Cursed Legacy: Lord of the Ocean #3

by Kerrion, Jade;

“We did the right thing,” Thaleia said. “Protecting Kai—”

  “Did we?” Badur asked. “He despises us for the decision we made. When he regained consciousness in the caves and asked us what happened, I heard his voice…” The skin around his spine tightened at the memory of how Kai’s innocent question rose into incredulity, then escalated into horror. Several mer-warriors had had to wrestle Kai down to keep him from returning to the ship, but even they would not have succeeded if the shock and pain of transformation hadn’t crushed Kai’s strength.

  Badur continued softly. “Kai would never have left Naia behind, or Ginny or—” His voice caught on his father’s name. “—him. Not even those two humans—Meifeng and Corey—who crew the Endling.” Badur shook his head. “Kai makes the decisions I envisioned myself once making—before it all went to hell.”

  “You regret it, don’t you?” Thaleia asked softly. “Your decision—and every moment since?”

  Did he? Badur’s shoulders sagged. He couldn’t remember what his father looked like. What Thaleia looked like. What his son—he had had one brief glimpse of his son before his eyes were gouged out—looked like. “I regret…” He sighed. “I regret much of it. Not all of it.” He did not raise his face in her direction. “I regret that I could not work out a solution that ended well for everyone.” The words trailed briefly away before he spoke again. “Kai…what is he like?”

  “There is much of you. He has your black tail and dark blue hair, and of course, the eyes of royalty. There is something of me too in his features. He is…” Her voice gentled, the voice of a mother. “Physically, he is magnificent. Intellectually, he’s more than capable. All those years of carefully managed breeding certainly paid off. And he was raised well. It shows in his speech, his conduct. He takes far more risks than he should as mer-prince, but considering how little is left of the Beltiamatu empire, he probably has little choice than to do most of it on his own.”

  “And he’s a capable warrior,” Badur added. It was not a question.

  “Yes, he is,” Thaleia agreed. “Among the best I’ve ever seen. Daring and precise, with nearly flawless spatial sense—whether he has legs or a tail. He is…” she hesitated. “He is like you were, all those years ago.”

  “And he despises me.”

  “No—” Thaleia threw her arms around Badur but he shook her off.

  “I can hear it in his voice.” Badur’s lips twisted into a self-mocking smile.

  Naia. His decision to leave Naia behind had abruptly turned Kai’s attitude—initially hopeful, if a little awkward—entirely against his parents.

  Badur had cut off his father in the name of love.

  He should not have been surprised when his son chose the same path. Kai—who had done everything in his power to protect Naia, even given up the promise of her love—would never understand and could never forgive Badur’s deliberate abandonment of her.

  Badur’s smile sloughed off. “At least Kai tries to conceal his hate, unlike my father.”

  “Kai doesn’t hate you. And as for your father...”

  “He has no words to describe what he feels about me,” Badur continued. His words, twisting with sardonic humor, was nothing compared to the churning pain in his stomach, or the stabbing ache in his chest. “He would have rather I stayed dead than be an embarrassment as I am now. The prince who abandoned his responsibilities and his son.”

  “You didn’t abandon Kai.”

  “Didn’t we?” Badur asked bitterly.

  “When your father’s guard caught up with us, there was never any doubt as to Kai’s fate. You were outnumbered, and I was too exhausted by birth to swim any faster. The guards would have brought Kai back to your father, whatever choice we made. The only thing up for negotiation was what you would do.” Thaleia drew a deep, shaky breath. “And most of the time, I don’t know how you feel about the decision you made. I know you regret it, but I don’t know how much—enough to wish you could make it over again? Would you have chosen differently? To return with your son, back to your father?”

  “The guards would have killed you.”

  “But you would not be blind. And you would be reconciled with your father. You would have raised your son.”

  But to lose Thaleia—forever? Badur frowned. He couldn’t process the equation. It seemed that either way he lost more than he could afford. He shook his head as he reached out for her hand, feeling the comfort of her presence as she slipped her hand into his. “I…wanted it all, and in hindsight, I realize how absurd it was to imagine that I could have anything more than this tangled net I’ve made of my life.”

  “Our life, Badur. We’re in this together. If not for what you’d done, I could never have seen my son as he is now.”

  And I can’t see my son…

  The pain of the brutally unfair trade stole his breath. He yanked his hand free of Thaleia’s. “I want some time alone.”

  The faint current that always heralded her presence slowly faded, leaving him alone with thoughts that railed and reeled, and unvoiced screams that raged and ranted.

  Thoughts and screams that accomplished nothing, because there was nothing to be accomplished, blind and useless as he was.

  “So,” someone murmured, “you are the mer-king’s lost son.” The voice was pitched too low to be Beltiamatu, yet oddly audible in the water, unlike human voices.

  Badur’s shoulders tensed as the current swirled, warning of movement around him, but he did not move. There was no need, no purpose in doing so. Blind, he could not fight, could not flee, so why go through the pretense of bravado when the only realistic option was to listen? He focused on the oddly familiar voice and parsed out what it could have sounded like, if not in the water. “You are Marduk,” he said finally.

  “Indeed, I am,” Marduk replied. “You are surprisingly capable, in spite of your limitations.”

  Badur chuckled. If he had eyes, he would have rolled them. “Kai is not here.”

  “I know. He carries the aether core within him, and he has returned to Shulim with his grandfather and the human woman, in search of adamantine, to build a regulator for the aether core.” Marduk paused. “It will not solve Kai’s problem.”

  “What problem is that?”

  “The transformations between legs and a tail. One cannot carry aether without being altered by it. The aether he carried from Shulim changed something in him, and when he gave it to Ginny Waters who used it on him, it destabilized his body completely. Permanently. It will not matter if the aether core rests in a regulator perfectly sized to control its energy. Kai cannot be anywhere near aether any more. His condition will escalate until it kills him.”

  “No.” Badur shook his head. “As long as the aether is controlled, regulated—”

  “Aether will not be contained. It cannot be controlled. It has to be removed completely if Kai’s life is to be saved.”

  “But the empire needs it—”

  “Then you have to choose between the empire and your son. We already know the choice Kai would make.”

  Badur’s cold hands folded into fists. His throat closed so tightly he could hardly breathe. “The empire… Kai would choose the empire, even if it costs his life.”

  “And your father would let him, because they are not individuals who value humble lives. They live only for the throne. You’re different, though. You are the only one of royal blood who understands, and has fought for, and has paid for, your right to love and live as a person, and not just a prince bound by ancient laws and bloody customs.” The swirl of currents halted, as if the ocean held its breath. “Will you challenge your father once more? Will you save your son from himself, from the person your father compels him to be?”

  Badur’s thoughts reeled—tangled threads without a start or end. But what could he—?

  “You are the only one,” Marduk said simply. “You are the only person who can stop this crisis from cascading into a disaster. The only person with the capability and the heart to do
the right thing.”

  “I don’t understand.” Badur expelled his breath. “What can I do?”

  “Your blood is as royal as your father’s and as your son’s. You may be blind now, but the things that truly make a person—your courage, your conviction—has not changed.”

  “You want me to…” His breath caught. “You want me to take the aether core?”

  “I want the aether. I don’t deny it. I do it because a world—an entire world—needs it to survive. But of particular importance only to you, Kai needs to be rid of it to survive. There may never be a Beltiamatu empire, but as a race, the Beltiamatu will survive. Is that enough for you, Badur? What is it worth to you to save your only son?”

  Chapter 8

  Ginny and Zamir swam up to Kai, who seemed transfixed by the sight of the water demon. The trailing wisps of the hem of its gown swayed in the current. From certain angles, the length of the demon’s dress almost looked like a mermaid’s tail. The gray tints of the rusalka’s hair deepened into violet and lengthened to swirl around her face.

  And when she reached out toward Kai, he did not shy away from her. The rusalka drew him close, her arms pressed against his shoulders and back with infinite tenderness. Her face angled, as if for a kiss.

  Ginny’s heart thudded.

  The water demon had taken on Naia’s face and form.

  Beside Ginny, Zamir drew the spear over his shoulder and hurled it. The weapon passed through the rusalka. The demon raised her head and twisted around in astonishment to stare at Zamir and Ginny.

  Damn, Ginny thought. The rusalka really did look like Naia, but her eyes seemed different.

  Wider. Innocent. Hopeful.

  In love.

  The spear struck a rock on the other side of the demon. The dull, clattering sound caused Kai to jerk. He lifted his chin and shook his head sharply.

  The demon hissed. With a snarl and a swish of her tail, she and her two sisters vanished into gray wisps.

  Smoky tendrils lingered, however, weaving around Ginny, Zamir, and Kai—physically intangible, yet as intimate as a sexual touch.

  “Can they hurt us?” Ginny asked.

  “They drown humans—men usually,” Zamir said. “Too often, they take on the shapes of mermaids. How better to lure a sailor to his death.” He looked at Kai. “Are you all right? Did they do anything to you?”

  Kai shook his head, but his gaze remained lowered, and his grip on his spear was unsteady. “I’d never seen one before.”

  Zamir nodded. “There are many of them, but they usually hunt along major shipping highways and the shallows, where the Beltiamatu tend not to linger.”

  “So, what are they doing down here so far from their usual hangouts?” Ginny asked.

  “Setting a trap, I imagine,” Zamir said.

  “A trap?”

  Zamir bent to retrieve the spear he had hurled. As he straightened, his gaze drifted over the shimmering, thick silver layer over the ocean floor. “This is now the single greatest source of platinum in the entire world. More platinum than the world even knew existed. The geologists and marine biologists will come first, to study the aftermath of the explosion, but other divers will follow.”

  Ginny grimaced. “So, you’re saying that the rusalki are laying a trap? Waiting where their prey will be? But what do they do with the humans after drowning them? Eat them?”

  “I don’t know.” Zamir shrugged. “I never asked.”

  Ginny’s jaw dropped. “But why not? Don’t you care about potential threats to your people?”

  “The rusalki haven’t bothered us. Beltiamatu can’t drown, so why would the rusalki waste their time trying?”

  “So why did they go after Kai?” Ginny asked.

  Zamir was silent for a moment. “I don’t know.”

  Kai cut in, speaking for the first time in a long while. His voice was barely steady. “Let’s find what we came for. There’s nothing to be gained lingering here.”

  Ginny and Zamir exchanged a glance, and Zamir nodded. Ginny swam ahead, keeping pace with Kai as he swam slowly across the seabed, searching for an opening down into the caves below Shulim. Zamir followed, as did the gray tendrils of smoky seduction.

  Ginny peered at Kai’s face; the barely muted distress in his eyes contrasted with the stoic set of his jaw. “You’re not all right.”

  “It looked like her,” Kai responded almost immediately, surprising Ginny with the edge of self-loathing in his voice. “Naia, as I remembered her, when we were in Shulim together. Before I rejected her. Before her parents sent her away.” He shook his head. “Her eyes. They’ve changed. The way she looked at me.” He exhaled, his shoulders sagging on the faint sigh. “She hasn’t looked at me that way since—” Kai’s gaze fixed on a distant spot, but Ginny doubted he saw anything. “I know I don’t deserve her, not after what I did to her, but I…I miss what we had.”

  “Do you regret it?”

  Kai turned Ginny’s words over his mind. “No, I don’t.” A faint smile passed his lips. “And that’s probably the worst of it. If I had to do it over, I would have made the same choices.”

  Ginny’s brow furrowed. “Really? Nothing different at all.”

  Kai swallowed visibly. “I might have held on a little longer, a little tighter before letting her go, but I would have let her go.” He shook his head, as if shaking off the weight of his past decisions. “I see something ahead. Stay here, with my grandfather.”

  Ginny paused, waiting as Kai swam ahead and Zamir caught up with her. “You’re definitely related,” she told the former mer-king.

  “What?”

  “Stubborn asses, both of you. Utterly convinced that you’re doing the right thing all the time.” She glowered at Zamir. “Have you truly done nothing wrong?”

  “I’ve done a great deal that’s wrong,” Zamir admitted. His frankness surprised her. “Yet, all the large wrongs stemmed from something small, something wrong, that I believed—that my mother had abandoned me. That she craved a soul more than she loved me. Others might have believed the same and continued with their lives unfazed. On the other hand, I made terrible decisions based on that belief.”

  “Kai still believes he did the right thing by sending Naia away, even though in his heart, he still dies a thousand deaths over his decision—”

  “What do they want from him?” Zamir mused aloud as gray tendrils curled past them and extended toward Kai. He swam faster, Ginny beside him, to catch up with Kai.

  The mer-prince circled a dark hole in the ground, scarcely four feet across. It was wide enough to swim through, although nearly impossible to turn around. “Does this look about right?” he asked his grandfather.

  Zamir looked around, although Ginny couldn’t see what information he could possibly draw from his surroundings. There was nothing distinctive to mark the location. Ginny stared down at the hole, perfectly circular, the curve so smooth, so sharp that she could have cut her skin running her finger along the side.

  There was nothing natural about it.

  Ginny turned cold. “Is that…the Dirga Tiamatu?”

  “It’s the path cut by it as it burned through Shulim,” Zamir said.

  “Just that? But it’s so small. How could it level a city?”

  “Extreme heat under extreme pressure can accomplish a great deal.” Zamir’s eyes met Kai’s. “I think this is it.”

  Kai nodded. “It would have cut a hole directly through the aether chamber. Directly through the regulator.”

  “So, you’re saying that the regulator melted?” Ginny asked.

  “The regulator is made of adamantine,” Zamir said. “It’s the same metal used to build the channels that direct the molten rock agitated by the Dirga Tiamatu. It’s not going to melt, but as rocks and metal melt from around it, it would have fallen…”

  “Straight down this hole?”

  “It’s the best guess I’ve got,” Kai said grimly. “It can’t have fallen far. Stay here. I’ll go after it.”
/>
  Ginny scowled. “I’m not a fan of splitting up.”

  “The tunnel’s too narrow. It’s not safe for all of us to be in it at the same time.”

  “He’s right, Ginny,” Zamir agreed. He looked at Kai. “If you’re not back in ten minutes, we’re going after you.”

  Kai nodded. “I better hurry, then.”

  He vanished down the hole. Ginny peered after him until she could no longer see the sway of his tail fin. She grimaced as the gray tendrils swayed toward them. “What do we do with these? We can’t let them go after him.”

  “Distract them.” Zamir frowned, rather absently, Ginny thought. It didn’t seem like he took the rusalki seriously.

  Why would he? She rolled her eyes. Zamir’s mindset was mostly Beltiamatu, and what did the Beltiamatu have to fear from water demons who made a hobby of drowning human men?

  Ginny extended her hand toward one of the smoky curls. “Do you speak English?”

  The tendril wove around her fingers like a caress.

  “Ancient Greek?” Ginny asked in ancient Greek.

  The tendril continued its lazy weave, as graceful as a dance.

  She switched languages. “Akkadian? Sumerian?”

  The smoke curl wriggled for an instant before continuing its indolent way.

  “Ancient Hebrew, or Aramaic?”

  The tendril, curled around her pinky, paused for an instant before weaving its way back to her middle finger. It unfurled upward, spreading out into the translucent form of a woman. Her white gown was of a simple, peasant cut, belted around the waist with a crimson cloth. The sadness in her eyes was so deep, so wrenching that Ginny could not look at the rusalka for more than a moment at a time before she had to turn her face away and fight against the heave of tears in her chest.

  You are a strange one, the rusalka’s thoughts, uttered in ancient Hebrew, directly touched Ginny’s mind. Many in these waters speak the language of the humans who occupy the nearby islands, or the tailed creatures who used to live in this city. It has been a long time since I heard the language of my birth.

  You’re a long way from home, Ginny murmured.