Dance of a Burning Sea

by Mellow, E. J.

  As she neared the shore, waves pushed Niya the rest of the way onto the beach. She jumped out, pulled her boat farther up along the sand, and tied it to a large piece of driftwood. Niya wiped at the sweat on her forehead with the back of her hand, scanning the perimeter of the dark jungle. The air was thicker here than it had been on the ship. It held a pleasantly warm breeze that pushed through her white shirt. It was also quiet, peaceful with the lapping of waves behind her. There were no shouts or sounds of people or even a hint there might be a city, let alone a palace, beyond the jungle that stretched before her. Which was a good thing. Niya didn’t need the extra burden of being stopped before she had even begun.

  The section of jungle that she had seen Alōs enter sat empty, but that was not a problem.

  Niya’s magic allowed her another trick. While she could sense movements, she could also pick up trails of old ones, especially if they belonged to those who held the gifts, so long as they’d been recently made. And Alōs’s energy of movement she had memorized early on. It oozed from him like perfume: cool, buzzing, and powerful. It was eerily similar to her sisters’.

  Honing her powers, Niya sent out a gentle mist of her magic to detect another’s. Like dust being blown over liquid, Alōs’s trail appeared. It was faint but there, hovering in the air. A light-green energy that led into the thick foliage.

  With pulse quickening, Niya followed.

  The crashing of the shore faded behind her and was replaced with sounds of wildlife as she wove between closely growing moss-covered trees and ducked under bright, glowing flowers. Twinkling bugs filled the night air, and she watched a spider with bright-silver legs climb along a leaf. She drank it all in, this new wild kingdom, the place where Alōs had been born. Part of her wanted to remain in the woods, look upon every new thing, but with a shake of her head, she kept on task.

  Alōs’s trail was beginning to fizzle out, and she would not squander this opportunity.

  Reaching the jungle’s end, Niya stepped onto a dirt path that appeared to line the side of a large wall, where hints of a town rested on the other side. She squinted into the night, waiting for anyone to pass.

  None did.

  In fact, she could feel no movement anywhere.

  It was as if all kept to their homes this night. Warm glows emanated from the other side, and though she was desperate to climb over and see how the people of Esrom lived, that was not where Alōs had gone.

  Turning left, Niya followed where the faint line of his magic still floated in the night along the edge of the path.

  After barely a quarter sand fall, Niya stopped, the trail gone cold.

  “Sticks,” she muttered, spinning in a circle.

  It was as if he’d just disappeared.

  Confused, she ran a hand through the vines in front of her and, with a jump of excitement, felt a strange groove in the stone. She pulled the vines away to reveal a door.

  “Sneaky pirate.” She grinned.

  It was clearly locked, but locked doors rarely stopped a Bassette. With a fluttering of her fingers, the handle clicked open, uncovering a dark stretch of tunnel.

  Stepping through, Niya touched the cool, wet stone on either side of her, feeling her way forward in the black abyss. Her soft tread echoed dully along the dirt floor, mixing with her breaths. She walked like this for some time until a hazy glow at the end of the path appeared.

  Her magic tingled along her skin as she hurried forward, her heart picking up its pace as she stepped into an enchanted courtyard filled with glowing pools. A floral fragrance danced around her invitingly, and she stood entranced.

  What beautiful place is this?

  Niya tipped her head up, drinking in the sparkling turrets stretching high above her.

  By the stars and sea, she was in the palace.

  Niya drew her brows together.

  Why would Alōs come to the palace?

  Before she could wonder further, she felt the energy of people approaching and darted behind a thick bush.

  A group of servants in white passed through the courtyard. They held baskets of linens and trays filled with candles. Not a one spoke as they entered and then exited into a covered walkway at the other end.

  On silent feet, Niya slunk in the other direction, following what little bits of Alōs’s trail she could still detect.

  She found herself walking through an opulent hall, where an intricate tiled mosaic decorated each of her steps and a beautiful depiction of a sun-filled sky made up the stained glass ceiling. The sparkling of silver was everywhere, and Niya’s chest hummed in pleasure at the beauty.

  But as she continued, Niya began to notice two things:

  One, Alōs’s trail of magic seemed tangled up with another’s; and two, the palace was extremely empty. Besides the servants from earlier, she had yet to find a single guard or court member.

  Niya’s mind spun with what this could all mean. Where was everyone? And who was Alōs meeting in the palace? And why?

  The energy in the air also felt off. It was oddly heavy and sober for how beautifully this kingdom glowed. Had something happened?

  Niya’s pace quickened as her curiosity burned stronger.

  Turning a corner, she peered down a dark, thin corridor where it appeared Alōs had gone. But she was growing uncertain, as the magic in this place muddied up her Sight. Everything seemed to shimmer and sparkle with the lost gods’ gifts. The art, the fabric draping the walls, even the insects that floated by.

  She glanced behind her, to the quiet palace hall, wondering if she should backtrack. No, she thought, I’ve made it this far; if anything I might pick up his trail at the end. Turning back, she stared down her new path. No candles lit the way, but Niya had grown up in a palace of her own and knew when she’d found a servant’s hallway. Slipping into the shadows, she felt her way forward, walking for what felt like forever before coming to a dead end.

  A single torch sat in a sconce, lighting up the marble wall and revealing a tiny crack in its surface.

  Niya pressed a hand to it and smiled when it gave easily.

  She cautiously stepped through, finding herself behind a thick drape of fabric. She remained there when she sensed a group in the room beyond.

  A voice filled the chamber.

  Alōs’s voice.

  Niya stopped breathing.

  “I can’t stay much longer,” he said.

  “I’m glad you came at all, brother,” said another man.

  Brother?

  Niya’s heartbeat thumped erratically as she chanced a peek through an opening in the drapery.

  She was in a bedroom, and a massive, beautiful one at that.

  A large bed took up the majority of the space, and a canopy mimicking the night sky floated above. Hundreds of candles lit the space, throwing warm light across the opulent woven rugs and furnishings. Three figures stood at the end of the bed.

  Alōs loomed large in his black leather coat, brown skin exposed at the base of his neck before giving way to his white tunic and black vest. His sword handle peeked out at his hip. Niya drank in his strong presence, which dominated that of his two other companions.

  A man in blue robes stood across from him. And despite his long, braided white hair, he looked young, perhaps Niya’s age. An ornate silver tattoo glimmered across his smooth forehead. It was a marking Niya had never seen before.

  The third man appeared the most delicate, almost frail in comparison to Alōs. He was by far the youngest. His hair was as dark as night, dramatized by the white crown atop his head.

  Royalty.

  And was that . . . ?

  Niya squinted.

  It looked like silver paint sat frozen middrip on his forehead and hands.

  “I must ask about your search,” the young man said, placing his metallic fingers on Alōs’s forearm. “Though I fear what you might answer.”

  “Then I suggest you do not ask. You have suffered enough this night, Ariōn.”

  “We both have,”
Ariōn corrected, looking frustrated. “They were your parents too.”

  Niya’s mind reeled at what she was hearing, seeing.

  They were your parents too.

  This young man with a crown . . . was Alōs’s brother?

  Time seemed to stop as her heart froze in a panic, a ringing filling her ears.

  But that would mean . . .

  No, her mind screamed. That cannot be possible.

  Alōs was . . . royalty?

  “You feel different each time you visit,” Ariōn continued when Alōs did not answer. “Your magic . . . it grows colder and colder. You are still doing things you wish you did not.”

  “Don’t,” warned Alōs, pulling his arm free. “The past has been written, and I would do every bit of it again.”

  Ariōn frowned. “Will you never stop suffering for me?”

  “I would have suffered greater without you.”

  “You exist without me now.”

  “It is not the same.”

  “No? What is a family if you cannot be with them?”

  “Do not argue with me about a time when you were too young, too sick, to know consequence.” Annoyance flashed through Alōs’s gaze. “I made a decision because our parents could not. Despite the price, I ensured both of Tallōs and Cordelia’s children lived.”

  “Yes, lived,” Ariōn mocked. “Like I live here? Alone? Unable to leave the palace compound, to step beyond my own walls and walk among our people. I could barely go for a swim without Mother and Father ensuring a horde of medics and healers surrounded my every move. By the lost gods, I’ve eaten the same meal for almost a decade! If this is living, Alōs, I would rather have died.”

  A tense silence filled the room.

  “You think you’ve been cursed to be alone?” Alōs’s tone contained a dark edge of destruction. “You, who were lucky enough to be raised in the sanctuary of our homeland and loved into adulthood by our parents. You have a room of devoted followers waiting in your chambers this very moment, a friend standing beside you now.” Alōs gestured to the man in blue robes. “What do you know of alone? What do you know of being forced to start over with nothing and no way back?”

  Ariōn wiped at his cheek, as if brushing away a tear, and Niya watched as Alōs’s shoulders dropped ever so slightly, a bit of his fury dissipating. His body swayed forward, as if about to embrace his brother. But in the end, he kept still.

  “I never asked you to sacrifice so much,” said Ariōn eventually.

  “You never needed to. We both know you would have done the same if our roles were reversed.”

  “You are right,” Ariōn replied softly. “I’m sorry. I merely . . . miss you, especially today. Which is why I must know. Have you found it?”

  “One part.” Alōs took a small velvet bag from inside his coat pocket and placed it in Ariōn’s palm. The young man spilled out a tiny red jewel, tracing his fingertips over the stone.

  Niya instantly recognized the object as the same jewel that had been in Alōs’s ring. He had removed it, but why?

  “It’s so small,” said Ariōn.

  “Yes,” agreed Alōs. “And cost me greatly to reacquire.”

  “How much?”

  “Don’t worry yourself.”

  “How much?” demanded Ariōn.

  “Let’s just say I am getting used to being banished from kingdoms.”

  Niya took a step back as though punched, more dots connecting. Banishment . . . was this jewel from his ring the reason why Alōs would be so reckless as to steal phorria from the Thief Kingdom? But why? What was so special as to risk one’s life and liberty for such a tiny gem?

  Where did your biggest red stone go? The question she had asked Cebba. Were these two gems connected? And why would Ariōn need it?

  “We are close to finding the rest,” continued Alōs. “It’s believed to be in the Valley of Giants, placed in the crown of the princess.”

  “Callista?” Ariōn’s brows rose. “A girl of sixteen has our Prism Stone?”

  “You are only a year older and will rule Esrom.”

  “Yes, but I am very mature for my age.” Ariōn tipped his chin up, eliciting a small grin from Alōs.

  “Extremely.”

  “Do not mock.”

  “I’m not.”

  Ariōn did not appear convinced. “We might not have seen each other in years, but I still know when you’re making fun of me. A younger brother will always know that.”

  “I’ll be more careful with my tone, then, next time.”

  Ariōn gave a very unprincely snort in response.

  Niya watched the exchange with utter fascination and, if she was being honest, queasiness. It was all so . . . normal. Behavior similar to that of her and her sisters.

  To see Alōs—a man who severed heads, commanded thieves, and seduced innocents—act as an older brother, show genuine affection, turned Niya’s entire world on its axis.

  What did you call a monster who was capable of love?

  The same name as you, whispered a voice in the back of her mind.

  A shiver ran the length of her.

  No, she thought. I am not the same as he! Yet the conviction felt weak, forced. For she, too, had been called a beast and reveled in it, knowing she could also love.

  “But as for your concern about the stone,” continued Alōs, bringing her attention back to the room, “no one but us knows what it truly is; plus, when broken apart as it is presently, the Prism Stone doesn’t hold any true power.”

  Niya’s mind refocused, hearing his words.

  Where did your biggest red stone go?

  So this was part of the treasure Alōs hunted? A Prism Stone? Niya had never heard of such a thing, but if the rest winked as richly as the small gem in his ring . . .

  “I wondered why I didn’t feel any power in it.” Ariōn touched the jewel again.

  “Keep this part safe.” Alōs closed his brother’s fingers around the jewel. “I will search out the rest. But before I go, I will need something worthy to gift the young princess and something equal in measure to replace the rest of the stone we plan to take.”

  Ariōn nodded. “Ixō will ensure you part with what you need.”

  The robed figure, whom Niya surmised was Ixō, came to the young prince’s side, taking the jewel from his outstretched hand.

  “I will serve however you command.” Ixō kissed Ariōn’s palm.

  The prince gave a small smile. “I know.”

  Niya watched Alōs regard their exchange, eyes calculating how Ixō’s kiss lingered and how his brother did not seem to mind.

  “You will succeed, brother.” Ariōn turned back to him. “You will put the Prism Stone back together, and everything will be made whole once more.”

  “Some things, perhaps, but not all.”

  “I am king now. I will ensure your pardon.”

  “I’m not sure the people of Esrom would commend you for it,” said Alōs sardonically.

  “For once, you speak truths.”

  A high voice brought the group’s attention to the bedchamber’s entryway. A tall woman in similar blue robes as Ixō’s stood at the open door. She had the same silver marking on her forehead, and her long black hair was decorated with matching beads that swayed as she approached. “You will forever be a treasonous deserter to the citizens of Esrom.”

  “That is not true,” countered Ixō, his gaze stern. “There are many in court who understand why Prince Alōs acted as he did. Once the stone is returned, I know they would support a pardon.”

  “If the stone is returned, you mean.” The woman looked down her nose at the man. “There is little time left for Pirate Alōs to find what he stole,” she said, correcting his title with a sneer. “The magic in Esrom grows weaker by the day. It won’t be long until we surface, for all the world to rape and pillage. I should not have you arrested but beheaded on the spot for returning here, especially on a mournful day such as—”

  “Be silent.” Ariōn’
s voice rang out, sounding much stronger than before. “You shall not speak of my brother’s presence to anyone, and if you cannot do as I wish, Surb Dhruva, then you shall be relieved of your tongue.”

  Ariōn might as well have slapped the woman for the shock she displayed. “But Prince—”

  “It is King Ariōn now,” he corrected.

  Surb Dhruva hesitated, a shrewd gleam in her eyes, before answering, “Of course, my king. I am merely trying to uphold the laws that even your parents adhered to.”

  “I think, under the circumstances, those laws can be ignored this night.”

  A thick silence hung over the chamber. Dhruva tipped her head up to meet Alōs’s scrutinizing gaze before she dropped into a bow. “As you wish.”

  “You are much the same, Dhruva,” said Alōs, his smile sharp.

  “And you are much different. Though not in a way that’s becoming.”

  “You never could find compliment in me.”

  “How could I from a boy who would commit such sin?”

  “You know very well why I—”

  “Enough,” Ariōn interrupted the two, rubbing at his temples. “Enough. I do not have long with my brother, so I ask you to leave us in peace for a few more grain falls. Then we can go back to abiding by all the laws the lost gods laid upon us.”

  “I would feel I was failing my duty to protect if I were to leave you alone with an outlaw.”

  “I appreciate your loyalty, Surb Dhruva, but you would be failing your duty by disobeying my command.”

  Dhruva stiffened. “Very well, my king.” She bowed lower this time, and Niya didn’t miss the mockery in the flourish. “Surb Ixō, will you walk with me?”

  Ixō glanced at Ariōn in question.

  “Go; I will call for you again soon.”

  Ixō seemed pained to leave the young king but bowed in kind and followed Surb Dhruva out.

  A new silence filled the room as Alōs and Ariōn were left alone.

  “Tell me truthfully,” said Alōs after a moment. “How much longer do the High Surbs think Esrom has?”

  “The Room of Wells is nearly dry.” Ariōn turned to face the bed, his attention dropping to what lay within. “The High Surbs believe we have a year at most.”