“Kind of,” Vachlan said. “If Leviathan can help Visola—then I think I could lose her. For good. I know her—I know that she will use herself as a bargaining chip to get what she wants. If Leviathan can give her victory, then she has no use for me anymore.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” Dylan said to Vachlan. “I’ve seen you two together. She doesn’t just hang around you for your brilliant strategies and outside-the-box thinking. She loves you.”
“She loved me,” Vachlan corrected. “But after Sio—I just don’t think she’s capable of love anymore. I don’t know if she’s even the same old Viso anymore. ”
“Of course she is,” Dylan said with a frown. “She’s definitely going through some trauma that even the best therapy could not help to mend… but she is still your wife.”
“I don’t think she’s actually had a psychotic break, Dylan,” Vachlan said as he poured himself more scotch. “This is just who she is. Unrestrained. It’s like the human parts of her are gone—she’s just pure warrior now. She’s just focused on her goal, and everything else has disappeared. Frankly, I’m scared. I’m scared of the USA coming after us due to our association with her. I’m scared for my kids. I’m scared of the repercussions of her actions. I’m scared that there will never be any going back. I’m scared she’s going to destroy herself.” Vachlan sighed. “Mostly, I’m just scared of losing her.”
“What are you going to do?” Dylan asked.
“I’m going to help the Americans stop her,” Vachlan said, taking a swig of his drink.
“Really? You’re going to fight against her?” Dylan asked.
Vachlan nodded. “Yes. At least, I’m going to pretend to do so to help to keep Adlivun safe. Trust me, even if I did help them, it wouldn’t matter. They’re done. They’re living on borrowed time. We all are. I hope you’re ready to witness the end of an empire, Dylan.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Dylan said, sipping his drink. “As long as it’s not ours, I’m okay with it.”
“That’s usually the way it goes,” Vachlan said. “One must fall for another to rise. Down goes the American Empire, so Oceanus might rise. Or maybe we’ll destroy each other, and we’ll both sink, and some unexpected underdog will be the champion of the world. Either way, something big is about to happen. Bigger than I’ve ever seen—and I’ve seen a lot.”
“Well, I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else when it happens,” Dylan said, looking out onto snowy Romanova. “Even though Sionna’s gone… this place has found its way into my heart. I am growing to love the people who loved her. I like to think that her spirit is still here, and that by integrating myself into the place where she lived… I can still be close to her.”
Vachlan turned to Dylan, suddenly stricken. He dropped his glass, and it shattered on the ground. He grabbed Dylan by the shoulders and looked at him with fear in his eyes. “That’s not enough for me. That will never be enough for me. I can’t go through this again.”
Dylan looked at the other man uneasily. “Vachlan…?”
“I need to find her, Dylan. I need to find my wife.”
Chapter 4: She’s Ten Feet Tall
Weaving her small hands around each other quickly in an ancient, memorized pattern, Elandria braided her white hair. She tied a green ribbon around the end of the thick rope to keep it closed, and returned to the files that she had been asked to read through and authorize. She had been keeping to herself for days, unwilling to participate in the planning of Sionna’s funeral, or the main event. She was not ready to say goodbye. After trying nearly everything, she had finally found her own personal method of coping. It was unusual, but effective: she intended to completely ignore Sionna’s death. This would be accomplished by evading people as much as possible, throwing herself into political paperwork, and when all else failed, sleeping. Sleeping was particularly effective. Unfortunately, incessant interruptions from the busy palace kept dragging her out of her solitude and making her face the harsh light of day. She was seriously considering escaping to somewhere remote, like the private refuge of her sea-cow sanctuary, but she had promised Trevain that she would try to be strong. Adlivun needed her. Her husband needed her. It was very small compared to her sister’s responsibilities; all of Oceanus needed Aazuria. The least she could do was try to lighten the woman’s workload.
Elandria had been visited by her sister earlier, before Aazuria left for Atlantis. The steadfast queen had seemed strangely distant and distraught. Her usually emotionless and graceful features seemed weathered and weary. Elandria knew that her sister was saddened by Varia running away. For so long, Aazuria’s world had centered around her daughter. However, after escaping captivity, she had been overburdened with cleaning up the mess of the entire country, fighting a war, getting temporarily killed, and then uniting all the kingdoms of the world’s oceans. It was too much for one woman to bear. Yet Aazuria tried to be a good mother—even though she had been drowning in so many impossible new duties, Varia always remained her first priority, at the forefront of her mind. Elandria could see that her sister felt responsible for neglecting the young girl, and responsible for all the events that had chased Varia away. She also felt responsible for the conflict with the United States, and the events leading up to Sionna’s assassination. In short, Aazuria felt responsible for everything.
Elandria could see how deeply anguished her sister was over the loss of Sionna. She was sure that the funeral had been difficult, and grateful that she had not attended. She could see the toll that these public events took on Aazuria, and was relieved that she could hide in her bedroom, and contribute to administration from behind the scenes. Running the country was simply not for her.
I wish I could do more, Elandria thought to herself as she signed off on a paltry document about water pollution standards. But I am just a regular girl. I cannot be everywhere at once, and do everything at the same time. I cannot change the world every day, the way Aazuria and Visola do. Those two must fight three major battles before breakfast, just to get warmed up for their days. She smiled in thought of her sister and the general, but her smile was not without a shadow of serious underlying concern.
A shriek was heard not far away in the corridor, and Elandria rose to her feet nervously. She was frozen for a moment, as flashes of all the horrible things that had ever happened to her blazed across her mind. Her heart started pounding far too quickly. Pressing a hand against her chest, where the cruel organ was pumping hectically, she sucked in a quick, short breath. She remembered that her heart had been wounded once, and if not for Sionna’s magical handiwork, she would not be alive. Biting her lip, Elandria battled both fear and nostalgia. When another scream sounded, she shook her head to clear the thoughts, and ran to open her bedroom door to see who was in danger.
She was stunned to see a giant volley of fire blasting through the hallway. She felt the heat from the flames gusting against her face. Elandria stared in shock. She was reminded of the bomb that her father had strapped to her body not too long ago. She was reminded of the explosion that could have killed everyone she loved. Her heart pounded fiercely in fear, and she drew both of her hands against her middle, knowing how unprepared she was for whatever was happening. If only I was in the sea, she thought fleetingly. I could manipulate the waves with my voice. I can be strong with the water, but what can I possibly do with fire?
Elandria was startled out of her anxiety when she heard the laughter of children. The flames cleared, and she could see that they had originated from a very small person whose height was no taller than Elandria’s bellybutton. “Ivory?” She gasped, observing that the little girl was wearing a backpack consisting of two cylinders, and holding a long gun-nozzle in her tiny fist. She also saw that the flames were directed at a similarly small person who was screeching and scrambling away through the corridor, as fast as his little legs would carry him. With a giggle, Ivory triggered her weapon again, engulfing the entire hallway in a fiery blaze.
“Stop!”
Elandria screamed. “Ivory! Stop that at once. Ivory Ramaris!” When the little girl finally heard the authoritative screams over the sound of her weapon, she immediately complied. Elandria moved in front of the weapon and placed her hands on her hips furiously. “Ivory! What on earth are you doing, young lady?”
Ivory looked at Elandria in puzzlement. “I’m trying to set my brother on fire,” she explained, as if it should be obvious.
Elandria blinked. “Why?”
“Because he lost his tooth,” Ivory said, with a pout. She lifted one hand and pointed at her brother. “Look!”
Turning around slightly, Elandria saw the little boy giving her a big smile and pointing at the gap where his tooth used to be.
“See!?” he said with excitement. “It’s really gone!”
Elandria shook her head in confusion. “I… I don’t understand. What is going on?”
“He’s running away from me,” Ivory explained again, gesturing to the flamethrower on her back, “because I’m trying to set him on fire.”
“Sweet Sedna,” Elandria said, rolling her eyes downward as if looking to the bottom of the sea to ask the goddess herself for help. She turned back to the clueless child. “Ivory… that’s not a good idea.”
“But it’s so much fun!” Ivory protested.
“Darling, you need to stop playing with the flamethrower. Now. Someone could get seriously hurt.” Elandria spoke with the same voice she used long ago, when she had been a schoolteacher to the children. Back when she was the Queen of Adlivun, before she had been banished to study with the Sisters of Sedna—she had given the royal children some basic lessons on a regular basis. Unfortunately, Ivory and Ronan had not been born back then, and they were not likely to recognize Elandria as an authority figure. She had only just returned to the palace, and the children barely knew her.
Ivory seemed very unhappy. “But Mama said we could play…”
“Your mother’s not here right now,” Elandria said sharply. “That means I’m in charge. And I forbid you from hurting your brother. Hand me the flamethrower.”
“Yes, Auntie Elan,” Ivory said sullenly. She moved forward and took the cylinders off her back, handing the weapon to the white-haired woman.
Elandria took the contraption, and was surprised to discover how heavy the flamethrower was. She nearly dropped it in surprise. She looked down at little Ivory with wide eyes. Can it be that a five-year-old is stronger than I am? Observing the child’s messy red hair, and familiar jawline, Elandria softened. She was her mother’s daughter, so nothing Ivory did should be a wonder.
Ronan saw that his sister was upset with having her game interrupted. He immediately ran to her side and gave his twin a big hug. “She never really meant to hurt me!” Ronan told Elandria defensively, as if she were on trial for a great crime. “We were just playing, I promise! Mommy said it was okay before—before she went away.”
This touching scene caused Elandria’s heart to ache further. She remembered centuries of Visola and Sionna being at each other’s throats. It all came rushing back, and her unwilling mind was filled with yearning for the sweetness and safety of the past. It seemed impossible to imagine that they would never all be together again, laughing and joking around, and being ridiculous and silly. The twin sisters had never been shy to throw verbal or even physical barbs at each other, but each insult had been laced with clear affection. The limitless love the Ramaris twins had for each other shone through all of their games, mockery, and abuse. They had shared a sacred psychic connection that Elandria could never hope to have with Aazuria, and it was obvious that these tiny tykes felt the same. Sighing, and fighting back tears, Elandria put the flamethrower aside and lowered herself to her knees.
Placing her hands gently on Ronan and Ivory’s shoulders, she gazed into the faces of the children. “Where is your father?” she asked.
“Daddy got sick and he went to see the doctor,” Ivory explained, lowering her chin and grabbing her brother’s hand for comfort.
“Vachlan is ill?” Elandria asked with worry.
“He says it hurts here,” Ronan said, pointing at his forehead, “and Dr. Rosenberg is a doctor for the insides of your brain. He’s making Daddy better.”
Elandria nodded thoughtfully. “Who gave you kids the flamethrower?”
“There was a fat man,” Ivory said. “The castle guard? Rolf. We told him that mommy said it was okay, and he got it for us.”
Lifting her eyebrows, Elandria groaned. “Rolf. I have heard his name spoken around here. I cannot believe he hasn’t been fired yet.”
“Hey! He’s really nice!” Ronan said quickly. “He’s my friend. Besides, he gave us the safe kind of flamethrower. It uses gas instead of liquid. That’s safe for kids, right?”
Elandria moved a hand to touch her forehead in exasperation. “There is no kind of safe flamethrower. Military weapons are not meant to be used as children’s toys.”
“But…”
“Honey, our palace is made of ice,” Elandria said, gesturing around. “You’re going to melt our house to the ground. Look, you’ve burned the carpets and tapestries. And our imported flowers!” She sighed. “Please promise me that you won’t play with anything dangerous unless you have the supervision of a family member—and unless it’s outdoors.”
“Yes, Auntie Elan,” the twins said dutifully.
Elandria knew that there was no way they would follow her instructions for very long. The little troublemakers would require lots of attention to keep them safe. She closed her eyes. But with Sionna and Visola gone, and Vachlan sick, did they have any family members they could turn to?
“There they are!” said a voice from the other end of the hallway. Elandria looked up to see Brynne marching toward them angrily. “I was taking my daughter to the library with Kaito. While Princess Yamako is away, I’m watching her son. I figured I would take care of these two brats as well, but they keep running away from me!”
Elandria gave the twins a stern look of disappointment. “You both will have to stay with Auntie Brynne, okay? Listen to her and follow her instructions.”
“But Kaito doesn’t want to play with me anymore,” Ivory complained.
“We’ll talk to him and figure it out,” Brynne said, taking the twins by their hands and guiding them away. “Sorry, Elan. I’ll keep them out of your hair.”
“It’s okay,” Elandria said weakly, glancing at the flamethrower. Only then did she consider the small size of the weapon. It did seem like it was specifically made for a child’s body. Frowning, she picked it up and turned it over, and found Ivory’s name engraved on the metal cylinder. “Sedna save me,” Elandria groaned.
“What do you need saving from today?” asked a deep male voice from the hallway.
Elandria looked up, and seeing Trevain, rose to her feet abruptly. She dropped the flamethrower, and it clattered to the ground noisily. She stooped to pick it up, but Trevain had moved forward and was taking it from her hands. His fingers rested on hers for far too long, and she pulled away nervously.
“Ivory was trying to kill her brother,” Elandria informed him. She backed away from him slowly, somehow more afraid of his proximity than the gust of fire that had come out of the weapon earlier.
“Ah. I remember this,” Trevain said as he inspected the cylinders. “Grandma ordered this for the kids a while ago, as a present. I guess… she didn’t know that she wouldn’t be around to instruct them on its usage.”
“What was she thinking?” Elandria asked. “Why would anyone buy that for her children?”
Trevain smiled. “You’re forgetting that these are Vachlan and Visola’s kids we’re talking about. They got them pet sharks to toughen them up. Ivory’s already been shot and she didn’t even cry.”
Elandria sighed. She grasped the doorframe for support, torn between ducking into her room and closing the door, and talking to Trevain for a few seconds longer. She glanced down at his strong hands, as they gripped the sections of the flam
ethrower. He seemed to have no trouble with the weight of the weapon. She stared at the wedding ring on his finger, and felt her vision going out of focus as she grew lost in her own thoughts. “Remind me why we never had any children?” she murmured.
His smile disappeared. He looked to the west, as if he was examining a slideshow of the past. “At the time, I was afraid that if you got pregnant, we would have been overjoyed. We would have spent tons of time discussing potential names for a boy or a girl, and we would have decorated a nursery. Aunt Sio would have gotten us ultrasound pictures. You might have been pregnant around the same time as my grandmother, so you two could have bonded while complaining. We would have forced the poor child to listen to horrible classical music through your stomach. You would have done yoga and taken lots of vitamins, and then someone would have inevitably abducted and murdered you like I believed they had done to my first wife.”
“That was good reasoning,” Elandria said with a nod. “I am sure they would have, with our luck.” She was silent for a moment. “I do not think I possess Aazuria’s talent for coming back from the dead.”
“Sure you do,” he told her. “Survival is a trait that runs in the family. You survived everything your father put you through, when lesser women would have crumbled. You survived Mother Melusina’s creepy religious bootcamp, even though she starved you half to death. You survived an arrow to the heart a few years ago, didn’t you?”
Elandria nodded, glancing down at her chest. “It still bothers me—I still get pains there. But I don’t think it’s due to the injury, and certainly not due to Sionna’s surgery being substandard. I think I’m just naturally weak-hearted. I keep thinking that one day soon, my heart is just going to stop. It’s just going to give up and stop trying so hard to keep me standing.”
“Someday, that’s going to happen to all of us,” he told her, moving closer. He placed his large hand on her arm, encircling most of her small bicep. “But I’m not going to let it happen to you anytime soon. I’m going to stay close to you, and keep your heart safe and strong.”
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