All I need to do is share enough of our secrets to get the prince to trust me and he’ll welcome me on board.”

  Kahlia looks doubtful. “You’re weak now,” she says. “If the prince finds out who you are, then he could kill you like he killed Maeve.”

  “You know about that?” I ask, though I shouldn’t be shocked. The Sea Queen can feel the death of every siren, and now that she’s keeping Kahlia so close to her side in my absence, no doubt my cousin would have been there when she felt it.

  Kahlia nods. “The Sea Queen waved it off as though it were nothing.”

  The hypocrisy of that strikes me. My mother showed more emotion when I killed a lowly mermaid than when one of our own kind was gutted on the deck of a pirate ship. Our deaths are nothing but a minor annoyance to her. I wonder if the real reason she wants to kill the humans is not so much for the good of our kind, but so she can stop experiencing the inconvenience of our deaths. We’re expendable in this war. Every last one of us so easily replaced. Even me.

  Perhaps, especially me.

  “That will change soon,” I say. I reach over and place a hand on Kahlia’s arm, my palm an odd blanket of warmth over the frost of her skin. “I’ll take the eye and the Sea Queen’s throne along with it.”

  20

  Elian

  IN THE PALACE, IT’S always hard to tell who’s in their right mind.

  I stand alone in the entrance hall and fasten my black waistcoat. I look princely, which is exactly how I hate to be and, always, how Queen Galina wants me. The sun of Eidýllio has long vanished, and with it the paint-blotted sky has dimmed to midnight hues. Inside the palace, the walls are a soft red, but under the light of so many chandeliers they look almost orange. Like watered-down blood.

  I try not to reach for my knife.

  Madness moves at inhuman speed here, and even I’m not quick enough to stop it. I feel unsettled in this place, without my crew beside me, but bringing them would mean breaking a pact between the royal families of the world. Letting them in on a secret that should never be known, especially to pirates. So instead of bringing my crew, I lied to them. I lie to everyone these days. Whisper stories of how mundane a pirate’s life is to my sister. Wink when I tell my crew about Queen Galina and how she likes me all to herself.

  Only Kye knows otherwise, which is the one favorable aspect to being a diplomat’s son that either of us has been able to find. Being aware of royal secrets – or having dirt on the world’s leaders to use when convenient – is something Kye’s father specializes in. And Kye, who usually makes it a point to be a paradox to his upper-class bloodline, has kept that trait. It’s the only thing he inherited from his father.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me there?” he asked on the way to the Serendipity.

  I glanced back to see if Lira was still standing in the center of the market square, but it was far too busy and we were far too fast and she was far too elusive to stay prominent in a crowd.

  “I need Queen Galina to trust me,” I said. “And your being there won’t help.”

  “Why?”

  “Because nobody trusts diplomats.”

  Kye nodded as though that was a valid point, and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Still,” he said. “It’d be nice for you to have backup in case Galina isn’t fond of your plan to manipulate her kingdom.”

  “Your confidence in me is heartwarming.”

  “Nothing against your charm,” he said. “But do you really think she’s going to go for it?”

  “Everything you just said is exactly against my charm.” I knocked his shoulder with mine. “Either way, it’s worth a try. If there’s any hope that Queen Galina can help me sidestep a marriage alliance with someone fully capable of killing me in my sleep, then I’ll take it.”

  “You say that like Galina isn’t fully capable of killing you when you’re awake.”

  He had a point, of course. Kye always made a habit of having points, especially where dangerous women were concerned. Still, I left him behind with the others, because as nice as backup would be, there’s not a chance in hell Galina would let a pirate into her palace.

  I look down at my shirt to check if my buttons are fastened, just in case – there are certain sins that won’t be tolerated – and stand up a little straighter. Comb back my hair with my hand. I already miss my hat and my boots and everything else that keeps the Saad with me even when she’s docked.

  But Galina really does hate pirates.

  She trusts me more when she can see the prince of gold rather than a captain of the sea. Though there are a lot of things I will never understand about her, that isn’t one of them. I barely trust myself when I’ve got my hat on.

  “She’s waiting for you.”

  A guard steps out from the shadows. He is covered head to toe in red armor, not a single slice of skin on show. His eyes float aimlessly in a sea of red fabric. This is what it’s like for most of the guards and household staff. Never any chance of being touched directly.

  I eye him cautiously. “I was waiting for you,” I tell him. “The door looks too heavy to open all by myself.”

  I can’t tell if he smiles or glares, but he definitely doesn’t blink. After considering me for a mere second, he steps forward and brings his hand to the door.

  The room is different. Not just from the rest of the palace, but from how it was the last time I was here. The marble walls have turned charcoal and are thick with stale ash and the smell of burning. The ceiling sprawls to endless heights, ribbed by grand wooden beams, and the color is gone from everywhere but the floor. It’s the only red thing, polished to shine.

  And in the far corner, on a throne shaped like a bleeding heart, the Queen of Eidýllio smiles.

  “Hello, Elian.”

  The guard closes the door, and Queen Galina beckons me forward. Her black hair glides down her waist and onto the floor in tight coils. It’s woven with rose petals that shed from her like tiny feathers. Her deep brown skin blends into the satin dress that begins at her chin and ends far past her toes.

  She holds out her hand for mine, fingers spread like a spiderweb.

  I consider her for a moment and then raise an eyebrow, because she should know better. Or at least, be aware that I know better.

  The legend of Eidýllio says that anyone who touches a member of the royal family will instantly find their soul mate. The secret of Eidýllio, which only the royal families of the hundred kingdoms – and Kye’s family, apparently – are privy to, is a little different. Because the gift, passed down through the women of the family, does not help men find love, but lose their will completely. Overtaken by endless devotion and lust until they become mindless puppets.

  I take a seat on the plush sofa opposite the thrones, and Galina drops her hand with a smirk. She leans back and stretches her legs out onto the tiles.

  “You came to visit,” Galina says. “Which must mean that you want something.”

  “The pleasure of your company.”

  Galina laughs. “Neither of us has pleasurable company.”

  “The pleasure of your company and a mutually beneficial bargain.”

  Galina sits up a little straighter. “A bargain, or a favor? I much prefer favors,” she says. “Especially when they place princes in my debt.”

  Sakura’s face flashes across my mind, and I think back to the bargain I made with her. My kingdom, for an end to the siren plague. “I
’m in enough debt with royalty,” I say.

  “Spoilsport,” Galina teases. “I won’t ask for much. Just a region or two. Perhaps a kiss.”

  Usually I entertain this game of cat and mouse for a little longer. Let her toy with me through thinly veiled threats of skin on skin, as though she would ever dare turn me into one of her playthings. On a normal day, we would pretend. I, to be scared she would touch me. And Galina, to be brave enough to consider it. But the truth is, that for all of her faults – and the last I counted, there were many – Galina takes little joy in her abilities. It even caused the king to turn against her when he grew tired of protecting her secret for a marriage that offered no intimacy.

  Galina didn’t hold his hand or stand close enough for their skin to touch, nor did she share a bed with him on their wedding night or any other night that followed. They slept at distant ends of the palace, in separate wings with separate servants and ate very much the same way: at opposite edges of a table large enough to seat twenty. It was information we shouldn’t have known, but once the king had a drink, he was more than vocal about such matters.

  Unlike her predecessors, Galina has no desire to force love to secure heirs. She didn’t want her husband to slowly lose his mind with devotion, and so instead he slowly lost it to greed. He wanted more than she could offer – her kingdom, if he could – and it resulted in a coup bloodier than most wars.

  Since his betrayal, she seems to have chosen a life of even more solitude. There is to be no second husband, she told the other ruling families. I have no interest in being betrayed again or passing my curse on to any children. And so instead she takes in wards from Orfaná, which houses all of the world’s unwanted children.

  Not continuing her bloodline is bad enough, but choosing to rule alone has left her country suffering. With Kardiá gaining power, Galina needs someone by her side to do the things her gift prevents her from, like liaise with the people and offer the warmth she has grown too frightened to give. And I need someone who can get me out of my deal with Sakura.