THE KING
TRITON
SHEYLA DRYMON
The King Triton: © 2021 by Sheyla Drymon.
SafeCreative: © 2102216986487/2101246696496.
Original title: Sediento de amor.
Translator: Sheyla Drymon.
Cover design: © Sheyla Drymon.
Cover image: © Depositphotos/Pixabay.
Proofreader: Elatoria/Fiverr.
All rights reserved. The total or partial reproduction of this work by any means or procedure, whether electronic, mechanical, rental or any other form of transfer of the work without the prior written permission of the owner and copyright holder is strictly forbidden. It is also forbidden to translate it into other languages without permission and authorization from the author.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
EPILOGUE
ALSO BY SHEYLA DRYMON
PROLOGUE
Nathaniel prided himself on his courage and strength and boasted of his virtues, smiling proudly to those around him. Despite being a triton of only eight summers, he wielded the bluirt, the typical weapon of tritons, with mastery and was able to surpass his training partners. Much was expected of him, for he was the heir to the crown of the Atleintais Kingdom.
Nathaniel was the eldest son of King Doivar, and as such, he fought and strove every day to reach his father. He was going to be the next Triton King, and since he was an infant, he had been told this day after day to encourage him in his training. When he was an adult triton, he would accept a position that carried great responsibility and required strong determination. In his hands, he would hold the staff of power that his father carried at all times and with which he would be able to manage the tides and waves of the oceans. His family had been protecting the staff since time immemorial; this duty passed from father to son, sealing the promise sworn by the first Klaider to the god of the seas.
"To protect their world, even at the cost of their lives."
Nathaniel Klaider would become the twenty-sixth Triton King on the full moon night of his seventeenth summer of existence.
…Or so at least that was what everyone expected and what the young triton dreamed of.
That was until the night his whole world fell apart.
He was forced to escape with his young sister from the palace, leaving behind the ghosts of his past and the lifeless bodies of his parents.
His mother's screams would echo in his mind for years, preventing him from finding peace and reminding him every night of the oath he swore to himself when he last looked upon his home.
He would find those who caused the devastation and finish them off…with his own hands.
CHAPTER 1
Mireilla Smither hit the bell on the motel counter for the fourth time. She had found herself in an old motel that looked like it was about to collapse, and it turned out to be the only possible accommodation.
When she finally got up the courage to follow her inner voice, plus a little push from her family, and accept the job offered to her on the island of St. Thomas in the northern Atlantic Ocean, she never imagined that she would find herself so lost with her suitcase lying on a dirty, dusty floor of a motel that looked like something out of a horror movie.
Ever since she was a child, her family had labeled her as dull. She was always the shy one in the family, always in the clouds and not taking chances in life. Mireilla always snorted when she was told she should be more like her sisters. Even her own parents adopted that expression which hurt her.
But how could she look like her sisters when they were models who traveled around the world posing for the best photographers?
She was not to blame for being born with an average height and having at least, and all in the words of her famished sisters, thirty extra pounds.
So unintentionally, she was the ugly duckling of her family, living in the shadow of her sisters' success, enduring the taunts of those around her. In high school, the worst stage of her life, she had accepted her appearance and the role she was to play within her family. She could not compete in beauty with her sisters, but she could pursue an academic future. So she began to study with passion, absorbing every word she read, obtaining a doctorate in history after completing a thesis on Greco-Roman mythology.
And how had she come to an island that few knew about, only discovering its location after consulting a detailed map of the coast?
Well, it was because of a bet…a simple, stinking bet with her sisters.
Those harpies showed up at her apartment on campus where she worked as an assistant to the history professor, and they dared her, and she accepted - after six shots of tequila, she would have said yes to any request they made of her.
Memories aside, Mireilla eagerly tapped the blissful device as she said aloud:
“Is anyone there? I've been waiting for ten minutes to be answered.”
She heard noise from behind the counter and hurried footsteps. Mireilla smiled. Finally, it seemed that she was going to be served.
Curious and somewhat more relaxed to see that she could sleep on a good mattress, she looked around. Dust and dirt were evident on the few pieces of furniture that adorned the entrance of the shabby place. There was also an old piece of furniture with shelves displaying old photos showing the lost splendor of the place. Under her feet was a sticky, discolored carpet that had been burned by cigarette butts and that she would recommend the owner throw it in the trash.
Her inspection was interrupted by the appearance of the owner.
“What do you want?”
Mireilla turned and stared at him. The man must have been only about four inches taller than she was.
His appearance was unkempt, showing obvious malnutrition as his wrinkled skin was stuck to his bones. He was an extremely thin and disheveled old man with shapelessly cropped hair of a grayish hue. After reviewing his strange attire, for he wore khaki pants and a faded orange short-sleeved shirt, Mireilla looked him in the face, trying her best to hold her tongue. The man's eyes were completely white. He was blind.
Now she understood why the place looked so deserted. The poor man with his blindness would be unable to clean up the dirt and notice the damage around him.
“What can I do for you?” His hoarse voice brought her out of her reverie.
“I...” she hesitated, “I need lodging, and I was told at the port that this is the only place that has rooms available.”
The man gave a lopsided smile.
“You've come at a bad time. In three days, there will be a commemorative parade through the main streets of the city, remembering that the feared pirate Blackbeard lived here. The other hotels on the island are busy. It's high season.”
Mireilla dropped her carry-on suitcase, the sound of it hitting the floor startling the old man who came out from behind the counter, arms up in the air looking for her.
“Are you all right? That thump, I hope nothing happened to you. They can't close my motel; if they do, where will I sleep?”
Concerned, Mireilla turned and raised an arm, touching him.
“I'm fine, sir,” she said aloud, but thought, It's just, I'm about to call my sisters and curse them to their dying day for playing me like this.
“I dropped my suitcase on the floor. I'm sorry if I frightened you,” she continued.
The man smiled, showing a set of teeth with several pieces missing. He took her hand and, still smil
ing, led her to the counter.
“It's all right. I didn't used to be so startled before, but now with my...”
Mireilla watched as he swallowed hard and made a face. She could tell he was having a hard time talking about his handicap, so she decided to change the subject.
“Are there any free rooms?” she inquired.
“…Are there any free rooms?” The man repeated after a pause, surprise in his voice. “Of course there are. You can choose a room. Wait, I'll show them to you and...”
The man's enthusiasm was contagious. Mireilla smiled and assured him that a bedroom facing the sea was fine for her. She loved to gaze at the sea at night. The gentle whisper of the waves caressing the golden beaches soothed her, and when she arrived on the island, she had hoped to find a motel where she could sleep listening to the sea. When the owners of the motels she visited before arriving at the one she was in told her there were no vacant rooms, she became depressed. She had accepted the job without even thinking about finding good lodging and transportation. It was unusual for her to dive headlong into an adventure without having everything planned in detail.
But at least improvisation wasn't so bad. Or at least that was what she was thinking as she followed the motel owner upstairs to her new room after signing the lease for two months. She planned to spend that time searching for all the information she could find on the most famous pirate of the seven seas.
Blackbeard.
Once she was alone in her new home for the next two months, she left her suitcase on the bed and walked to the balcony. She smiled when she saw the landscape that greeted her. A few yards from the motel was a small, private beach of golden sand glistening in the sun's rays. The crystal clear waters in which she could see the bottom of the sea, caressed her calmly, following a rhythm as old as the world itself. The vegetation that bordered the beach was of an intense green, dotted with diverse and striking colors of the typical flowers of the island.
She closed her eyes and enjoyed the calm of her surroundings.
If before she had regretted her hasty decision, now she was sure that she had made the best choice of her life.
She would be in paradise for two months, doing a job she loved.
Mireilla let out a happy laugh, going back into the room to unpack and get some rest after the long boat trip.
“Job, money and now all I have left is love,” she laughed, internally mocking the little seed that was always in her heart and could never germinate. She always felt inferior because every man she met in her life compared her to her sisters when she introduced him to the family. “But first to unpack, a quick shower and tomorrow to the library to look up information on Edward Teach.”
What the young woman never expected was that her life would change radically, fulfilling every one of her deepest wishes.
CHAPTER 2
The streets of the city on the island of St. Thomas were full of tourists who kept taking pictures with their phones and cameras. Mireilla looked around curiously, amazed that the festival they were preparing by hanging posters in the windows of the stores and garlands on the facades of the buildings was a tribute to a man who terrorized thousands of people with his evil and dark heart. Edward Teach never showed mercy to his prisoners, disposing of anyone who stood in his way. His triumphs as a pirate swept the seas of his time like a rumor of an angel of darkness terrorizing merchantmen who appeared in his path. The treasures he obtained were spent to the last doubloon on women and drink. This was the same with his crew, with whom nothing more than the desire to get rich by boarding ships united them. Among pirates, there were no loyalties. For a chest of Spanish gold coins, they would have sold their captain.
He approached a small store displaying pamphlets and books dedicated to the famous pirate. Getting to the store was quite an accomplishment, but when she entered, she sighed with relief. She couldn't stand being surrounded by so many people. She felt short of breath if they surrounded her until they invaded her intimate space, pushing and pulling her wherever the crowd moved.
Inside the small shop, she wandered in front of the shelves, admiring the books on display. Maybe she would buy one. Some books written about Edward Teach were well documented and told his story as it was: tough, cruel and full of betrayals.
“Do you need anything?” Mireilla turned and before her stood a middle-aged woman wearing a tight, gray suit and her hair in a high bun.
“No, thanks. I was just browsing.”
The sales clerk smiled more openly as she saw the hesitation in the young woman's eyes. She had been in the business for many years, serving the tourists who came to the island on Blackbeard's holiday, and the woman showed a desire to learn about the pirate. And her instinct had never failed her.
“Are you sure, Miss? You have some good books there. That one talks about the treasures Blackbeard got, and this one is about the life he led before he died.”
Mireilla looked at the books the lady gestured to, but they were not what she was looking for. They were nothing more than illustrated guides for tourists, exaggerating historical data.
“No thanks. Those guides don't interest me. But if you have one on the documented history of the island, I may be interested in it.”
The lady raised an eyebrow slyly, a small tick that over the years, she had polished so they wouldn't notice the interest she was showing in a new sale.
“I see you're a woman with clear ideas. That's good. Come with me, I'll show you some old texts. They are a bit expensive, but if you are really interested, you will see that they are well worth the price.”
Mireilla nodded her head and followed her, piqued by curiosity. If after entering that little store, she bought an unpublished text, she would gain recognition that would open doors in her profession. She was just an assistant in the history department, even after having studied for her degree. Her job consisted of preparing her boss's classes, researching the subject she was teaching each day and then giving him the folder with the theory and images that her boss would explain to his students. She was nothing more than a library with legs doing his dirty work for him.
No recognition, no pleasure in her work.
She was tired of being belittled and used.
Internally, that was one of the motivations, besides the bet, that led her to accept the role of researcher.
Now, following a woman who claimed to have a text of historical value, she felt exhilarated, a tingle of anticipation tingling through her body, as if she hoped she was really going to make an important find.
“Here it is.”
The sales clerk's voice brought her out of her reverie, and she focused on the book with its weathered covers and yellowed pages. The letters were gilded, and the clasp was a strip of leather that wrapped around the book, keeping its pages protected.
If it was a book written in the time when Blackbeard lived, it would be handwritten, and its pages would be loose.
She picked it up with trembling hands, for a first inspection of the old text confirmed that it was ancient.
“The price is $600.”
Mireilla stifled a gasp of shock at the exorbitant price. But after a few seconds in which she tried to assimilate that figure, she remembered that she had the support of the rector's office and the history department, which had provided her with nearly two thousand dollars. With that budget, she had to survive the months she would spend on the island. Perhaps it was rash to pay that kind of money for a text that, although it did not seem false, there was a possibility that it was.
What should I do? If I spend $600, I will have very little left to survive the next few months. And I have to pay for room and board, she thought as she fondled the cover. But on the other hand, the motel isn't expensive, and I could do a little dieting. What the hell, I’ll buy it! she decided, smiling.
“I'll take it.” Mireilla didn't see the smirk on the sales clerk's face when she realized that she was going to earn $600 for a diary that her grandfather had found buried i
n his garden.
That old diary wasn't worth three times the price this innocent woman was going to pay her; she had already taken it to an antiques appraiser when her grandfather died, and he told her it wasn't worth $200. But she wasn't going to comment on that. Of course, she wasn't. A sale was a sale, even though it was a scam. There would be no turning back now. From the moment she took the woman's money, she would forget about the diary and accept no complaints.
Mireilla, meanwhile, was eagerly examining her purchase, unaware of the deception.
Before she could regret it, the sales clerk took her back to the counter of her store, passing by the entrance to the storeroom where she kept a small safe, and gave her a paper bill, claiming that the cash register had broken down. With that paper signed with a false name, it would be of no use to Mireilla to claim when she realized that the newspaper was a fake.
Mireilla handed the clerk the gold card given to her by the rector of the history faculty. The sound of the machine as the clerk swiped the card made her feel remorse. It was a lot of money. But after a closer look at the book, she decided it was well worth it. That old text was a diary that might reveal new facts about the famous pirate. She was already looking forward to arriving at the motel and locking herself in her room to read it thoroughly.
“That's it. Here.” She handed the card back to her, and Mireilla put it back in her wallet. “I have to close the store now,” the clerk said rudely.
It seemed strange to Mireilla that the woman was now in such a hurry to close the store, when before it seemed that she was about to tie her to a chair until she convinced her to buy something, brainwashing her with images and slogans from the tourist guides. But she pushed the distrust out of her mind and left the store and headed up the hill to the motel. She dodged the tourists as best she could. They were shouting excitedly in the street at the parade in which the actors depicted a pirate raid on the island.
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