by J B Black
He couldn’t do this. Couldn’t face his mate’s death because of him. Tearing the cuff from his wrist, Nereus raced across the deck, diving into the water to rejoin the fight. Mar’s spear sank. Foam and bubbles rising up around it as the last of his men threw down their weapons and surrendered.
“We have won, my lord!” Preecha proclaimed.
Forcing himself to steady, Nereus nodded. Alive or dead, his mate hung in his head. A bond he would never have and would want desperately. The pirates had fulfilled their part of the bargain, and as such, he could not sense the ships any longer, only the wreckage of those that sank and were reclaimed by the sea had any feeling to him, so he would not know if his mate survived. Not with the untethered nature of their bond. Not with Bellamy outside his realm. He could only hope and pray, and know that the pirate would be safest — and happiest — far from his side.
Chapter Fifteen
Gasping for breath, Bellamy spat up water. His body ached. From within, his lungs burned, and blood tainted his lips, but though his ribs ached, he was alive. At his side, his fingers found the gold of the cuff, and the first sound to overpower the rush of his thundering heart was the cheering of the men all around him.
“We’ve won,” Ned told him, slapping the younger man on the back. “And you nearly scared me to death.”
Grabbing the cuff, he pressed it against his chest. “Where’s Nereus?”
Frowning, the older man gestured at the sea. Without a moment’s hesitation, the blond set aside the cuff, stumbling to his feet. His mate — he could feel the pull. Nereus was out there without him. In pain without him. He had to get to him. If this is what Nereus felt the entire time, he had to apologize. To be so close and yet apart was agony. He needed to get to him.
But blackness stole his vision, and he collapsed. Burns and years of magical influence weighed him down, dragging him back under as he collapsed, falling upon the deck.
***
If Edward ‘Ned’ Rowell expected anything, it wasn’t the quick way Nereus set his cecaelia advisor up to pay the pirates. Merfolk brought gold unlike anything he had ever seen — even the waters of the sirens could not compare to the trove presented to them, and if there had not been an overwhelming amount, perhaps the pirates would have found reason to fight amongst themselves, but every man could retire on the pension won that day.
Checking off his little crystal list, the black cecaelia hummed. “That should do it.”
“Where is Nereus?” Ned demanded.
Those dark fathomless eyes rose, and tilting his head, the creature sighed. “Busy.”
“He owes Bellamy Drake a favor.”
“And?” the cecaelia asked. “Is Captain Drake conscious?”
Of course not! He remained dead to the world, recovering from the damage he had done by wearing that damn cuff for so many years. Nereus and his advisor had to realize this.
Shaking his head, the cecaelia presented a conch. “When Bellamy is ready, blow on the conch with the favor in mind. Nereus will answer it.”
“In person?” Ned asked, taking the shell.
The smooth skin of the Preecha’s face wrinkled in amusement. “If necessary.”
“They’re mates. Shouldn’t he — come and heal him?” the sorcerer demanded, growling in frustration when the advisor’s eyes narrowed. “He isn’t wearing the cuff. He took it off to save Nereus’s life. Regardless of what he did or said, he deserves to be heard by his mate!”
Crossing his arms over his chest as his tentacles drummed over the desk, Preecha frowned. “Lord Nereus will focus on ensuring a smooth annexation of Mar’s territory. Despite the surrender, there are a number still loyal to Mar.”
“That doesn’t —”
But the cecaelia shook his head. “I must return to aid him. There’s much to be done.”
He vanished down the side of the ship, leaving Ned to alone and frustrated on the deck of his ship. The moon hung — a silver coin upon the velvet of the dark sky. Rubbing his hands over his face, the dark-haired pirate groaned, trudging back to his separate bunk where Bellamy lay. Where the cuff had been, the skin of his forearm stood raw and red.
Pulling the chair to the man’s side, Ned sat down, resting his elbows on his knees. “I warned you nothing good comes of gods.”
***
In the dead of night, Bellamy awoke. His body ached, and Ned slumped over in the chair beside the cot. A magnet pull tugged at his cut, and stumbling out of bed, the blond stumbled onto the deck. Stars glistened. Small specks of light which did nothing to light the sea, but amidst the sparkling fabric of the night, the moon hung a ghostly orb. The ship rocked, and in the distance, a shape gathered in the sea foam.
“Nereus?” Bellamy whispered.
A cold breeze swept across the deck. His feet were bare as he made his way to the side of the ship. Though exhausted, he wandered toward the light, and out beneath the glow of the moon, a shape gathered in the foam: Mar.
Terror gripped him, and following the line of the ship toward the forecastle, Bellamy kept his eyes upon the foam. He reached the tip of the bow. It would be easy enough. Simon climbed upon it and hung over the edge many times to clean the figurehead. Even as his limbs shook, he could do the same.
“What are you doing?” Ned cried, pulling Bellamy back from the edge.
Glancing to the man, the blond looked back to the sea, but the foam disappeared, melding into the waves. “I-I thought I saw…”
“Get back to bed. You almost got yourself killed,” the older man grumbled, shoving Bellamy back toward the cabin.
“I can’t sleep. I need…” His mind fogged, heavy and conflicted. “Where is the cuff?”
In the moon’s bright light, the disappointment which stole the concern from Ned’s face pierced straight through the dull ache which haunted Bellamy’s limbs. Shaking his head, the sorcerer lifted his hand, summoning two objects. Ned held out both hands. In one, a conch sat. The other held the gold cuff.
“Blow the conch with the favor in mind. I’d suggest you phrase it to force that god mate of yours to appear. He’s as bullheaded as you.” Shoving both into Bellamy’s arms, Ned sighed. His dark gaze rose, and he commanded, “Choose wisely.”
As if washing his hands of him, the older man turned his back upon the blond, trudging back to the cabin and his bed as the ship swayed upon the sea.
Sense should have sent Bellamy to bed as well, but he tied the cuff to his belt, and holding the conch in his teeth, he climbed to the crow’s nest where a spyglass sat. Picking it up, the blond turned his eyes to the dark sea. Even with the light of the full moon, the distance proved nearly too dark to sea, but a steady hand and determination kept his eyes sharp as he scanned the horizon where he had last seen the fallen god’s form rise. Sure enough, beneath the cover of light, Mar reformed, rising with his chest bare and copper hair shimmering in the moonlight.
Taking the conch, Bellamy brought it to his lips. One blow. One blow and Nereus would be warned, and perhaps it wouldn’t even call as a favor for the god to appear at his side to be witness to what Bellamy had seen. Mar was the sea god’s enemy after all. Surely this wouldn’t count.
But he found no air in his lungs to give, and setting the conch down at his side, he watched the god drag himself along the surface of the water, avoiding blending down and entering the territory where Nereus would sense him. He couldn’t dive, so as long as he remained within the distance of the spyglass, Bellamy could follow him.
“That’s not good enough,” the blond huffed, and descending, he kept one eye on the god as he knocked on Ned’s door.
“What?” the older man grumbled. Handing over the spyglass, Bellamy angled it, and Ned tensed. A groan escaped his lips. “And you expect me to do what? Rouse the crew to follow? He’s a god. He’ll see a ship trailing after him.”
There had to be a solution. Nereus came to them. He strode onto Kallavera — right into a bar where nothing sacred existed — and demanded assistance. Proud and
too beautiful, he had believed a band of men could help him, so there had to be something they could do, but Bellamy’s mind remained blank.
“Can’t you put up a shield?” Bellamy pleaded. “An illusion? Something?”
The sorcerer pirate rubbed his hands over his face. With a sigh, Ned stepped out. “Fine. Wake the crew.” Taking the spyglass, the older man added, “And tell them to keep it quiet.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Are you sure Mar didn’t have a mate?” Nereus asked, frowning at the large bedroom and the air bubble nursery as well as an underwater one directly connected.
Though the big bed could be explained away, the setup of the entire castle seemed formed around the idea of another person — and not just the idle dream of an unknown future mate. There was a room for a sorcerer to train. Several libraries of ancient spell books stood locked away, and an entire wing of the castle, including a smaller kitchen and several children’s bedrooms, existed in a bubble of air which fed directly to the surface where one of Mar’s island’s stood. The island itself had no dangerous plant life or animals. On the coast in a protected cove, a cottage stood.
Mar seemed prepared for a mate who may or may not have desired to remain underwater. In fact, his preparations suggested he expected the individual to possibly not have the capacity to do so. Something which was unthinkable for a sea god’s mate once their bond had been consummated.
In the end, however, a consummation couldn’t be forced. If Mar intended to keep a lover by force, the rooms made more sense, but they suggested a worse truth about the dead god than Nereus had hoped.
“If he has some dead husbands or wives buried about here, I’d like to know,” Nereus told Preecha. “I’d hate to be cursed by someone out for revenge against him.”
Preecha frowned. “My lord, some of his commanding officers managed to escape. They may be fervent enough believers to permit him to maintain his godly power.”
“If he wasn’t sea foam.”
The cecaelia shifted, tentacles twitching as he floated through the rooms, noting down changes Nereus wanted made. “Most gods don’t dissolve when they die.”
“Stranger things have happened. I’ve met a handful of gods who died on their way through the Underworld. Thanas hated those lot the most. Always argued that they ought to be immortal since he was a god. They always thought they could talk their way back out of death,” Nereus informed his advisor with a small smirk. “Never worked.”
“And those missing commanders?”
It would be easy enough. Some of the pirates elected to remain as they had been transformed, preferring the excitement and freedom of a life beneath the waves. A number proposed almost on the spot to the merfolk who trained them, and more than one had slyly asked about whether the transformation would permit children. Their loyalty and desire to become a permanent part should have made the answer simple. He could send them after the officers. They would likely kill the men with some assistance — Nereus had no intention of sending the men alone against elite soldiers no matter how aged they were, but something held the god back.
The realm belonged to him. Every inch of the waters hummed alive, and he could feel the islands and the newly established boundary lines, but something inside this castle rebelled against him. An island in the distance did as well.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Nereus spun to face the other man. “Focus on unifying the realm and ensuring the safety and health of those he took hostage. If they attempt to attack, I want a united front.”
“All the hostages were recovered. Mar kept them fed and well-housed. Though imprisoned, they were otherwise well seen to,” the cecaelia reluctantly admitted.
Smiling, Nereus swam closer to Preecha. “And Mira? I don’t suppose Mar did us the favor of seeing to her curse?”
“She is as she was before, my lord. The spellwork will ultimately require your brother-in-law’s attention,” Preecha announced.
Glancing around the rooms, Nereus shook his head. He would deal with renovating or destroying the castle on another day. If Mar treated his captives well, then Mira would be in well enough shape to be freed of her curse. His promise to her hung over him. She had so much life left to live, and her grief over all she had lost haunted her. Nereus longed to see someone overjoyed today. He needed another’s happiness to explain the aching hole in his chest.
“Continue as you were, Preecha. I’ll see to Mira,” Nereus informed the cecaelia, leaving the room.
In her seal form, Mira sat in a small chamber. All the rest had left, including the other selkies, but she remained, mournfully alone in her once prison. When she saw Nereus, she barely moved.
“Oh, sweetheart, you’ve had a rough go of it, haven’t you?” the god softly murmured, but she only huffed out a shuddering breath which sounded awfully like a sob. “I told you about my brother-in-law, didn’t I?” At this, the selkie perked up. “My brother is close to birth, so they’ll both be at their home on the cliffs. Why don’t we pop by and get you free from that nasty spell?”
Hope bloomed in her dark eyes, and with a flare of magic, Nereus teleported to the beach, sending a small message ahead on a seabird to warn of their coming. As the wave which carried them hit the shore, Castor stood, waiting.
“Everything went well then?” the once-warlock called.
Nereus smiled, carrying Mira to set her upon the soft sand. “Mira, this is Warlock Castor, now a God of Spring. Castor, this is Mira — the selkie I told you about.”
Crouching, Castor greeted her, “Pleasure, I’m sure. Let’s see what I can do about this nasty curse. Sound good to you?”
Mira nodded, desperate and excited, but her concern furrowed her brow even as a seal.
Leaving the two together, Nereus retreated, standing at the edge of where the water hit the sand, so he could remain within his territory, sensing if anyone entered his realm to do his people harm. Off in the distance — near that strange island he could only barely sense, the black-haired sea god could feel a ship moving further and further away. A sorcerer stood upon the ship, so Ned must have captained the vessel, but instead of heading to Kallavera like the rest or another port to hide the gold they had been given, he headed toward that one misted section.
“Nereus?” Athanasius called, breaking the sea god from his thoughts. “You look exhausted. Come sit down with us.”
The older god had set out a blanket with a picnic basket. Leon toddled about, playing with shells and coming back to nibble at his food before exploring the beach further. Castor and Athanasius were so at peace with one another. They had a family. With their beautiful son and twins on the way, the two seemed fearless. Their love tested and proved true. It made Nereus’s heart ache with longing.
“Being a god never goes how you think,” Nereus hummed softly. “I wanted freedom. Wanted to create a realm which celebrated the arts. Encouraged scholars to ponder all those beautiful questions of the universe, and then a snippy old sea bag decided I wasn’t mature enough and attacked me. He’s dead now, but…” With a sigh, Nereus ran a hand through his dark hair. “Mar must have wanted things too.”
Athanasius gave a half-shrug, balancing his clinging son on one side as the boy showed off his latest find. “Everyone wants something. Humans, fae, merfolk, gods — we all want things. When you realize that, it makes killing difficult.”
“I’m not saying I regret it. Mar was a jerk. Has this whole creepy section of his castle like he was going to force someone to mate with him,” Nereus explained, exaggerating a shiver of disgust. “Mateless gods his age are doomed, aren’t they?”
Again, Athanasius shrugged. “Father was older when he met Vasant. Much older.”
“It’s always strange hearing you call Da ‘Father.’ He wasn’t exactly warm and friendly, but Vasant was always the disciplinarian. No one went to him for advice. Or comfort,” the sea god added with scoff.
Vasant would have had no idea what to do to comfort his own children. Spring offered t
hawing warmth and the renewal of life, but there was cruelty in it which Castor and Athanasius had seemed to temper which Vasant had been unable to do.
“I had a mother and a stepfather who I adored. Thanas always existed as this towering shadow. One of the first gods. The oldest god. The only one who remained though his territory wasn’t one that any living person could visit,” Athanasius smiled, chuckling as he rubbed a hand over the curve of his belly. “All those gods who came before — the first gods must have thought they had forever. They outlasted so many, didn’t they? Yet where are they now? Forgotten. Replaced. Even Vasant will one day be a distant memory. Others will come after us as well.”
Scoffing, Nereus rolled his eyes. “You should have been the God of Death. No one ever accepted it as peacefully as you.”
“Funny. Only the God of Death gets a choice of when to die — or if to die at all,” his half-brother retorted.
No reply rose to the sea god’s lips, but as Castor exclaimed his success, Nereus did not need one. All eyes turned as Mira shed her skin, keeping it close to her naked chest as she stumbled forth on two shaky legs.
“Bell!” she cried. The first word she had spoken in years. “Where is my Bell?”
Her dark eyes rolled up and back in her head as she fainted right into Castor’s arms. The once-warlock glanced between his mate and the sea god. “I’m sure she’s just out of sorts from the curse,” Castor explained. “Unless, did she have a bell?”
Nereus shook his head. “Her pod said very little before they had to go northward for the winter.” Brushing his hands through his hair, he asked, “May I leave her in your care? I feel some time out of water would do her good.”
Lifting her, Castor nodded. “We have a spare room, though she might not find too much peace with Leon about.”
