His hair seemed darker without the glaring sunlight, as the storm clouds outside rolled over one another. Fog passed over the island hiding it from the openness of the ocean. I wondered when it would rain, and as if the sky could read my thoughts, a streak of lightning illuminated the gray shrouded atmosphere for a moment; followed by a rumble of thunder.
Zale was pushed into the metal chair. I recalled how Verna had looked so thin and small while sitting in it. The merman before me was anything but. His legs rested casually and he leaned his back up against the chair as though sitting upon a throne. His chin was held at an angle of resolute confidence, his jaw relaxed and his lips pushed firmly together.
He was the picture of calm, everything about him spoke of assurance. As he remained still, I felt my heart relax watching his chest rise and fall beneath the gray fabric of his shirt. Each breath extenuated the stillness of the rest of his body. There was something dreadful and awesome seeing him restrained, his power held back and hidden beneath a façade of quiet.
For a moment our eyes met, and the storm within his gaze was still flickering in the depths of molten brown. Taking a large breath, I gathered my memory in the front of my mind, making it my focal point as the beginnings of a tune assembled in my throat. The sound was pure and musical, stirring high through the chamber, but light and soft in the storm shrouded room.
I pushed my voice forward and it swirled around him, easily entering his mind. I could feel him giving himself over to me as our eyes made contact, I almost teared up at his sacrifice. He was going to help me through this as much as he could.
Are you the Hyven soldier named Zale? The words floated toward him, beckoning him to lean into my will, with an ease I couldn’t quite understand. I had never before had such complete acquiescence and felt my fears fall to the back of my mind.
“Yes,” Zale said, his deep baritone echoing in the room.
Swallowing hard, I kept the tune weaving around him, moving in and out as I tried to assemble the questions Tunder wanted me to ask. The fist returned to my gut as I placed the thoughts into song and let them travel through the stilled breeze to Zale’s awaiting ears.
Were you ever known by a different name?
“No,” he said, and I noted the change in his eyes as they tightened. There was a small slip in my control as he fought to keep his mind open to me, my question had caught him off guard and placed him on the defensive.
What do you remember of your past? If I had spoken the words, I would’ve been hard pressed to get them past my lips, but they floated to him with ease as though his answer would have no effect on me.
“Nothing,” he said, the muscles in his throat flexing. He was battling, his own struggle becoming apparent. These were different questions than what he had surely expected.
I repeated the question again, this time my voice going higher. He winced in direct response and seemed to sag a little in the chair. He didn’t speak. The fear of what I was forcing upon him, began to creep into my veins. I shoved it back, beckoning him to answer me again. His face pinched in pain for a fleeting moment and my heart thundered heavily in my chest, as he opened his mouth.
“There was a dungeon. Morven was there.” His sentences were short. My frustration for what he had become pushed forward. I fought it off with my other memory, and it stayed locked way. “Lord Morven told me I had almost died. He trained me. Controlling me to do his will.”
How did he control you?
“I couldn’t think. I couldn’t feel.” His face scrunched in what I could only assume was pain, as he tried to think of the right words to express what he had gone through. He had explained it to me before, and until recently, I hadn’t fully understood what he meant. The Lathmorians around us could never comprehend what it was really like. “I could only hear his voice in my head. Telling me what to do.” He exhaled loudly as though it had taken all of his strength to give this admission.
A part of my control on his mind slipped. His brow creased in concentration, trying to remain open. A wall was beginning to build between us. It rose up with assured conviction, my voice seeming to be unable to reach him.
Feeling guiltier by the second, I tried to caution him with my eyes and he gave himself over to me again. The wall between us fell once more and I felt the ease with which I could gain his acceptance to my will.
What happened the night you attacked Lathmor? My gut twisted as I saw him grimace. The mask of the warrior took over, and after a moment of warring against my beckoning, he joined me.
“Lord Morven planned the attack. He commanded me to kill any Lathmorian I saw. And I did.” His chest was moving more quickly now, but I pressed on, knowing the real reason we were here. The tune of my song rose and he winced again, feeling the power of my voice, urging him to continue. He opened his mouth in response, “I lived in anger. I could only focus when I thought of you. But you were dead to me that night.”
His words were like a punch to my gut, what little grip I had on my anger slipped for a moment. I felt the beginnings of it slide into my blood, trailing to where my fingertips tingled with anticipation, and the urge to cry out with my voice almost over took me. This time, it was his eyes, which cautioned me to push back against the anger and continue. I fell into the brown depths and gathered my courage, knowing I had to do what was required of me, regardless of the reasons.
The memory of Patrick was once again at the forefront of my mind. I raised my song to push further, knowing it would hurt him even though his eyes were telling me to do it.
Did you know what you were doing that night?
“Yes,” he said around a grimace. “I wanted all of them dead.”
From somewhere far away, I heard murmurs from the Lathmorian soldiers. My focus remained on what was at hand.
His gaze was slipping from mine, his eyes closing off as the mask of the warrior began to take control. He was fighting his own anger and the instinctive urge to do Morven’s will.
How can we trust you now? I asked quickly, hoping I was working fast enough.
His chest heaved, “You can’t.” Shaking my head, I tried to ignore my own mounting anger. He wasn’t answering the way I wanted him to, and yet, he was being truthful. “But I can control myself now,” he said and exhaled sharply as though I was squeezing his chest.
There was one last question I needed to ask and as my own anticipation gathered, I spun the words into song, beckoning him forward.
Did you kill King Oberon? The words floated around the room with a shrill bite. The chamber seemed to grow quieter as the Lathmorians leaned in to hear his answer.
His chest heaved for a moment. I almost raised the question again in song when he exhaled. “No,” he said.
I dropped the connection between us immediately, though the last of my song remained. I was fully aware of the physical effects my voice was having on his body.
As though coming up to the surface to breathe, other sounds began to ring in my ears. The stilled air and rolling thunder outside the windows, the various murmurs traveled above the Lathmorian heads with weighted breaths and restrained exclamations. I heard it all as though from afar.
He remained seated, but he was sweating, his shirt had turned dark gray down the middle of his chest and parts of his hair had darkened around the nape of his neck. As the tune floated away, a rumble of thunder filled the room and the tingling in my fingers came to a stop. I glanced down at them and then back up at Zale. Though he was breathing hard and his eyes were tired, he looked back at me with a pride I had never seen before.
We did it, I thought and could see he was thinking the same thing.
From behind me, I heard someone cough and turned to look up to the newly crowned king. His eyes rested on the warrior, and what used to be his good friend. Behind him, Kryssa met my gaze and she smiled for a moment with a look of relief. Maybe I wasn’t the only one who had been worried about the proceedings. From the looks of Shaylee, it appeared she was also glad to see it come to an
end.
All around the room, the Lathmorians began to shift on their feet and as I glanced at them I noted a change in the way they looked at Zale. More than anything there was curiosity in their eyes, and though Voon still appeared hostile, his face was controlled and still for the moment. It was as though these merfolk had heard for the first time what Morven was really capable of. I remembered they had thought Patrick and I were dangerous the first time I was brought to Lathmor, and they couldn’t have been more right. Yet, at the time they didn’t know the extent of Morven’s abilities to bring someone under his control.
Tunder edged down the three steps, bringing himself to stand beside me, as he looked down at Zale. Though the warrior’s chest still heaved from exertion, his eyes met the king’s with a pride which couldn’t be missed.
“Thank you, Lissie,” Tunder said, not turning in my direction. I bit back my tongue to keep myself from saying something I would regret. I hadn’t had a choice in the matter, but he didn’t need to know the depths of my feelings.
“Zale,” he addressed the warrior, “you will be taken back to the dungeon and we will let you know our decision soon.”
“What decision?” I asked, butting in. “He just proved he’s innocent.”
Some of the on looking Lathmorians murmured, but I ignored them as I focused on Tunder. He stood up straighter and his gaze never faltered as he looked back at me.
“I know,” he spoke calmly, “but we have to make a decision.”
“There’s nothing to decide!”
“Lissie,” Kryssa cautioned.
“No,” I glanced at her for a moment. “Your father understood the control Morven had over him. When he came to see me, we spoke of the powers the blades and scales have.” Blinking eyes and wrinkled brows met my words and I took a larger breath.
“Look,” I exhaled, stilling the trembling in my fingers. “There’s a difference between the two.”
“How so?” Tunder asked, and I could tell I had his attention. For the first time since I had been in Lathmor, he was looking at me without a mask of hostility. All that showed was his blatant curiosity; a desire for answers.
“These theories are ones the king shared and had developed from what his wife told him.” Behind Tunder, Kryssa shift forward. “We believe the scales are what change a human into a mermaid or a merman, but the blades are different. They provide the abilities each sex has. For instance, if Morven gets a hold of me, I will be faster and stronger than other mermaids.”
Tunder looked toward Zale and I knew exactly where his thoughts were. He was connecting the dots, suddenly realizing Zale had better eyesight and hearing than any other merman; coupled with his skills in battle, he was lethal.
“But I think it’s more than that,” I said and held up a finger as I gathered my own theory into words. “I think the scales allow Morven to control.”
Tunder’s gaze deepened and I felt his breath catch in his throat. “Then he has control over both of you,” he whispered. From the corner of my eye, I saw Zale’s gaze flicker back and forth between me and the new king. I could only imagine how this conversation sounded to him.
“It’s what makes sense,” I urged, seeing my opening. “Why else would there be so much change?” Tunder nodded as we both thought of the warrior strapped to the chair.
“Why can’t he control you then?” the king asked, his jaw flexing.
“I don’t know. I’ve wondered that myself.” My voice was quiet as I admitted my thoughts. “Maybe it’s because I’m not fully transformed.” I left the open intent hanging in the air. My birthday was coming all too soon.
For a long moment I held my breath as he made his decision. It seemed like ages before he finally turned away from me, his eyes filled with a clarity I hadn’t seen in a long time.
“Zale,” he said, and the warrior straightened, but only slightly, “you are acquitted of your actions during the Hyven’s massacre of Lathmor.” I exhaled loudly in one great gust. Murmurs began to grow around the room again, but I couldn’t tell if they were in approval or disgust.
“However,” Tunder continued. “In order to prove you weren’t involved in King Oberon’s murder, you will execute our current prisoner, Verna.”
“What?” I demanded, the world spinning.
“You said it yourself,” the young king leveled his gaze. “You told me he left Hyvar before the king was murdered. By your own words, he was outside of Morven’s control at the time. He has to prove his loyalties.”
“He just did!” I shouted, and the bond we had shared snapped in an instant. My glimpse of the old Tunder disappeared and in its place was the king I didn’t understand.
“No you did,” he said and walked back toward the raised platform. “Now, it’s his turn,” he glanced at Zale. “He has to prove it to me.”
Everything stilled as something inside me shattered. All thought and feeling fled, leaving me stranded. The anger from the siren’s voice broke my control. My stomach clenched and my heart raced as boiling fury filled my veins and overflowed.
The crowd of Lathmorians was dismissed, and as they filed out the guards remained next to Zale’s chair. Some looked our way, but I refused to take my gaze from the king. As each face passed by, my fury only grew stronger.
“How could you?” I said, the words barely passing through my trembling lips.
“Lissie,” this time it was Zale who said my name and I reeled back. As I turned to him, he cautioned me and a part of my mind wanted to give up the rolling fury. But it claimed me easily.
Casting aside the memory of Patrick, I fell into the embrace of the torturous nightmares of what I had endured. My only thoughts were for the man he used to be. Rage, familiar and pure, for what had become of him spread to every part of my body. Heat flooded my cheeks.
His brow creased and I knew he was aware of what I was going through, still he looked away from me and to the king. “I’ll do it,” he said.
I heard nothing else.
I stormed from the room, swirling the stilled air. Faces glanced my way upon my exit into the hallway, but no one dared to stop me. I began to pick up speed, my body working faster than my mind ever could. There was nothing I could think of outside of what had been done. My only thought was to prove what had been said and to finally get the answer to the question I had asked her. She would give me an answer.
Flying down the steps and into the dark marble chamber of the prison was as easy as breathing. The Lathmorian guard gave me no resistance to hand over the keys and when I entered the dark chamber, she pressed herself back against the wall. I didn’t give her the chance to look away before I began to pour my voice into her. The high pitch rang against the marble walls, seeming to grow in its power as it bounced back and forth and gathered together in one voice, to beckon and bend the will of the whimpering girl before me. I barely saw her as I leaned in closer, drawing her frightened eyes to mine.
Tell me! I screamed over and over again and she tried to block out the sound with her hands. Tears welled in her eyes, and still I poured my voice into her, blocking away her resistance with a strength I didn’t know I possessed.
“It wasn’t Zale!” she screamed, her voice breaking through my own. “He didn’t do it! It was Ressa,” she gasped for air and I grasped her by the arms. She screamed when I touched her but it was more from fear than from pain. I unlocked the chains around her wrists and dragged her to her feet.
Walk! I commanded and she did, upon shaky legs.
The tears fell off her cheeks as we made our way hurriedly up the stairs and along the hallways to the king’s office; my voice ringing against the walls. Faces stared at us in horror as we passed, but I had no thought for them as I pushed her through the door and into the shrouded room. Zale was still chained to the chair, his face a mask, as I pushed Verna to the floor, her thin frame falling against the marble with a sickening splat.
Tell them, I commanded and she rose to her knees, her cheeks shining with new fallen tea
rs.
“He didn’t do it,” she said and rocked back and forth, reaching up to cover her ears again. “It was Ressa, Bolrock’s sister.” But my voice didn’t stop as she confessed, the anger still raging like fire. I heard voices and the jangling of chains, but I felt nothing until his hands were on my shoulders.
“Lissie,” he said and shook my whole frame until my teeth rattled. When my head snapped, I felt something leave me.
My breath passed through my mouth in harsh gasps and other sounds entered my ears.
There was a high-pitched wailing coming from the shaking body on the floor and I turned my eyes away disgusted by the sight. A hand grasped my chin and pulled my face upward until I met his gaze. He shook me once more and suddenly I felt the exhaustion in my limbs and water filled my eyes, before I collapsed into his chest.
The last of the anger receded and in its vacancy, a desperate guilt pushed against my heart. I trembled at the thought of how much I had been controlled, and not by someone else’s will, only my own.
Fearing what I had become, I continued to keep my face hidden in the midst of Zale’s chest. His arms pressed me to him as though he knew what I was going through. And maybe he did.
The cries of my tormented prisoner slowed to a stop and I wanted to look up, but couldn’t bring myself to see what I had done. All my practice with my voice could never have prepared me for the strength with which it had taken over.
“I want to go,” I murmured, knowing he would hear me.
His voice rumbled in his chest as he asked for permission to leave. The response was negative and I gathered what little courage and strength I had left to look toward the king.
Tunder’s expression was one of pure shock, which I wouldn’t hasten to forget. As I glanced around the room, the same expressions dawned all the royals’ faces.
I had not only proven what I knew was true, but had given myself over to whatever darkness loomed in my voice. They saw me for what I really was. Shaking with the remnants of the cooled and disappearing anger, I raised my chin and looked Tunder in the eye.
Torrents (DROPLETS Trilogy Book 3) Page 17