The Sea King

by C. L. Wilson

“I need to think about that for a little while. What if we start with a demonstration and work our way towards having me share power with you or storing it in those stones?” She flushed a little, feeling embarrassed by her reticence. She didn’t want this man to think she didn’t like or trust him. He was an important member of her new family.

  Thankfully, Calivan didn’t appear to take offense. “We could do that, of course, if that is what makes you most comfortable. But I won’t be able to truly understand what we’re dealing with until you share your gifts with me. Every holder of great power wields that power slightly differently than anyone else. It’s in those differences that we find the true keys to control.”

  She flushed again, and bit her lip in shame for her own cowardice. “Of course. That makes sense. It’s just that . . . well, after the Shark . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  “I understand.” His eyes were kind. His voice soft and full of sincerity and compassion. “I’m so sorry. I should have thought of that myself. If you’ll follow me, I have a reinforced chamber built deeper in the mountain, where you can demonstrate your gifts without fear of causing harm.”

  “Dilys? What’s going on? Why are you ransacking Prince Nemuan’s office?” In a whirl of sheer silk and subtle perfume, Alysaldria entered the small palace office that had been assigned to Nemuan Merimynos in his role as commander of the Fourth Fleet. Behind her, two of her guards positioned themselves on opposite sides of the doorway.

  “I’m looking for information.” Dilys kept rifling through the drawers. His mother had been in a meeting with the Donimari when he’d first sought her out, so he’d decided to search Nemuan’s palace office for clues to the traitor’s identity while waiting for the meeting to end. “Ari says Nemuan blamed House Merimydion for the deaths of his mother and sister. I’m hoping he kept some sort of journal that might give me a clue as to what he meant.”

  “If he did, he’d be unlikely to keep it here. Not that I’d put too much stock in Nemuan’s claims anyway. The poor boy was clearly grief-mad.”

  Dilys ignored the fact that his mother called Nemuan, a man who’d spent the last two years terrorizing sailors across the Olemas Ocean, a “poor boy.” To her, despite his treachery, Nemuan was still the son of a Myerial, and a cousin she’d watched grow from infancy. His treason was the final, regrettably tragic turn in a life derailed by suffering. Dilys’s mother had a hard time seeing bad in the people she loved.

  “So grief-mad that it took him almost twenty years to take action against us?” he replied instead. “Forgive me, Nima, but that doesn’t track.”

  She laid a hand on his bare shoulder, warm power pulsing gently into him, a soft caress of energy shared instinctively through the bonds of maternal love. “We have no idea what was in Prince Nemuan’s thoughts all those years, moa elua, nor do we know what set him off. Although,” she admitted softly, “I think it’s clear that your impending betrothal to an oulani woman was a factor.”

  “Nima.” Finding nothing enlightening in the late prince’s desk or filing cabinets, Dilys abandoned the search and rose to take his mother’s hands and raise them to his lips. “According to Ari, Nemuan was insistent that House Merimydion was directly to blame for the deaths of Siavaluana and Sianna.”

  His mother made a sound of distress. “Such madness. As if any of us would ever wish harm upon another royal House—let alone the House of my father’s beloved sister!”

  “That’s what I said. After all, what possible motive could any of us have? Tey, you became Myerial, but you didn’t want it.”

  “No, I never did. I never even wanted to rule House Merimydion. My dream of a perfect life was your father and me and a cottage by the sea, loving one another and raising our children.” She laid a slender hand along his cheek, gazing up at him with eyes shadowed by an old but still strong sorrow. “And then, he was gone, and simply surviving from one day to the next was almost more than I could bear. Even with you and Calivan there to keep me going, I could feel myself Fading. I’m ashamed to say I wanted it.” Long black lashes swept down over her eyes. “As much as I loved you both, I wanted to join your father more.”

  His throat grew tight. “I know, Nima.” He’d always known. It was, in fact, a secret fear that had long lived at the back of his mind: that his love, her brother’s love, her duty to House and country wasn’t enough to hold her to life, not when her longing for his father beckoned to her from the grave.

  “Ironically,” Alysaldria continued, “though I didn’t want the Sea Throne, though I still don’t want it, Siavaluana’s death saved my life. She gifted me her power before she died. That gift stopped my Fade, helped me hold it at bay all these years since.”

  He frowned, “But it has begun again, hasn’t it?”

  Her smile was wan. “I still miss your father, Dilys. No number of years will ever change that. And you are settled now, and happy, with a liana who completes you, as your father completed me, a mate truly worthy of you, who brings you a joy I thought lost to you forever after our poor Nyamialine. I have been fighting for years, but now, at last, I can finally rest.”

  Alarm flared. His fingers clenched. She was planning to surrender to the Fade! “Nima . . .”

  She pressed a slender finger to his lips and shook her head. “Ono, moa elua. We will not speak of it. Your poor uncle is distressed enough for the both of you. He does not want to let me go. Why do you think he tried to betroth you to an infant? Or threw such a fit when I vowed from the Sea Throne to ensure your daughter was born a true Calbernan, with all the gifts a Myerial would require?” She sighed. “Poor Cal. It was no joy for him to be born my twin. He should have had a liana of his own to love. He is so strong, so loving, so fiercely devoted, with such a sharp, intelligent mind. He would have made even a Siren a worthy mate. And yet in a cruel twist of fate, all that love, all that strength and devotion, was shackled from birth to a twin sister instead of the mate he could complete and who could complete him.”

  “I’ve never heard him complain.”

  “Of course you haven’t. He would never dream of hurting me by voicing even the tiniest regret over the high price of being born my twin. I doubt he even allows himself to consider any life but the one he has. That doesn’t make it any less tragic that my beloved brother has been robbed of a liana and family of his own.”

  Dilys was astounded. He knew his mother missed his father. How could he not? Dillon Merimydion’s death had stolen the radiance from her smile. But the rest . . .

  “How long have you felt this way, Nima?”

  “Truthfully? Since the first time I understood that my love for your father was so much deeper and more essential to me than my love for Calivan. That’s the first time I realized what Cal would be missing, and the first time I realized that no matter how much I loved my brother, it was to Dillon that my heart—and my life—was irrevocably tied. I love my brother. I love him deeply. But that awful night in our warehouse—if those thieves had murdered Cal instead of my Dillon—I would have grieved, I would have mourned for years, a part of my heart would have died with him, but the Fade would never have laid its hand upon me. Your father would never have allowed it. He would have anchored me to life the way you anchor your Gabriella, the way she anchors you. That is the gift of a true Calbernan claiming. And it makes me weep that I am the reason my brother will never know that joy for himself.”

  “Nima, you cannot blame yourself. You were not the one who created the custom that bound Uncle Calivan’s life to yours.”

  “Neither have I been the one to challenge it.” Alys pressed her fingers to the inner corners of her eyes. She wasn’t crying, but Dilys knew her well enough to know she was fighting to keep from it. She blinked quickly and took several deep, rapid breaths to compose herself. Once she had, she lowered her hands and lifted her chin in a familiar, regally decisive manner. When she spoke again, it was not Dilys’s nima, but the Myerial Alysaldria I who said, “But enough of that. You came here with a far more immediate co
ncern. Do you truly believe a member of our House was responsible for Siavaluana’s death?”

  “I believe Nemuan believed it. Oh, he might certainly have concocted the whole story as a way to win Ari to his side, but once Ari refused to betray us, Nemuan had no reason to keep up the pretense. Unless, in Nemuan’s mind, it wasn’t a lie.”

  Alysaldria nodded crisply. “Then let’s proceed on the assumption that he was right, that a traitor to Calberna does, in fact, reside within our House. If Nemuan committed his suspicions to paper, he wouldn’t have kept it here, in the palace, where the members of our House come and go so freely. Nor would he have confided in anyone in the palace, except possibly for the oldest retainers, the ones who had served House Merimynos before us. Or perhaps someone with ties to House Merimynos who works and lives within the palace walls? We did not supplant every member of the staff with our own people when we came.” She tapped a finger to her lips thoughtfully. “The palace smith, for instance, was born to House Osa, who serve House Merimynos. He personally made the weapons for every one of Siavaluana’s sons. He’s someone Nemuan might have confided in.”

  “That seems as good a place to start as any,” Dilys said, “but I recommend rounding them all up at the same time so they don’t have time to agree on whatever story they think we want to hear. I’d also like to send someone to search Nemuan’s private quarters both here in the city and in Cali Va’Mynos.”

  “Agreed.” Alysaldria turned to her two guards. “Peris, gather two teams of your most trusted men. Send one to Cali Va’Mynos and another to House Merimynos’s mansion here in the city. I want both dwellings searched from top to bottom, with particular focus on Prince Nemuan’s rooms and offices. Bring back every personal journal, every scrap of correspondence, every note Prince Nemuan penned or kept. Andion, you will assemble the entire palace staff and identify every member of the staff with blood ties or particular loyalty to House Merimynos or a notable friendship with Prince Nemuan.”

  “Tey, moa Myerial.” Peris and Andion both bowed deeply. As they did so, the long ropes of their hair slid forward over their shoulders. A flash of red caught Dilys’s eye, and every muscle in his body went taut.

  “Hold!” he commanded, his voice vibrating with power.

  The two guards snapped to attention. “Moa Myerielua?”

  “Andion, show me your neck.”

  “My prince?”

  “Your neck! Show me your neck.” He was already reaching for the long ropes of the unresisting guard’s hair. Andion stood silent and still as Dilys bared the corded column of Andion’s throat, revealing a small red circle of runes inked on the dark skin behind his ear.

  “Where did you get this? Did Nemuan put this mark on you?” He held Andion’s shoulder in a fierce grip.

  “Dilys!” His mother’s alarm, which normally would have stopped Dilys in his tracks, barely registered, so intent and all-consuming was his focus.

  His claws slid out, piercing Andion’s shoulder. Before the man could flinch, Dilys’s free hand shot to the guard’s throat, battle claws curled around his trachea in a raw threat. The sharp edge of one claw stroked the small red rune-circle near Andion’s ear. “I’ll ask one last time. Who gave you this mark?” Blood seeped out from beneath Dilys’s grip on the guard’s shoulder and trickled down Andion’s ulumi-covered chest. Like all the queen’s guards, Andion was a celebrated hero of many wars, but Dilys would rip out his throat without a thought if Andion were part of Nemuan’s conspiracy.

  “What’s come over you, Dilys? Release him this instant!” Command throbbed in his mother’s Voice. He felt it clearly, yet felt no compulsion to obey.

  “You don’t understand, Nima. Ari says Nemuan drew a mark like this on him and his men. It allowed Nemuan to control them with susirena. That’s how Nemuan drowned my men—drowned Fyerin and the others. He inked that mark on them then Commanded them to drown, and they had to obey.”

  “That can’t be true,” Alysaldria protested. “That mark is a ward designed to block the power of adverse spells and magic.”

  “Who told you that? Because I suspect whoever did is our traitor.”

  His mother went pale beneath the bronze of her skin. “Ono.” Her lips started to tremble, and her head shook from side to side in a sort of dazed denial. She stumbled back, away from Dilys, raising one shaking hand to cover her mouth.

  And then he knew, of course. The realization made his heart slam against his sternum. In his veins, every drop of his blood turned to ice. Sweet Numahao.

  Sweet, blessed, Numahao.

  Calivan.

  Dilys released Andion and lunged for his mother, seizing her arms in a tight grip. “Nima? Where is Calivan? Where is your brother?”

  Alysaldria stared up at him in mute horror.

  “He’s with the Sirena.” That came from Peris, whose eyes were grim, and whose lips were bracketed by tense, white grooves. “The Lord Chancellor offered to help her with her magic. Said he’d been poring over the ancient texts ever since he discovered she was a Siren, so he could be of assistance.”

  “Where did they go?”

  “I’m not sure. I think I heard him mention something about his laboratory, the one below the Siren library.”

  Dilys turned and bolted towards the door.

  “Dilys!” his mother cried after him. “Dilys, wait!”

  He didn’t slow one bit. “Send for Ryll,” he called over his shoulder. “Tell him to meet me at Calivan’s laboratory with as many men as he can gather. And make sure none of them bear that mark!”

  Chapter 29

  With Biross and Tarrant and the two queen’s guards at her back, Gabriella followed Calivan and the other two guards through the door at the back of his lab into a glow-lit tunnel whose walls were covered with a smooth white surface that felt spongy to the touch. The door to the tunnel swung shut behind them, the sound of the latch clicking into place making Gabriella jump and turn in surprise. They were deep inside the mountain now, and Gabriella’s connection to the sun was severed completely when the door closed behind them.

  “You mustn’t mind the automatic latch on the door,” Calivan remarked. “It’s a safety precaution, just like the energy-absorbing material covering the walls and the back of the lab door. Some of the spells I’ve tested have been quite potent, and even the smallest leak of magical energy could do a great deal of damage to my lab.”

  “Of course.” She felt silly, being so jumpy when clearly she was in no danger. It was just that when the door closed and severed her connection to the sun, her sun-born weathergifts disappeared with it. The loss of the powerful, smoldering heat at her core brought back too many unpleasant memories of being collared and helpless. “I’m sorry. You must think I’m being ridiculous.”

  “Not at all. Considering the traumatic experience you suffered, you’re doing splendidly.”

  At the end of the tunnel another door awaited. This one opened to what looked like a large, round room entirely coated in the same energy-absorbing material as the tunnel.

  “And this is my testing room,” Calivan said. His obah flowed around him as he strode into the chamber. “Here you can demonstrate your gifts without worrying about causing harm.”

  Gabriella made it as far as the door—a door that housed heavy, retractable metal bolts that would extend into the surrounding wall to form an impenetrable seal when closed—before full-blown panic set in. There were no windows, no other doors in the testing room. No way in or out except the one door with its thick, retractable metal sealing rods. And the walls were designed to be impervious to even powerful magic.

  She wasn’t sure that even a room reinforced against magic could hold hers—after all, she had Shouted the entire Trinipor Coast into the sea, taking Mur Balat’s fortress and the mountain on which it stood along with it. But if Calivan’s testing chamber was capable of containing even her most dangerous magic, then stepping inside it would be like willingly clamping another of Mur Balat’s collars around her own th
roat. The thought made her heart pound and her breathing turn rapid and shallow.

  “Sirena?” Calivan turned when he realized she hadn’t followed him into the room. “What is it?”

  “I’m sorry.” She shook her head, backing away. Her skin felt icy, the normal heat of her sun-fed gifts extinguished. Her other, far more lethal power was rousing fast in response to her panic. “I’m sorry, Lord Chancellor, but I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think this is a good idea. Maybe later, when Dilys is available . . .”

  Calivan might be Dilys’s uncle, but the memories of her captivity were still too recent, too raw. And it was only Dilys that Gabriella truly trusted. Only Dilys with whom she would ever allow herself to let down her guard and become truly vulnerable.

  Calivan’s brow furrowed for a moment, then smoothed into an expression of understanding. “Of course, Sirena. Whatever you prefer. We’ll head back now. Perhaps you’d be more at ease if you began by reading the journals written by the ancient Sirens.”

  “Yes.” She dragged a polite mask into place, unwilling to show the genuine face of her fear to anyone but Dilys. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

  “Excellent. Let’s head back to the library.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said again as he drew near. “My gifts are still too unpredictable for me to feel comfortable using them in an enclosed space beneath the city.” The excuse fell easily off her tongue, unburdened by even the slightest hint of remorse. It was true she was nervous about using her gifts, but that had nothing to do with why she wasn’t going to follow Calivan Merimydion into an enclosed, magically warded place. Later, she would confess her lie to Dilys, and he would give that husky laugh that made her shiver in all her most feminine places, then demand a forfeit of his choosing. She went damp at the thought. What he claimed as forfeit had gotten far more intimate—and exponentially more enjoyable—since their marriage.

  “No need to apologize. There’s more than one way to catch a fish.” Calivan smiled charmingly, was still smiling charmingly when he slung one arm around her throat, clamped a hand over her mouth, and ate down her magic in great, ravening gulps.