The Veiled Descendants

by Sophia Menesini

  “Oh gods,” Shea mutters.

  It’s happening, they’re really here.

  Jo comes up beside her; she takes Shea’s hand, gripping it tightly as they stare over the marble rail at the army lying in wait.

  “How long?”

  “Soren said they arrived last night,” Jo explains. “Movements suggest they sent scouts, and all the officers agreed they’re coming; they attack tomorrow, definitely. At dawn or later, no one knows.”

  “Then we best make the most of the time we have left,” Shea advises her queen.

  Jo peers at her and kisses her forehead.

  Shea turns, examining the rest of the tower.

  The war room is impressive, large enough to fit at least thirty people comfortably. The floor is a large-scale map of Arethusa and the surrounding areas of Nereid. Fake ships and colored wooden pieces are scattered around the map as reference for fleets and army units.

  Soren is holding some sort of stick that pushes the pieces into place. It’s then that Shea notices Gaea and Rhea are in the tower with them.

  The two crones are sitting on cushioned seats with a set of guards standing at attention behind them.

  Beck and Caius take a side with two Oceanan advisors with them.

  Triton, Venus, and Poseidon stand off to another part of the rail with Thetis standing alone.

  Jo keeps her hold on Shea’s hand, and she guides her to where the rest of the Arethusians are standing.

  Caen surprisingly stands with Poseidon.

  They’ve each broken off into their own factions and hopefully there’s enough of them to turn the tide.

  Shea thinks about ignoring the two old women, but a voice inside her forces her to say something.

  “Ladies,” Shea begins with a curtsy, but is promptly cut off by Gaea.

  “You are queen consort. You curtsy to no one and you will do well to remember that,” Gaea snaps.

  Shea huffs, glaring at Caen, who snickers.

  “Don’t you think we’re a little busy for protocol,” Shea murmurs, but Rhea glares her down, making Shea feel positively small.

  “We are never too busy for protocol. Now shoulders back,” Rhea orders and Shea finds herself doing what the old woman says. “The general informed us you had a plan. Shall you proceed?”

  Shea hears Caeruleus yowl from somewhere nearby and she sees him land on a rail. She missed the old bird.

  He’s looking worse for wear, his muzzle is almost completely gray now, and his feathers are thinner.

  She forgets how old he is. Shea clears her throat, pushing the nostalgia away, and conceals her emotions; what has become the war council is staring at her, and she gestures for Triton to join her on the floor.

  “We have a plan,” Shea announces.

  “Oh good, she can repeat things. How about you explain to the soldiers what exactly they’re supposed to do,” Gaea drawls.

  “Gentle, ladies,” V growls.

  Shea scowls at the old bats, and she takes a bit of solace when she sees Jo give her ex-handler a sharp look, which seems to cow Gaea.

  “As I was saying, we have a plan. First things first, we need to make sure we don’t lose any more of our people. They can’t stay in the city; the low town, mid-town, and the high city of Thalassa will be the first to be sacked before they reach the castle.”

  “We’re going to allow them in?” Thetis objects.

  “We’re going to allow them past the first gate,” Triton explains, and she shoots him a glare, which he ignores, “so that we can focus all our attention on the palace gate. We use magic to fortify a barrier, and soldiers, lots of soldiers, so that we only let in a few at a time.”

  “Cuts down casualties, gives the soldiers some reprieve, and takes care of the Merrow and Lycons, but what about Perses?” Caen asks.

  Beck steps forward as well. “And where are we evacuating our people?”

  Shea nods. “Those are two very good questions. First, for the evacuation, since that’s the easier of the two to explain. We have to send them to the last safe place on Nereid.”

  “There’s nowhere left,” Soren states, “the Merrow have scourged the continent.”

  “There’s one place, one that’s been completely untouched,” Triton tells him.

  “You’re going to take them to Erebos,” Venus realizes, announcing their plan.

  Jo coughs. “I hate to argue with a goddess, but that’s not right, right? There’s a barrier around the Eastlands. No one can enter.”

  “The barrier is only inland,” Venus explains.

  “And it doesn’t extend to the coast,” Shea tells her.

  Caen sighs. “That’s because no one can get through the other side. The cliffs of the Eastlands are siren territory; it’s an ocean graveyard on the other side.”

  “Well luckily”—Shea smiles—“we have the father of sirens on our side.”

  “You can get our people through,” Beck murmurs.

  “Yes,” Triton confirms. “Easily, but I’ll have to be there to do it.”

  “But what about Perses?” Jo argues. “We need you to help Shea and Poseidon defeat him.”

  “I’m not completely useless you know,” V interrupts, raising her hand. “I can help, give him a chance to get away.”

  “Actually, you can’t,” Triton argues.

  “What?”

  “We’ll need someone powerful protecting the fleet, and our last getaway, it’ll be up to you to protect the Duchess and the crew until we can get there.”

  “I’m babysitting.” V scowls, folding her arms across her chest.

  “I think the refugees and civilians would be most comforted to know a goddess is protecting them, my lady,” General Soren notes, blushing when V smiles at him sweetly.

  “Well when you put it that way. Fine, when do you want me to go?”

  “Now?” Shea asks.

  V frowns. “Trying to get rid of me already. Fine, people find out you’re the goddess of love and suddenly they don’t need you in a fight.”

  “Wait!” Triton exclaims and Shea turns to him, confused.

  “We should give her the backup plan.”

  Shea’s eyes widen. “You’re right.”

  “I’m sorry, what backup plan?” V mutters.

  “Triton is the priority for survival in the final fight. But if things start going south, we have to get him out of here to the Duchess so he can lead the fleet to Erebos. We’ll send a signal to my crew that we’re coming, to you V.”

  “The connection.” V nods.

  Everyone else looks slightly confused, but the gods and demigod in the room understand.

  “And if he doesn’t make it? If you don’t make it?” Soren inquires.

  “Then the refugee ships will sail north to a place called Charis, our backup plan.”

  “Shea,” Caen objects. “We can’t send them there.”

  “There’s no choice. At least there, the Oceanans, Arethusians can start over. They can survive even if Nereid is lost.”

  “I’ve never heard of this place,” Rhea growls.

  “That’s because it’s extremely hard to find,” Venus drawls.

  “And you’ll need this to get there.” Shea pulls an amulet from her pocket, a garnet encased in white gold hanging on red silk ribbon.

  “What is it?” Soren asks as Shea hands it to V.

  “A key,” V remarks. “Where did you get this?”

  “Nowhere,” Shea tells her, quickly trying to change the subject.

  Then V’s eyes widen as she looks closer at it.

  “Shea Lara, you little thief. How did you? When did you? You had it all this time?” V growls.

  “Well it was a few years back when we were doing that…thing…” Shea trails off, trying to ignore Jo’s piercing gaze.

  “What thing?”

  “A bit of foreplay,” V remembers. “This will get us in alright. I bet you didn’t even remember you had it. You must have been quite surprised when you ended up there
.”

  “You have no idea,” Shea mutters.

  “That’s where you went, isn’t it? The time Soren couldn’t find you,” Jo wonders aloud, staring at the amulet.

  “It’s not important,” Shea states, ignoring Jo’s question. “If Triton doesn’t make it out, you go to Charis, otherwise the fleet follows the Duchess to Erebos. The Duchess will send the fleet a signal if we don’t make it,” Shea finishes explaining.

  “I can do that,” V confirms. “I’ll go now.”

  V disappears with the amulet, heading to the Duchess.

  “You think Perses will let us go?” Caius inquires.

  “I don’t know,” Shea answers honestly.

  “So what happens when Perses shows up?” Thetis snaps.

  Shea rolls her eyes at the other elf’s harsh tone and gestures for Triton to take over.

  “Perses, with all his power, shouldn’t have too much trouble getting past the barrier. He’ll only be able to bring an elite team with him, no more than ten men, even mortal magic has its limits paired with my shell, but he’ll get through. We have to be ready and waiting for him.”

  “We’ve picked a location, one with easy access for escape and with a lot of room.”

  “The throne room,” Jo suspects, and she’s correct.

  “Yes,” Shea states, nodding to her.

  “So, you battle Perses there, but how do you intend to defeat him?” Beck asks the next important question.

  “He’s not immortal,” Poseidon pipes up, stepping onto the floor map from the edge.

  “He has a lot of power, but the magic inside him is still killing him. And while it may not seem like it, it makes him weak and filled with wild magic, which should he unleash, he might not be able to control.”

  “You’re telling us your plan is to wait him out, tire him out,” Thetis notes incredulously.

  “Pretty much,” Shea chuckles, but there’s no humorous edge.

  “So how do we help? What can we do?” Jo demands.

  “I’m glad you asked because you all have jobs. While we know Perses will be able to get in eventually, we can still make it difficult for him, and we’ll need the extra time to prepare for him. When I was first here at Jo’s coronation ball, we went out to the gardens,” Shea begins, but Rhea cuts her off.

  “Where you kidnapped her.”

  “Right,” Shea sighs. “But as we were walking through the gardens, I noticed that the trees were glowing, something only possible with the aid of magic, which means Arethusa has its own magic practitioners.”

  “We do?” Jo asks, warily turning toward the crones.

  “You didn’t know?” Beck raises a brow.

  “Not exactly.”

  Jo is glaring at the two old women now.

  Gaea breaks first. “We do have certain elves with the ability.”

  “Free elves,” Rhea states, and Shea rolls her eyes at the attempt at a distinction.

  “We only allow the use of magic at festivities.”

  ​“Why wasn’t I told?” Jo interrogates.

  “It was on a need to know basis.”

  “I’m the queen!”

  “The military has no knowledge of this either.” Soren glares.

  “And thank the gods, because Mariner could have been much harder to tame last year,” Rhea snaps.

  Shea groans. “Look, just tell us if any of the secret magic elves are still at the castle.”

  “They are,” Gaea confirms. “But why do you need them?”

  “To feed Triton’s barrier, right?” Thetis drawls.

  Shea smiles at her harshly.

  “Which leads you to your next part of the plan; let me guess, you want me on the front lines,” Thetis spits.

  “Thetis.”

  “No. I’m not leaving Proteus.”

  “We know that,” Triton soothes, “that’s why, while you’re keeping the barrier up, I’ll put a barrier around his chambers for protection. That way when you leave the boundary, you can get him and take him to the evacuation point and escape.”

  ​“Absolutely not,” Thetis screeches. “I’m not letting you near him, you shall never lay eyes on him.”

  ​Triton takes a step back at the comment, hurt evident on his features.

  Shea, who is not as surprised by her outburst, recovers faster.

  “Fine, I’ll do it. I can seal the room, and make sure he’s protected, but you have to be the one leading the elves. We need you, Thetis—this plan fails without you. We’re trusting you.”

  Thetis is quiet as her eyes scan Shea’s features, and Shea almost thinks she’ll decline again when she scoffs but nods.

  “Good, Rhea, Gaea, show Thetis to the elves. She needs to prepare them. Triton will be along to put up the barrier soon. Once that’s done, start the evacuation process, I want both of you on the first ship. Understood?”

  Shea doesn’t expect a response. Thetis nods and the two old women shuffle from their seat, their guards following behind them.

  Thetis walks out without another word, but Rhea and Gaea pause at the door. They turn back to face the war council and stare directly at Shea.

  “Yes, Queen Consort,” they both reply to Shea’s earlier question, curtsying before leaving the tower.

  “What’s next?” Jo smiles, having watched the whole moment between Shea and her ex-handlers.

  Shea is still a bit dazed by the respect, so she doesn’t hear Jo’s question at first.

  Triton takes the lead for her.

  “Shea, Poseidon, and I will be laying traps along the halls leading to the throne room. It’ll delay, but it won’t stop the inevitable; by now Perses should be able to sense when we’re near. And unfortunately for all of you, we’re what he cares about—somehow I think he believes we can save him from dying.”

  Shea shakes her head in bewilderment, that’s the one thing they hadn’t been able to work out.

  “And us?” Beck asks.

  Shea looks up at him and sees Caius’s worried expression.

  He quickly schools his features, but Shea understands how he feels.

  “Beck. And Jo,” Shea states, catching their attention, “you of course will be on ships leading your people to Erebos or Charis.”

  There’s a moment of silence and then the two of them erupt.

  “Absolutely not!”

  “Never going to happen!”

  Shea sighs; she didn’t really expect much different.

  “Yes, alright. I figured. Caius and Soren will be there as the leaders of Arethusa and Oceanus.”

  Now the advisors begin their objections.

  “I forbid it!”

  “We need them!”

  “Yes! I know that,” Shea shouts, glaring at Soren and Caius. “But unfortunately, I’m married to that one”—Shea points to Jo—“and that one has seniority,” Shea finishes, pointing to Beck.

  “So, we three lose,” Shea shrugs. “Now, Caius, start the boarding process. We don’t have time to wait, go section by section until every civilian in the city is on board one of the ships.”

  Caius turns to Beck to argue, but Beck beats him to it. “Do as she says.”

  Caius sighs heavily and nods, bowing to Beck and then briefly to Shea and Jo before leaving the room.

  “Soren?”

  Soren meets Shea’s eyes.

  “Before you board, I want you to get the men ready. All the sentries at the lower wall, bring them here. Station them at every point around the castle gates and within. I want this area fortified. But before dawn, I want you on one of those ships. If Jo and I don’t make it, we—and I think I can speak for Jo—we trust you to lead…our people,” Shea orders.

  Soren gapes at her, letting her words sink in before he bows to Jo and Shea.

  “Yes, Queen Consort,” Soren responds, and this time Shea feels like he means it. “Your Majesty.” Soren turns to Jo and he awaits her orders.

  “Do as she says,” Jo confirms, and the next piece of their plan is off and gone
to complete his task.

  “So, what’s our real job?” Beck inquires.

  It’s just Shea, Triton, Caen, Poseidon, Beck, and Jo left with a handful of guards standing around the room as sentries.

  Shea laughs when she sees Caeruleus curled up on the rail sleeping; he’s lying on an edge hundreds of feet up in the air. But what does a cat with wings care if he falls?

  “While Triton, Poseidon, and I are facing down Perses and whoever else comes with him, I need you clearing our escape path. It’ll be your job to get us out, to get Triton out of here.”

  “We’re not leaving without you,” all three of them respond.

  Triton and Shea laugh at the ferocity, and even Poseidon cracks a smile.

  “See, my preservation skills are so high I chose a group of people who wouldn’t leave without me,” Shea jokes but sobers quickly because she needs them to understand.

  “I love all of you.” Shea’s eyes jump from Caen to Beck, and land finally on Jo. “Deeply. But I am not worth thousands of lives. I wasn’t kidding. Charis is the backup plan, because honestly, Erebos, sirens, and a bunch of angry elves is safer than the evils lying north. So, when I say save Triton, I mean it.”

  Caen is staring at the ground.

  Beck is biting his lips hard enough to split them, and Jo looks angry and terrified all at once.

  “I need to hear you all say it. Okay?”

  Jo and Beck nod sullenly, but Caen keeps his eyes down.

  “If I’m lost, you don’t come back for me. Say it.”

  All three of them are staring at the map on the floor—they won’t meet her eyes.

  “Say it,” Shea rasps. “Please.”

  Caen is the first to look up. “If there’s nothing left to do, I’ll get him to the ship.”

  Beck and Jo repeat exactly what Caen said, and while it’s not exactly what Shea wanted to hear, she’ll take it.

  “What’s the exit strategy?”

  She grins. “I thought we’d take an old trip down memory lane.”

  Caen raises a brow and it comes to him quickly. He laughs heartily.

  Jo and Beck stare at them both, waiting to be let in on the joke.

  “Past the Lover’s Fountain, through the barracks, and out the servant’s entrance,” Caen tells them.

  Jo grins, shaking her head. “Here’s hoping I’m conscious this time.”