If Loyalists believed all citizens deserved representation, that was what she planned to give them, by rebuilding the council from the ground up. While Kai wasn’t sure if she had worked out all of the kinks in the plan, she would soon find out, and a petty part of her was glad she’d arranged the assembly in person. All the better to see their individual faces as she called the meeting to order.
As each noble arrived, Kai greeted the lords and ladies graciously, even managing to smile in Thalia’s face as she prepared to bring concerns to the table and wait for her guests to hang themselves. Traitor, she thought, humming with excitement and nerves.
“Thank you for agreeing to convene on such short notice,” Kai said. “Especially so early in the morning.”
Sophocles groaned as he settled into his chair, the aging scholar aiming an apologetic smile afterward. “Not in the shape I used to be, but happy to be here just the same, no matter the hour. Anything for you, Your Majesty.”
He was followed by Epicurus and Euripides, the trio dear friends she knew from Manu’s retelling of the evening she’d nearly been put to death. He’d sworn none of them were bad mers—that, most of all, they had wanted to put Atlantis first and to protect the city if Calypso had succeeded in corrupting her. Now, it was time to put his theory to the test.
“You must all wonder why I’ve called you like this without prior warning. I understand some of you traveled quite a distance to be here, as you do not dwell in Atlantis,” she said, speaking of Clio, Ismene, and Arete.
“Has it anything to do with the rumors of a child also descended from Thalassa?” Ismene asked.
“In part,” Kai said. “But not entirely.”
“Then it’s true?” Thalia’s eyes lit up. “So, there may be an older contender for the throne after all out there in the waters?”
“Not precisely,” Kai said, fighting to contain her excitement. “The child is but one matter to be discussed today, and the least significant to you all, but I will share everything I know now before we proceed.”
While eager to take the child into their care, Cosmas and Amerin had expressed mild concern that the baby would be used against Kai. If they shared maternal blood, then the child also had the touch of the divine and a claim to the throne.
As did the mother or father, whoever they may have been.
“Well. I’m certainly on the edge of my seat,” Aeschylus said in his usual vindictive tone, settling back in the chair and rolling his eyes. These days, he made little effort to show respect to the crown. Fortunately, Kai didn’t care what he thought of her.
“Vitalis has been able to confirm that the child shared no blood with either my father or grandfather, Maui.”
“It has to be someone,” Sophocles muttered. “Children don’t materialize from the water.”
“Unless they’re divine,” Arete pointed out. “What if the baby is another descendent of our ocean father? Does that not entitle the baby to challenge our queen?”
“And what if wishes rained from the heavens,” Leonidas said. “Too little too late. The matrilineal line has passed by tradition. By the time the child is of age to understand the laws of our kingdom, Queen Kailani would have ruled for decades. It’s pointless.”
Arete arched one fine brow. Kai couldn’t help but notice how her lips quirked at the corner with a self-satisfied smirk. “Has Queen Kailani not altered many of our traditions?”
Epicurus waved her off. “This is one tradition that only a fool would change. Abolishing the caste system? Minor in the grand scheme of life in Atlantis. Unseating a queen chosen by the god and goddess themselves? Our king carries the eternal gift of Pontus, a portion of his very soul—”
“We don’t know that. A soul is an intangible force,” Arete spit out. “We have only the word of Queen Kailani and a Royal Guard captain who was supposedly at death’s door. For all we know, the queen may have been the one to heal Commander Heracles. We have no verifiable proof.”
Irritation prickled the edge of Kai’s mood. Until that moment, she had been satisfied to let them argue amongst themselves, but that was the first time one of them had, rather indirectly, accused her of lying. Before she could utter a word, Epicurus slammed his fist against the stone table. It jumped beneath the might of the blow, and likewise, so did most of the nobles.
“You will not accuse our queen of spinning falsehoods while I live and share breath with you in this room. What reason has she to lie to us? You may not enjoy the edicts passed by Queen Kailani, but you will respect the progeny of our divines.”
Arete quieted. Suddenly, she found her nails intriguing and wouldn’t look away from them.
“Thank you, Lord Epicurus.” Allies in unexpected places. Or maybe it wasn’t so much that the lord was an ally as he was a reasonable mer who was beyond petty squabbles. Her respect for him grew more and more each time they crossed paths. “The child will be raised in the palace and cared for by Commander Cosmas and Lady Amerin, who are now betrothed, as you all know.”
“Yes.” Arcadius sighed. “I’m well aware.”
“That is all the news I have to share as of now regarding the infant. Now, as for the reason I called you here this morning. I wanted each of you to hear this decree from my lips first before the words are printed in the Atlantic Daily’s morning paper.” Kai knew she was igniting a shitstorm by rubbing her decision in their faces without so much as requesting their advice. More than once, she reminded herself that she had the approval of all who mattered.
Thalia leaned forward. “Of course, My Queen. What is it?” Her greedy eyes filled with interest. Kai had enjoyed seeding rumors into the Palace District and throughout Pearlstone Cove of her instituting a draft of all warriors and increasing their military size. Was it queenly to be so petty? Most likely not, but it had brought her a small amount of pleasure.
“With all due respect, Your Majesty,” Lord Fridericus said, “I cannot imagine how anything of great magnitude is slated for print this morning without my authorization.”
“I recognize as much.” Kai maintained her pleasant smile. Since her return to Atlantis, the key point everyone had drilled into Kai was that Aegaeon was her only living blood relative, and that the rest of the royal family’s maternal line had perished over the centuries, each of them sacrificing his or her life to guarantee the advancement and survival of Atlantis. No one could provide answers to their most pressing question. Initially, she’d thought the child a relative on her father’s side of the family. That would not have been too unusual. After all, Aegaeon was her father’s brother, and their great house was vast.
Such was not the case, as further testing narrowed the results down to a shared maternal heritage. How far, Vitalis did not yet know, but the connection seemed improbable since Kai hailed from a line of martyrs, each of her forebears a murdered son or heroic daughter.
It made her wonder if she was destined to die for the kingdom as well.
“Then what is the meaning of this? What new decision have you made without consulting us?” Aeschylus demanded.
“That I will no longer be consulting your advice at all. As of this morning, the Council of Lords is dissolved.”
Manu stepped into the room as it fell into chaos. He surprised him none that her edict had sent them into a frenzy, and he expected several council members would be ready for a fight. Roman history taught them that senators had no qualms about turning on their leaders.
Thalia bolted to her feet, her face a mask of outrage. “You cannot!”
“I can,” Kai replied with a smile. Manu took his position beside her, carrying the divine trident in one hand. All around them members of the Royal Guard moved into position as furious voices became a maelstrom of disagreement, shouting lords and ladies of the newly defunct noble caste roaring at one another and at his wife. It took him several moments to realize that two voices were shouting for order.
But he had full confidence that his voice would be loudest. “Are you children or adults?”
Manu bellowed, the force of his query shaking the walls and throwing several off balance. “Silence!” The surprise on their faces gave him immense pleasure.
“What is the legality of this?” Arcadius asked. He looked so much like his son that Manu felt a sliver of guilt for taking enjoyment in his apparent pain. Yet Cosmas had offered his full support.
“Shaky at best. There must always be a Council of Lords,” Leonidas said. “These laws are ancient and as old as Atlantis. My queen, even your ancestors realized they were not above the law. How can you possibly consider overturning the laws of your forebears?”
“By creating a new council chosen by and of the people of Atlantis. I have not done away with a council entirely. One shall continue to exist in another form.”
“Indeed,” Manu said, feeling immensely privileged to witness the rage filling Thalia’s face and turning the fair-skinned noblewoman plum with fury. “We have both discussed it at length. The way forward shall no longer be royalty and nobility deciding the future of Atlantis. Queen Kailani has met with the leader of the Loyalist party and found his arguments to be sound.”
“You’ll ruin this kingdom,” Thalia hissed. “You’ve torn apart everything your mother stood for. We will not allow you to destroy Atlantis to instill your surfacelander ideals.”
“Is that a threat?” Manu asked, cocking one brow. His mind read it as a threat, and it kicked his heart into overdrive, pumping what felt like gallons of adrenaline into his veins. His fingers itched to launch his trident into her chest with a new ferocity he’d never experienced before even while on the battlefield.
It scared and delighted Manu.
“I…believe that I understand,” Sophocles said at last. The mer removed his spectacles and rubbed his face with one hand. “It pains me to say it, but Atlantis is not the same realm that it was three centuries ago at the height of Ianthe’s rule. It isn’t even the same kingdom it was fifty years ago, towards the end of her reign. This kingdom, if it is to survive, must change. Yet we have not changed.” The old mer looked exhausted even as he spoke the words.
“What? Sophocles, you can’t possibly—how can you encourage this?” Euripides demanded.
“I do not encourage the queen. I encourage each of you to think before you denounce her plans. I encourage you to ask yourself why this position on the council matters and what you have done to earn it.”
None spoke. Thalia trembled with rage. “I earned my role on the council with blood and sweat. I fought for Atlantis. What have you done, you old whale?”
“Then why not another mer in your place, Thalia, who has also fought and bled for Atlantis? We are not here for giving to the kingdom. We are here due to birthright.”
“He’s right,” Epicurus agreed in a solemn voice, the old battlemer gazing at his peers with eyes set in a hard-lined face. Manu could only guess the long centuries of battle had aged him prematurely. “I, too, fought for Atlantis, as hard and for as many years as you, Thalia. I did not understand the queen’s desire to suspend the caste system initially. Why, when it had served the kingdom well for so many years? Then I realized if I, a noble, could serve alongside warriors with spirit and heart and a desire to save this city, why can they not sit in this chair?”
“Preposterous,” Fridericus spat. “Ill-bred, uneducated minnows cannot possibly understand the intricacies of the laws governing our kingdom. I was raised to serve on this council and endured years of elite education at the finest institutions of Atlantis for this purpose.”
Leonidas snorted. “Seems you’ll need to find another purpose, then. We all must. I don’t like it, but I won’t challenge the authority of our queen. You do recall Atlantis was founded by her ancestor, I hope?”
When Fridericus didn’t answer, Arcadius sighed. “It would seem this is out of our hands.”
Just as Manu wondered if the transition would be an easy, painless progression in Atlantian politics, Thalia jerked to her feet. Her chair tipped over with a thunderous clatter that echoed throughout the council chambers. Features twisted into a wrathful scowl, she leaned forward and slammed both hands against the table. “This is a farce.”
“Thalia!” Leonidas shouted. “This is our queen—”
“No queen of mine. This child will ruin all that Atlantis stands for.”
When the noblewoman strode toward the entrance, two others rose as if to stop her. Kai spread her hands. “Let her leave.”
It did not take much longer to discuss the finer details of the changes with the remaining councilors. At any moment, Lord Arcadius appeared close to breaking down into tears. With the council dismissed, the prytaneion dissolved pending selection from among the common mer, and other changes instituted, Manu couldn’t believe that the meeting ended without bloodshed.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for the number of changes and the upheaval in your lives,” Kai said as the bulk of the group left the chambers. Epicurus, Leonidas, and Telesilla were all that remained, chatting amongst themselves near the doors.
Manu reached over and squeezed her thigh, leaving his palm on her leg afterward. “You did well, angelfish.”
“Thank you for having my back.”
“I always will.”
He glanced toward three remaining nobles. The latter had been silent throughout much of the session, but Leonidas speaking up for Kai had been the greatest surprise of them all.
He wondered if it came to civil war, after all, which side they would all be on.
16
For the People
Days into her effort to reshape Atlantis, Kai realized she was in over her head. Ideas came to her without solid methods to implement them, but it was too late to back down now that she had given Democrates her word.
Heracles grew increasingly wary, often claiming that the nobility were predictable and they would capitalize on negligence the moment Kai bared her back to them. She shivered. One assassination attempt and a slew of attacks from the Gloom had been enough to last her a lifetime. She didn’t fancy weathering one from her peers among the nobility.
No less than a dozen Royal Guardsmen had accompanied Kai and Manu to the bouleuterion to speak with the people, where she now waited for the signal to approach the roaring crowd of Atlantian citizens. She loved the building and its classic architecture, the marble pillars and the memories of Ancient Greece contained in the stone. But even her appreciation for a historical building proved insufficient for soothing the anxious feeling rumbling in her gut when she considered the speech ahead of her.
Over the course of the week following the council’s dissolution, Lady Thalia proved each of Kai’s predictions correct and spent days painting her to be an authoritarian dictator inflicting her will upon the kingdom, dismantling tradition, and dragging Atlantis through the substrate during her efforts to merge surface logic with underwater politics.
And Kai could do nothing about it, no matter how much it infuriated her to watch Thalia insult and bad-mouth her. To take action against the woman for stating the obvious—that Kai did not care about protecting the wealth and rights of the noble class—would only validate Thalia’s beliefs that she was a tyrant dead set on destroying their world.
“Kai, tell me you won’t stand by and accept more of this rubbish?” Cosmas asked, voice rife with frustration. “Even I see what she’s doing. She’s attempting to divide Atlantis and drive people against you. She sent some of her godsdamned agents into the audience to rile them up with outright lies.”
“What she fails to realize is that the number of people who approve of my methods outweigh those tied down by tradition. The caste system was an outdated ideology that worked years ago but does no longer. Without a rigid class structure, you’re allowed to marry Amerin. Warriors are free to create businesses and merchants’ sons can join the Keeper Corps. I gave them freedom. They’ll see that I haven’t broken any rules or laws. Yet.”
“Of course you haven’t broken any laws. You are the law.”
Ka
i had to press her lips together to keep the grin off her face, though she felt the corners of her mouth tug upward and the smile steadily creep in anyway. “You’ve been watching Judge Dredd again, haven’t you?”
Heat flashed over Cosmas’s face. Weeks after the discovery, she still couldn’t believe that her gentleman-at-heart friend had an addiction to old Stallone movies. “What? No, I—” He scowled. “You’ve got me. Look. It’s a good movie. It’s one of Stallone’s best.”
“I suppose there’s no accounting for taste,” she teased, grateful she’d thoroughly distracted him from the larger matter.
“Be thankful you weren’t the one he forced to sit through the entire catalog of Stallone movies,” Manu said as he entered the chamber. “It’s time, love. Heracles has finished clearing the crowd. We’re to begin whenever you are ready.”
Kai would have preferred to walk on magma than address thousands of people. Newsmers would be out in the crowd filming her for the home audiences, and her voice would be playing across the kingdom from the city of Atlantis to its distant colonies. In some ways, she doubted she could ever truly be ready. All her initial misgivings resurfaced, and the anxiety of fearing she hadn’t made all the right choices returned. What if her decisions ruined Atlantis instead of fixing an ancient but broken system?
Manu’s strong arm surrounded her waist and he dragged her in against him. The kiss against her brow eased her worries and soothed the knot of tension tightening in her chest. “Your fears, while justified, are not rational or based in logic. Remember that. Everything that you do for Atlantis comes from a place of love. The ones who matter will know that.”
Prior to becoming the King of Atlantis, Manu didn’t have a head for politics or any desire to involve himself beyond commanding his units and moving up the ranks to please his father. He’d been a military man and before his enlistment, spent all his childhood preparing for service as a Myrmidon. War and battle were what he’d known for as long as he could remember.
Goddess of Sea and War: a Fantasy Romance (Kingdom in the Sea Book 3) Page 14