Saved by the Sea Lord (Lords of Atlantis Book 9)

by Starla Night

  Hazel rubbed her hands together. She was a queen. A dancing queen. The seventies music rose in her mind, and it was way better than “Baby Shark.” She reached for the injury to channel her magic—

  “No.” The healer blocked her. “You must not touch.”

  Her heart skipped. “But it’s how I do the healing.”

  “You are not his bride.”

  The mojo receded from her hands as she struggled very hard not to roll her eyes. “Obviously. Okay, wow, I’m so used to coming across mer that understand humans, I forgot how it is in cities where we haven’t had contact. My healing powers are weak enough as it is. I know how touchy you guys are, and I get it, I do, but it’s just how things are.”

  The healer looked at the king.

  He nodded for her to proceed.

  The healer backed off and watched with a frown.

  Okay, now she had to get her mojo back.

  She rubbed her hands together like Mr. Miyagi in the first Karate Kid, but this time, the song that came to her was the one that Lotar always hummed. Soothing and nice. She hummed it as she reached forward and covered the poultice.

  Her hands glowed.

  Oska’s chest glowed.

  And then his chest moved as though he were taking a deep breath, except he was underwater. His lashes fluttered, and he struggled to focus. “Mama?”

  Shocked mutters sounded behind her. The healer shook with excitement.

  She lowered her hands. “Not exactly.”

  “Oh.” Prince Oska lifted a hand and rubbed his bleary eyes. “Who is…” He focused behind her, and his expression cleared to hope. “Lotar?”

  Lotar floated behind First Lieutenant Anik’s trident. Relief filled his face.

  They were friends.

  That was—

  “I knew you…ung.” Prince Oska convulsed in pain. He hunched over clutching his chest. His vibrations tightened, and he forced the hissing words out. “…you…betrayed…me…”

  Oh, no.

  Hazel clutched his shoulders. “Oska?”

  The healer shoved her back and the king elbowed her farther out of the way. She drifted past Anik to Lotar.

  “Son?” The king wiggled Oska’s taut arm. Every muscle in his body clenched. “Son.”

  “…you…betrayed…me…”

  Prince Oska collapsed.

  Twenty-Nine

  His brother’s words echoed over the stunned city.

  First Lieutenant Anik frowned as Prince Oska slipped back into his coma. He leveled his trident on Lotar. “What does that mean? ‘You betrayed me.’ How did you betray Prince Oska?”

  Lotar shook his head.

  “What did you do? What do you know?” First Lieutenant Anik’s nostrils flared.

  The other warriors gathered, summoned by the accusation. They lifted their tridents.

  And while his father was busy with his brother, who had made the utterly confusing accusation, he was alone. Just like before.

  “Hey.” Hazel kicked past the first lieutenant and hugged Lotar’s side. “He said he doesn’t know, all right?”

  He was not alone.

  “Not all right. Prince Oska said Lotar betrayed him.” First Lieutenant Anik snarled. “You must have stabbed him with the coral.”

  “How?” Hazel demanded. “When was Prince Oska injured? That’s what he was trying to ask, by the way, when your king jumped down his throat.”

  The first lieutenant blinked, confused that she was trying to change the subject. “But…”

  “When?”

  A different warrior answered. “In surface time, three weeks ago.”

  “We were in Dragao Azul.”

  “Horta,” Lotar corrected, because he had more experience with underwater time dilation.

  “We were in Horta,” Hazel said. “Witnesses saw us at the villa. Ask Zara or Elan. We had to take a flight, so we have plane tickets. Everybody at the airport saw us. We had to change planes. We’re on camera in tons of places. There are company receipts for the overpriced croissant sandwich I ate.”

  “You…you used your powers. To…”

  “I thought you said he got stabbed with a blackthorn coral spine. It was an accident.”

  “Only an untrained young fry stabs themselves with blackthorn coral by accident.”

  “Okay, how does this work?” Hazel tilted her head. “You think I somehow used my powers to remotely stab a man I’ve never met in a city I’ve never been to from a thousand miles away? Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. My powers don’t work in the air.”

  The king and the others backed away, giving Lotar’s brother space. They turned and listened to the end of Hazel’s argument.

  First Lieutenant Anik still held his trident at Lotar’s throat. “But my prince said you betrayed him.”

  “Yeah, well, he also thought I was his mother.” Hazel finally stared down the first lieutenant. “He’s been in a coma for three weeks. He’s delusional.”

  First Lieutenant Anik traded glances with the other warriors. No one had any response to her logic. He lowered the trident. The other warriors backed off.

  She huffed. “You need to quit blaming Lotar instead of looking inside for the real source of your problems.”

  The first lieutenant glared at her from the corner of his eye. He did not like her truths.

  Lotar pulled her closer. He would defend her from anyone, armed or not.

  His father looked even more exhausted. He scrubbed his face and gestured. “He has better color. You have delayed the inevitable. Despite…everything…I thank you.”

  “Okay, well, ‘despite everything,’ I can try again,” Hazel said.

  His father frowned. “You can?”

  “Queens have pulled plenty of warriors back from the brink of death. If my natural talent were healing, he’d be fully awake, explaining his cryptic words already. After I recharge, I’ll give him another shot.”

  “Recharge?”

  “Eat. Sleep. Increase my resonance. Not necessarily in that order.”

  The king nodded, much subdued, and brought them into his castle. It was strange to be served a feast when Lotar knew himself where to collect the food, and it was also strange to be served the best meats like honored guests. This disorientation must have been what Pelan and Gailen had felt returning to their origin cities.

  His father even brought out a massive side of conger eel and sliced off long cuts. The exotic flavor was like a celebration.

  Almost.

  “That blackthorn coral is nasty stuff.” Hazel chewed the rib with her usual enthusiasm. She had never turned down a meal. “You’d better show me what it looks like. I don’t want to get a scratch and kill myself.”

  “It is not usually fatal,” he told her. “Even if it breaks off in the blood, a skilled healer can trace the path of the infection and remove the slivers.”

  “Wow. Bad luck for your brother.”

  Yes. Bad luck…

  First Lieutenant Anik swam in and out of the castle. He acted panicky, and his gaze continuously returned to Hazel and Lotar with simmering, barely suppressed rage.

  If the prince died with no heir, the most logical replacement was the city’s first lieutenant…

  But even the worst healer could remove the shards of blackthorn coral in one or two tries. And the Syrenka healer was a competent male. Had he turned bitter with malice?

  The way his brother had convulsed—it was as if a new blackthorn coral had struck. Such as if there was still a deadly chunk inside.

  Who else could be guilty?

  Was it a plot or an assassination?

  Lotar studied the warriors. Oska had always been well-liked, and his father had always treated his other warriors fairly.

  Much had changed in the years Lotar had been away.

  The feast ended.

  His father led them across the city to his old castle, the one that had belonged to their family before the elders had chosen him as king. “Rest here. Do not leave. W
e will post guards. You understand.”

  Hazel eyed his father skeptically, but Lotar accepted the order and turned away.

  “Lotar.” His father’s jaw worked. “I regret the manner of our first meeting. Before Oska’s injury, we had planned to welcome you on the All-Cities Gyre. If he…when he awakes, I will have to confess that I failed him. I did not greet your return as we had planned.”

  Was his father actually apologizing? To Lotar? Truly?

  “So let me get this straight.” Hazel clenched Lotar’s shoulder. Her smile was sharp enough to leave a mark. “You’re not sorry for everything you said. You’re just sorry it’s not what Oska wanted?”

  His father nodded.

  “That’s what I thought. How nice of you to worry about Oska’s feelings. I would hate for Lotar’s feelings to even cross your mind.”

  His father blinked. “Lotar’s feelings?”

  “It’s amazing he still has any, right? But don’t worry, I have enough for both of us.”

  His father looked confused. “You?”

  Ah. Yes. Reassurance flowed into Lotar’s heart. He closed his hand over Hazel’s. “Father. I too am sad at the manner of our greeting. But thank you for telling me another one was planned. Perhaps someday, we will visit Syrenka again.”

  “But don’t hold your breath,” Hazel said.

  “Hold my…breath…” His father rubbed his wrinkled forehead. “You sound like Irina. Oska and Lotar’s mother. She taught me many surface phrases, but this one… I do not breathe, so I must always hold my breath.”

  He looked old at that moment. Old, weak, and close to tears.

  And yet he was Lotar’s father. Lotar would always crave a nod of approval.

  His father frowned and tapped his forehead as though shaking loose something else he and Oska had discussed. “I did not ask about your bride. She is not from our sacred island, is she? And yet she knew Irina’s song. How did you meet?”

  Hazel snugged Lotar closer. “Do you really care, or are you looking for another reason to look down on Lotar?”

  His father’s brows lifted. He genuinely hadn’t considered hurting Lotar. “Forgive me. I do not mean to accuse you. I am tired. I have not slept since Oska was injured. And I hope you know, Lotar, that despite being my second son, I have always wished you well.”

  Hazel tensed.

  Lotar caressed her shoulder, and she quieted, silently respecting his wish.

  Although he always desired his father’s approval, Hazel was his life, his heart, his peace, his strength. And so long as her soul shone bright, his was steady. His father might never give him what he craved.

  But that was okay. Because Hazel gave him all he needed to be whole. “We should talk after you have rested.”

  “After?” His father pursed his lips. “Yes. Very well. I have some things to say. If I were not so tired, I would tell them now.”

  “Go to Oska, Father,” Lotar told him gently. “He needs you more than I.”

  His father nodded, swam a few strokes away, then looked back at Lotar as though reevaluating him.

  Lotar had never spoken to his father so directly. He’d never looked him in the eye and faced him, not as his second son, but as a warrior.

  His father turned and kicked to the tinkling Life Tree.

  Lotar nodded to the guards stationed outside and swam with Hazel into his old castle.

  The castle had frozen in the shape of his memories. The garden was the same shaggy mess, and the destructive cuts he’d made in the walls practicing with tridents had hollowed into permanent moldings.

  Nostalgia crashed over him.

  Here was where he’d grown up. Here was where he’d been a simple young fry, Oska had been a simple trainee, and their father had been a simple warlord.

  Hazel peeked into the corridors, curious. When he caught her eye, she slumped. “I don’t know how I got through dinner. Thank God for awkward silences. If any of them had said even one word in my direction, I swear I would have unleashed some very undiplomatic things. I barely reeled it in for your father. If I’d said everything I want to say, we’d probably be kicked out right now. And I don’t want to leave yet.”

  “Because of Oska.” He drew her into his arms and soothed her sweet, fiery brow.

  “You get me.” She leaned into him. “Something’s rotten in the state of Denmark.”

  “Denmark?”

  “From Hamlet. It’s a Shakespeare reference. The uncle kills Hamlet’s father and marries his mother, so Hamlet goes on a war of revenge, and everybody dies.”

  “An uncle requires two brothers, yes? If Oska has a young fry, then I am the uncle in Syrenka.”

  “Haha, oops! It means someone’s plotting a murder.” She teased her fingertip across his pectorals. “I think it surprised your father that you talked back.”

  “You are a good influence.”

  “I try. Although I did snap at, oh, every single warrior in the city.”

  He had needed her to do so more than he had realized.

  “My father has always been fair.” He smoothed locks of her wild brown hair. “And having two young fry when all others had one was unfair. So in the beginning, he announced my failures and reacted harshly. The other warriors would believe I was a disappointment and feel happy, not jealous, they only had one young fry son. But I hated to be disciplined, even though I knew the reason, so I worked harder than any other trainee to give him nothing to criticize.”

  “But that failed because he had to criticize something. If not your failures, then your successes, huh?”

  “Yes. But…” And this was the hardest part. “He was kind to me in private. Until…after he became king, he changed. I think he started to believe his own words.”

  “Augh!” She whacked his pectoral. “I should have melted down on him. I missed my chance. He should have just loved you.”

  “He had to protect us.”

  “Well, he did it wrong. When we have kids, you will never say that you can’t love one of them. You’re going to say ‘I love you and I love you and I love you and I love you.’”

  Hazel thought they would have four young fry.

  How adorable.

  “Love is like the ocean.” She rubbed her palm on his chest. “It’s not a little pebble you have to guard. It’s infinite, and it stretches as much as you need to fit everyone. All right?”

  He pressed his lips to hers. “All right.”

  She twitched in surprise, then melted, teasing and tempting him. While they kissed, she vibrated in her chest. “I warned you before, but are you sure you aren’t afraid of being a father?”

  “I no longer live by the words of mine.” He touched his seashell necklace. “When we leave, I will stop by the pools and collect a shell for my young fry.”

  “Oh? I noticed only you and Oska have those shells.”

  “Our mother gifted them. I do not remember her. Oska might, but she told my father I had a strong heart.”

  “I like her already.” Hazel twisted the shell to study it. “Hey, do you think she’s coming to the party?”

  “Syrenka still has contact with our sacred brides, although our ceremony has dwindled to a few times a decade instead of annually.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re resolved to have at least one child. Because I kind of have a confession.” She pressed his hands to her abdomen. “The queens in Dragao Azul told me about their pregnancies, and some of the things they were saying happened, and…well, I’m pretty sure, um…”

  He pulled back and met her gaze. What was she trying to say?

  She lifted her shoulders to her ears and grinned. “I’m pregnant?”

  Shock rocked him.

  She carried his…

  She…

  “You carry my…my young fry?” His vibrations choked up, and he had to ask again.

  She held up a hand. “I mean, I’m not sure and all, but there’s a very good chance that I could be, you know.”

  Lotar would be a fa
ther.

  Like his father.

  Not like his father. Like Hazel said. She knew he was worthy. He enjoyed teaching her. He enjoyed training the Sanctuary Island trainees and young fry. He would be patient, careful, fair. So very, very fair. Protective. Kind.

  He rested his hand on her gently rounded belly.

  She rested her hand on top of his. “Turns out it’s not all from the jelly donuts. Which I haven’t eaten in about, oh, forever.”

  He pulled her in and kissed her.

  Hazel was his one. His love. And he had fought his fears, but he would never fight her.

  She stroked his shoulders.

  They made love in the courtyard of his old castle. In the place he had always imagined he would bring his bride and raise his young fry. And it was nothing like he’d imagined, but they made it their own.

  She nipped his lips, and he returned with gentle strokes. She curled her hands around his cock and urged him to lose control, as he normally did, and he could not stop sweetly kissing her cheeks, her collarbones, down to her breasts. Flicking her nipples with his tongue, he cupped her buttocks, and she pressed into his touch. Sumptuous and slow, he lowered to taste her feminine flower and bring forth her needy moans among the dirt and the fronds. When he finally rose and fitted his cock to her entrance, she wrapped her arms and legs around his torso in understanding. He took her slowly this time. Pleasure built as their bodies united, leaping and diving, over and over. They rolled, but no matter who was on top, he surged into her, infinitely in control. Only their joining held meaning. She was his future. His bride. His everything.

  Her face transformed in bliss, and her arms spread as though she were flying. His soul flew with hers and his body shuddered, releasing his seed deep into her warmth. She collapsed on him, and he reflexively caught and held her.

  “That was amazing.” She kissed his lips and settled against him, her soul glowing with renewed strength. “I’m so glad I met you. Nothing will ever be better than right now. Nothing.”

  He curled his hands around her waist, snugging her safely to him.

  And yet this was not the Syrenka of old. There was a traitor. And they must not endanger Hazel.