Secrets of Galathea Volume 1

by Elle Beaumont

  It is known that the Uplanders or rather humans cannot be trusted. They speak words they do not mean and make promises they cannot keep. Our beloved King Eidir proclaimed if they should ever think to trespass on our waters, if they should take what is not theirs then they would pay dearly.

  So when that time came to pass, when the humans dared to claim a piece of our waters, our land, the brothers rallied against them.

  Kriegen was stronger than Jager and he knew it. He fought against the humans, much to his brother’s dismay, and he called upon every magical cell in his being to ensure that they would not take that which didn’t belong to them.

  Amidst the battle, blackness swirled in the sea, tainting the blue with an inky substance. It consumed everyone, but it was Kriegen’s shrill scream that filled the current and air alike.

  Jager hadn’t been in the vicinity, mercifully; he was spared the binding of his brother. When he surfaced to survey Noman’s Island, the land they fought so hard to keep, he saw the carnage there and in the surrounding sea. mer and human alike littered the water, and blood painted the waves red.

  While Jager mourned for his brother that had been lost, the kingdom painted him as a pariah and the crown blamed him for the Dark and the death that surrounded them. His heroics were forgotten, and the good he had done soon erased.

  He became an outcast.

  Zinnia blinked her eyes, and she wondered if there was more to it. The text was so vague; surely there was more to it than that. She grumbled and put the volume away carefully, her nose scrunching up as she pondered on a way to get more information. Jager used to live in Limnaia, but if they declared him an outcast, no one would want to speak of him. Perhaps Dru could uncover more of the story.

  She was so lost in her thoughts she didn’t hear her mother swim into the room and when she touched her shoulder Zinnia leaped from her chair. “Mother!” she cried.

  Aminta’s almond-shaped eyes narrowed, and she cocked her head to the side. “Are you all right, Zinnia? I called to you when I came in,” she said with a laugh, but concern warred with the laughter.

  “Yes. You just scared me. I was reading and you know how I get with my tablets.” She laughed at herself and how she became so submerged in reading.

  “Are you hungry? You need to eat; tomorrow is a big day for you.” She turned her dark eyes on her daughter. Reaching out, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind Zinnia’s ear, then cupped her chin lightly.

  “Oh, don’t remind me. Dru and I will be ill.” She covered her mouth to dramatize it, which made her mother laugh.

  Shaking her head, Aminta sighed. “You will both do fine, I am certain of that. Let me get you something to eat.” Swimming down the hall, Aminta disappeared into the kitchen.

  There was something in her mother’s gaze that Zinnia could not discern as she swam away, and Zinnia let it go. Studying wouldn’t go over so well if she didn’t have food to fuel her. But food was a temporary distraction from the current stresses in her life and the budding sensation that something more was going on.

  It could wait until tomorrow until she could corner Dru and discuss their findings. For now, it was time to eat and then back to studying.

  Morning came quickly, too quickly. A frown crept across the tanned face of Zinnia, lost in a world of dreams and whirls of color; there was turbulence in her dream. Blackened faces, hollowed-out eyes, and screams surrounded her. Panic gripped her, she saw a looming figure and when it turned its soulless eyes on her she let out a scream until the deep sound of the gong in town entered her mind. She sat upright, and she covered her face with her hands, almond-shaped eyes widened in a moment of panic.

  She was okay. It was just a dream, but the panic was so real. Zinnia relaxed some until realization dawned on her.

  “No! Oh no. I will be late,” she whispered to herself as she flung her blanket off. The gong sounded again and again until the total clangs amounted to seven. Seven o’clock in the morning and she would be late to the Academy. Today of all days, too! The day of the Trial! She dragged a coral comb through her hair quickly and in the process pulled thick wads of black hair out and grimaced. There would be no time to fuss over her appearance, not that she did anyway.

  Zinnia was top of the class and it was no fluke; she worked for it and studied harder than any mer that went to Selith Academy. She wasn’t privileged like so many others. Some elite referred to her as a bottom feeder, because she was not born in Megalopolis. No, she came from Limnaia, where the backbone of society was born and bred. The farmers, the small business owners. Zinnia was proud of who she was and where she came from, but to say it didn’t sting as much as a jelly would be a lie.

  “To the depths,” she muttered as she swam through the small hallway in her family home. She rounded a corner, and the sound of her bangles clanging reverberated in the current. She may not have had bejeweled shells to adorn her hair, but Zinnia had her bangles and the sheer gown she wore was spun and dyed herself from the local kelp groves.

  “Zinnia, my love!” Aminta called with an exasperated tone. She shook her head as she swam toward her daughter, took stock of her appearance and fretted over it. She knew that today was important for her daughter—it meant more than just winning a plaque, it meant she deserved to be amongst those snobby elites. She didn’t need to win to prove that, but such were a mother’s thoughts.

  “I know, I know, I’m going to be late.” Zinnia peered over her mother’s shoulder and toward the exit of their home.

  “Not that, my love. You look so much like him, you know? Your father… he would be… You are beautiful and smart, take a moment and you will pass today’s test. I’ll be there in the stands.” Aminta’s almond-shaped eyes formed slits as she beamed, bit her bottom lip and refrained from finishing her prior statement.

  Zinnia may have been exasperated that she was delayed, but she basked in her mother’s affection. The mention of her father caused her heart to twist because they both missed him. It had been two years since he passed away and not a day went by that his absence wasn’t noted. She would win this for him, or at least she would try. She leaned forward to press her cheek against her mother’s. “I’ll look for you,” she whispered and pulled back before swimming out the door.

  Thank the gods there were no more obstacles in her path. Zinnia arrived fashionably late. Most of the other mer were seated already, but she wasn’t the only one to file in late.

  Dru sat in the middle of the auditorium and she noticed he had saved a seat for her. So much for discussing any findings of Jager, she thought miserably. Zinnia stared ahead at the podium where Oinone floated in the water and worried on her lower lip.

  “You’re lucky she didn’t notice you,” Dru murmured.

  Zinnia’s eyes flicked over to her friend, and she pressed her lips together to hold in a laugh. “I know, thanks for saving me a spot,” she whispered. Everything felt surreal. A decade ago she had been new to the Academy and known as an outcast, but Dru, who came from a noble family, turned his back on society’s thoughts and glued himself to Zinnia as if he were a barnacle in a prior life. Back then she figured it was a pity friendship, but as the years passed, it was clear that he had no intentions of parting from her. Zinnia’s eyes softened as she looked at him, and when silence settled over, her eyes moved to Mistress Oinone.

  There would be time to discuss their findings later, but for now, the rest of her life was at stake.

  Mistress Oinone perched on a stone seat; her bright red hair was coiled on top of her head, which lent her a rather severe look. But it was not her hair, or the way she held her lips in a thin line, that inspired fear in the hearts of her students—it was the way her sea-green eyes would bore into their souls—or at least it seemed that way.

  “Muir, don’t fail me now,” Zinnia whispered to the god of the sea. She turned just in time to see the balcony with the royal guests. This test was a public display, as it was the intention of rewarding those with the strongest magic in their
veins. To not only reward but to recognize that they still held true to the magic that Muir had woven through their beings. They always invited those of the royal family to witness the Trial, since it was an honor for them to be there, and quite an event to witness. Zinnia blinked and turned to look down at her Mistress once again.

  “Prince Loch and Prince Ruari are in attendance; so is Lady Thetis.” Dru motioned toward the top balcony. “Some would say it is an honor and I say it’s nauseating. Nothing like adding more pressure,” he murmured as he swiped a hand down his face.

  Zinnia opened her mouth to reply, but Mistress Oinone began to speak.

  “Greetings, my lovely students! Congratulations on making it this far into your schooling. We, as merfolk, pride ourselves in our magic. We are all born with it humming in our veins, but as with those with the affinity to draw or calculate, some have a better grasp of it. I commend those who are here,” she said before she allowed the audience to applaud.

  “It was by no small task that you came to be here. This year we have six students who will partake in the Trial. May you sing true and persevere evermore.” Mistress Oinone did not move from her perch, but she looked to the balcony, bowed her head to the royal family and signaled for the first student to move to the podium.

  Zinnia watched with rapt attention. The test went alphabetically and as far as names went she was dead last. The first mer that took to the stage practiced her scales, flexing the magic inside of her voice. Magic spun in the current with each note; anyone with enough running through them would have sensed it. The magic caused the girl’s eyes to glow faintly and when she was through with the scale, Oinone allowed her a moment to gather herself. Next, it was her physical magic. Instead of using her voice to draw the power, it came from glyphs which her fingers crafted. Each curling of her finger, whether it was simple or complex, created a symbol. The final test was a scenario created by the Mistress so it would use both magics. Both required concentration, strength and a fair amount of power to continue through successfully.

  Dru shuddered beside Zinnia, and he jammed his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to be next,” he complained. Calm and collected Dru, who was always so certain of himself, looked anything but sure of himself. That was twice now in two days that he looked ready to vomit.

  Zinnia leaned against his shoulder and patted his back. “You’ll do fine, Dru. You’re a brilliant binder,” she encouraged him.

  And then Mistress called Dru’s name.

  Dru’s test went on without a hitch; she wasn’t lying when she said he was a brilliant binder. The glyphs were more akin to woads that etched themselves in the seawater, glowing as vibrantly as a firefly squid. Each one was filled with his magic, a visual display of what ran through his veins. His voice was impeccable: deep, lulling and clear. A mer with magic could create it and weave it with their voice, but they could also perform spells with a series of gestures with their fingers.

  Zinnia knew that if things had panned out differently in life, she would have thought him to be a fine suitor. He was such a talented witch, and yet, here they were. She could still recognize his beauty for what it was, beauty in looks, heart, soul, and gods! That voice.

  When finally it was Zinnia’s turn, she flexed her fingers and gulped down a mouth of water. Dru’s arms encircled her and his lips touched her cheek.

  “May you sing true and persevere evermore,” Dru whispered as he allowed for Zinnia to move away.

  She closed her dark eyes and swam down toward the staging; it was as if everything ceased to move. Zinnia cast her eyes to her friend, forced herself to smile and caught the pale blond hair of Prince Loch. The sight of his hair caused her heart to pound violently and she didn’t know why.

  “Zinnia, if you may begin your scale, please,” Mistress Oinone prompted.

  She startled for a moment, torn away from the smiling face of Prince Ruari. Zinnia took a deep breath and opened her mouth. The music poured out in a soprano tone, each note enunciated properly, each note she hung onto. Music saturated the auditorium, everything seemed to fade away as she poured her heart, soul and being into the notes as if her life depended on it.

  Around Zinnia, the water seemed to still. The audience quieted and focused wholly on her. She did not simply sing the scale, but she wove each note together and created a beautiful aria. By the time she completed the song, the trance was broken.

  Mistress Oinone did not seem nearly as stunned as everyone else. “And now for your glyphs.” She nodded and motioned to continue.

  Zinnia flexed her fingers against one another, touched fingertip to fingertip and glyphs began to glow in the current, floating around in colorful whirls. They built on one another, and unlike the other students, the glyphs began to form pictures that moved in an upward column. The column accumulated as she tapped into the magic surrounding her; it no longer belonged to just Zinnia, it belonged to the others, too. Like a greedy traveler, she drank from them and supplied the column with the energy she gained.

  It was done.

  Mistress Oinone touched Zinnia’s arm to cease her from siphoning the magic. It was taboo, but it was too late.

  This wasn’t bad; Zinnia knew that every one of them had magic and some possessed more than others, but not everyone could siphon the energy from within and not everyone could do it without taxing the person.

  Why did she feel like there was a giant mark on her then? When she looked up at the balcony once more, Prince Ruari had a crooked smile on his face, Prince Loch had a scowl and Lady Thetis looked fascinated. Zinnia looked to her friend for comfort and it was Dru that began clapping before anyone else.

  The Trial ended. Only a chosen few would be selected.

  “You drew the attention of nearly everyone there, Zin. I think most would call it unnatural,” he said in a teasing tone.

  “It is not! It’s what happens when the lines are closed off so tightly. Instead of flourishing, our magic dies.” That was the truth and while Dru meant it as a joke, her mood soured.

  The fact was Megalopolis turned its nose up at the thought of mingling with those from surrounding farm towns and lesser vicinities of Selith. Because of this their gene pool had grown smaller and the magic seemed to diminish in their bloodlines.

  “Okay, I surrender, you need not snap at me. I’d like to point out you ensnared the attention of the royal family, too.” He waggled his brows to emphasize this.

  It was not her intention to snap at Dru; it wasn’t his fault she felt insecure at that moment. Yet Dru was a rarity; he held more magic in his veins than most of his noble peers combined.

  Zinnia swam toward a seat in the waiting room. Everyone sectioned themselves off into cliques in the Academy; it was just her and Dru in this one.

  “Tell me what you discovered yesterday,” Zinnia prompted and her body hummed with a mixture of excitement and dread. “Regarding Jager and… the Prince,” she whispered so no one could hear.

  Dru’s lips pressed together, and he lowered himself to a seat. “Not much, but a few of the bystanders overheard some shouting. They said Prince Loch had… well, he accused Jager of visiting the Crevice and performing a spell.” He paused and tapped his fingers on his forearm.

  “How would he even know unless he was there?” Zinnia’s face scrunched up in disbelief. She wasn’t buying it.

  “Well, that’s the thing, but apparently there was an incident and outside of that, I don’t know.” He shrugged his slender shoulders and looked as irritated as Zinnia.

  She told him her findings; afterward, they both fell quiet.

  “Miss Zinnia, I presume?” came a rich, playful tone.

  That wasn’t Dru teasing her. In fact, it wasn’t his voice at all. Zinnia cocked her head as she looked up at the newcomer. Her mouth fell open, dark eyes widening as she all but fumbled out of her seat to properly greet a member of the royal family.

  “Y-Y-Your Highness! Yes, I am Zinnia,” she stammered. Since when did Zinnia stammer? Since never,
that was when, yet here she fumbled over her words and had to fight to recall the proper greeting.

  “No need for theatrics, I’m not one for all that show.” He flashed a toothy grin as he spoke, which only seemed to grow at her discomfort. “That was quite an impressive display earlier; what do you think the chances of winning are?” he inquired as his light blue eyes traced over her features.

  Prince Ruari appeared to be genuinely inquisitive, as if he truly didn’t know who would win—and perhaps he didn’t. It was Zinnia’s way of thinking that the Royal House always knew who would win, that they had a hand in selecting who won. However, she was willing to bet her only jeweled coral piece that he knew and he was teasing her. Leave it to a member of the privileged royal family to taunt an urchin such as herself. Well, at least she worked her fins off to be here!

  “The results are in! They are in!” one of the fellow students shouted as she swam into the room. “They’re calling all the students back to the auditorium, come on!” The girl’s face was flushed and her wild blue hair trailed behind her as she fled the room.

  Ruari turned his head toward the girl and hummed. “Hm, well, I guess we’ll find out,” he said, as he dipped his head and grinned broadly. “I hope you sang true and no matter what, may you persevere after this.” And with that, he swam back to the auditorium.

  “That was different,” Dru said as he leaned over Zinnia’s shoulder. His blue eyes scanned her face, and when it was clear she wasn’t about to respond he waved a hand in front of her.

  “Why was he just speaking to me?” Zinnia’s eyes widened as her eyes followed the retreating figure of Prince Ruari.

  “Perhaps he thinks you’re pretty,” Dru began to talk and coughed as an elbow jabbed his stomach. “Or maybe he saw your talent for what it was.” A groan slid from him as he rubbed his stomach.

  Whatever the reason, it was now time to see who had been declared the winner.