by Starla Night
It was his father’s eldest friend, who had always tried to mediate his father’s anger and who had privately affirmed to Lotar that he would not face the same judgments in other cities, which had given him hope and led to him eventually leaving.
Lotar kicked to the old male whom he’d once considered a measured friend. “Warlord Yashu.”
“The prodigal warrior returns.” Warlord Yashu rested his trident across his knees. “I thought perhaps you would sneak in unannounced, and so I came to wait for you.”
Hazel bristled. “We announced ourselves when we left Dragao Azul. There were no echo points between where we entered the water and here. Plus you have an All-Council army running around that you might not want to show up at your doorstep. So we weren’t ‘unannounced.’ We were looking for the guards.”
Warlord Yashu clenched the trident. “And this is…?”
“Hazel.” Lotar straightened like a warrior before inspection. He couldn’t help it. “My bride.”
Warlord Yashu’s brows lifted. “Bride? You travel the All-Cities Gyre with your defenseless bride?”
His tone dug uncomfortably into Lotar.
But that was a normal response. Travel was dangerous. Especially for a single warrior. And to take a bride with him—
“Yes, he’s traveling the All-Cities Gyre with his bride,” Hazel snapped, her hands clenched into fists. “Which you would know if you’d listened for any of our announcements. The whole ocean knows. Nobody was surprised from Newas to Dragao Azul, and here you are, acting shocked.”
Warlord Yashu blinked. “I had heard rumors but did not believe they were true. I see now that was a mistake.”
The tension in Lotar’s spine relaxed. He rested a hand on Hazel’s fist. She was trying so hard to protect him, leaping to his defense. He should have told her a few warriors, such as Warlord Yashu, were on his side.
“We intended to announce our presence at the inner echo point,” Lotar affirmed. “Or to the first guard, but instead, we saw you. It is dangerous here. Are you alone?”
Warlord Yashu tilted his head in amusement. “Am I?”
A warrior melted out of the coral to Lotar’s left, too close to Hazel. Another melted out of the coral to his right, trident nearly touching Lotar’s ear. A third rested at the base of the square boulder, trident pulled back to throw at Lotar’s unguarded chest. Another floated behind him, and yet another above.
A classic trap. Place an obvious warrior in the center and wait for the target to sneak up on him, never realizing he entered the snare.
Hazel squeaked and hugged Lotar. A white light flashed out and surrounded them in a bubble, shoving away the nearest tridents.
The Syrenka warriors grunted in surprise and kicked back, giving them a wide berth. They formed a protective shield around Warlord Yashu.
Warlord Yashu’s son, Anik, straightened. “What is this? Some exile trick?”
Unlike his father, Anik had never had a kind word for Lotar. His pale limestone-green tattoos coated his well-muscled, well-armed body with more numerous honors. They had rewarded him in Lotar’s absence.
“My bride,” Lotar repeated with a harder edge. “Queen Hazel.”
“And I’m not defenseless.” Hazel glared at them. “I have powers you’ve never even heard of. Don’t try anything. I mean it.”
The warriors stared in silent defiance. Part rejection because she was with Lotar, but part curiosity because she demonstrated her powers brightly.
Hazel vibrated quietly to Lotar. “So who’s this guy?”
“He is Warlord Yashu’s son, Warrior Anik.”
“First lieutenant,” Anik snapped.
A promotion?
To first lieutenant?
It hit Lotar like a slash. After the first lieutenant announced he would retire as soon as Lotar’s father selected a replacement, Lotar had vied for consideration. They had chosen his brother as prince, so the next closest role was natural, but his father had never understood Lotar’s wish to support his brother. Any success had only been more evidence to his father that Lotar wanted to take his brother’s place.
But now Lotar corrected himself. Never let the feelings show. “This is First Lieutenant Anik.”
“Great.” Hazel looked past him. “And the other guys?”
Lotar identified the other warriors. Males who had trained him or trained with him, each evoking a fragment of his past that set off the electric vibrations of excitement and shame. Hazel remained taut, her fingertips and the shield still glowing.
“Okay. Now that we’ve got introductions out of the way, I guess you should make the announcement.”
Huh? “They know who we are,” he murmured.
“No.” She flicked her fingertips at the warriors. “We’re doing this the formal way. This isn’t a social visit. We’re here on business.”
He knew it wasn’t a social visit.
She met his gaze with hard determination. “We’re travelers. On the All-Cities Gyre. From Atlantis. Announce us.”
It was that important to her.
Very well.
He vibrated as loudly as if the warriors were the usual distance away. Their names, their mission. And as he did, another piece of tension smoothed over. She was right. It did not matter that one of his former antagonists had taken his coveted place. He was from Syrenka, but he would not stay. His home city was Atlantis. Syrenka was just a city filled with warriors he used to know.
He finished his announcement, and First Lieutenant Anik stared at him as if he didn’t know what he was looking at. He had expected something else. Someone else.
Had he thought Lotar would return a broken male? Scarred, exiled, starving? Unable to find a new place to belong?
Instead, he was a trusted ambassador. He owned a castle. Enjoyed great respect from his fellow warriors. Possessed a smart, fierce, powerful bride.
No, he had not returned desperate or broken.
He murmured to Hazel. “You can drop your shield.”
“I will when those guys in the back drop their tridents.”
Hmm. He was so used to Syrenka warriors threatening him that the weapons, which would have bothered him in any other city, hadn’t pinged his awareness.
Distraction. He needed to work on his distraction.
First Lieutenant Anik narrowed his eyes. “Why were you creeping into Syrenka’s territory?”
Hazel made a strangled noise.
Lotar bent his head to her. “Mm?”
“Was he not listening when we told Warlord Yashu the whole story literally five feet from his hidden eardrums? Or is he a total jerk who thinks he’s going to catch us in a lie?”
Good questions. Lotar tilted his head at First Lieutenant Anik.
First Lieutenant Anik frowned. “What is a ‘total jerk’?”
“Somebody who should know better,” Hazel snapped. “I thought Newas was going to go down as the city that disrespected the All-Cities Gyre, but it looks like it’s going to be Syrenka. And if the kraken comes by, I’m not sure whether I’m that motivated to save you.”
Warlord Yashu vibrated from the side. “I had heard another rumor… Can your bride summon the kraken?”
“Soothe, yes,” Hazel said. “Summon…” She looked at Lotar for how to answer.
In a friendly city, she would tell them her truth—that she had never tried—but she did not consider this a friendly city.
And considering this welcome, with tridents still out, he was beginning to agree. “I want to speak to my father.”
First Lieutenant Anik glanced at Warlord Yashu, who nodded. The first lieutenant gestured to his warriors. They lifted their tridents and escorted Lotar and Hazel to the city.
Twenty-Eight
It is a very silent, very awkward swim into the city.
Well, for Hazel. The guys acted perfectly fine not saying a word.
That Warlord Yashu flickered in and out of her consciousness on the edge of the group. He must have suffered a stroke,
because while he frowned normally, he smiled with only half his face.
The others kicked like ghosts over the thickening coral forest. Other warriors flew in to flank them, each one silent as an owl’s wings, and even their tattoo colors were muted. Midnight-sun yellow, shadow gray, white-cliff beige, seagrass husk, tan. They greeted each other with hand signals, trading information with subtle glances.
And she’d thought Lotar had little to say.
Syrenka was a rugged city gripping to life in the hard, uneven rock. The ground was flat and tilted, like sheets of ice, and the coral forests beneath the Life Tree clumped like snowfall. The main city anchor of the Life Tree extended up, and the surrounding castles jutted at variable heights. The castles were shaggy like mammoths, the water even woolier than the deep oceans.
The great barren oak of the Life Tree was the same.
Slender gray sharks swam with them to the city, their sirens muted, and she wanted to ask what kind they were but she also didn’t want to distract Lotar.
Whether good or evil kings, traditional or new ruled a city, the gleam of the Life Tree was meditative and the tinkling wind chimes of its tumbling Sea Opals clinked with hope. Hazel’s anger—which had been pumping her blood hot since that warlord had sneered at Lotar—slipped away.
They’d entered the water near Murmansk, the northernmost point of Russia, but Lotar had said it wasn’t the closest shoreline point. It was just the easiest to enter currents he thought would avoid the All-Council.
The leader, Anik, made her and Lotar wait at the first ring of castles. The Life Tree’s highest branches glimmered, but the grandest castle obscured the dais.
An old warrior swam to meet them. His hair and tattoos were snow-colored, and like the rest of the warriors, he was taller and more angular than Lotar. Based on how everybody deferred to him, even though Hazel couldn’t hear a single word vibrated, she was pretty sure he was the king.
He approached with an entourage.
Lotar straightened as though trying to make himself taller.
She’d never thought of Lotar as small, but compared to everybody else in the city, he was barely average. She was the short girlfriend at a basketball player’s family reunion.
The king stopped in front of them.
This man had been so hurtful. So damaging. And she had a lot to say to Lotar’s oh-so-fragile brother too.
“Lotar.” The king’s eyes were rimmed in red, and his vibrations had a strange roughness. “You have finally returned.”
Finally? Huh. Maybe this was an emotional reunion after all.
“Father. No, King Falki.” Lotar’s chest expanded, but he forced himself through. “We are traveling the All-Cities Gyre. In exchange for a meal and a rest, my queen, Hazel, will teach you how to soothe the kraken. And she has a message on behalf of my king.”
His father frowned and looked at Hazel.
“His king is Kadir,” she said, in case there was any misunderstanding. “King Kadir and Queen Elyssa formally invite the warriors of Syrenka to attend the reopening of the Atlantis platform. It is a place of friendship, built with human and mer hands, and so it’s going to be a great place to meet brides…” She almost said and mothers, but stopped herself. They had enough problems. “And, uh, have a rocking good time. Can I put your city down as yes to attend?”
King Falki’s gaze returned to Lotar. He waited for something.
“If you say no, I will still teach you the meditative tones to soothe the kraken,” she assured him. “In fact, I can teach you before you give your answer.”
Lotar nodded, still stiff, as though preparing for a dressing-down.
King Falki shook his head. “Then you are not…” He shook his head again. “You are not here to celebrate?”
“Oh, the party’s not for over a year,” Hazel said. “We’ll celebrate plenty then.”
Her answer clearly confused him. He focused fully on Lotar. “And you? Do you not celebrate?”
Lotar’s eyes widened a fraction. Emotions inundated him, but he controlled them. Barely. “Celebrate what?”
“Your brother’s misfortunes.”
Lotar looked at Hazel.
She shrugged.
“You have not heard?” King Falki asked Lotar. “Oska swam into blackthorn coral, and a spine pierced his heart.”
The color drained from Lotar’s face. He went limp.
Hazel grabbed him, although he was floating yards from the ocean floor so it wasn’t as if he was going to faint. “His brother’s dead?!”
“Dead? No. Not yet.” His father grasped Lotar’s elbow and dragged them around the castles and across the gleaming center of the city to the glowing Life Tree.
A merman slumped against the base of the tree.
A healer knelt on the mound of Sea Opals beside him and replaced a poultice. From beneath the poultice radiated red poison lines.
The healer pinched a small shard of something in his hand as their group approached. “Another sliver, my king. I keep finding them. It must have embedded itself so deep that more keep flowing up. I do not know if we will ever find them all or how long he will survive.”
Oska looked sick to death.
No.
Lotar released Hazel and swam toward his brother.
“Stop him!” someone shouted.
First Lieutenant Anik blocked his path and pushed Lotar back with the trident, piercing his skin with a warning. “Back. Traveler.”
Hatred seethed for the first lieutenant. Lotar reluctantly floated back until he was even with Hazel.
Lotar turned to his father. “When?”
“Oska could pass at any time.”
Huh? No, Lotar had meant—
“But you should know.” His father’s chin puckered, and the red rimming his eyes grew darker. He swallowed and vibrated with great difficulty. “You should know that when Oska dies, you will not become prince. The elders will choose another. And it will be a noble, honorable warrior who has never abandoned his duty, such as the first lieutenant.”
A much sharper pain than the first lieutenant’s trident stabbed his chest. Even on Oska’s death night, Lotar was not allowed to care about his brother.
“What. The. Heck.”
Lotar pushed aside his feelings, quelling them as he always did, and turned calming hands to soothe his bride. “Hazel.”
“You think that’s why we came here?” Hazel raised her fists at his father in a rage, insulting the whole city and accidentally challenging his father to a duel.
His father looked startled out of his grief.
Lotar grappled with her, starting with the fists.
She tried to pull free and vibrated over his shoulder, very much as though she did want to duel and wasn’t making a human mistake. “What kind of a father are you?”
“Hazel.” Lotar drew her hands together, forcing her to look at him. “He is the king.”
“And your father.” She bared her teeth, giving expression to the deep current of shock and rage he was so desperately trying to suppress. “I know grief does weird things to people, but accusing you of being a greedy, fratricidal maniac because we arrived right after a tragic accident and forgetting entirely that, hello, we’re doing the All-Cities Gyre, this is literally the next city, is the limit.”
The shame seeped away. Hazel strengthened him. He pressed his lips to her forehead, and she brightened. They were linked as one.
She glowed like a nova as she snapped at Lotar’s shocked father. “We’re not staying. You’ve made it abundantly clear for Lotar’s whole life that he will never be good enough. We’re supposed to stay one night because of the Gyre, but honestly, I’m fine with leaving right now.”
Lotar stopped her. “Can you heal Oska?”
She casually brushed the cut on Lotar’s chest. “Was your brother a jerk to you too?”
“No.”
“Okay, well, good.” Her fingertips glowed, and the cut sealed. “I should have no problems healing him.”
>
His father’s gaze stuck on her glowing fingertips. It lifted to her face. “You can heal my son?”
“My king.” Several elders jostled for his attention. “You cannot trust her. She is with Lotar. And a human.”
“She is a queen,” Lotar corrected.
“That is worse! Do not let her close, my king.”
The king looked through the crowd to Warlord Yashu.
Warlord Yashu studied Lotar with a serious expression. “Ah, my king… If she is merely a human, she can do neither good nor harm. If she is truly a queen, you must decide the risk.”
His father waved them forward.
They swam toward Oska.
First Lieutenant Anik lifted his trident to Lotar’s throat, stopping him. “I vowed to protect Prince Oska. Do not approach.”
Rage spiked in his heart.
Someday, somehow, Lotar would thrust his trident into the smug warrior’s chest.
Hazel waved at his father. “I have to be next to him. Like this.” She brushed her glowing fingertips over Lotar’s ear. A scratch he hadn’t even noticed was soothed, the itch gone.
His father waved her forward. “Let her through, Anik.”
“She is with Lotar, which makes her dangerous to Prince Oska.”
“Lotar will remain back. She will go alone.”
Hazel looked up at Lotar.
He held her hand to his chest. The disrespect to him didn’t matter. Only his brother mattered. She would heal his brother and they would leave Syrenka.
He released her. She swam to where his brother lay slumped at the base of the Life Tree.
Hazel shifted her small fins to feet and bounced across the clinking Sea Opals, strolling across a multimillion-dollar carpet, and knelt by Lotar’s brother.
The mer healer rested on Oska’s other side.
His brother had an angular build, like Lotar, but sucked in and weak, as though he’d lost too much healthy muscle and body fat. His tattoos were sable instead of gray. The same seashell necklace hung from his neck over the bandages covering his heart.
Red streaked from the seeping chest wound. It looked pretty bad, but Queen Elyssa had once healed King Kadir from a trident through the heart, so anything was possible with the mer.
