And Lux is using Ryann’s body, so I don’t want you getting all wrath-y on her, either. Above all else, I needed to keep Ryann safe. As much as I might’ve wanted Lux to go all out on Erebus, that came with complications regarding the woman I loved. A very strong expletive tingled on the tip of my tongue.
“What if I managed to cancel my potential engagement before it even happened?” I made one last-ditch effort to persuade him. “Would you stop this murder train, deal with your wife, and let me and my friends be?”
Erebus looked down at the unconscious guard, his forehead furrowing. “I doubt such a thing is even possible.”
“Says who?”
He glanced back up. “Kaya is as stubborn as they come, and once she has set her mind on something, she does not stop until she accomplishes it.” His eyes turned a little twinkly, bringing a surge of nausea up my throat. “Had I not deceived her the first time, she might have continued directing that determination toward marrying me. I might have had my child by now. I might have been happy… but there is still hope for that.”
Ugh, I need a vomit bucket.
“As long as you are gone and Davin is kept on a tight leash,” Erebus added, morphing my hyperbolic nausea into a cold dose of reality.
“And here I was, thinking that you and I had been together long enough to become reluctant buddies.” I sighed dramatically.
Erebus quickly diverted his gaze, a strange movement that threw me. “As I mentioned, this is nothing personal. It is about Kaya, not you.”
“So you’d free me if it weren’t for her?” I had to know.
He shrugged. “I would have kept you around a while longer, at least. But that is by the by. Circumstances are what they are, and I will not allow you to ruin this for me.”
“Have you ever wondered how all this makes Lux feel?” I blurted out, not really knowing why. I supposed I wanted to scurry away from the fact that I might’ve had a chance at freedom, once upon a time. “Don’t you care that you’re hurting her? There’s no way you hate her so much that you’d want to crush her like this.”
Erebus’s mask cracked for a split second, showing a ripple of sorrow I’d never seen before. But I blinked, and it was gone. “You would not understand.”
“Try me.”
“There is… a hollow, in here.” Erebus tapped his chest, once again taking me by surprise. I hadn’t actually expected him to answer. “A void that only my own child can fill. It emerged during my days in Greece, when I watched my hybrids being born. And it only grew wider with every child that died, torn apart by the overwhelming Chaos I had inflicted upon them. Lux cannot fill that void. Only Kaya can.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “Don’t you care about Lux’s feelings? She’s pretty torn up, thinking that she’s not enough for you.”
“No,” he said bluntly. “We have been paired for eternity. We will still be paired long after Kaya dies. She loves her Sylphs in a way that I never loved my djinn. Her Sylphs are her children. My djinn were never my children, merely tools I created. Therefore, I would like to enjoy the time I have with Kaya, and have a real child with her, and watch them grow and survive in a way that my hybrids could not, so I may fill this void and uncover what else my existence in this universe entails. My purpose matters more than Lux. Perhaps that sounds cold to you, but it is the truth. Had you lived as long as I, you might be able to comprehend it. It is the only thing that matters.”
“So what you’re saying is, I can kiss my ass goodbye? You’re not going to change your mind, even though you’d be making a massive mistake?” His words did sound cold. And I didn’t understand. But I couldn’t sway him; I saw that now more clearly than ever. If even Lux didn’t matter to him more than this child he’d been dreaming about, then I sure didn’t.
Erebus nodded, all nice and slow and threatening. “Precisely, although it will not be a mistake, not in the slightest. At least, on this matter, you are not as slow as usual.”
“Davin’s worse than you think,” I added halfheartedly. Why was I even bothering? “He’s not the same guy he was when he was your servant. He’s had time to learn and time to become a complete monster. If you continue working with him, you’re signing your own death warrant. Although, if you get your way, I’ll be dead by then, anyway.”
Erebus just laughed in my face. “He will not trick me again, so do not worry yourself on my account. Though I must say, I am somewhat flattered.”
“Don’t be. I’m just trying to stop that snake from getting what he wants. This is about Davin, not you.”
“Goodbye, Finch. For now.” Erebus turned on his heel and left me standing in the doorway, feeling ten times more irritated and frustrated than before he’d tried to bust in here.
Not wanting to get blamed for the guard, I closed the door and retreated farther into the bedroom. I stumbled backward until I reached the bed and sank down onto the mattress. Sharp breaths rasped down my throat, and I couldn’t get my hands to stop shaking. The adrenaline had vacated my body, leaving a shaking, shivering wreck behind.
Well… that was a rollercoaster… It was no surprise I felt sick to my stomach. For the first time since Kaya had brought me here, these four walls no longer seemed as bad as the dangers lurking just outside.
Five
Kaya
The sunset’s radiance filtered through the panoramic windows of the palace hallways, flowing in soothing eddies from the shining pinnacles of Atlantean engineering—the artificial suns that warmed and illuminated this city, highlighting every part of its divine excellence. The city of my people, of my ancestry, of the very blood that ran in my veins. I was Atlantis, and Atlantis was me. If she grieved, I grieved. If she hurt, I hurt. If she failed… No, I could not think of that.
I strolled at a leisurely pace, as I customarily did on beautiful evenings such as this. I never abandoned an opportunity to bask in the glory of our nation—a city and a world enveloped by one vast dome. It served a future queen well to observe that over which she would reign. My mother had always told me that, even as a child. In those innocent days, I had wandered at her side through these exact hallways, pausing beside these same windows to view a particular building, or to speak of the populace below, or to discuss the merits of politicians and bakers and hydroponic farmers. She had never raised one strata of person above another, and that perspective had taken root in me.
If I am but half as benevolent as you, Mother, then I may hope to be a beloved monarch. I missed her sorely, more with each moment that passed. Her loss left an ache in my soul, one which no expanse of time or space would be able to ease. She had brought me life—the greatest gift this universe had to offer. And when she departed this mortal realm, she had taken part of me with her.
I paused beside a familiar white door. Beyond, I knew I would find the marble desk that dominated my father’s private study, and he would be perched upon the large armchair of gray velvet. It had seemed impossibly vast in my childhood, yet seemed to shrink as I aged. I would look upon silk wallpaper embellished with coiling tendrils of seaweed that almost appeared to undulate, and the delicate silver creatures that darted between the fronds. There would be a cup of bitter herbal tea upon his desk. It came to him steaming and sat there with barely a sip taken before it turned cold in its ceramic. The nostrils smarted at the scent, earthy and acrid, and the taste was far worse. Yet he persisted, on the advice of our city’s finest herbalists, who bragged of its endless benefits.
Raising my hand, I rapped on the door and waited. I had stood in this exact place a million times or more, for a multitude of reasons. Sometimes, I came with disquiet in my heart, or apprehension of a scolding. Other times, I came with joy, or serenity, or excitement.
This time, I come with sorrow in my heart… The unshakeable woe that my mother left behind when she ascended to new pastures. However, the intriguing Mr. Merlin had dulled the blade of my grief somewhat. During my mother’s funeral breakfast, he had spoken of the afterlife. He had informed me, without hesit
ation, that it existed. Of course, I had always hoped so, but we mere mortals have only that… a fragile hope that there is more, beyond this. Until that moment, at least, when he lifted the veil on life’s greatest enigma: where we go when life ends. His own family had returned, albeit ephemerally, so he might converse with their spirits, and he had spoken so confidently on the matter of souls bound by love being reunited in the afterlife.
What a perfect notion. The universe’s reward for a life well-loved. Perhaps it did not only pertain to romantic love. Perhaps, when my own life finished, I would meet my mother again in that unknown realm and walk new halls at her side.
“Enter!” My father’s voice reverberated through the door. I did not delay, and quickly turned the handle and stepped inside that room of so many memories. Yet the scene beyond was not quite how I had pictured it. My father stood at the window, a glass of ambrosia in his hand, while music drifted from the glass cube upon one of the side tables. The tune had a jarring joviality.
“Father. Am I disturbing you? I thought you might be meditating upon recent events.” I concealed my discomfort at the cheerful music. People contended with grief in different ways.
But this is not the first occasion on which you have seen him acting peculiarly. My intrusive thoughts whispered what I could not. More than once since my mother’s passing, I had glimpsed my father smiling and laughing among the palace residents, even humming to himself as he walked the corridors. He did not carry the weight of her loss as I did, like a physical force pressing upon my shoulders and chest, the constriction squeezing tears from my eyes without warning. Truly, he did not seem to bear any weight at all.
My father turned slowly and gesticulated with his glass. “Not at all. I was merely admiring our city and enjoying some of my favorite music.”
“I do not remember Mother playing this song,” I said, though I could have been mistaken. My knowledge of my mother’s former loves and pleasures was not exhaustive.
“Oh goodness, no. She abhorred it.” My father smiled oddly and sipped from his glass.
Then it is not being played in her homage. That wounded me, rather unexpectedly. I had thought there might be a suitable explanation, but I received none. Now that I pondered it, I could not recall him shedding a single tear. True, we were supposed to celebrate someone’s life on their Death Day, and I had done that with all the willpower I possessed. However, I’d privately felt that celebration was a cruel farce. My father, on the other hand, did not seem to have any problem with the celebratory aspect. Even now, he appeared to be continuing in those festivities with a glass in his hand.
“Oh,” was the only remark I could muster.
“Would you care for some ambrosia?” My father approached his desk and lifted a decanter, refilling his own glass first.
I shook my head. “No, thank you. I did not come to join your… remembrance. I actually came to discuss Apollo.” It served me better to alter the subject, lest I let my own grief drive a wedge between us. And my father and I had yet to discuss the matter of Apollo in private.
His face changed, morphing from a peaceful ease to a storm. “I can barely hear his name without wishing to crush this glass in my fist!” His cheeks grew enflamed. “To think that he, of all people, would make an attempt on your life. It sickens me! What is more, I cannot understand why he would resort to such extreme measures. He seemed so earnest in his pursuit. I did not expect him to try to… goodness, I cannot even say it. It is unfathomable!”
I let all distraction fade and focused upon Apollo’s fate. “I am also at a loss, Father. I still remember how I first scraped my knee in the palace gardens while picking opal peaches with him in the orchards.” I experienced a faint glow of nostalgia at such fond memories. “I do not know why he would wish me such violence. Nor am I entirely convinced that he did.”
“Nonsense! It was clear as day what he intended—the blade bore his father’s seal! I know you care for him, but there can be no denying what he attempted.” My father inhaled slowly. “Although, I must not be too hasty. If there is even the slightest chance he did not do it, then he will have a chance to prove his innocence during the trial.”
“Yes, he will.” I resisted my hope that he was not responsible. Empathy and justice were important qualities in a queen, but personal emotions could not be permitted to influence something as serious as a trial. Besides, it would only sting with greater ferocity if I allowed myself to believe him, only for his evildoing to be indisputably proved. “But that is not the sole purpose of my visit.”
My father sipped from his overfull glass. “It isn’t?”
I drew a breath to inspire courage. “I have come to inform you that I intend to announce my engagement to Mr. Finch Merlin. He is, at present, safe within my private quarters, where he will remain until any further threat has been extinguished.”
My father spluttered his drink, spilling scarlet beads down the side of the crystalline flute. “He is… where?”
“In my chambers, though I do not intend to share the room with him until it is… appropriate to do so. I will sleep in the adjoining annex, which I have also secured.” I tried to suppress my mortification. Private quarters and suitors within them were not the sort of topic I preferred to discuss with my father. “It is merely a cautionary measure, in case there are other traitors to the crown lurking in wait.”
My father sat in his armchair rather abruptly, prompting more scarlet tears to run down the side of his glass. His eyes narrowed to slits as he glanced at me. “You plan to choose Mr. Merlin?”
“I do, Father. Is that not why you suggested him, because you thought him to be the best option? He is descended from Merlin himself, after all.” I knew very well that my father had not intended me to choose Finch, but I thought it prudent to begin with a positive—and subtly plant the notion that this had been his idea all along.
My father heaved a sigh of discontentment. “I suggested him because you lacked options. With beauty and intellect like yours, it would have been an embarrassment for you to have so few in pursuit of your hand.” He toyed with the stem of his glass. “I have made no secret of it, Kaya: I think Davin is the best choice.”
“No.” I rarely resorted to bluntness, but the occasion called for it. “Even if Mr. Merlin were not an option, I would never consider Davin. While I value your opinion, he will never be my choice.”
“But I thought Erebus was to be your choice?” His tone waxed sardonic. My father did not care for Erebus. Bellerophon had been one of my father’s favorites, and he had never forgiven Erebus for causing his death. It was not something I had forgiven, either. As of yet, that clemency had not come.
“Things have changed,” I replied.
“How so?” My father propped his chin upon his knuckles.
“My… residual feelings toward Erebus do not matter. Only Atlantis matters.”
“So you do still have feelings for him?” My father groaned, with obvious chagrin.
I swept closer to the desk. “Hear me, Father. Erebus is of no consequence. Whether I bear emotions for him or not does not matter. I am trying to behave as a queen would, considering the current transition we are in.” In Atlantean tradition, there was something of an overlap between the new leadership and the old, in which the majority of power fell to the one who would take over. In this case, me. In essence, it made the old ruler nothing more than a figurehead, with little actual influence remaining—a trial exercise, as it were. Although, my father had been struggling somewhat with the transition.
“And what has brought about this sudden epiphany?” he asked dryly. He did not believe me, I supposed.
I braced my hands upon the desk and stared my father in the eye. “I believe Finch was sent to me by Chaos itself. No… that he was sent to Atlantis by Chaos itself.” I put a certain inflection upon my words, trusting my father would take my meaning. When his eyes suddenly widened, I knew he had.
“Do you mean—?”
I nodded. “Y
es, Father.”
“The Luminary? Are you sure, Kaya?” He sounded short of breath, as though the enormity of what I was saying had confiscated the air from his lungs.
“I am increasingly certain of it. I did not see it initially, as I was not looking for it. Erebus blinded me, but now I see clearly. Erebus was a test, but I have overcome it, Father.” I leaned closer. “Consider the magnitude of Finch’s power and his unique heritage. Two branches of Primus Anglicus run in his veins, one of them the most ancient and powerful of all. He is the kind of ruler that will raise Atlantis to a whole new level of greatness. He is the kind of ruler our people will rally behind, if he stands at my side.”
My father sat back in his chair with a faint creak of wood and velvet. “I had not thought of it that way, but now that you have noted it… do you think it’s possible?”
“I do, Father. But there is more.” I had been preparing for this since I left Finch in my rooms. “Consider the timing of his arrival and think on the legend of the Luminary.”
My father gripped the armrests. “A great power will come when Atlantis is in its darkest hour, and they will be your savior.”
“That is precisely the line that has been playing upon my mind.” I nodded effusively. “The Bestiary is failing, Father, and it is plunging us into darkness of the literal and figurative kind. Our city and our future are in peril. Finch arrived at our moment of direst need. He is a magical of great power and lineage, but he also possesses a Bestial ability. If that is not kismet, I do not know what is.”
“Go on,” my father urged, his demeanor bristling with anticipation.
“I believe my marriage to Finch will usher in a new era, in which he will use his power to provide more beasts for the Bestiary and maintain the strength and expansion of our city.” I formed a propitious smile. “We have discussed this legend before, Father. We cannot turn from it now that it has leapt from the pages into reality. He may be our only hope, and that is why he is the only choice I can make.”
Harley Merlin 15: Finch Merlin and the Everlasting Vow Page 4
