by Bethany-Kris
Frankly, the map was only one reason Eryx wanted to be left to his own devices. A few moments after the door had closed, he waited for the sounds of the house to quiet. The quiet meant that with the prince no longer needing their attendance, the servants headed to the smaller house on the east side of the property where they spent their evenings.
Far away from him. And his secrets.
One of which made this particular house very useful for him. The estate, named for the fields of grain one had to travel across to reach the main house’s spot close to the sea and the grain mills not far away, wasn’t Eryx’s favorite. It served his purposes. Especially when all he had to do was glance up from the very desk he sat behind to find the thing that seemed to have taken over his thoughts lately.
He had a perfect view of the glass doors beyond the row of marble pillars, which were separated about ten feet apart and dominated the center of the room. Iron candelabras jutted up from shined stone floors on either side of the thirty or so steps it would take him to cross to those doors. Far enough away that the rows upon rows of books on wall-to-wall shelves wouldn’t be in danger of the flickering flames when the candles were lit at night.
But none of that really interested him about the house. Every estate he took residence over the years had beautiful rooms and plenty of things to keep his mind busy. It was those doors he liked, and what waited behind them. Leading out onto marble steps where he enjoyed taking breakfast, he could walk right down into the sea. The water lapped at the steps, and even now, he could hear the gentle waves touching the house.
Inviting.
Teasing.
Promising.
But what it promised, he couldn’t quite say. Still, it did it. Singing in his veins with every beat of his heart and screaming through his mind day in and day out. How he ever managed to behave normally, when inside he seemed to be constantly waging a war, well, he didn’t know.
For more nights than he cared to admit—seven passing of the two moons—he’d walked down those very steps, too. Slipped off his clothes, dropped the cloak or scarf that was now always tightened around his neck to hide the gills that were open and flexing with breaths, and slipped into the water.
Because it called for him.
And he called for her.
It wasn’t that Eryx wanted to, but when the skies became dark and the smell of the sea hit him … well, he didn’t seem to have much of a choice. An invisible force dragged him toward those doors, made him open them wide, breathe in the sea, and wish for her.
He hated it.
Craved it.
He didn’t know what the red-headed mermaid had done to him that night on the island, but it was something. Long after the cuts had healed, and his gills remained open; when the bruises faded, and the scrapes didn’t sting as much, he swore he could still feel that woman.
Inside.
All through him.
Infecting him.
This obsession was getting worse.
Eryx needed the mermaid to die.
Or Gods above … she would kill him.
• • •
The next morning, Eryx took his breakfast on the marble steps just because he could. And there was something to be said about the salt in the air mixing with the flavors of the food on his plate. Standing just a few feet away from his small table, the same servant from the night before waited for him to acknowledge her.
He figured, might as well put her out of her misery.
He certainly wasn’t good company on his better days, but lately, he was even worse. Not that anyone dared to tell him that. He might still be shamed and shunned from his father’s court, but he was also the only heir to the land.
Still a prince.
He waved the fork over the dish made up of cooked fish and fresh vegetables from the garden drowned in a sauce he couldn’t place but had his taste buds singing. Eryx said to the servant, “Give the cook my regards. This was well worth the wait this morning.”
“Yes, sire.”
Glancing up, he found the woman was still standing there. “I’m not done.”
“Of course, there’s just … you have a guest waiting for you in the front rooms. I didn’t want to interrupt you again, but he—”
“Insists,” Eryx muttered, already annoyed.
He didn’t even need the woman to announce his guest properly, or tell him who it was, because he already knew. Unfortunately, that meant his decent morning after a night where he’d gotten very little sleep because all he could hear was the goddamn sea was about to get worse, and fast.
“Make him wait until I’ve finished my breakfast,” Eryx said with a wave of his hand. “At least allow me to eat before he makes me lose my appetite.”
“I could have Mister Malsem send him away, Prince.”
“That won’t work, believe me.”
“Um … if you say so.”
“I do. Thank you. Show him in after I’ve rung the bell to clear my dishes.”
The woman nodded, not saying another thing. For that Eryx was grateful. Nobody said he was a particularly great conversationalist. He wasn’t about to start changing that first thing in the morning when a meeting awaited him. Especially not when that meeting was with a man he didn’t care to even think about lately.
Eryx opted to savor his meal a bit more after the exchange. He even waited until the bright sun was a bit higher over the sea. The whispers of wind had taken the crumbs from his plate away before he rang the bell for the servants to clear the table and allow his guest in.
Mattue came to stand in the doorway leading out to the marble steps with his hands folded at his middle. The black, fur-trimmed cloak he wore billowed with the breeze that came along with the water lapping at the stairs.
Of course, Eryx should always greet someone first. He was royalty, after all. Mattue never cared for such semantics.
“Was breakfast so boring that I couldn’t even watch you take it?” the advisor asked.
Eryx fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Or perhaps it’s a new thing I’m trying out. Eating alone, and that sort of thing.”
“Mmhmm. I hate being left to wait, Prince.”
He didn’t particularly care how Mattue felt. Not when he knew there could only be one possible reason why the man was there. It certainly wouldn’t be for anything Eryx cared to hear or deal with, but that was the gift of Mattue that kept on giving. Even when nobody wanted it. He could somehow always find a way to worm himself into anything and stick there until he wanted to be removed.
The bastard.
“What do you want?” Eryx said in a sigh, not bothering to hide his annoyance at all. “Just get it over with, and then we can both get to the things we would rather be doing, yes?”
Mattue glanced his way, and then at the only other chair at the small round table. A silent request passed from the man, and although Eryx wanted to say no, he assumed that would only cause him more grief. So, he nodded, and the advisor took a seat.
“Seems the storm season has come a little earlier than they predicted,” the man said.
Eryx gestured at the sky above, replying, “And yet, today is a beautiful day. Not a single storm in sight.”
Right now, the good weather served his purpose.
“Yes, a rare treat,” Mattue said quietly. “But we both know how that tends to work, don’t we?”
“Or it could just be like everyone says, and the freak storms are simply warning us that the season will soon be upon us. You’d think after all these years, someone would have a handle on this. Oh, watch the weather … I don’t know.”
“Your attitude is strong this morning.”
“Have yet to have a proper drink. Let’s blame it on that.”
Mattue’s gaze met his. “But is that what it is?”
Eryx didn’t like the way the man seemed to be searching for something without just telling him what it was. Mattue only did those types of things when he was planning … and that never ended well for anyone.
“What do you want?” Eryx repeated.
“It’s too dangerous for you to be on a ship again. I know of your plans to return to the sea in the coming days with Corval’s ships, but you should allow them to handle it. You’re not needed—simply an extra body to protect or save. Or didn’t you learn that the last time?”
This time, Eryx did roll his eyes.
Didn’t even bother to hide it.
Even scoffed.
“I’ll be fine,” he assured.
Now more than ever.
He just knew it.
Mattue sighed. “You’re playing with fire, but I’m going to safely assume I can’t convince you to do otherwise at the moment, can I?”
“Wouldn’t even waste my time, if I were you.”
“And when will we begin working on the other part of our deal, Prince?”
Eryx hesitated.
The advisor didn’t miss it.
“Oh, you mean you haven’t really given it much thought? Because I, on the other hand, haven’t stopped thinking about it.”
Yes.
Well …
A mermaid for the crown.
Eryx couldn’t exactly forget.
He simply … “Haven’t caught the mermaid yet, have I?”
“Hmm.”
That was all Mattue replied before he stood from the table. Eryx kept his gaze on the man, even when he leaned across the table to brush his hand along the shoulder of the waistcoat he’d chosen to wear that morning. Then, just as quickly, the advisor’s fingertips found the edge of Eryx’s scarf and pulled hard.
Too fast for Eryx to react.
The scarf fell to his lap.
Eryx didn’t move a muscle.
Mattue raised a brow, his gaze pointed on the opened gills at the side of Eryx’s throat. There was no way to hide the way they flared open with each of his angered exhales. “I’d heard something was different about you … seems my sources are to be trusted.”
“You may leave, Mattue.”
“Those will have to be closed again.”
“You may leave. Now.”
Mattue chuckled. “Of course. Good luck with your next hunt, Prince.”
Eryx watched the man go.
And willed his death the entire time.
• • •
“Ah, so you dared to come on another hunt, I see. Not even the threat of drowning scares you away, hmm? Perhaps royalty was the wrong path for you, Prince.”
Eryx offered Corval a smile as the deckhands who’d escorted him onto the ship—one of three this time around—separated to finish their tasks. What a shame it would be if a prince had to walk himself up to the ship alone.
“Seems so, Corval.”
The hunter smirked. “This will be the last run this year. The storms—”
“Quite aware.”
“You don’t seem concerned. We don’t even have a sacrifice for this hunt, Prince. The likelihood of us catching anything is slim to none at this point. We’re going in blind.”
“You’re going in with a plan, actually.”
“The bay was a good idea,” the man agreed, “but it means nothing if we can’t lure them in.”
Right.
Eryx was aware.
He nodded, and sidestepped Corval as he replied, “We’ll lure them—or just the one. Let the captain know I’ll remain at the bow for the hunt. I’ll be better served there.”
“For what?”
“Well, we’ll see, won’t we?”
If Corval was bothered by Eryx’s cryptic conversation, the man didn’t say. Then again, he simply might be too polite to do so. Or the man just knew his place against the young prince.
At the front of the large ship, Eryx turned to watch as the sails on two masts were dropped. Soon, they’d be on the water. He’d be a damned liar if he said the idea of being out on the sea didn’t appeal to him.
He wasn’t afraid of the storms.
Something inside wanted the water. Needed it like the air he sucked into his lungs constantly.
For the moment, Eryx ignored it.
With the rest of the ship busy, and Corval attending to a twist in one of the nets with a handful of other men, Eryx turned back to stare out over the wharf. He took a moment—as brief as it was—to appreciate the sight of the sea that stretched on for as far as he could see.
A bright blue sky with the sun so high. Not a cloud in sight.
From beneath his cloak, Eryx pulled the small knife he liked to keep tucked away in a sheath at his waist. He’d had an idea since the last time he’d been in these waters. A memory that’d kept poking the back of his mind and wouldn’t let go.
Of their blood. And how it mixed.
As he healed, he still bled. Usually from his own stupidity of doing too much when he should rest, but that wasn’t the point.
It wasn’t how he bled, but rather that it was no longer a deep red. In water, he found his life source shimmered with a touch of purple. The same violet hue of hers.
Had that come from her?
The sea called to him. He called to her. Could she call back? Would she come if the call tasted of his blood?
Eryx planned on finding out. Dragging the tip of the knife over his palm, the blood bloomed across the surface. A little dribble at first that seeped into the lines of his hand and then dripped down the bow of the ship when he extended his arm over the railing.
Drip, drip, drip …
Right down into the water.
Time to come back to me, my little mermaid.
THIRTEEN
Arelle
“HE’S NOT … uncivilized. I had the fortune of meeting him when I was invited to the gathering your father had. He—Mav—seemed pleased with you.”
Of course, he was.
Arelle was everything Mav of Emerald should need, want, and look for in a proper mate. Her status complimented his; she was well behaved; there was nothing about the match that would bring cause for concern to his own realm when he returned with her.
Except he wouldn’t return with her at all.
That was the thing …
“That isn’t the issue, Mother,” Arelle replied. “He’s a fine man.”
Perceptively so, really.
Arelle simply couldn’t go through with a mating ceremony with Mav when she had already done so with someone else. It wouldn’t break the bond she’d already made, and another one couldn’t take hold.
If she didn’t figure a way out of this mating, and soon, then all her secrets would soon be on display for any and everyone who wanted to see them.
Her mother, content to rest in her nest where she spent most of her days locked away in her palace chambers, made a soft noise from the other side of the room. “Then, what is it? The last time we talked, I thought you were happy for the chosen mate from the Emerald Lands.”
Once upon a time, perhaps.
But fairy tales were not real.
This would not end well.
Certainly not happily.
Instead of answering her mother, Arelle glanced up from the cradle of coral where Poe’s daughter slept with her tail tightly wrapped around her own tiny hand. Across the large space that her mother had filled with bright colors and pretty things, she found Rosel was still watching her.
And maybe that unsettled her.
It never escaped her notice how Rosel seemed far more like an unmated mermaid—living on her own, essentially, and inserting her own style and little pleasures into the spaces where she was forced to stay most of her days.
“Do you like your life, Mother?”
Rosel blinked, the shimmering blue scales at her temples winking. “What sort of question is that?”
“Did you choose him, or did he choose you?”
“A bit of both, but what does it matter?”
“I just … wonder.”
“Is that what it is? You worry you won’t love the Emerald prince?”
If only …
“That isn�
��t my worry,” Arelle said, drifting away from the baby’s cradle to near her mother’s nest, made up of seagrass and the softest of moss. “My worry is that the time will never be right, I suppose.”
Rosel made a soft noise, smiling a bit. “The next storm, no? Or, that’s what I was told.”
Yes, that’s what she had been told, too. At the next storm, they would take to the land. Arelle would then have her ceremony with Mav and would leave soon after. Although, now, with the promise of returning when the Blu throne became hers.
All things that would never happen.
She didn’t tell her mother that, though.
“To your other questions,” her mother said softer, her gaze drifting to where the crib rocked with the water. “Well, those aren’t as easy to answer.”
“I never thought they were.”
“I love what my life has given me, Arelle.”
“What about what it’s taken?”
“Those keep me from sleeping.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Rosel shook her head, the red of her hair twisting wildly.
“Are you lonely without Coral and Poe? Sarha left so long ago, I never think to ask if you miss her, too.”
“I still have you,” her mother replied. “And the baby.”
“But—”
“I chose all my children, Arelle. It’s the only choice I was allowed to have as your father’s mate, and queen. I wish things were different more often than I don’t, but this is what the Gods gave me. I am determined to make the best of it for the rest of my days.”
Arelle stared back at the baby, and the string of shiny baubles her mother had tied down over the small cradle to give the infant something to stare at or play with when she was awake. Little golden mermaids that danced in the water and twinkled when the glowing fish became brighter as the night fell.
“When the queen was captured, before your father took the throne, everything changed for me. I was picked—the chosen one, he said. I thought that made me special, but all it did was give me this.”
“And if I don’t want that?”
“Your duty is the same,” Rosel replied, “and like me, you will do your best and make the choices you can, Arelle.”