Realms and Rebels: A Paranormal and Fantasy Reverse Harem Collection

by C. M. Stunich

  Only my sobs fill the silence.

  “Thelsa?”

  The quiet voice brings my head up, my eyes searching the throne for my father’s vestige, before reality returns. Wiping my cheeks, I turn to meet Iaera’s soft blue eyes. Out of habit, I search for Ligea as well. The two always stick together. But no one else stands in the room with us.

  Iaera tilts her head, the ropes of pearls in her hair swaying. “Why are you crying?”

  I scrub my cheeks again to wipe away the evidence. “Why do you care?”

  “You’re my sister.” The simplicity of the statement pulls a laugh from me.

  “As if that matters.” My words hurt like barbs on my tongue, and I cover face. “I’m sorry, Iaera, I’m not feeling very happy right now.”

  “I miss him, too, you know.” Her bare feet shush across the floor. “He always loved our singing the best.”

  My hands drop, and I stare at her sad expression. “The humans like your singing well enough.”

  “It’s not the same. They come and go so quickly.” Her flingers flit through the air like sparklers. “I can’t even remember their faces.”

  Surprised, I step away from the throne. “None of them? Surely you have some admirers who stand out?”

  Some of the same people return every year, and the townsfolk are here year-round. Despite our long existence, a human lifespan is so forgettable.

  “I once received the most marvelous gift. A statue carving of myself. It sits next to my mirror.” Her brow furrows delicately in concentration before she shrugs. “I believe he was a young sculptor.”

  “That was hundreds of years ago.”

  “Was it?” She drifts past me to run a hand over a small throne that sits on a dais to the left. “Remember when the Greeks raced their ships, and we would sing so beautifully the waves would make the boats almost fly?”

  Happiness fills me at the memory. “Yes.”

  “Those were good times.” Her hand falls back to her side, and she glances up at the domed ceiling, no longer filled with decorations. “Being here is sad. You’re right to cry.”

  Worried at her melancholy, I walk to her side and grasp her hand. “Then let’s go to your vanity. I can weave gold thread into your hair.”

  Her free hand lifts to her head. “That would be lovely.” She pauses, her eyes going distant as she loses herself in memory. After a moment, she shakes herself. “Yes, gold thread would be very nice.”

  Side-by-side, we leave the throne room and its echo of memories.

  Laughter rings from the outer hall as I weave gold threads through Iaera’s hair. She has so many treasures on her head I don’t know how her neck stays straight, but her sadness slips away with every new addition.

  Ligea rounds the corner, a delighted expression on her face. “Iaera, you’ll never guess what I hea--”

  She cuts off as she spots me, and a sly smile twists her soft, pink lips.

  Not liking the look, I pat Iaera’s shoulder. “I don’t think we can add anymore.”

  “You’re a good sister.” She turns to tug a lock of my blue hair. “I’d offer to do the same for you, if you had more treasure.”

  I suppress the bitterness the casual dismissal brings. She doesn’t mean to be cruel, and for a moment there, it felt like the old days again.

  As I slip aside, Ligea takes my place, bending to whisper in Iaera’s ear. Both of their gazes shift to me, and uneasiness sets in.

  “Thelsa, is it true?” Iaera gasps, her eyes wide with horror. “You’re going to become mortal tonight?”

  Blood rushes to my cheeks, and my fists clench. Cyanea wasted no time spreading that rumor. “No, of course not.”

  “When you do, can I have your vanity?” Ligea asks, ignoring my protest. “It has better lighting.”

  “No, I want her vanity!” Iaera squeals, and the two run to my mirror, fighting for my padded chair.

  The hollow ache that began to fade bursts wide once more. They act like me leaving is already decided. Does the idea of losing me mean so little to them?

  As Ligea opens my treasure chest to peer inside, I turn to leave. I want to see Neo, Kaveth, and Harun. To be with people who enjoy my company and who make me remember the joy in life.

  More footsteps fill the hall, and I duck behind a pillar, unwilling to subject myself to anymore of my sisters’ words. My heart can’t take it right now.

  When their footsteps fade, I run for the outer walls of the palace and leap into the water, eager to reach the surface once more. With every mile I rise, the ache lessens until my spirit feels buoyant once more.

  Overhead, the water lightens, the glow of the setting sun casting a red sheen over the surface.

  Tonight, I’ll be brave. I’ll go to the Great Fountain and dance the night away with my watchmen. We’ll watch the sun rise and bask in each other’s company.

  I freeze as panic tightens my throat. What am I thinking? I can’t be away from the sea for that long. My heart pounds loud in my ears. I want to be with them so much, but what if I lose track of time? What if their arms tempt me to linger too long?

  Slowly, I sink lower in the water.

  I lift my arm and stare at the stones on the ribbon. They weigh heavily, dragging me down deeper. What’s the real meaning behind these? We’ve never spoken words of love to each other, but every time I’m near them, my body sings with it.

  If they say those words to me, what will happen? What will it mean for our future? Do I stay with them, watching as they slowly age and pass from this life? Do I reject them to spare us all, then watch as they find new loves, start families?

  The sea darkens as I sink farther from the surface, unable to force myself to face these decisions.

  That night, I hide under the pier and listen to the music that drifts from town. When Kaveth, Neo, and Harun come looking for me, their pained expressions make my heart ache. The urge to go to them, to step from the waves, pushes at me, and I grip the rough wooden supports to stop myself. If I go, I might never come back, and the fear of that thought holds me in place.

  I wasn’t brave enough to go when the gods left, when my father left, how can I find the courage now for these wonderful humans?

  They pace along the beach, then sit and wait, facing the sea, and I watch them from my hiding spot until the moon rises high in the sky and the music fades.

  Standing, they leave, their shoulders slumped in defeat.

  The next morning, the men don’t return to the beach for their daily exercise routine, and the broken water wagon lays abandoned in the dunes, propped up on one side with the new wheel still lying in the sand. I stay beneath the pier and watch until new watchmen arrive to patrol the beach.

  These men are younger, and they play more with the festivalgoers, too relaxed for the seriousness of their job. Where are Harun, Kaveth, and Neo? Were they too exhausted to come to the beach today, or are they avoiding it after I stood them up?

  Either option brings bitter regret with it.

  Why do I let fear rule me?

  My gaze strays to a mother with her son. He laughs and splashes in the waves, and I recognize them as a couple of the people Charybdis caught in her whirlpool. They almost died, yet here they are, back at the beach. Their bravery humbles me.

  When next Kaveth, Neo, and Harun come to the beach, I must face them and whatever the future may hold for us.

  9

  Again the next day, Kaveth, Neo, and Harun don’t return to the beach. New faces wear matching watchmen sashes. My men, if I can still call them that, never wore them, but everyone recognized their faces, understood their rules. These new recruits spend more time mingling with the beachgoers than they do patrolling. They focus too much of their time on my sisters.

  My heart aches from the separation. Kaveth, Neo, and Harun fill my thoughts, pushing out worry over my sisters, my home, or even the sea, other than to sleep or eat. It opens my eyes to the importance of the relationship I built with them. Or will build if they for
give me.

  As a way to apologize for missing the dance, I focus on the coral gifts I plan to present to them.

  Near the edge of the dunes, dried kelp adorns the sand. I sift through the pieces until I find several the length of my outstretched arms. For years, I lay on the rocks and sang to sailors as they braided dried kelp and seaweed together to form long ropes and nets to use with their work. Several of them showed me the best way to make the braids and the knots needed to connect the pieces together.

  After I braid the belts, I secure the broken pieces of my coral comb onto each of them. They can use the coral to latch onto the loop I make in the opposite end. When I finish, I drape them over my shoulders, keeping them close for when I run into the men. It shouldn’t be long before I see them again. At least, I hope not. I trudge along the beach, my feet leaving drag marks through the sand. The belts weigh next to nothing, but the idea of them presses on my shoulders. Will giving them this gift bind us together? Is that the meaning I hope to put behind them?

  Passing the water wagon, which still sits propped up on one end with the wheel leaning against the side, I venture closer to the noisy crowd of humans.

  The festival is in full swing today with picnics and games down at the beach. The smell of grilled food masks the usual salt in the air, and musicians wander through the festivalgoers, their songs drowning out anything the nereids might attempt. My sisters brood on their rocks as only some of the beachgoers focus on them. Most face inward, to where circus performers do acrobatics and magic tricks.

  Many of the magicians wear costumes of the gods, and my chest heaves with a deep sigh. How long will we pretend to live in that world?

  After this week, my sisters will hide back in their broken down palace, waiting for the next party, their lives consisting of an endless cycle of play followed by boredom. The festivalgoers will head home, leaving the beach once again quiet for my watchmen.

  As I wind my way through the festival, I scan the crowd. Most of the people are down here, so I expect to find them. Men of all ages don the sash of the watchmen, but none come close to Kaveth, Neo, or Harun. These men move from point to point without noticing small things, like children running too close to the campfires, that would have made any of my men pause for a warning.

  After several hours, they still haven’t shown up. By this time, I’ve made the same rounds a dozen times. With all the costumes, no one pays me any attention as I search each face I pass in the hope of finding the ones I want, the ones I need.

  Deciding to make a change, I climb to the ridge of the dune to get a better vantage point. The sand slips under my feet, and I slide around before making it to the top. From up here, even more danger is evident as people bury sharp trash in shallow holes or older children pretend to be performers by throwing knives at objects sitting on the rocks.

  Seeing this disregard for safety, I know my men aren’t down here.

  This limits my options. If they don’t come down to the beach, I don’t know where to find them. I’ve never ventured into the town to see where they live or work. With everyone engaged with the festival, no one stands nearby to answer my question on how to find them.

  I cover my face and take a deep breath, my chest tight at the loss of the men as well as the decision I have to make. Do I or don’t I travel into the town to find them?

  My resolve hardens, and I venture down the dune and follow the worn path in the sand until I reach the place where Harun took me to meet his sister. Here, the path turns rocky, my feet feeling the sting of pebbles. I regret not fetching my new sandals before I leave the beach, but if I go back for them now, I might lose my resolve.

  Slowly at first, then faster, buildings crop up around me until they crowd close together, and I lose track of where I am. They tower over the walkway and cast shadows where there should be light. My pulse spikes with panic, leaving me lightheaded. I tilt my head back to find the sun, but dark smoke floats across the sky.

  As if seeing it triggers my senses, I smell fire on the wind. Ash floats past, melting into gray dots on my skin.

  My watchmen will be the first to the fire, possibly the only ones because of the festival.

  Fear tightens my throat, and I race in the direction of the fire. The smoke thickens as I near, and I choke on it, my eyes watering. The air grows warmer as I push onward, my head aching from lack of oxygen. Sparks flood the street and sting as they land on my bare arms.

  Exiting a row of buildings, I stumble into a large plaza with a pool of water shooting out of it. In the middle where the water shoots out, sits a large marble statue of two dolphins, their tails twined together as they dance in the water.

  I made it to the heart of the town, to the Great Fountain.

  Past the fountain, the smoke billows in a black cloud that clings to everything and pours into the sky. Beyond the smoke screen, bright orange flames crest the tops of several buildings.

  I edge around the fountain and toward the fire. My skin tightens from the heat, the air burning in my lungs, but I push on. The roar of the fire blocks my ears, and I search for any sign of the watchmen, but see no one trying to put out the blaze.

  A large bell hangs in front of one of the buildings to the right of the fire. This must be the watchmen station. I run over to it and pull the cord. Peels of ringing sound throughout the area. With the beach so far away and loud with the festivities, I’m not sure anyone will hear it.

  I ring the bell several more times. With all the buildings made out of wood and packed close together, it won’t take long for the entire town to be engulfed in the fire. As I watch, the flames jump to the nearest building, waiting for the right moment to strike out and burn everything in its path.

  Abandoning the bell, I turn to race back to the beach for help, but soft rumbles come from the back of the station and halt my steps. Searching for the entrance, I work my way around to where a narrow alley divides two of the buildings.

  As I hurry between them, I duck down to avoid the smoke that clogs the air. A large stick, which once held a flag, lies on the ground. I grab it and tap the side of the building as I continue my search for the noise.

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Three taps later, someone returns my taps from the other side of the wall.

  I hit the wall harder and yell, “Who’s in there? Are you all right?”

  “Thelsa?” Kaveth’s scratchy voice barely reaches my ears.

  The panic from earlier nearly suffocates me. I pound on the wall, looking for a way to reach him. “Kaveth! How do I reach you?”

  “Thelsa. You can’t be here. It’s too dangerous. Go back to the beach and get help. Neo is hurt, and a wall collapsed, blocking our exit.”

  Tears flow down my cheeks, and my heart breaks with worrying that Neo is already hurt and the others could be next.

  “There’s no time. The fire’s reached several other buildings. It could overtake this one before I get back. How do I get you out of there?” My hand skims over the solid wood. I’m not strong enough to break it, but the fire will eat through it in no time.

  “Our other way is blocked by the fire.” Harun coughs several times before continuing, “The only hoses long enough to reach from the fountain to this building are tied to the side of the water wagon. You have to run and get someone to help drag them here.”

  My head pounds, and I crouch lower to find clean air. Tears and smoke turn everything to a gray haze. I distracted them from fixing the wagon, and now, there’s no way to contain the fire.

  The weight of the belts hanging from my neck feels like they’ll pull me into Hades’ underworld.

  The choice of being with them seems so obvious now that I’m about to lose them. All the bad decisions I made, letting my sisters sway me from my heart’s desire. I can’t imagine a world without them. Where will I be once they pass?

  “Stay strong! I’ll help!” I yell back at them. “I love each of you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

  Without thinking or waiting for a resp
onse, I race to the front of the building. The water in the fountain calls to me. Since it’s fresh water, my power’s not the same, but the force of the water flowing through the top should be enough to help.

  I sit on the ground with my eyes closed, the heat from the stones burning my legs. The water is there, but I have to figure out how to tap into it.

  A moment of doubt flows through me, but I push it back as I let nature work through me. The flow of the water matches the flow of my blood, the pounding of my heart providing the extra strength needed to control the water.

  My mind empties as I shoot the water through the air over my head. Sizzles and pops sing in my ears, like the night I put out the bonfire. It’s working. More water hits the building, and I open my eyes to see the water winning the war against the fire.

  Rainbows cascade across my vision, and I widen the spray of water to hit multiple spots at once. The air clears of some of the smoke, and it becomes easier to breath.

  All too soon, the water from the fountain runs out, but the fire rages on.

  I dig deep within and case my sense out. Beneath me runs the underground rivers, Gaias’ life veins. Praying to her, I find the strength to guide that water through the cracks in the dirt, and water shoots from openings around the burning buildings.

  As more water rushes from the ground, the fire retreats until nothing but the flooded plaza and residual smoke from the fire remains.

  My body aches from the effort. Gaia calls, her bed of water surrounding me. As I lie down in her embrace, the water molds to my body. My fingers run through the water. This will be the last time we meet. With the fire out, I hope the watchmen, my watchmen, are now safe.

  Eyes closing, I allow myself to become one with the water. My mind flips through my favorite moments, like singing to Father, helping humans, or most recently, spending time with Kaveth, Harun, and Neo. My hand strays to the ribbon with a stone that represents each of them, my gift for spending time with them. Little did they know that time changed my life.