by Bethany-Kris
As the curtains had been pulled, Arelle couldn’t see where they were, but they had been traveling for what felt like hours. Surely, the night had already passed and it was morning. The problem was, with a storm raging down on them, one couldn’t tell the difference with a black sky.
And even if she did know, what difference would it make?
The shackles at her wrists and ankles clanged with every bump the carriage hit. A horrible reminder of her current predicament, as though she might forget the last few hours of her life.
Being dragged from Eryx’s bed.
Forced to dress and then be chained, too.
Thrown into a carriage.
Looking to her left, Arelle found the only other person she believed was probably awake in their caravan of carriages. The merwoman—currently resting her head against the side of the carriage where the drapes had been pulled to save them from the rain and wind as much as possible—stayed quiet.
“What is your name?” she asked her.
“Nothing. I am not called by my name.”
That hurt her heart.
“What was your name?”
“Kisa. My mother was a maiden to yours … the princesses were never allowed to play, though.”
“What will happen now?”
Kisa lifted her head, and her gaze turned on her companion with a resounding sadness. “The same thing that has been happening for decades. They hunt us; they keep us; and then they kill us.”
The woman’s words were an echo in Arelle’s heart. A warning, if she ever heard one. Something else—someone else—whispered with wind, too, but she knew Kisa couldn’t hear it.
It was a voice made only for Arelle.
A song that belonged to her.
I’m coming—I’m sorry.
You’re still mine.
Arelle closed her eyes and fell into the rocking of the carriage as Eryx’s voice filled every howl of the wind. For now, it was all she could do.
TWENTY-NINE
Mav, Prince of the Emerald Lands
“AND YOU’RE absolutely certain?” Mav asked, cutting quicker through the choppy waters as he neared the Blu Sea’s court.
The handful of his men following him kept a respectable distance. All but one, that was, and he allowed the man his moment if only because he had information for Mav. Information that was incredibly valuable and would prove priceless for his current cause.
“The spies confirm it. The princess is alive. As of yesterday, she was on route to the Atlas court with the king and his caravan.”
Mav came to a stop and swung on the man. “The landwalkers—they’re traveling in the storms?”
“Appears so, Prince.”
Were they getting … confident?
Or stupid?
Mav couldn’t say there was a true difference between the two when it came to the people of the land. They often made foolish choices for their own selfish needs and wants. Rarely did they think about the consequences of their actions, but especially when it involved someone other than themselves.
So was their way.
He really wasn’t surprised.
Moving beyond the thoughts of the landwalkers, he went back to the current topic at hand. Arelle, that was. The fact that they had spies on Atlas who had managed to get eyes on her and confirm that yes, she was alive. At the moment, she was being moved to the king’s court.
Before that, Mav hadn’t been able to find her at all. It was as though she’d disappeared on Atlas, because none of the sources they had to feed them information had been able to find anything.
Like she hadn’t existed at all.
Except she had.
And she belonged to Mav. He intended on getting her back for many reasons. Starting with the fact she was his intended mate, and ending on the note that with her by his side and the impending doom the Blu Sea king faced currently … well, not only would Mav rule the Land of Emerald, but he might also be able to take the Blu Sea.
He couldn’t find a reason not to.
Perhaps it wasn’t only the landwalkers who were selfish, but this would be better for others and not just himself. The people of this kingdom needed safety. Freedom, too. The ability to live and procreate and be happy without the threat from the land.
They had barely any young.
Rarely left their deep colonies or grottos.
Even their hunting was reduced to small schools of fish that were easy to catch but offered very little for sustenance. When was the last time they’d cooked something instead of eating it raw? Not that it mattered—their diet allowed either, but one was far better than the other, he had to admit.
The people even refused to mate. Despite finding companions and lovers they wanted to bond with, they wouldn’t, for fear their mates would be taken away.
They didn’t have a life here. Certainly not one worth living, anyway. Every single one of them wanted something different. Mav knew this because he’d taken the time to talk to as many of the merpeople as he could. They wanted to believe things could be better, and he gave them someone to believe in. On the cusp of a rebellion, all it would take was the right push. He wouldn’t need to wait for his father’s army to arrive here, in a season or more, once word traveled back to the Emerald Lands.
He would have an army right here ready.
So, if he could give them what they so desperately needed and get what he wanted, too, where was the problem?
Mav did not see one.
“Prince, we need to know what comes after this,” his advisor said.
Lifting his head, Mav stared at the court leading into the Blu Sea’s palace carved from the coral. “They are certain it is her?”
“Undoubtedly. The brand was clear.”
“Bring whispers of the rebellion to the people of the Blu Sea. Let them spread it … allow them to talk. I want it to reach Zale all on its own, while he sits alone on his throne.”
“And then?”
Mav smiled, flashing teeth that had been sharpened into points. A distinct feature for the people of his land that came from the sea. “Well, then they will need a leader. And I will give them one.”
They already had a reason to fight. They simply needed the push to begin, and once they started … Atlas would burn.
THIRTY
Arelle
“WE’RE HERE.”
Arelle’s head popped up from the palm of her still-shackled hand to peer around. She nearly fell asleep over the two-day travel in the royal caravan. The swaying of the carriage was almost enough to remind her of the way the waves in the sea rocked them back and forth.
Except this wasn’t the sea.
And she couldn’t forget it.
She couldn’t see much through the heavy drapes that had been drawn on the carriage, but she could tell the rain was coming down far easier than it had been. At least now it didn’t sound like a thousand drums beating down on the roof of the carriage.
“Where?” Arelle asked.
Kisa, her one companion throughout the long travel, gave her a shrug from the side. “At the Atlas court.”
Oh.
How long had she been lost in her mind, listening for a man who had stopped calling for her throughout the night before?
“Open the gates!”
The shouted order accompanied the jerking of their carriage as the creak of iron echoed. Arelle pulled back the draping on the window in just enough time to see them pass a large gate with a cursive B prominent in the middle.
Bloodhurst.
The sky was still black with circling clouds and the occasional streak of lightning. The clouds moved too fast for her to think the storm would be ending soon, but the wind had died down, and the rain came lighter than the days before.
It was apparently enough, however, for the landwalkers to feel safe, as the court square leading to the looming castle moved through the yard freely and unconcerned. She could easily distinguish the wealthy from the poor because those with any status had someone
to hold a covering over them to protect from the rain, and the others did not.
The square appeared to be a market of sorts, too, with vendors selling everything from fruit to jewelry. And yet, the chaotic court square seemed to come to a complete stop as a call rang out from the carriage drivers in their caravan.
“Royal caravan. Move out of the way! It’s the royal caravan!”
Arelle was almost fascinated by the way the people stopped everything they were doing to turn and watch the caravan of carriages move through the square. Women pulled children out of the way, and held tight to them as though they were scared they might dart forward. A few dared to check the windows of the passing carriages, but she wasn’t sure if any of them even noticed her staring back.
The sight of the little ones with their mothers or siblings had Arelle smiling—the one bright spot in everything else about this situation that was horrid. Yes, she had three sisters of her own growing up, but they were the exception to the rule in their colony. Her father only had as many children as he did because he was king. Most refused to mate—though many took close companions—and have children because of exactly what happened to Poe.
“I have never seen so many children,” Arelle said softly.
Mostly to herself.
Kisa still heard her.
“You know, I hear there are places in this world that mermaids can mate and produce freely without fear of capture,” Kisa said thoughtfully. “What a dream that would be for us all.”
Except nothing was free here.
Especially not them.
The remainder of the ride through the court square was quiet. People followed the caravan all the way to the entrance of the castle where they pulled the horses and carriages beneath the safety of a stone enclave.
It was only once their carriage had stopped and a guard appeared at the door the driver pulled open that Kisa and Arelle stood. She followed Kisa’s lead, figuring the merwoman knew much more about what to expect or do than she did. Surprisingly, the guard held keys to remove the shackles at her wrist and ankles. He discarded the metal before allowing her to exit the carriage.
No one helped her down.
She was fine with that.
Arelle was careful to watch her step, still rubbing the ache in her wrists from the bite of metal, and by the time she raised her head to survey what was around her, she realized everyone was staring at her. Everyone.
It was a strange feeling.
To be surveyed.
Appraised, even.
Some appeared unsure by her presence. Others looked quite pleased that she stood there, for whatever reason.
The galloping of hooves pulled their attention away from her for just long enough that Arelle felt like she might be able to breathe. The man on the horse passed the rear carriages and even theirs, before halting a few steps away from where the king currently stood with Mattue. The advisor she hadn’t trusted from the moment she laid eyes on the man.
“Well?” the king asked.
The man tipped his head down before saying, “Your highness; I hope your travel was well.”
“Could have been better. What’s the word?”
“We’ve received word the prince has left the estate.”
Mattue’s gaze drifted to Arelle.
She stared right back.
Misael, on the other hand, smiled as a king should. “See if you can find him and if you do, well, you know where to find me.”
“Yes, sire.”
Mattue was still looking Arelle’s way when the king turned to leave. It was only then that the man turned to follow, breaking their stare.
She still watched him go. One should never turn their back on a man like that. They were always far better to see coming.
• • •
Two guards followed Kisa and Arelle as they walked through halls that felt like they were closing in on her with every step she took. It seemed as though from the moment she’d stepped into the castle, Kisa’s demeanor changed from one of a friend, to a woman who was just doing what she was told.
Including taking Arelle to what she called the harem.
Arelle didn’t fault the woman for the change or even the sudden spike of loneliness driving into her heart because she suspected that here … well, within the walls of this prison they called home, it was all about survival.
They did what they had to.
“Nearly there,” Kisa murmured.
The heavy slap of boots against white marble had Arelle glancing over her shoulder at the guards following close behind with heavy swords hanging from the sheaths at their sides. They walked in tandem and kept their gazes straight ahead.
Unsettling, really.
Then, a scent hit her.
They rounded a corner at the same time, coming to gates that were smaller versions of the ones leading into the court’s square with the same cursive B in the middle. The smell in the air was stronger now, mixed with heat and promising something she needed. She could even hear the quiet conversation in a language she missed, whispering from whatever was behind those locked gates.
“Is that—”
“Salt, yes,” Kisa said. “I think, over the years, the king has found keeping some of us happy in little ways keeps him happier as well.”
But what did that even mean?
“Move aside,” one of the guards ordered.
He opened the gates, the heavy iron shuddering and moaning when he pulled it open. Kisa nodded to the man and then looked Arelle’s way, waiting.
“Welcome home,” she told her.
“This isn’t our home,” Arelle replied.
Kisa sighed. “It is now.”
Behind the gates that the guard locked once they were safely inside, Arelle found the same white marble that dominated the castle. The salty dampness clinging to the air had her dragging in lungful after lungful of a taste she missed so badly.
“This way,” Kisa said, tipping her head to the side and taking a corridor that led away from the noise Arelle wanted to follow. “The king expects you to be dressed as the rest of us do inside the harem.”
“What does that mean?”
The woman took in her gown. “Well, you’ll wear a lot less.”
That wouldn’t have bothered Arelle any other time. She hated the restrictive clothing, anyway, but she suspected the reason for the lack of clothing here was more for ease of access and less about style or personal choice.
Sheer robes waited on a chaise inside a room Kisa walked to as though it belonged to her. With a large bed dominating the middle of the space, and the personal touches including a set of paints setting near an easel beside a barred window, Arelle knew …
“This is your room?” she asked.
“One of the largest. You’re favored, you receive more. You cause issues, you are removed entirely, and your next home won’t be as kind or rich.”
She thought about someone else, then.
About Poe.
“Is there … my sister, Poe. She was captured and—”
Kisa’s gaze snapped to hers. “Let’s hope you fare better than she did.”
Did that mean her sister was no longer alive?
Or something else?
Kisa picked up one of the two robes and held it out for Arelle to take. She hesitated, and the other woman didn’t miss it. “It’s past hunting season—it’ll take a while for them to get the man here who will fit you for your permanent collar, and the one who will come to clip your toes.”
For the first time, Arelle glanced down. Sure enough, Kisa’s pinky toes were gone in her sandal-like shoes.
“Once you are considered safe,” Kisa continued, not at all bothered by Arelle’s staring, “the king may call on you to please him. But not before they’ve ensured you’ll neither hurt him nor run.”
Arelle swallowed hard. “I—”
“The pool is where most of us gather. It’s warm and the salt in the water keeps us comfortable and sane. Steam rolls through it cons
tantly. Don’t cause a problem, and there won’t be a problem, Princess. That is how we survive here.”
She met the merwoman’s gaze.
“You don’t have to call me that,” she said quietly.
Kisa nodded. “Perhaps not, but understand, it would be wise for you to make the rest of them think they should. For your own good, I assure you.”
Well, then …
Arelle would keep it in mind.
All the while, her heart continued to break.
Where are you, Eryx?
THIRTY-ONE
Eryx
“WHAT BRINGS YOU to my doorstep in this weather, my lord?”
Eryx smirked at the man sitting across the table from him before tipping the goblet in his hand up for a good swig of the ale waiting inside. He had to give the guy credit—he said nothing about the fact that the prince was dripping wet, and undoubtedly ruining the very expensive rug beneath the table.
But frankly, if Eryx were being honest, he knew exactly why the man across from him wasn’t quite sure what to say or make of the prince’s presence. This had not been in any of the agreements the two of them made.
Corval had never expected to see him again.
That was the deal.
The hunter had more to lose than either of them would admit when it came to capturing the mermaid for Eryx. Given how much of Atlas’s riches were made from the hunts, to the crown, a hunter working on the sly for someone else would be treason.
The deal had been simple.
Capture the mermaid.
Get paid.
Never speak of it again.
Eryx shouldn’t be here.
He doubted Corval would tell him to leave.
“The house is quiet,” Eryx noted.
Corval cleared his throat and smiled. “It always is.”
“No kids—a wife?”
“I always assumed it better not to tie a woman into this life with me. All those months on the sea—as dangerous as it is … would it be fair?”