Rise of the Sea Witch (Unfortunate Soul Chronicles Book 1)

by Stacey Rourke

  For a beat I could manage only a befuddled stare. That he knew me that well, could pick up on my precise emotion with such ease …

  “What do you say?” he asked, his topaz eyes twinkling with mischief. “I could tell the staff I’m feeling ill and be out of here before the guardsmen ramp up for another sing along. We could meet in the square as soon as we can both break away. Think you could swing it?”

  Go against what was expected of me?

  What a strange and alluring concept.

  Did I dare?

  “Don’t be long,” I jabbed, reveling in the thrill of my act of rebellion.

  Head held high, I swished toward the exit, riding a ripple of my own trumped up sass.

  “Vanessa!” Triton yelped from amidst his crowd of admirers.

  Slowing my kicks, I tossed around the idea of stopping.

  It was an option.

  The proverbial right thing to do.

  I acknowledged it.

  Accepted it.

  Then, pretended I didn’t hear him, and swam on.

  My goal driven momentum came to an abrupt stop when a large, unyielding mitt caught my upper arm in a vise grip that gouged divots in my flesh. Whipped around with a force which cracked my neck with a painful snap, I found myself staring into the face of Fleet Master Neleus. The majority of mermaids throughout the Seven Seas candidly gushed about his chiseled jawline, muscular build, and wide-set seafoam eyes. All I could see was the cruelty of his soul.

  “The future King of Atlantica spoke to you,” he growled. “You will acknowledge him with the respect he deserves, girl.”

  My gaze darted to the table where my brother held court. Triton’s mouth swung slack, apology bleeding from his stare. Doralious’s chest puffed protectively, his eyes narrowing in Neleus’s direction. Father floated beside him. It should have been considered a high offense for a soldier to speak to a royal in such a fashion, yet Poseidon remained unresponsive on the matter. Until our little show drew an audience, he wouldn’t bother with it, or me.

  Jaw locked, I glared the soldier down with the heat of an underwater volcano. “My title is Princess Vanessa, and he is not the king yet. Upon last inspection of Atlantica traditions, I have just as much claim to the throne as he does. It may serve you well to remember that.”

  Neleus attempted a charming smile, but it landed closer to the terrifying scowl of a Northern Stargazer. If you haven’t witnessed those elusive little buggers, they are a species of fish that sound adorable, but look like the face of demon emerging from the ocean floor.

  “He has the entire Royal Guard preparing him to rule. What do you have, little Princess?” Grabbing one strand of my hair, Neleus gave it a rough tug before letting it float from his fingers. “Who would even accept such a pointless cause?”

  “And what makes it pointless?”

  Conversation ground to a halt. All eyes turned to the queen who drifted through the hall, weaving between bodies, to inject herself in the dispute. That day she opted for ebony hair pulled back in a severe bun. Her demure gown resembled that of the Indian Sea mer, starting high on her neckline and falling in loose folds at the bend in her tail. Lips, stained a deep chum red, pursed in distain. Black eyes, lined with intricate red swirls that matched the glistening scales of her glamoured tail, narrowed. Tilting her head in the Fleet Master’s direction, she fixed on him with a predatory stare.

  Neleus dipped into a deep bow of respectful. “I speak of past accounts alone, Your Highness. It is common place for the heir that trains with the likes of the guard to one day claim the trident.”

  Folding her hands behind her back, Amphrite’s sharp gaze traveled the length of the bold soldier from top to tail, and back again. “Aw, yes, the trident. That enchanted artifact which decides the fate of—well, if we want to be specific—all of Atlantica,” leaning in, she stage whispered, “and who, exactly, do you think enchanted both that and the Ursela shell?”

  Neleus pulled himself up seahorse straight. “You cannot possibly expect me to believe that you enacted such a powerful incantation centuries ago. Do you think me mad?”

  Releasing her hands, Amphrite tapped one dagger-like nail to her chin. “Hmm,” her lips twisted to the side, “if I actually were a haggard old wretch that would explain my panache for disguises.”

  The high ranking warrior floundered for the correct response; glancing over his shoulder he beseeched his fellow officers. They offered only mystified shrugs and sympathetic cringes.

  “Or, in an alternative that keeps me young and beautiful,” Amphrite shielded her mouth with the back of her hand, “perhaps the trident and shell were enchanted by one of the most magically inclined families under the Seven Seas. Or, as I like to call them, Nana, Papi, Mom, and Dad.”

  Neleus’s jaw swung slack. “You can’t mean …”

  “That one of the most potent magicks ever known, that the very structure on which our government was based, was invoked by my family? Yes, my dear, sir. That is exactly what I mean.”

  Prior to that moment, I thought Amprhite to be a frivolous nit—father’s narcissistic arm-accessory that flitted her days away with pageantry and costuming. The assertive version trending before me pulled back the curtain of that façade, exposing the ravenous beast beneath. She was truly an enigma that no solitary label could define. Somehow, it made me appreciate her an inkling more.

  Clearing his throat, Neleus forced a tight smile to save face in front of their audience of onlookers. “I appreciate the gift of your powers and what they bring to your role as the kingdom’s alchemist, my Queen. That said, I hardly see what that has to do with deciding Atlantica’s next ruler. The Royal Guard knows how to train a king … or a queen, and we have selected Triton. But Vanessa … well, there have been no volunteers to instruct her.”

  “I expected someone of your high ranking to have bit more foresight,” she sighed, as if exasperated by his ineptitude. “If she is willing, the princess will be my apprentice.”

  Shocked gasps echoed through the hall.

  My mouth fell open, vexed by the mermaid that was proving herself to be a diabolical genius. I told her no, quite emphatically in fact. Yet there she was, establishing herself as my public heroine. I would be viewed as an ungrateful brat if I said no to her now. Conniving as she was, I marveled at her brilliant execution.

  Goaded on by the unease moving through the room in a potent wave, Neleus barked his discord, “You are queen! Such a thing is unheard of!”

  Instead of matching his agitated squawk, Amphrite dropped her voice to a silky whisper. “I am also the Royal Alchemist. The most powerful one to ever hold the title, and that is not boasting. According to the historic scrolls, by law it is written that the alchemist may take an apprentice. However, as martial harmony is of utmost importance to me …” With one swirl of her tail, which glittered like rubies, she addressed her husband with humble reverence, “Dearest husband, may I ask for your blessing on this arrangement?”

  The room fell silent.

  Faintly, the distant squeaks of the stabled dolphins could be heard.

  Water shifted, Father’s massive frame rising from the seat he had claimed beside Triton. My heart forgot how to beat as a slow smile spread across his face, yet never quite reached his eyes. “If such a thing will make my queen and daughter happy, who am I to deny such a request?”

  Alastor, who had found someone to relieve him of his post and plate of hors d’oeuvres, picked that moment to skirt behind Poseidon on his way to the exit. Father caught him with one giant flipper of a hand slapped to Alastor’s scrawny shoulder. Yanking the bewildered servant boy tight to his side, the king’s rough fingers dug into his flesh with enough force to make Alastor wince.

  Face dead of emotion, Father jerked his chin in my direction. “Of course, I leave the final decision to Princess Vanessa. It is her future we are speaking of. Answer truthfully, child. Does this arrangement please you?”

  To anyone else, Poseidon’s act probably see
med a casual gesture of mer solidarity. I saw it as the silent, yet palpable threat that it was. His fingers squeezed hard enough to pucker the skin, Alastor’s shoulder sagging in search of relief.

  I had no desire to study under Amphrite’s tutelage. As the vision of my mother pointed out, the young queen was not to be trusted. Still, I found my father’s fervent desire to keep us apart compelling. One corner of my mouth curling in a defiant smirk, I made the reckless decision to call his bluff.

  Dipping in a deep curtsy, I peered up at Poseidon from under my lashes. “Nothing would please me more, Father, than to train under your wise queen.”

  I thought myself so slick, a true rebel—right up until I shot a sideways glance to Amphrite. Triumph played across her features, sharpening them to a blade’s gleaming edge. Chewing on her lower lip, she couldn’t suppress a gleeful grin. Icy awareness of the mistake I made doused my sense of a pre-teen revolution.

  “Then so it shall be,” Poseidon professed, sealing my fate.

  Amphrite extended her hand to me, her gaze shifting back to Poseidon. “If it pleases Your Majesty, we will take our leave to discuss the terms of our arrangement privately.”

  Swallowing hard, I forced myself to place my hand in hers. There was no warmth in her touch, just cool, clammy indifference.

  “Very well.” Poseidon’s jaw flexed, his teeth clenched to mask his annoyance. “You have my blessing, unless Vanessa has any … hesitations she wishes to discuss?”

  If Father could have shook Alastor, like a shark seriating its prey, to make his threat more blatant, he would have. Ever mindful of the crowd, he released his grip and drummed his fingers against Alastor’s bruising shoulder.

  I couldn’t look Alastor’s way; the guilt was too stifling.

  Taking another route altogether, I flashed Poseidon my most beguiling smile. “None at all, Father.”

  Alastor’s stare burned into me. Betrayal wafted from him.

  I would make this up to him, beg his understanding.

  This could be repaired.

  It had to be.

  Squeezing my hand hard enough to grind my knuckles together, Amphrite dipped in a final curtsy. “Thank you, Your Highness. We shall work hard in your honor.”

  Tugging me along, she flutter kicked toward the exit without looking back.

  “Keep up,” she muttered, for my ears only, “and do not look back. Whatever you feel for that boy, for the moment think of him as nothing more than particles of sand flittering over your fins. Your father must think he means nothing to you.”

  She saw it.

  She saw the threat and manipulated it to get what she wanted. And now, I was bound to her at the expense of Alastor’s trust.

  Mother Ocean, what had I done?

  Chapter Five

  D o you have a favorite?” Cradling his jowls in her palms, Amphrite nuzzled the snout of Anchor, Father’s prize bull dolphin that pulled his carriage in every parade.

  She had led me to the stable without explanation, not that I felt one was needed. Many teachers tried the tactic of making Triton and me muck out the stalls as a way to humble us. The lack of originality disappointed me. I expected more creativity from someone capable of her elaborate glamours. Not that I minded a trip to the stable. It was a majestic cavern carved out of rock with a private fresh air pocket tucked into its ridged peek. Nature’s helpful attributes to the design made me a believer that Mother Ocean had a special place in her heart for her bottle-nosed beauties. Whenever time allowed it, I loved to watch the royal pod swim, swirl, and dive to their hearts desire, surfacing whenever they pleased.

  A smiling gray face poked out from between the stable’s stalagmite bars, nudging my hand for a chin scratch. I happily obliged his tender request.

  “This is my boy, Gully.” Scratching my knuckles over his forehead, my tense expression softened at his merry little squeaks. “He was the steed of a member of the Royal Guard until he reached retirement age two years ago. Father, charitably, let me keep him. We don’t go out for swims often, because he tires easily. But, we do enjoy our visits. Don’t we, boy?”

  Gully trilled his agreement.

  Arching her arms behind her, Amphrite released her tightly wound bun and let it tumble down her back.

  “They’re so loyal,” she wistfully mused, “so trusting.”

  “Only if they are trained properly,” I interjected. “Gully had never been—”

  “Come with me!” Suddenly perking, Amphrite turned tail and swam off. Flipping onto her back, she gestured for me to follow her out the back of the stable.

  “Sure, why not,” I grumbled under my breath, giving Gully a final pat. “I was totally done talking by the way. It was really more of a philosophical statement, ‘Gully had never been.’ Ponder that.”

  “What?” Halting in a tight spin that made her hair cyclone over her head, the young queen blinked in my direction.

  “Nothing,” I countered with a forced smile. “Just excited to get started.”

  For reasons I can’t explain, I thought stabbing my fist forward with my elbow crooked, would demonstrate my mock jubilance further.

  “Does that have some sort of meaning?” Amphrite’s locks, slightly more titanium than onyx in this light, fell around her face like a lapping waterfall as she stared down at my outstretched hand.

  Cheeks burning, I let my arm fall to my side. “I have no idea. I saw some of the soldiers do it once. I thought it was a thing.”

  “Let’s move past the awkward gesture, shall we?” A flip of her hair, and she swam on at a speed that would make a Sailfish tip its hat in appreciation—if fish wore hats.

  Pushing off the pocked sidewall side of the stable, I worked my hips as fast as I could to catch up. While following the blur of her shape, I darted between coral, reeds, and waving plankton. Pulling up short at the base of a towering rock wall, I came a breath away from slamming into the back of my new mentor.

  “Do you know what lies up there?” Tipping her head to peer up the embankment, Amphrite’s hair swayed across the small of her back.

  Assuming I knew what she was hinting at, I furrowed my brow, pursed my lips, and did a dreadful impression of my father. “Humans. Barbaric, mean-spirited, fish-eaters!” Deflating under the heat of her questioning stare on my face, I bit my lower lip and tagged on sheepishly, “According to my father.”

  “Careful, catfish,” she warned, clucking her tongue to the roof of her mouth, “your whiskers are showing.”

  Dropping my chin to my chest, I immediately folded into a reverent bow. “My apologies, my Queen. I meant no disrespect.”

  “Bah!” she exclaimed, with a toss of her head. “What’s the point of any of this if we can’t poke fun at the uptight turtle-turds, like your father, behind their backs?”

  A brash, and particularly un-princess-like, guffaw burst from my lips. Slapping a hand over my mouth did nothing to magically reel it back in. No matter, I really wasn’t terribly concerned. My mind was occupied toying with the notion that I may have been wrong about Atlantica’s chameleon beauty. If she shared my views on some of the kingdom’s haughtier members—her own husband included—it seemed she couldn’t be all bad.

  “Our first lesson is that you need to relax around me. We’re partners now.” One shoulder rising and falling in a nonchalant shrug, she glanced up the steep embankment. “What I was actually referring to, was the large patch of Milleporadae nestled into the reef at the top of that ridge.”

  Momentary appreciation for mommy-in-law was smothered by a blanket of unease. “Fire coral,” I murmured in a barely audible whisper.

  “That’s right!” she bubbled with a winning smile. “Its calcified external skeleton can scrape away the skin, allowing hundreds of tentacles protruding from countless pores to inject their venom directly into the bloodstream of their victim. Isn’t Mother Ocean fascinating?”

  Swallowing hard, I forced down the lump of fear constricting my throat. “I fell into a patch when I w
as younger. It’s not fascinating. It’s dreadful. For hours every inch of my skin burned as if wrapped in the pulse of an electric eel. No tonics or cool compresses could offer even a moment’s relief. I called out for my father. He never came. Triton did, fluttering in with his stubby toddler tail, which barely allowed him to swim a straight line. He took my hand, curled up beside me, and didn’t leave my side until the writhing finally relented.” Dread snaked through my tone, morphing it into an ugly panic. “I know all too well the anguish that species of coral can cause. What I don’t know is what you plan to do with it.”

  “Well, that depends on you.” She turned the full effect of her onyx stare my way. The glamour she cast blacked out her irises, giving her the vacant stare of a predator. “You have magic. I saw it in the cave when you saved those zebra sharks. I want to see how potent it is.”

  My blood ran as cold as the deepest trenches of the sea. “N-no … I don’t know what you think you saw, but I—”

  “Oh, yes!” Her hands came together in a sharp clap that prompted a jerk from my tightly-wound nerves. “Let’s waste time by pretending to be something we aren’t. You be a non-magical lump and I’ll be a cod fish. It’ll be like improvisation, except … frightfully dull. So, yes, just like improvisation.”

  “You d-don’t understand,” I stammered. The shark’s tooth headband fastened across my hairline weighed on me like an anchor, dragging me down for the fraud that I was. I wasn’t strong. I wasn’t confident. I was a little girl terrified of a part of herself she didn’t understand. “I have magic. I admit that, but … I can’t use it.”

  Holding out one hand before her, Amphrite inspected her dagger-sharp nails. “Does Triton have magic?”

  Sensing where that line of questioning was headed, I mashed my lips together and scrambled for a viable excuse to detour her. “No, he doesn’t. However, with my skills and education—”

  Curling her hand in, she jabbed it to the curve of her hip. “You mean the skills and education Triton has been subjected to same as you? That will not get you the throne. That will get you a heaping dose of disappointment, and the unquenchable desire to go back in time and listen to me at this very moment. I don’t know what your grievances against magic are—” She held both hands up to halt me the second my mouth opened to form an explanation. “Not asking. Don’t care. I am simply stating that with your magical attributes you can float above your brother, who currently has the advantage of being the male heir under a bigoted patriarch. You could be queen. He could be chosen by the Ursela shell and bestowed with just enough magic to deem him moderately useful within the kingdom. Therefore, allowing him the sort of lackadaisical existence he longs for, and you to assume your rightful position. It’s win-win. That said, how about if we stifle the whimpering and excuses, and actually do what it takes to get you that trident?”