The Veiled Descendants

by Sophia Menesini

  ​No more dallying, they need to get to Arethusa immediately. She watches Triton jump down from the mast rope and begin walking her way. She feels comforted by his presence and it reinforces her decision.

  ​“Then let’s get this ship moving,” Shea bellows. “I want my gunners at the ready. Jo get Beck down below. If he can’t work, I need him out of the way.”

  ​Jo frowns at Shea’s coldness but nods, helping him up.

  Beck looks like he’s in a state of shock and Shea understands, truly, but if she really wants to help him, she’ll get them to Thalassa.

  ​“Aster, who gave you permission to leave your post?” Shea snarls, storming onto the deck as the gunners and deck crew start scrambling at their captain’s wicked tone.

  ​They haven’t seen her like this, well, in a long time.

  ​Aster visibly flinches, but as his eyes scan her features, he seems to understand and he straightens his back, his jaw clenching.

  ​“No one, ma’am,” he responds, not meeting Shea’s eyes.

  ​“Then get back to it,” Shea grounds out, stepping up close to him, “now.”

  ​Aster gives a short nod, and starts running toward the helm.

  ​James is barking orders at the deck crew to get this ship moving, and Shea can feel Caen at her back like a shadow.

  ​“If you’d like to retire down below,” Caen murmurs.

  He grasps her arm, stopping her from continuing toward the bow and Triton, who seems to be waiting for her.

  ​They’re standing in the middle of the deck, and Shea can feel curious eyes watching them from their jobs. They’re a distraction.

  ​She refuses to look at him, and she removes her arm from his grip.

  ​“I can take over up here, so you can check on him,” Caen finishes.

  ​Shea scoffs, turning to face him with a sharp stare. “I’ve been retired long enough. Obviously, my crew needs me. I’m not leaving this deck until we arrive in Arethusa in, if my calculations are correct judging from where we are”—Shea gestures—“around six hours.”

  ​Caen opens his mouth to respond, but as he does, the deck doors open behind him.

  Poseidon steps out, fully dressed.

  Shea’s eyes narrow on her father and she looks back at Caen. She juts her chin in Poseidon’s direction, and Caen turns to see where she points, sighing deeply when his eyes land on the sea god.

  ​“But if you’d like to retire, Quartermaster, I’ve got things covered up here,” Shea drawls, her words dripping with venom.

  ​She turns to leave him but stops, her magic jolting in her chest, causing her anger to fester. She glares back at him.

  “You know you really had me fooled with the whole disapproval, hate thing. So, tell me, when did you decide fucking my father, who lied to all of us—who, if it wasn’t for his lust of power, Perses would be dead by now, and Dari and Phoebus would still be alive—was a brilliant idea?” Shea practically spits the word fucking and Caen winces, giving her the smallest amount of satisfaction. “Because I certainly don’t understand why. Nor do I really want to at the moment. Were you truly that desperate?”

  ​At the mention of Dari and Phoebus, Caen’s eyes remain glued to the ground. He doesn’t look back up at her, not once.

  ​Shea wants to walk away, but she can’t just yet. Everything she’s been feeling the past couple days is bubbling out. Her magic is buzzing from her hands up her arms, egging her on, urging her to destroy.

  “I don’t care if you fuck men.” Shea laughs coldly. “My son certainly does. I do! In fact, probably half the world does. But why, in Hades, did it have to be him?”

  ​Shea shakes her head, all of her thoughts burning through her mind like wildfire. She’s barely listening to what she’s saying anymore and if she had been, she never would have said what she says next.

  ​“You know I heard what you said to Phoebus,” Shea growls. “And at the time, I didn’t really understand what you meant—the message for Paetre. And perhaps I always knew. The looks when you knew he wasn’t looking, how you cared for me after he was gone.”

  ​Caen looks down at her now, his expression unreadable, but he turns to face her completely.

  ​“Shea,” he objects, not liking where this is going.

  ​“Perhaps that’s why you stayed all along,” Shea hisses. “Was it a promise? Or did I just remind you of him? So maybe that’s why, huh? You never got to have the real thing, but hey, Shea’s birth father, that’s close enough, right?”

  ​Shea screams the last sentence loud enough that she knows most of the crew probably heard. And by the time it’s out of her mouth, regret is already swimming up her throat and closing off her air. She chokes on her wickedness, her magic disappearing, leaving her to drown.

  ​Caen’s gaping at her. His eyes wander over her form, and he cocks his head, a humorless smile replacing his shocked expression.

  ​“You’re right about one thing,” Caen tells her, his voice devoid of any emotion. “You’re just like him. Paetre. Never knew when to hold his tongue either. Got him into a lot of trouble. So, I’m only going to say this once.”

  ​Caen marches up until he’s towering over her.

  ​Shea holds her ground, but her heart is beating like a hummingbird. She thinks he might hit her, but he just leans down, so his face is right in hers.

  ​“My reasons are my own. And I don’t need you to understand. My personal relationships are my own, including those with both your fathers. You’re my kid, and if anyone else would have spoken to me like this, they’d be run through right about now. I do love you because of Paetre.”

  ​Shea can’t take in any air, her lips thin at his last statement.

  ​Caen’s eyes search hers, and he nods like he knows his comment did some damage.

  ​“Because it was Paetre,” Caen emphasizes, “who brought you into my life. You’re angry, you’re upset, and you’ve lost more than most. I’m not going anywhere, but—Do. Not. Test. Me. If I have to treat you like Paetre, I will, and I hit his pretty jaw more often than not without any reservations when he pushed me too far. So, I’m going to do my job and if you need anything, let me know.”

  ​He walks away from her after that.

  ​Shea stumbles over to the rail, looking out over the water as Oceanus starts to fade away.

  Triton steps up beside her and simply places his hand over hers.

  ​She doesn’t speak or acknowledge it. She just stands beside him for a moment. If she’s not careful, she’s going to lose more people to herself than to Perses. They’ve got six hours until they reach Arethusa. Shea finally looks over at Triton and gestures for him to follow her to the afterdeck. It’s time to start planning how exactly they’re going to win this war.

  Chapter 40: Darkness Edge

  Shea

  They arrive in Arethusa about noon. The sun shines brightly overhead, and the smoke they had experienced sailing past the destroyed city of Metis is gone. If they didn’t know any better, it would seem like a pristine day.

  There’s nowhere to dock; the royal fleet has been brought to the Arethusian port, and there are a few ships marked by the Oceanan flag scattered among the navy.

  Shea makes the decision to lower their anchor farther out from the docks and take the two longboats to shore. She chooses the crew that will remain behind in case of an evacuation, and she takes a bit of pleasure when Caen practically storms off at the order that he will be one of the crew remaining behind. She knows she should probably apologize before she leaves, for all they know she could be dead come the invasion’s arrival, but for now she focuses on who will be going ashore.

  Triton and Shea have been discussing battle plans for the last two hours up on the afterdeck, and they’ve hopefully constructed some ideas that just might work. Once she’s chosen the select few, she counts off to herself as a reminder.

  Beck.

  He’d come back up not long after they had traveled farther out to sea, m
aking their way around Nereid to Arethusa.

  She’d watched him briefly report to James for work and then seen him climbing the mast for maintenance before pulling her attention back to the plans. She’d seen that expression in a mirror before—vengeance, anger—and Shea hopes that’ll keep him alive since she knows she can’t force him to stay behind on the Duchess.

  Jo.

  About an hour out from her queendom, Jo returned to the main deck.

  Caen shouted her name, and when Shea looked up from her discussion with Triton on evacuation details for the civilians, their eyes had met. She wondered if Jo was still upset with how she had acted earlier, but her worries melted away as her wife smiled at her encouragingly. Shea frowned when Caen took Jo aside for some reason or another, but she didn’t have time to investigate.

  Poseidon.

  He’d attempted to walk up the afterdeck stairs three times on the last stretch of their journey before finally making his decision and coming up. At first, he’d stood by his children, silently observing as they discussed the weaknesses of Arethusa’s perimeters but when they’d come to a particular problem, he’d offered a simple solution, breaking his silence.

  Shea wanted to ignore him, but his advice was sound, and Triton looked up at her, whispering in her mind, “He’s won many wars.”

  Shea had gestured for him to join them and they discussed strategies until Arethusa’s capital, Thalassa, had appeared on the horizon.

  The glimmering castle on the cliffs shone like a diamond among darkness. As if it were the last safehold in all of Nereid.

  As she looks around her surviving crew, Shea realizes she won’t risk any more of her men, she can’t because she’ll need all that’s left to sail the Duchess away if this goes south.

  The remaining Arethusian soldiers will accompany them to shore.

  Aster confronts her as they’re boarding the longboats.

  “You’re not taking Caen?”

  Shea sighs, nodding for Jo to get in ahead of her. Beck is already on the first longboat with Triton and Poseidon and a few Arethusian soldiers.

  Two of her crewmen are lowering them down to the ocean’s surface while the last of the naval officers board the second longboat with Jo.

  Shea’s eyes flicker to Caen, who’s standing on the afterdeck looking out at Thalassa.

  “No,” she states, turning to board the longboat, but Aster grips her arm tightly, stopping her.

  “Don’t do this.”

  “Why are you asking about him? Hmm? Don’t you wanna go?” Shea laughs, but the sound is hollow.

  “Yes. To protect you, always, but I know I’m no match for them. And I’m not going to get in your way,” Aster murmurs.

  “You’re doing a fine job of that now,” Shea comments, gesturing to his hand on her arm.

  “Because right now I can protect you, and you’re making a mistake.”

  “I don’t feel like I can trust him right now.”

  “Why?” Aster objects.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Shea yanks her arm out of his grip, but he steps in front of her, blocking her path to the small boat.

  “Because he slept with Poseidon?”

  Shea’s eyes widen and she shushes him.

  Aster scoffs.

  “A bit late for that since you practically announced it on deck. Why does it matter to you? What are you really blaming him for?”

  “I don’t blame him,” Shea growls.

  “Then what is it?” Aster hisses, getting up in Shea’s face. “Because leaving him behind is a mistake, he’s had your back, he’s always had your back.”

  “Can you just leave it alone?”

  “No,” he argues.

  Shea’s looking into those anger-fueled eyes and she feels like she’s using her mirror magic, staring at an image of Paetre and her.

  “You’re pushing him away—why?”

  “Because,” Shea spits, “because I already lost Phoebus and Dari, and I can’t lose him too. And when I saw him with…Poseidon…All I could think about was how because of Poseidon and because I wasn’t good enough, Phoebus and Dari died. And I panicked because…I can’t lose Caen to him too. I won’t. I’d rather die.”

  “You truly believe that,” Aster breathes, searching his surrogate mother’s eyes.

  “Yes.”

  “Then I know I can’t change your mind.”

  Shea nods, taking a deep breath. She starts to move around Aster, but he stops her again by grabbing her hand.

  “But if you…die,” Aster falters on the last word before continuing, “you lose him anyway. So, why don’t you do the smart thing, because my mother is not an idiot. She listens to strategy and she knows how to win. But she also can’t do that without Caen. So. Are you going to stop being an idiot?”

  Shea’s mouth hangs wide open as she stares at her child—no.

  He’s not a child anymore.

  She tries to recover, but she finds herself jittery and unable to look him in his eyes. She glances over at Caen, standing at the helm, and clears her throat. When she finally gathers the courage to look up at Aster, she sees she’s not leaving unless it’s with Caen.

  He’s really not a child anymore.

  Shea huffs, a somber chuckle escaping her lips. He’s only sixteen, just barely, but pirates are never children long anyway.

  She likes to think he got longer than most.

  She sighs, flashing her son a soft smile, before turning her body in Caen’s direction. She steels her features.

  “Mister Caen!”

  Caen snaps his head toward her. He seems to straighten up and his arms flex as he grips the banister tighter, awaiting what she has to say.

  “Do you think this ship will be able to run without you?” Shea shouts.

  There’s a moment of silence, and for a second, Shea thinks he might not respond. But his hardened mouth turns into a teasing grin and Shea can already feel her anxiety falling.

  “No,” he responds. “But I’m willing to let it try, Captain.”

  Shea nods. “Quickly then, give James your orders. We need to make for shore immediately.”

  Caen salutes her and races down the helm’s steps toward James at the front harpoon launchers.

  Shea returns her focus to Aster, who is smiling rather smugly.

  His hands are on his hips and she sees a glimmer of leadership in his strong stance.

  “You sure you don’t need me?” Aster inquires.

  “Of course, I need you,” Shea remarks, and places a hand on her son’s cheek. “But you’re needed here. Triton and I have some plans, and if they succeed or fail, I need the Duchess ready to sail. You’ll be the last ship out of the harbor. We’ll set off a signal if things are going badly. But if we’re not there within a half hour after the signal, you have to sail, you have to sail to Erebos.”

  “How will we get past the siren cliffs? It’s a ship graveyard.”

  “We have a plan,” Shea reassures him, and Caen finally arrives at her side.

  She hugs Aster and steps away, following Caen into the longboat where Jo and the remaining soldiers are waiting.

  “Just wait for the signal,” Shea calls out as they’re lowered down to the water.

  Aster leans over the rail, and she takes a moment to memorize every line, curve, and feature of his face.

  He nods, and before she knows it, he’s gone. She really hopes this isn’t the last time she sees him.

  ***

  “Took you long enough,” General Soren greets them with a group of men in the courtyard of the palace near the stables.

  The naval soldiers from the Duchess retire to their barracks, leaving Beck, Jo, Shea, Caen, Poseidon, and Triton in the square.

  ​The city is thoroughly fortified, from what Shea saw as they made their way to the palace after securing the longboats on the beach, hiding them both out of sight.

  The front gates to Arethusa have been closed and the stone wall around the lower town is completely guarded
by archers and sentries. The city itself is in chaos.

  There are so many people, survivors from Oceanus, refugees from all over Nereid running from the rampage of Perses and Ceto’s army.

  Shea had held Jo’s hand as the queen examined her beautiful capital.

  She was proud as they arrived in the higher city, where the mansions and manors of the lords and ladies had opened their doors to their fellow citizens and the Oceanan refugees.

  Many Oceanan citizens cheered as well as cried when they saw Beck. All who recognized him regarded him as governor and begged questions of when they would be able to return to Oceanus.

  Beck answered the best he could. Upon the first question, he had turned to Shea and Jo with a questioning gaze, but they had no answers, the same as him.

  Soren kneels before Jo, but she quickly pulls him to his feet and into a familiar embrace. Soren’s face would be comical if Shea weren’t just as pleased as Jo to see him. Behind Soren is another familiar face, although Shea can’t place his name, but the moment Beck see him, he runs over and gives him a firm hug.

  “Caius!”

  Shea watches the exchange warmly as Caius accepts the embrace, and her heart stutters as Caius’s eyes close and he cups the back of Beck’s head in relief.

  When they pull away, Caius quickly straightens his clothes and waves Beck off politely, but he has a smile that betrays his true feelings for Beck’s return.

  A heavy hand lands on her shoulder and she jumps, praying to the gods it’s not Poseidon, but when she turns, she finds Caen there instead.

  She looks up at him with a heavy sigh and they exchange silent apologies.

  Soren greets Shea with a bow as well, which she scoffs at, earning a disapproving glare from him. But they clasp hands, squeezing each other’s forearms.

  “Great. Now that everyone is happy to see each other, might we retire to the war room to plan for the oncoming invasion in a couple days?” Triton drawls, not rudely, but it is a jarring reminder.

  Everyone turns to look at him and Soren warily rests his hand on the hilt of his blade at his waist.

  “Tomorrow.”