by Amy Marie
Chapter 7
Hours of laughter and fun quickly faded. The look in Caspian’s face, the haunted shadow in his eyes, set her entire body on edge. He hadn’t fooled her over dinner, but she cast it aside, wanting to believe his dour mood stemmed from issues at the dock. Hoping those sailors struck a nerve and that his dark countenance was not due to something more dire. Yet, as dinner continued, she couldn’t help but notice the strain in his smile. The faint lines at the corners of his mouth that appeared when he forced an expression he didn’t quite feel. No smile reached his eyes, which remained stormy. On occasion, she caught him lost in thought, but held her tongue despite the need to understand what was happening.
Wind rattled the door in the jamb, an ominous warning rapping at the wood. Beyond the cliff, the waves crashed with renewed violence. She hoped Brack made it home before the rain came in. She smelled the moisture in the air, the electric herald of a brutal pounding.
The brandy in the glass.
The solemn weight around Caspian.
“Does it have to do with you going directly to the tunnel?” Aria asked, breaking the silence that seemed to go on endlessly.
Painfully.
Caspian motioned to the sofa. “Let’s sit.”
She nodded, allowing him to guide her to the small cushioned seat. It was a narrow piece of furniture, and when he took the seat beside her, his knee rested against hers. A strange, pleasant sensation slipped through her, a tingle and a flutter that caught in the back of her throat. She kept the newfound heat that settled in her core to herself, dismissing it as burn from the brandy.
“You asked me yesterday what Dima wanted with me.”
“You said it was convoluted.” She lowered the glass to her knee and tried to read his expression. “Do you have some connection to her?”
He lifted his snifter, muttered, “In essence,” and drained the brandy.
Raindrops pinged against the window. Over the water, the first bolt of lightning illuminated the bellies of dark, stirring clouds. Aria’s skin pebbled with tiny bumps and an uncomfortable tingle trekked down each vertebrae. A frighteningly blank expression shrouded Caspian’s face, leaving her with the feeling she sat beside a stranger.
Such a volatile contrast to the reaction of her body to the simple touch of their knees.
“How…what is your connection with her?”
Caspian raked a hand through his hair, but the mussed locks fell back over his forehead.
“I never told you about my parents.” He leaned forward to place his empty snifter on the narrow table in front of the sofa, then remained hunched over. He folded his hands between his knees and shook his head. As Aria watched him, foreboding made her heart race. “The full story about me.”
“The Forgotten Prince. You did tell me.”
“No, princess. I told you who I was by name, but never divulged much about my past. As I said last night, it’s…convoluted.” His head dropped and his shoulders tensed. “You always took the Forgotten Prince title with few questions attached. So unlike you.”
“Because I respected your privacy. I believed if there was a story to be told, you’d tell it when you were ready. As time went on, I thought it was nothing more than that. A title.”
“The story of what happened never reached these waters. Surprisingly.” He blew out a breath, tapping his index fingers together. “I’m sure your mother heard of it. Little eludes the gods.”
Aria pressed her lips together, trying to think of stories her mother used to share about the sea gods and goddesses. The ups and downs of their rules. There were a few vague stories surrounding untimely falls of kingdoms and the destruction of overbearing sea gods. She had mentioned something about the lost child of a god from a distant realm, but never in detail.
Caspian had lost his parents. He was a prince of the sea, but that didn’t mean his parents were of godly descent. There were many kingdoms in the seas across worlds and realms that had mortal rulers.
For some reason, that conclusion didn’t sit well with her. The idea of Caspian as a mere mortal entity suddenly felt…wrong.
Caspian had always possessed a magnetic allure. A resonating power below the surface of his skin. Something magical and immense. They were the very things that attracted her to him, but her young head had been too captivated by a mortal man to care about the heat her friend stirred inside her, a heat that ignited now.
“I came from a kingdom across the sea and from another realm. It was an aquatic realm, very few humans. Very little land. A peaceful realm, honestly. Small. We integrated with the humans there, with a foundation of mutual respect.” He scowled. “Nothing like here. We protected the mortals. They protected us. Every once in a while, someone with ill intentions came along. Creatures of all kinds can move between realms, if they have magic to open portals and the power to hold those portals open.”
Aria swirled the brandy in her snifter, but didn’t indulge in another drink. She wasn’t sure she cared to let the alcohol infuse her blood enough to make her indifferent to the story he had begun to share. As it stood, the muscles in his forearms strained with the flex and release of his entwined fingers. The medallion dangled from its thick chain around his neck, swaying hypnotically. A new bauble, something he never wore beneath the surface. She barely caught herself from reaching over and touching the strange disk, its edges rough, the obvious marking of a soldered seam.
“I guess the story begins when I was born. But the pertinent details come when my home, the kingdom ruled by my parents, was destroyed. As all great downfalls go, my parents ruled with a strict hand, but open hearts. They believed the best in all. The good. So when a stranger came along needing help, they offered to help. Our doors were open, our home offered, and friendship blossomed. Unfortunately, my mother had been too kind to see that the friendship she shared with the stranger was one-sided. The start of the end.”
Aria’s throat tightened. “The stranger?”
Caspian licked his lips and tipped his head to look at her. “Dima. She’d come in hopes of seducing my father. To bear a child of magic. What she wasn’t prepared for was his rebuff and the extent of my own magic. You see, my gifts are rare. So rare that even gods pray to the entities of fertility to give them a child of elemental powers. As you are aware, most children of royals of the sea or gods are granted one, possibly two, of these elemental gifts.”
Aria’s brow furrowed. “Actually, my understanding is that only children descended from gods are granted elemental powers. Magic, like the magic you have, is found in royal children.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “You have magic that derives from the water. Your elemental power.”
“I wouldn’t consider it a power. I’m a poor conductor of my magic. I frolic in my daydreams too much, according to my mother.” Aria laughed quietly and shrugged. “Guess performing magic tricks was never my strength. I prefer watching in amazement at what others can do. Your talent has always been captivating.”
She nudged his shoulder with her own, a playful gesture she hoped would lighten the thick, suffocating air around them. “Especially when you created those waterspouts and filled them with lightning. You gave me a storm of my own, right down to the tiny licks of flame and the clouds and…the…” Her eyes lowered, memories sweeping through her mind. Of the times when Caspian controlled the waters to create magnificent obstacles and illusions. He brought elements—elements—into some of his displays. Magical displays he shared only with her. “Oh, gods.”
She blinked before daring to meet his gaze again. His brow lifted.
“Your magic. It’s not just magic. It’s elemental. And multiple elements.” Her lips moved, this time silent, until she was able to form the words. “You’re not just a prince. You’re a god. The Forgotten Prince of the Lost Kingdom Astauria. The gods’ paradise. Only the most powerful gods and goddesses can visit Astauria.”
“That last part is a rumor, as you might imagine. Astauria is a place like any ot
her. Dima is no goddess. She’s an exiled sea demon who takes the form of a mermaid. It’s her basic form, but not what she truly is. However, she possesses magic, dark magic, that she’s become skilled enough to weave into elements. She dwells at the bottom of the oceans, wreaking havoc on kingdoms unprotected from her wiles. She has a small following, but she prefers to work alone.”
“Then why is she searching for you?”
“Because I’m the only one who can set her free. She’s been cursed to remain bound to the ocean, unable to take any humanoid form. She gains her most potent resources from human life essences. Something about a mortal’s soul calls to her darkness. A beacon of light, an intoxicating and addicting ambrosia. She needs humans to strengthen her powers, and she’s been refused such allowances. So, she seeks the only means to end her incarceration.” Caspian’s eyes lowered again. “It was my father who cursed her after she left a trail of blood and body parts along one of our pristine beaches. The blood of innocent humans. It turned our shores red.”
Aria sucked in a deep, controlled breath, trying to wrap her head around this new information. Caspian, her once beloved friend, wasn’t just a prince, but a god. An immensely powerful god, if his small displays to her many years ago were any indication. His secrets, though not terrible, dug a proverbial claw into her heart. He hadn’t been able to trust her. Why did it hurt so much now, all this time later? Especially when she had proven all too well he couldn’t put his faith in her fickle heart. But that was before she’d learned better.
Slowly, she pushed off the sofa and crossed to the window. Rain pummeled the glass and pelted the tall grass flat. The darkened waters roared below the cliff, whitecaps thick and large atop vicious waves. She swore she could feel the vibrations of their rage through her feet when they crashed into the rocky cliff.
Cold seeped into her skin. She hugged herself, unable to shake the chill and the sinking churn of her stomach.
“What happened to Astauria?” Aria asked quietly. She couldn’t look at him, not when she felt the pain of failing to earn his full trust. Right as he’d been, why did it feel like betrayal?
“It fell. After the massacre, after my father denied her advances, she sought me. I was the son of god and goddess. She’d seen me practicing my magic, honing my powers. She knew what I possessed and saw a different opportunity, but I knew what she was after and didn’t give her what she wanted. I had just learned of the bloodshed and when she approached me, I cast her away. Literally. With a whirlpool of lava.”
All this time, and she never realized. Never put the obvious together. He never performed magic in public, but didn’t shy from it with her. How had she not suspected? Her curiosity usually got the best of her about everything and everyone. Except Caspian.
“She retaliated, drunk on a power high from all the human life essence she devoured. Dima possesses a scream like a banshee, only the damage her scream produces is a hundred times worse. We didn’t know. Weren’t prepared. The ocean floor cracked. Opened up wide. Lava spouted through the cracks, melting all in its path. That’s how it started. The floor swallowed parts of Astauria in fiery wrath. Our guards attacked and were mercilessly slain by sharks. Our castle crumbled. One of the jade bricks crushed my tail in my escape. Another stone knocked me in the head. I lost consciousness.
“When I awoke, I gazed upon a nightmare.”
The click of glass drew her attention. Caspian was pouring himself another brandy.
“My mother was dead. My father barely alive. Yes, we’re gods, but we’re not indestructible. Dima’s screams somehow countered their attempts to protect themselves, cutting through their power and mine. My father warned me of the curse and the role I would play, and commanded I leave. He died in his determination to force me to flee. When I made my way through the devastation Dima’s vengeful attack left, I couldn’t recognize our kingdom. There was nothing left but thick streams of blood dispersing through the undercurrents, the bodies of our merpeople—or what was left of them—and mountains of rubble that used to be homes. I escaped, using my drained strength to conjure spells to keep her from tracking me. I struggled to wash away the blood trail left by my wounds. It took me weeks from that day to finally arrive in Timarra. To you.”
Caspian twisted around, resting a hand on the table with the brandy decanter. His eyes brimmed with a sorrow and grief so stark it scalded her skin. She had never once seen such vulnerability in him, and certainly didn’t expect this degree of regret. He tossed back the shot of brandy in one gulp, placed the snifter on the tray, and hesitantly approached her.
Did he really think she’d run after his admission?
Did he think, after all this time, that she’d see him as anything other than a magnificent man with the potential to save all merfolk?
“I’m sorry, Aria. For bringing her to your home. I should never have stayed as long as I had, but I couldn’t help it. Yes, I was a fool.” He offered a sad grin. “A blinded fool. I thought I had erased my tracks, but I should have known she would never give up her hunt for me as long as the curse remained. You and your family were never the ones Dima sought, but you’re the perfect bait to get what she wants. Me.”
“We’ve been estranged for years. How could she think this horrible plan would work?”
Caspian rubbed a hand over his chin and jaw. He tilted his head, his gaze drawing her in. Open and unfiltered. No mask. Nothing hidden. “Because you have always been my one weakness, Aria. From the first day I saw you, I’ve loved you unconditionally. I just never believed she’d find me, find you, and learn the truth.”
Her jaw slackened, her lips pulled apart on a gasp. Love. All this time, he loved her?
As if to answer her unspoken question, he reached out and brushed his knuckles over her jaw. Traced the bone of her cheek with the same fire-tingling caress. She found herself dipping her head into his touch, a touch brimming with possibilities and promises. A touch that defied any of the playful jabs of her youth.
Her heart spoke to her now. Cooing with delight.
Her heart responded to his confession with a lifetime of joy.
Why did she not listen to her heart all those years ago?
“I’m sorry. For everything,” he murmured. “I had no right to come into your life the way I did. Under the circumstances that plagued me. What I did was selfish. Irresponsible. I ran from the problem and the problem caught up with me. I had no right to…fall in love with you.”
“Yes,” she whispered, catching his hand before it could drop from her face. “Yes, you did. You do. Dima might have found us, but she hasn’t done anything that can’t be reversed. Not yet. I have four days to come up with a solution. Those were her terms.”
Pain sliced through his expression and darkened his eyes. He lowered his hand against her resistance, but folded his fingers around hers. “Dima…doesn’t follow terms, Aria.”
Gods above, grief almost drowned the sound of his voice as he said bleakly, “Come. I’ve something to show you. At the docks.”
Aria didn’t move when he turned away. “Do you see the storm outside?”
He didn’t look out the window. “There’s a reason for it.”
The rain barely touched them, except for the few drops his magic allowed so as not to draw attention to their dry appearance in a massive storm. Aria kept the new cloak Caspian provided clenched tight to her body, the deep hood pulled over her head. She stayed close to the man in the long, hooded trenchcoat, following his steps across the water-sodden ground and the streams between the cobblestone pathways. Electric lanterns lit many doorways, while others remained dark. Even the lanterns around the castle grounds were only sporadically lit. Flagpoles creaked and the wind howled through the rows of houses and shops, banging signs against walls and rattling loose shutters. Malice and danger struck down from the swirling black clouds in thin, webbed lines of electricity.
The streets were abandoned. Not a single guard. Not a single villager or animal.
No one.
Nothing.
Caspian squeezed her hand. She sidled closer to him, quickening her pace to match his long-legged strides. The determination in his steps did little to ease the nerves that swirled through her belly.
They didn’t slow until they reached the landside entrance of Caspian’s warehouse. Aria took a moment to stare out at the harbour, at the furious waves pouring up over the bank and rocking the piers. The ships and boats bobbed and swayed, the smaller vessels taking on spurts of water that crested their hulls.
Lightning struck a ship’s main mast. The crack of solid wood splitting followed a bright explosion of blue-white sparks. The rain did nothing to snuff out the embers as they fell over the wet, rolled sails.
The first flash of fire erupted barely a breath later.
“Come.” Caspian tugged her hand, leading her into the dry warehouse. He closed the door behind them, snapped his fingers, and created a glowing coil of firelight at his fingertips.
“The ship—”
“Will attract attention. Rain won’t put that fire out.”
“Deity fire…”
Had her mother and sisters escaped? Was this storm her mother’s doing?
She keeps the waters calm. Not violent, and certainly not at a strength like this.
Dima. The storm had to be her doing.
Caspian brought her up the stairs to his office, locking the door behind them and murmuring an incantation. His ease with magic and spells was intriguing. He seldom spoke when he spun something underwater, but here, if he wished it, all he had to do was touch it, whisper words, or imagine it and it manifested.
No wonder his presence overpowered a room.
The coil of light snuffed out. A single electric lamp popped to life, spreading a dull yellow glow over the dark, shadow-infested office.
Caspian said nothing as he brought her to the back of the room, but his steps turned heavy when they approached a plain, unmarked wall.