The Veiled Descendants

by Sophia Menesini

  Caen shoots a glance in Beck’s direction and nods. He pushes Aster toward the door as he protests at the manhandling, and Miranda offers to walk with them.

  Caen starts to hold out his arm but then rescinds it. He declines Miranda’s offer and walks out the kitchen doors with Aster in tow, leaving a surprised Miranda behind.

  ​“Captain,” Beck murmurs with a soft smile.

  ​There’s a strange pull toward him and she can’t put her finger on why it’s there, but she offers to walk him back to his guest quarters.

  ​He accepts.

  ​They leave the kitchens together and walk through the winding halls of the palace. Lavish carpets soon replace stone floors and bare walls turn to arched windows with water falling over the open air like a curtain.

  ​For a time, they walk together quietly, Beck occasionally murmuring a “turn here or head straight,” until finally they’re heading down one long hallway. They’re almost to the guest rooms when she recognizes the path from last year, where she escaped the dungeons and was taken to Lady Catherine’s room.

  Shea realizes she hasn’t seen the old woman yet.

  ​Shea stops farther down the hall as they come across an open balcony, the water falling around it and the moon shining on the clear liquid, making the balcony glow white like starlight.

  ​“Stunning,” Shea whispers, stepping into the encased balcony.

  ​They can see the city from here, and farther out the ocean’s horizon. The water blurs the shapes slightly but for the most part it’s fairly clear. Stone benches are placed around the balcony and Shea takes a seat, groaning as she does.

  ​Beck sits down next to her. He looks over at her and laughs.

  ​She turns to him, startled. “What’s so funny?”

  ​Beck shakes his head. “I’m sorry. It’s just you look so out of place here and yet you don’t. Your clothes point you out as common and yet the ease of your expression, it seems as if you were meant to live in a castle.”

  ​Shea snorts at his evaluation and leans her back against the stone railing, not minding the little drops of water hitting her jacket. They hadn’t changed clothes, thank Triton, on their way to Arethusa.

  Her mind cringes at the casual use of his name now that she knows he’s her brother.

  She’d stayed in her dark brown pants, black boots, a purple peasant shirt, and her black doublet coat.

  Though her new captain’s hat has suspiciously gone missing.

  She looks like a pirate, and yet she does find herself strangely at home here in this palace. She supposes it’s because it reminds her of Jo.

  A warmth blooms in her chest at the thought of her fiancée.

  ​“You must love her very much to give up your life for all this,” Beck tells her, and it shakes her out of her thoughts.

  ​Shea chuckles. “Oh yeah, a life of piracy for the leisure of a palace?”

  ​“It’s still your life,” Beck responds.

  ​She shrugs, relaxing against the railing and bench, while Beck rests his arms on his knees, looking back at the elven pirate.

  ​“Aye, I do love her,” Shea whispers.

  ​They lapse into silence, enjoying the warm evening air.

  “I’m sorry about your father.”

  Beck turns to her, surprised, then acknowledges her sympathy. “Yes, I believe you are. I—did you know him?”

  “No.” Shea smiles. “Not personally. But Mister Caen served on your father’s first command ship, many years ago. He remembers him fondly, and I’ve always admired your father’s stance on free trade. Oceanus’s sanctuary was somewhere we could always go when the Duchess came under fire from Arethusa or Lycos. To my understanding, your father created the Sanctuary law.”

  “He did,” Beck confirms proudly. “He believed everyone needed a safe haven. And after my mom died, he really reinforced the law so future generations and the Senate would have a hard time disbanding it…after he was gone.”

  “He was a good man,” Shea agrees. “I’m sure Caen would be able to tell you more about his time in service to your dad, he doesn’t talk about it often, but from my understanding your father was about your age when Caen was in service to him.”

  “So does that mean I can go with you?” Beck asks with a grin.

  “Who am I to stop a leader of a country from coming on a mission to save Nereid?”

  “Your fiancée would prefer I stay behind,” Beck grumbles, and Shea chuckles.

  “Yes she would.”

  ​“I’d like to go. I need to see this through,” Beck explains.

  ​Shea sits up and leans forward onto her knees as well; she looks over at him and their eyes meet.

  ​“I know. When I lost my father”—Shea stops, and reluctantly corrects herself—“my adopted father, Paetre, I did everything in my power to honor his legacy. I stepped up and eventually in his name I completed his final score. It didn’t make the pain go away, but it made me feel like I had at least brought him peace. If you believe killing Perses will bring your father peace, will bring you peace, I won’t stop you and I can’t. Because no one could stop me in my quest for the Pearl.”

  ​“Wait, you’re the pirate who stole the Pearl of Lycos?”

  ​“Impressed?” Shea grins.

  ​“Maybe a little,” Beck chuckles but then sobers. “Thank you. My dad always had all the answers; I just feel like I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

  ​Shea nods. “I remember the feeling. Of course, I had a crew of fifty, not an entire country. But you do what they did; you lead and pretend to know all the answers because that’s how they did it. And at least if you come with me, I have a shot of making sure Arethusa and Oceanus both have good leaders to rule after we destroy my…Perses.”

  ​Beck catches her correction and reaches out his hand, placing it on hers; she almost jerks away but instead remains calm, not wanting to cause a scene.

  ​“Paetre?” Beck says, asking if he’d said it correctly, and Shea nods. “Paetre was your father, Shea. Just because Poseidon helped create you, that doesn’t replace Paetre. He raised you and if you ask me, that means more than any blood source.”

  ​Shea smiles at the comment. “Thank you, I guess I needed to hear that.”

  ​Beck leans forward and Shea finds herself leaning in too.

  ​“You’re welcome,” he murmurs.

  ​They’ve scooted closer together, their lips inches apart. His eyes are like melted chocolate and she can feel herself falling into them. There’s something familiar about him, something that she connects with more so than with Jo, as if they’ve walked similar paths.

  ​Jo.

  ​Her name pushes the wind out of Shea and she jerks back. Shea stands as quickly and gracefully as she can.

  ​Beck stands with her, a red blush staining his features.

  ​“So, I’ll meet you at the docks then.” Beck shrugs, trying to play off their almost kiss.

  ​Shea coughs, clearing her throat. “Yes, right, of course.”

  ​They stand there a moment longer, neither of them moving.

  ​“Right I should—”

  ​“Yeah we better—”

  ​Their words crash together as they head for the entrance of the balcony. They stop in the hall again, staring at one another.

  “Well I should—”

  “I’ll head out—”

  Shea’s ears are as red as his, and she feels the need to jump from a very high distance, but instead she waves and walks away. She goes left and Beck goes right toward the guest rooms.

  ​Shea wants to curse—she can’t help looking over her shoulder as he walks away. She tells herself it’s not disappointment she feels when he doesn’t look back. She faces the hall ahead and makes her way to the docks.

  Chapter 9: I Think I’m in Trouble

  Beck

  What was he thinking? He’d almost kissed the queen’s fiancée. But she almost kissed you too, a wicked voice whispers from th
e back of his mind. He mutters a curse as he can’t help but look back as Shea walks away; he waits a moment and tries to suppress the disappointment when she doesn’t do the same. He turns back around and heads for the guest quarters.

  ​He doesn’t have much to pack; his clothes and things went down with the ship. Including his flute his mother gave him years ago. She always loved music and so he learned to play just for her. When she died, it brought him the most comfort to play her old favorite lullabies and sea tunes—it made it seem like she was still here.

  He arrives in front of the door to the guest quarters, takes a breath, and places his hand on the handle, but he can’t bring himself to turn the knob.

  ​He gave his orders to Caius before he left earlier today. His hand reaches up and clutches his mother’s and father’s wedding bands on the chain around his neck. He can’t see his father’s corpse again. He drops his hand from the knob and heads back down the hall but at a leisurely pace—he’s not ready to see Shea again just yet.

  ​It’s more than her beauty that has caught his attention: she’s smart, funny, and he feels as if they’re kindred spirits. Something in his soul recognizes her on a deep level and now that he’s met her, he wants to know her fully.

  ​But she’s engaged, to the queen of Arethusa, Oceanus’s allying queendom.

  Who cares, that voice whispers again, and it sounds surprisingly like his father. If you want her, fight for her…She’s not married—yet.

  ​After asking a couple of servants, he finally finds his way to the stables. He arrives at the end of his path through the gardens and enters the royal courtyard. Looking up ahead, he finds Captain Shea Lara once again.

  She’s petting a midnight black horse, speaking in what Beck recognizes as elvish as he walks closer.

  He catches the end of what one of the stable hands is saying to her: “Please, Your Highness, I would prefer to get you a calmer horse, or perhaps you could wait for Her Majesty and ride with her in the carriage?”

  ​Shea is still speaking in elvish to the midnight stallion. “Chalaróste tin omorfiá mou, xekouráste ton fílo mou. Proféro ti dýnamí sas. Sas zitó voítheia. Íremos agapitós, vres eiríni mazí mou. Chalaróste ton fílo mou. Eímaste éna gia aftó to taxídi méchri na to xanasynthésoume.”

  ​Her voice is enchanting, and Beck’s own eyes feel as if they’re growing heavier.

  The elven stable hand clutches his chest as he almost falls over.

  The stallion neighs, rearing back a little, but Shea repeats her last phrase, “Chalaróste ton fílo mou. Eímaste éna gia aftó to taxídi méchri na to xanasynthésoume.”

  ​The horse’s breathing seems to even out and the stallion taps his hoof on the ground a couple times before kneeling down. Shea climbs onto his back much to the young man’s objection, and the horse rises from its position on the ground back to standing.

  ​“Oh, Your Highness, please, I beg you. Remus is dreadfully temperamental,” the stable hand begs.

  ​“Then why did you bring her this horse?” Beck asks, chuckling.

  He looks up to Shea and finds himself asking permission to pet the horse. She smiles and nods, whispering into the horse’s ear as he whinnies back at her.

  ​“I did no such thing! She arrived at the stables as I was taking Remus back to his stall and asked for a horse. I told her I’d get her one and she insisted on riding Remus,” the stable hand protests, glaring at the black beast.

  ​“He’s as good a horse as any.” Shea shrugs. “Besides, you told me I couldn’t get a saddle or reins on him, and I did.”

  ​“Yes, well, that was very unusual as he nips anyone who usually tries,” the man mutters—he still has his hands outstretched as if he’s worried she’ll fall.

  ​“I’d like a horse as well, please, I’m riding down to the docks too.”

  ​“It’d be no trouble to get a carriage, sir,” the stable hand tries, but Beck shakes his head.

  ​“A horse will be fine. Mind if I ride down with you?”

  ​Beck looks up at Shea, still petting Remus, and he can’t tell in the dark, but he thinks she might be blushing.

  Her pale eye almost glows against the torch’s firelight in the courtyard.

  ​“Sure. I don’t mind.”

  ​The stable hand sullenly sighs as Beck smiles.

  ​“Just stay with her until I get back. I don’t trust that bloody beast,” the elven man gripes.

  ​“I’m sure she can handle it, but I’ll wait.”

  ​Shea laughs as the stable hand scurries off.

  ​“Thank you, that’s one thing I don’t think I’ll ever get used to. The worry for my safety. These poor people look at me as if I might break,” Shea huffs and the horse neighs in what sounds like agreement.

  ​“Trust me, I remember. Growing up as a royal, stubbing your toe around a servant was the equivalent of losing a limb.” Beck chuckles, stepping away from Remus so he can look up at Shea better.

  ​“I’m sure my appearance with all my scars doesn’t help,” Shea murmurs, and she pushes her braided hair farther away from her damaged eye.

  ​“I don’t think so. Scars are badges of honor where I come from. To Oceanus, your appearance tells us you’re a great warrior. Someone who can take care of herself, someone who should be respected, not protected.”

  ​Shea grins down at him—and yes, she’s definitely blushing now. It brings him a small amount of satisfaction.

  ​“May I ask,” Beck begins but stops himself.

  ​“What?” Shea inquires.

  ​“Can I ask what you were saying to the horse in elvish?”

  ​“I’m surprised you recognize the language,” Shea tells him.

  ​“I grew up around a lot of elves. Many, many free elves live in Oceanus. Sanctuary,” Beck explains with an easy smile.

  ​“Sanctuary,” Shea repeats with a grin. “All I said was to be calm, to rest easy, my friend, and that we would aid each other in our journey to come before we part again.”

  ​“And that worked?” Beck chuckles.

  ​"Aye. I’ve always been good with horses. A mystery my adopted father could never figure out since I lived on a ship and I didn’t spend much time around them,” Shea explains.

  ​“A trait you inherited from me,” a deep voice interrupts.

  ​The stable hand brings out Beck’s horse just as Beck and Shea turn to see Poseidon walking toward them. Venus is standing in the doorway from the palace to the courtyard, speaking to a naval officer.

  ​Shea’s smile disappears.

  ​“Why would I have inherited it from you?” she growls.

  Beck expects Remus to become unsteady at her turn of mood, but it’s as if she and the stallion are one.

  ​“Well, I created them. Horses I mean,” Poseidon tells her.

  ​Beck hops up onto his mare quickly. It takes him a moment to register what Poseidon says, and then—right, lord of the sea and horses, well that’s not intimidating.

  ​Shea doesn’t respond, continuing to glare at him.

  “We’ll see you at the docks.”

  ​Then she takes off into the night. Shea and Remus fly through the Arethusian gates, and Beck quickly rides after them.

  He follows her as she weaves through the cobblestone streets, the stone homes and wooden houses a blur as they ride. The homes go from large to small and shrink smaller the farther down the loop they go, until finally they arrive at the city gate and take a right, heading toward the docks instead of turning left and straight down the Trident road that crosses all over Nereid.

  ​They trot along the wooden planks that cover the sand and extend out into the plains where scattered hamlets lay around the countryside.

  Farther into the docks the midnight market has opened. Strange glowing fish are hung from booths; men and women in capes and hoods visit sketchy shops for things they can’t buy in the daylight. The underworld is awake and suddenly Shea seems much more in her element.


  ​“You kept up.” Shea laughs from atop Remus, and Beck trots toward her so that the mare and stallion can walk beside each other.

  ​“With great difficulty—you weren’t kidding, you can ride,” Beck tells her and it causes her to lose her smile again.

  ​“I guess there’s a reason for everything I can do.” Shea shrugs.

  ​Beck isn’t quite sure what to say so he offers silent support and rides along beside her as they pass through the Arethusian dock market. Ships can finally be seen off to the right as the market fades and the ship dock takes over.

  ​Beck gasps when he sees it. It looks harrowing in all the torchlight. The Veiled Duchess lies at the end; the moon highlights the three masts and their burgundy sails. It casts a ghostly shadow over the dark-wooded vessel. The figurehead causes a sharp ache in Beck’s chest, and it feels like she can see inside of him, past the wooden veil obscuring her face. He feels vulnerable.

  ​“You coming?”

  ​Beck forces himself out of his reverie and finds that Shea has already dismounted her stallion and has tied the reins to the horse post on the dock. She’s striding away toward the massive vessel, and he scrambles to climb down and do the same. He ties the beautiful gray mare to the post and gives her one last pet before heading after the captain.

  She marches up the gangplank, shouting orders to this and that crewman. As he scans the entirety of the ship, Beck’s eyes land on the steering deck, and he can vaguely make out the blond teen from before, who seems to be caught between the wheel and a brown-haired young man who looks a little older. The brown-haired lad has got him pressed against the steering, leaning forward to kiss him—but they jump apart quickly as Caen arrives on the navigation deck.

  ​Beck smiles and heads farther down the dock. He’s not really paying attention and he apologizes as he bumps into someone. He grabs the man to keep him from falling over into the water. When their eyes meet, Beck groans.

  ​Caius brushes Beck’s hands off of him and adjusts his suit.

  ​“I see your head is still up in the clouds,” Caius drawls, glaring at him.