Salt & the Sisters: The Siren's Curse 3 (The Elemental Origins Series Book 9)

by A. L. Knorr

  “It’s a crown! Oh, wonderful!”

  The voice was right. Eumelia was turning the ocean water into a bright blue crown filled with light––aquamarine––Atlanteans’ own royal gemstone.

  “Clever girl,” Valgana whispered under her breath, and Shaloris felt her mother’s grip tighten around her waist.

  Taking her time, Eumelia made a display of crafting the crown with a practiced artfulness. Shaloris wondered how long she’d spent working with this magic in secret. Deep in her heart, a small, cold seed of fear took root.

  Was it just a crown? Or was there some other kind of magic infused into this crown? Might it actually make a difference in King Bozen’s choice? Was there a way Hypatia and Eumelia could sway his decision with this spectacular magic? Or was it a trick, simply done to impress and make everyone remember Eumelia? Her name would be on everyone’s lips for a long time to come, and she’d forever be the young woman who made King Bozen a crown out of saltwater, turning it into Atlantis’s own most-valued gemstone the way alchemists had tried and failed to turn substances into gold. Surely this was a woman touched by the gods. Surely, she would be the next ruler of Atlantis. She would be the first female ruler of the great ocean nation and she’d be accepted by even the men of the council, because she’d been witnessed doing great things.

  The crown was soon complete, and it spun on watery fingers as the pool itself passed the crown to its edge where Bozen only had to get up and step forward to take it.

  Suddenly, Hypatia was there, fingers reaching out to take the crown from its watery perch. She plucked it like it was a ripe fruit and the water holding it up sank slowly back into the pool. The whirling water slowed and grew still.

  Holding the crown aloft, Hypatia walked slowly toward King Bozen, who waited for her solemnly.

  King Bozen got up from his seat and then went to his knees so Hypatia could reach his head. The circlet of orichalcum on his head was removed and taken away by a servant. With great drama and ceremony, Hypatia settled the glowing aquamarine crown on King Bozen’s bright red curls.

  “To your name day, to your long life, to your reign.” Hypatia’s voice rose and fell like a wind through stringed instruments.

  The crowd was galvanized. They got to their feet and the room erupted with applause and shouts of congratulations. People were smiling and laughing and talking to one another about the remarkable magic they’d witnessed. This was not something one saw everyday, from the king’s own daughter, did you know?

  Eumelia and Hypatia shared a triumphant look.

  Shaloris began to wither.

  Twenty-One

  A fortnight after King Bozen’s name day celebration, a servant from the palace whispered to Shaloris, “The king will visit you this evening.”

  Shaloris felt honored and a little frightened. She’d not been close to her father as she grew up. He’d always been good to her, loving and kind, generous and sweet. But he’d not raised her and the relationship had been one of princess and king more than daughter and father. She’d observed his rule from a distance, and had learned much from him that way. But as a man, he was a mystery to her.

  Stealing a glance in one of her mirrors, she was pleased to see the color still high in her cheeks after having spent much of the day outdoors. Her curls were still in place and the wispy robe of greens and blues was tidy. The day had been warm and lovely and she’d begged her tutors to take their lessons outside. They’d agreed and moved to the gardens at the back of the palace. When her lessons were over, Shaloris had gone to one of the larger parks, flanked by two guards and a chaperone, as she always was when she left palace grounds. She could ask them to walk far enough behind her that she could forget they were there, and if she went to the ocean, she could ask them to remain where she could not see them. She’d not always been trailed this way, cossetted like a precious jewel who might at any time get snatched away. The extra security had been added only in the past year. Valgana had told her that the security had been added to Eumelia as well.

  Shaloris settled in her sitting area, an airy room with a high ceiling and filled with the warm flickering light of torches. A cluster of lounge chairs sat around a low marble table topped with a gigantic vase filled with sea-lillies. Their sweet, fresh fragrance filled the room, and their pastel blue and green hues soothed the eye.

  “King Bozen,” announced a lady servant.

  Shaloris stood when he entered her sitting area. Then she crossed to him and knelt before him, taking his hand and holding her forehead to the back of it.

  She felt his warm hand on the back of her head and smiled at the floor. She had never had time completely alone with her father before. Shaloris stood and invited him to find a place to relax. After waiting until he chose a seat, she gestured to the tray sitting on the low table.

  “Would you like some wine?” she asked, and was pleased to find her voice steady.

  But King Bozen shook his head. “Thank you, please sit.”

  Shaloris did. She surveyed her father. His hair looked a dark copper in the firelight, and his skin a burnished bronze. King Bozen was sometimes called ‘The Bright King’ because he had unusual coloring. His hair was the kind of glinting red that was normally paired with pale, freckly skin. But his skin was tanned and smooth in tone. His gray-green eyes were pale and reflected any light in the room. ‘The Bright King’ was a name which suited him.

  When she looked at her father, she saw Eumelia. The tanned skin and the red curls, only Eumelia’s eyes were an otherworldly green. They were the kind of vivid shade Shaloris had only ever seen in Mer people. Atlantis had its share of Mer citizens, and they were easily spotted by their skin and their eyes. It was the Atlanteans and the humans who were impossible to tell apart.

  “I thought it was time we had a private talk,” King Bozen began, after clearing his throat. He knotted his fingers together.

  Shaloris realized with a jolt that he was nervous, and this in turn made her nervous. What was so important that he’d have to say it in private and in person?

  “I’m listening, Father King,” she replied, hoping the strength of her voice would help him say whatever had to be said.

  “It is a strange and wondrous thing,” her father went on, “how you and your sister came to be born at the same moment of the same day.”

  Shaloris knew the story well. As a young king, Bozen could choose whomever he liked to bring to his bedchamber. Unwed and not yet taking the idea of a bride seriously, King Bozen had been drawn by Valgana’s beauty and magic. But he’d fallen in love with Hypatia, madly and deeply, or so Shaloris had heard. Shaloris felt the old questions rise in her mind like bubbles exhaled underwater. Why then had he set Hypatia aside?

  “I liked your mother very much,” Bozen said. His eyes reflected the torchlight, and Shaloris thought they seemed bright with moisture. “Valgana is a wonderful woman of many gifts and it is easy to see who gave you your beauty. I am sure your talents may even one day surpass your mother’s, so well you’ve been raised and cared for.”

  By talents, Shaloris knew he meant her Atlantean magic. The magic she herself had not yet claimed and was a little afraid of.

  “You know that I have a difficult decision to make,” King Bozen said.

  He’s preparing to reject me, Shaloris thought. He’s going to choose Eumelia for the crown. Why else would he be flattering me?

  Her breathing remained steady but she felt suddenly caught in a thicket full of emotional thorns: dismay and hurt at the rejection, relief that she’d not need to bear such a heavy burden, and fear at what Eumelia and Hypatia might one day do with the power which would pass to them.

  “Already I have delayed too long, my councilors warn me,” King Bozen said with a dry chuckle.

  Wanting to ease her father’s discomfort, Shaloris spoke. “I think I understand, Father.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. Hypatia was your true love, therefore Eumelia must be your heir.”

  He
seemed to freeze in place for a moment, then he smiled. “No, little minnow. I’m doing a terrible job, forgive me.”

  King Bozen moved to a chair closer to Shaloris. He took her hand in both of his big ones.

  “I did love Hypatia,” King Bozen admitted. “Do, for the gods know I love her still, with all my heart.”

  “But…you set her aside.”

  “I had to. My councilors convinced me that to remain so close to a siren was not in the best interests of our people.”

  “We have sirens among our population.” Shaloris shifted in her seat to face her father more directly. “They are part of our people, the diversity that gives Atlantis its strength.”

  “Yes, but there are far less of them than there are of us, and the humans living among us. The Mer are wild, unpredictable, and in possession of some powers that are not fully understood. My government does not wish me to be manipulated by one of them. To remain impartial and in full control of my own faculties and judgment, I separated myself from Hypatia. It is one of the most difficult things I have ever had to do. To be honest, I am not entirely sure why Hypatia has not taken Eumelia and gone to Okeanos. It is their way.”

  “I can tell you why.”

  Bozen looked at her for a moment, then dipped his head in appreciation of her honesty. “Yes, you are right. I know as well. But, Shaloris, I cannot give them what they want.”

  Shaloris’s stomach went into a tumble of somersaults. Her heart began to pound almost painfully and her armpits felt suddenly damp.

  “Do not look so afraid!” King Bozen looked alarmed. “You will not be required to rule for a very long time, unless something should happen to me.”

  “Gods, no,” she wheezed.

  He smiled and touched her cheek for that.

  “But, you could yet take a wife,” she went on, “and father many other children.”

  Her words were tripping over themselves in her desperation to convince him to change his mind. Suddenly her concern for what Hypatia and Eumelia would do with the crown evaporated and all she wanted in that moment was to be released from the colossal weight she felt moving into place overhead.

  “I can’t.”

  Shaloris blinked in surprise. “Can’t?”

  “I can’t have any more children.” King Bozen said this with some sadness but appeared remarkably composed. Like it was old news, news he’d come to terms with a long time ago.

  “How do you know? You already fathered two daughters.”

  “I just can’t. I know.” His tone was blunt enough that Shaloris understood the subject to be closed. “I will not choose Eumelia because her mother has poisoned her mind. She is not suitable to rule. They do not know that I have ears all over this city, and I know their true feelings toward our people.”

  The humans, Shaloris thought.

  “They would be the destruction of Atlantis as we know it today.”

  There was a prophetic ring to his words, one that echoed in Shaloris’s mind on repeat. The hair on the back of her neck spindled upright. Her forearms, legs, feet, and hands felt chilled.

  “I need you to be the queen Atlantis will need once I step down.”

  Her father, the mighty King Bozen, slid off his seat and went to his knees in front of her. He took her other hand, which was now as cold as ice and trembling. He looked up into her face.

  “I can see that you do not want it,” he said softly, “but my daughter, you are my chosen. You will not be alone, not ever. And you will have me at your side, teaching you and showing you a way to rule that you can then adapt for yourself when the time comes. Will you do me the honor of stepping into the role of heir to the throne of Atlantis?”

  What could Shaloris say? Her own eyes misted up and though her voice trembled and she was terrified, she said, “You humble me.”

  King Bozen’s face broke into a grin so wide and happy, it was like a whale suddenly breaching the flat calm of the ocean. He pulled her into his arms and held her next to his solid warmth.

  She realized in that moment that he’d truly been afraid she’d reject him. And if she had? He’d have had no choice.

  Her heart thumped against his and for a moment, they were bonded in what only the two of them in all the world knew.

  Shaloris pulled back. “Can we keep it a secret a while longer?”

  Her father touched her cheek in that way he had. “For a little while, my minnow. But I will have to make an announcement within the month. The council grows restless, and a restless council is not a good thing. They will not be settled until they know. They are planners, the lot of them.”

  He stood and brought her to her feet as well.

  “I will have you come to meet them in private before I make the announcement. They must know before anyone else in the city learns.”

  Shaloris nodded, thinking it was the last thing in the world she’d go shouting from the rooftops.

  King Bozen kissed his quaking heir goodnight, and left her to her thoughts.

  Twenty-Two

  Shaloris heard her mother Valgana come in calling to her daughter, a smile in her voice. Hearing her mother from where she was taking a breath of night air on the terrace, Shaloris entered her rooms and gave her mother a hug. Shaloris had been keeping the secret even from Valgana. Tonight, Shaloris would tell her mother, for King Bozen had made the announcement to the council that day. Tomorrow she would be presented to the people and it would be a secret no more.

  Shaloris dreaded Eumelia and Hypatia’s reaction, but it couldn’t be helped.

  “I’m glad you’re here.” Shaloris took the heavy basket covered by a blanket from her mother’s hands and set it on the floor. Taking Valgana by the wrist, she pulled her to where they could sit facing one another. “There is something I need to tell you.”

  Valgana’s robes rustled as she sat down, a knowing smile on her face. “I’m listening.”

  Shaloris took a breath and told the story of King Bozen’s visit, trying to relay her father’s words exactly to her mother.

  Valgana listened without reacting.

  “I’m to rule Atlantis one day, Mother,” Shaloris finished, a tremble in her voice.

  Valgana put both of her palms on her daughter’s cheeks. “And what a queen you shall make, my love.”

  Shaloris studied her mother’s dark eyes. “You knew?”

  Valgana released Shaloris and took her hands. “King Bozen did not visit Eumelia’s rooms.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Valgana gave Shaloris a sly look. “There is not much that happens in this palace without my knowing about it, Shaloris. You too can have this power.”

  “But why should the king not visiting her rooms mean that he would be choosing me? It could easily have meant that he came to me to temper my disappointment ahead of time.”

  Valgana shook her head. “I know him,” she said quietly. “Don’t forget we were once lovers. The king does not like to deliver bad news, and often has his states-people do it for him. In this case, I knew that wanting a private moment with you meant that he wanted to see your face when he told you he’d be choosing you as his heir.”

  Shaloris’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “I was not exactly happy about it.”

  “Do you still feel this way?”

  Shaloris lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “I have had a month to become accustomed to the idea that I shall have to work to become a good queen. I was afraid because I was imagining the expectations being set upon me would be enormous from the start. But, truly, provided the king does not encounter an untimely death, I will have decades, perhaps even a century or longer, to learn from him. Surely, by then I shall know what I am doing.”

  “You are already showing the wisdom of a queen, my sweet girl,” Valgana replied. “You do have time, and you can ask all manner of questions and take part in every council meeting. You know deep in your heart what an honor you have been given, and how much you can influence the happiness of your people and the stren
gth of your nation.”

  Something like determination fluttered at the edges of Shaloris’s heart as she agreed with her mother.

  They sat quietly for a moment, listening to the night insects and the call of the birds of peace.

  “The king said he could no longer father children,” Shaloris ventured, keeping her voice almost at a whisper.

  Valgana’s brow pinched and she blinked in surprise. “Really? He told you this?”

  Shaloris nodded.

  “Did he say why?”

  “No, and it didn’t feel like I should ask.”

  Valgana chewed her lip. “This is news to me, I must admit. I cannot think of any reason why he should not be able to have many more children.”

  “Perhaps when he was ill with a fever, two seasons ago?” Shaloris ventured.

  Valgana looked doubtful.

  A whine penetrated the darkness.

  Shaloris sat up straight in surprise. “What was that?” Her eye fell on the basket. “What have you got in here?”

  “Ah, this is the reason for my visit,” Valgana replied, releasing her daughter’s hands and getting up to fetch the basket. “It is a gift for my daughter, the heir.”

  Shaloris waited for her mother to sit with the basket on her lap. She scooted forward to the edge of the seat.

  “A gift that whines?”

  Valgana pulled back the blanket to reveal a puppy. Two sets of eyes blinked up at Shaloris in the sudden light and one of the heads gave a whine. The puppy put its paws up on the edge of the basket and reached its noses out to sniff.

  “Oh!” Shaloris squealed with pleasure and picked up the squirming pup, not much larger than a squirrel. “An Atlantean hound! He must have cost a fortune!”