The Veiled Descendants

by Sophia Menesini

  “Mister Tero, release the sails! Batten down the cannons and prepare the chase gun.”

  “Aye, Mister Caen! Alright, ya old salts, I want those sails ready now! Lad, keep the look out,” Tero shouts up to Aster, who calls back his assent.

  Tero walks the line of the ship. Navy men and crew work together double-checking the bowline knots on the cannons, and Shea watches Beck being directed toward the bow cannon, the chase gun—looks like he’s found his place among the gunners.

  The sails release, catching the wind.

  “Now let’s ride the current all the way to Orena and Tenaro,” Shea states, more to herself than anyone else, but she hears Poseidon speak nonetheless.

  “Spoken like a true daughter of Poseidon.”

  She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t have to, Caen growls in distaste for the both of them.

  She crosses to the helm’s rail, standing beside Caen, and Jo comes to join them.

  Poseidon also ventures to the rail as the ship heads straight for the boundary.

  Shea can feel all eyes on her rather than the magical border they’re about to cross. She keeps her head high and her expression neutral, hiding every terrified thought she’s having, and then, the ship’s bow and figurehead cross the boundary.

  It’s strange, the boundary passing through their bodies as they enter the demon-filled waters beyond Nereid’s borders.

  Some cry out in shock like Jo, while others hiss in discomfort. It’s as if the old magic inspects every part of them, filling their core.

  It’s almost the same as when Shea accesses her magic, but foreign and invasive.

  She has to grab the railing, suddenly feeling lightheaded. Shea turns to check on Jo, but she seems to handle it better.

  What catches her attention is Poseidon. His back is straighter, his skin younger; she even thinks some of his hair has lost its gray. He looks powerful, and then Shea understands what they just crossed through.

  A physical manifestation of Perses’s power—and if he’s that strong? The mere insinuation makes Shea’s skin crawl as she thinks about her other brother, who’s a god.

  Shea’s never felt so weak.

  A moment passes as the last of the ship crosses through the border and then it all goes white.

  Shea’s forearm blocks her eyes out of habit; shouts of alarm can be heard all over the deck, and Shea knows it can’t be sunlight.

  The white light fades and in the center of the quarterdeck is a man with cropped dark red hair. He has freckles covering his face and chest, and his bloodred robes are open, exposing his muscled frame. His eyes are cold, a harsh teal, but Shea can see the resemblance.

  There’s a loud war cry from the bow, and Shea’s eyes widen as she sees Beck with a sword—she guesses it belongs to one of his soldiers—charging toward Perses.

  Shea’s heart leaps in her chest, and before she knows it, she’s ignoring Jo’s objection and racing down the afterdeck steps. She stops short of Perses, who catches Beck’s blade with his hand and breaks it.

  Beck stumbles from the force, and Perses grabs him by the throat, lifting him off his feet.

  There’s something in her brother’s eyes as he brings Beck closer—they wander across the other man’s features until their faces are inches apart.

  “Hello, little prince,” Perses murmurs, and Shea feels a feral growl threatening to leave her throat as she thinks he might just place a soft kiss on his lips.

  Meanwhile, Beck is gasping for breath, his hands scratching at Perses until her brother throws the younger man and he lands on his back in front of Shea.

  Jo and Caen descend the steps, but stop behind her as Shea reaches down to see if Beck’s okay.

  She briefly looks back to the helm and sees Poseidon is missing.

  Beck coughs from the strain on his throat, but he whispers he’s okay.

  Jo kneels down beside Shea to check on him as well.

  A silent moment passes between the two of them as Jo lays her hands on Beck’s shoulders protectively.

  Shea can feel Perses’s gaze on her.

  The rest of the crew and officers haven’t moved. All of them are surrounding the mystical figure on the deck, just a couple feet away from where Shea stands and the double doors leading down below.

  She looks up and meets his gaze. Pale white and green meeting vibrant teal, it feels like her body is on fire.

  She stands, stepping protectively in front of Jo and Beck.

  Caen is right beside her.

  Perses examines her, and she watches him. She takes in his elven robes, noting that his feet are bare. She doesn’t see the shell Beck mentioned, but she’s sure he has it on him.

  “And hello to you too, little sister.”

  “Perses, I presume?” Shea snarls.

  He grins and it makes the skin on the back of her neck crawl.

  “I’ve been waiting a long time for this, Shea. We look alike,” he tells her, taking a step closer to his younger half sister.

  Shea holds her ground, refusing to retreat.

  “I’m nothing like you.”

  Perses’s hand lifts and he flicks his finger toward himself, gesturing for her to come closer.

  Shea has no intention of doing what he says, but the waterskin at her side bursts open and a giant hand made out of water solidifies and pushes her onward.

  She stumbles, catching herself, but not until they’re standing a couple of feet apart.

  Caen goes for his hammer, strapped on his back, but Jo shouts his name.

  “Caen, no!”

  Caen growls and takes another step, but this time the water-shaped hand transforms and creates a wall of ice around the two of them, blocking Caen from entering the ring.

  Shea studies Perses’s features, knowing that this display of magic would be a drain on her, but he shows no sign of effort or fatigue.

  It puts her on edge.

  “Now we can talk,” Perses comments.

  He tries to place a hand on Shea’s arm, but she moves just out of reach.

  He lets his hand fall back to his side.

  “So talk. What do you want?”

  “Nereid. Our people’s freedom. Immortal power. And well, you.”

  “Me?” Shea questions, raising a brow.

  “Yes. We’re family. You and I are the only ones in the world who know what it’s like to be children of Poseidon. Not only that, we both know the role humans have played in destroying our kind. We should be working together. I know you have him.”

  “Who?” she asks innocently.

  “I can sense him. We may make him stronger but not nearly as much as he does for us. Blood is strength, Shea. Can’t you feel the power curling in your veins just by standing so close to me?”

  Shea doesn’t respond verbally, but yes, she can.

  She can feel the power vibrating over her skin, lifting the hairs on her arms. It’s taking all of her focus to stay alert as the ocean roars in her ears.

  “I know where he’s leading you. Off to see big brother,” Perses drawls, his eyes staying fixated on Shea, unnerving.

  “Well then, if there’s no point in denying it, the least I can say is we’re going to stop you. Don’t pretend taking over Nereid is an attempt to save the elves. They’ve erected their own barrier just to keep you out, so clearly they don’t want your help either. Not to mention teaming up with the Empress of Slavery doesn’t exactly help your cause,” Shea spits, but her brother smiles at her with ease.

  His body language is open and strong; he doesn’t see her as a threat.

  “She’s a powerful ally and a more powerful enemy, though I don’t believe I need to tell you that,” Perses acknowledges, and Shea’s brand burns on her chest.

  She clutches the scarred skin with a gasp, but the pain dissipates as quickly as it appears.

  “It’s good politics to keep her close, and then once I have Arethusa, well. I’ll re-evaluate.”

  “Why take over Nereid? Why help the elves at all
? They banished you for something out of your control.”

  “Because their leadership lacks sight! I’m not just taking back Nereid for the elves; I will rule them, I will be the most powerful being on Nereid, and we will put man and the gods in their proper place. Below us,” Perses growls.

  He takes a step toward Shea, and she takes a step away, until they’re stalking each other within the small circle of ice.

  “Then you should just kill me. Because I won’t allow that to happen. I want slavery to end, but I want equality. Not some reverse society crap. So if you’re not going to do anything, get the bloody Underdeep off my ship,” Shea commands, and stops pacing.

  She walks the last few feet until she’s right in Perses’s face, staring him down.

  What she doesn’t expect is for his hand to close around her throat.

  Shea gasps, his marble white fingers clutching her neck tightly, lifting her onto her toes.

  “Little sister, I could never kill you. You, me, and even Triton are the next generation of gods. But in this pantheon, I will be king. So no, sister, I won’t kill you, but I will teach you obedience. Something you desperately lack.” Perses chuckles darkly, squeezing a little more until Shea’s hands are scratching at his.

  Her magic pulls from inside her and she can feel it trying to call to the ice wall around them, but it’s like her magical grip keeps slipping. She can’t close her fingers around the elusive power.

  “I…” Shea tries but she can’t catch her breath.

  Perses cocks his head as if deciding whether he should let her speak, and then he loosens his grip just enough for her words to trickle through.

  “I’m…going…to…stop,” Shea rasps, “you.”

  “You can try.” Perses grins.

  Shea drops to the floor and she can distantly hear the ice collapsing around her, turning back to liquid and seeping through the wooden floor.

  Hands are on her, more than two, touching her back, her hair, and her face as she tries to breathe.

  She grips her throat and looks up, expecting to see Perses there, but he’s not. She coughs, looking around wildly and finally notices Poseidon, who’s standing over by the port quarterdeck rail, looking over the side.

  “Off the port side, Captain! He’s there,” Aster shouts, pointing left from the crow’s nest.

  Shea pushes off the deck, waving Beck’s and Jo’s hands away, and stumbles toward her father, her hands gripping the rail tightly.

  Down below, standing on the water’s surface, is Perses.

  A beautiful conch shell is in his hand, and he’s looking straight at Poseidon and Shea as he places the shell to his lips.

  He blows it and the sound is horrific. A terrifying screech like Caeruleus’s sharp nails sliding down solid glass.

  Everyone on deck covers their ears, but it’s over quickly.

  And as if he was standing right next to her, Shea hears Perses’s voice in her ear as he speaks from all the way down on the ocean surface.

  She watches his lips move and hears him as clear as day.

  “If you survive this, then you belong with me.”

  He’s gone.

  She blinks and it’s as if he was never there.

  The sea is quiet, only the wind howls as it passes over the ship.

  “Get the cannons ready,” Poseidon commands, and Shea turns to her father.

  His lips are pressed in a thin line and his eyebrows draw together in concern.

  “What’s coming?” Shea rasps, clearing her throat.

  “It’s already here,” Poseidon states.

  It bursts through the water, screeching the same high-pitched shrill noise that Perses produced from the shell. Its eyes are a pale yellow and its body is larger than anything Shea has ever seen.

  Water sizzles as it touches its red scales, and Shea’s eyes bulge when she sees the large wings on the creature’s back. Its mouth opens and water spews from its throat up into the air. Some of it splashes onto the bow of the ship, and screaming sounds from various crew members, steam rising from their seared flesh.

  “We’re dead,” Beck announces from nearby.

  “Not yet,” Caen barks and starts shouting orders.

  Naval officers and Duchess crew run to their stations. Men and women man the harpoon launchers, gunners adjust cannon aim, and Shea looks to her father.

  “What is it?”

  Poseidon takes a breath; he puts his hand out over the rail and when he pulls his hand back over, there’s a trident made of water rippling in his powerful grip.

  “A Megathirio.”

  Shea sighs, because of course. She translates for the rest of them.

  “Water dragon.”

  Chapter 16: Strange Bedfellows

  Perses

  Perses collapses back on the floor of the Lycon tent, breathing with some difficulty. His hands grip the soft carpet covering the hard ground miles away from the capital Acheron in Lycos.

  It’s been a month since they razed the Lycon countryside.

  Ceto and her army, joined by his own dark magic creatures from the deep. Banished elves misshapen by their own temptations they found in the Underdeep, loyal to Perses because without him they would have remained the mindless creatures they had become. But he recruited them and, after stealing his brother’s shell, amplified his magic enough to give them back pieces of their humanity.

  Liquid drips underneath his nose and down onto his lip—he recognizes the copper taste and wipes away the blood.

  He’ll need to make the change soon. Without the immortality, his mortal body will fail from the excess magic.

  All he needs is for Shea to return with Triton. If she survives the Megathirio, that is.

  Perses chuckles aloud and carefully stands from where he teleported to the floor.

  A low moan alerts him that he’s not alone, and before he turns to the bed behind him, he straightens out his clothing, wipes the residual blood away, and runs a hand through his hair.

  The Lycon viper behind him would strike the moment she sensed weakness, and he can’t have that, not yet.

  “You’ve returned,” Ceto’s breathy voice finally speaks.

  Perses turns toward her, shrugging off his outer robes until he’s left in only red silk pants embroidered with gold dragon designs on the hem. He watches her eyes roam over his bare chest, and he notes with appreciation her nude form.

  Her long black hair covers her breasts, and a white fur blanket lays over her lower limbs. She gestures for him to come closer but he does no such thing.

  She doesn’t make the orders.

  She stares him down a moment longer, but he merely smiles.

  Finally, she shoves the blankets aside.

  She pushes out of bed and stalks toward him completely naked, only her hair offering her any modesty.

  Torches are lit at various points of the extravagant tent and a war table sits behind Perses, leaving the couple in the center of the makeshift room.

  She reaches out to touch Perses’s chest, but he catches her wrist with ease. With his other hand, he reaches out and tucks the strands of her hair on the left side of her face behind her ear and cups her cheek.

  “Did you see her?” Ceto asks, allowing the moment.

  Perses grins, knowingly. “Yes.”

  “Was she beautiful?”

  There’s a dark lilt to her voice and Perses wants to laugh because he knows part of her wishes honesty and the other part hopes that he didn’t find Shea more beautiful than her.

  But of course, he did, because his sister is more beautiful than a mere human.

  “Yes,” he responds.

  Ceto hums in acknowledgment.

  “So they’ve gone then?”

  “They won’t be back for weeks.”

  Ceto chuckles. “Then we should march!”

  Perses growls and pulls Ceto’s dark form closer to him. His hand moves from around her wrist to instead wrap around her waist, until she’s flush against him.
r />   “No. We will stay on schedule. I need them to return. First, we will take back your precious Oceanus, and then once news reaches us that they’re back in Arethusa, we take Thalassa.”

  “It’s my army,” Ceto states. “If I want them to march, they will.”

  “No,” Perses murmurs, his lips inches from hers. “Not anymore. I’m running things now.”

  Perses kisses her deeply. She bites his lips and he tastes that bitter copper again. His hand moves from her face and instead grips her hair tightly, pulling until he hears her cry out in pain.

  Once her mouth opens, he nips her tongue and she moans at the sharp bite. They pull away from each other, breathing heavily, blood smeared across both their lips, and they grin at one another.

  “You may have the plan, Perses, but remember that I am the empress of Lycos and my army will listen to me. The deal still stands; you will have Arethusa and the Eastlands, and I will retain Oceanus and Lycos. We will rule together,” Ceto declares.

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” Perses replies.

  Ceto grabs his arms and he suppresses the flinch as her nails bite into his biceps, keeping his expression neutral.

  “And Shea will be mine.”

  Perses inwardly laughs; he’d never let his sister fall into this woman’s hands.

  “You shall have her, Ceto,” he tells her and smiles viciously when she laughs with joy.

  “My empress, it’s urgent I speak with Lord Perses!”

  The tent flap opens and a Lycon high-ranking officer enters.

  Ceto turns to face him with a thunderous expression plastered on her face.

  He notices his lady’s undress and quickly averts his eyes, kneeling before her.

  “I apologize, my lady, but the creatures, I mean the Merrow, as Lord Perses calls them, have returned and the one called Coral Fang has asked to see him. They make the men nervous, my lady, they wish to know our orders, if we move out come daybreak?”

  Perses examines the weak, quivering human as he awaits the lady’s orders.

  Ceto’s dark expression turns sweet and sultry and she glances back to Perses with a smile.

  “It appears our army needs us, my love,” Ceto states.

  “Yes, I believe so. I should speak with Coral Fang, he’ll have updates.”