This must be precisely how Finch is feeling right at this present moment. The thought erupted out of nowhere, shocking me to my grief-stricken core. He loved Ryann. I had forced him into this, but his mind must have been in similarly uncontrollable turmoil. His heart belonged to another, and that would not be remedied until the love spell could be implemented. Again, a point that seemed so far away that it was nauseating to contemplate.
And my heart, despite everything, also belonged to another. Even now, it told me to relinquish these hopes and belief in the legend of the Luminary, to be with Erebus.
He has enormous power, too. He could fix the Bestiary’s problems. However, every time my heart made such suggestions, my mind swooped in, urging me away from those ideas. It constantly served up pertinent reminders of the wrongs Erebus had done and the risks of allowing him back into my life. And so, mind and heart seemed determined to tear me apart, pulling me in different directions. One, away from the love of my life. The other, prodding me toward him.
How time has altered my perspective. Fifty years ago, had Erebus come to me in his true form, it would have been the strangest of honors to be loved by a Child of Chaos. There would have been logistical problems to overcome, but he would not have ignited the wrath of the Atlantean people. Our chance of success in love would have been greater back then. We could have discussed him attaining a human body and conjured solutions as a team so that a child would have been possible without killing me. Today, however, the situation was far more complicated, as a result of his former actions. “Impossible” might have been a truer word.
“This is not the behavior of a queen!” I growled to myself through bitter tears. “A queen does not stray from her resolve. Enough mooning over a wretched man because he finally learned to say the right things! I am too busy to waste time on him. I must be brave, and I must ensure that Finch and I drink of the love spell. Atlantis depends on it.”
I sank back in the chair and took deep breaths until the tears ceased and the sobs receded to residual hiccups. My eyes narrowed toward the glinting pond, watching a dragonfly hover over the water. A tiny sample of the queendom I was determined to save.
“Come now.” I rose from my chair and soaked in one final glimpse of that peaceful scene. “You have a wedding to plan.”
Twenty-One
Finch
Well, this is new. Putting on a different Mimicry façade always came with a shiver of strangeness, like trying to wear a glove or a pair of pants that didn’t quite fit. I had to wiggle and stretch it out until it felt like a second skin I could be comfortable in. Right now, I was wearing the face and body of Apollo. Newly released, still-in-hiding Apollo.
“In hiding” might have been an overstatement. Everyone knew where he was, but he kept to himself. And who could blame him? Atlantis had jumped to conclusions, and they hadn’t minded dragging his name through the mud when they thought he’d been the princess’s assassin. Neither had his old friend, the princess herself. He probably felt a bit strange about all of it.
But there was method to my madness. Mimicking a royal advisor to the crown, even a newly infamous one, had major risks. I figured they were worth taking to get some answers. I was sick of pacing and getting nowhere, so I’d decided to take matters into my own hands. My aim: get closer to King Ovid to try and get some insight into the upcoming wedding and Kaya’s reasons for rushing it. She wouldn’t tell me herself, so she’d forced me to get creative. And since Apollo was a royal advisor, he was the perfect undercover persona to help me fill some crucial gaps in my current knowledge.
I reached Apollo’s quarters twenty minutes later, finding myself in a distant part of the palace, which didn’t have many people wandering around. Good. I didn’t want an audience for what I was about to do.
Pressing my hand to the lock of his door, I sent tendrils of Telekinesis to do some unpicking. I felt for the teeth that held the lock in place and moved each one in a delicate juggling act until a soft click echoed out.
I snuck into the room beyond. The drapes were closed, and a figure lay curled up in the bed, their head turned away from me. A wallowing, if ever I’d seen one. I crept up to the bed and paused, practicing the memory loss spell that Melody had taught me.
The figure stirred, and two frightened eyes opened to find me standing there. He bolted upright. “What is the meaning of—”
I didn’t let Apollo finish. I might’ve been a descendant of the Primus Anglicus, but Apollo was, too. If he fought back, I wasn’t sure I’d win. And I didn’t want to have to kill him. Old Finch might have been back, but I’d dropped the casual murdering and maiming streak.
Panicking a bit, I recited the words I’d learned at double speed. “Memento nihil. Tenebris cadit. Somnum pacifice possidemus. Postea evigilare faciatis. Memento nihil. Requiem et somnum. Dispensare valet cogitationes tuae.”
Red sparks erupted from my hands and fell onto Apollo, sinking into his skin. Glowing threads raced up his neck and into his skull, setting to work on manipulating his brain.
He slumped onto the mattress, his eyes closed. I leaned forward to check that he was out cold and briefly put my fingertips under his nose to make sure he was still breathing. Yup, the machines were working, but the lights were out. If the spell worked the way it was supposed to, he wouldn’t remember this when he woke up.
Man, it feels good to use some Latin again. I did one last check, to make sure he really was unconscious and not just pretending, before slipping back out of the room in his form. Now I had the freedom to do some deeper digging without worrying about the real Apollo popping up and ruining everything. Mother’s old lessons had come in handy yet again.
Ovid would be my first stop on this tour of intel. Out of everyone in Atlantis, it stood to reason that he’d know why Kaya was intent on marrying me. But facing the king, while masquerading as his recently imprisoned royal advisor… that meant activating sneaky fox mode.
* * *
I followed the chatter of the palace staff and sought out the king in his throne room. Even without the chatter, it would’ve been the first place I looked. Kings loved their thrones, right? Some even tried to entice Necromancers to give them more time with their beloved chairs.
Nerves jittered in my veins as I entered. A gaggle of advisors stood below Ovid’s platform of superiority, in deep discussion. Guards stood at intervals around the grand room, too, adding to the grandeur by emulating marble statues. The light from the chandelier of whalebone and gold shone a little too bright for my Mimicked eyes, making me blink like a criminal under interrogation.
The guards and advisors all turned at once to stare in my direction. I waited for the jeering to start, but only silence drifted back. I definitely should’ve worn my brown pants for the occasion.
“Apollo!” Thebian spoke first, striding over with a big smile on his face. He clapped me so hard on the back that the whole Mimicry sheen nearly glitched. But I held on to it. “Glad to have you back among us, old friend. You were missed.”
I clapped him on the back doubly hard, a private revenge. “Glad to be back. Let me tell you, being shoved in a cell leaves little to be desired. I never thought I would sympathize with a Purge beast.” My voice came out deep and musical, a perfect imitation of Apollo’s.
The other advisors chuckled. “At least you were not robbed of your sense of humor!” one of them chirped.
“It would take more than a false accusation to rob me of that, friend.” I didn’t know his name, so I figured it was best to just call everyone “friend” and hope they didn’t notice. “You know, what they say about our prison is true—if I had stared into that abyss a moment longer, I would have started babbling like a buffoon. Although, I am certain many of you would accuse me of doing that before I was locked away.”
Another burst of laughter settled around me.
“It is wonderful to see you smile, after what you endured.” Thebian kept his hand on my shoulder a while longer. “If it were me in your posi
tion, I do not know that I would be able to.”
“I did think about hiding myself away for a few more weeks, at least until after this wedding has passed, but that is, perhaps, for more personal reasons. Wounded pride, rather than the lasting effects of prison.” As long as I kept them chuckling, I could keep foxing them. “I mean, who would select a surface dweller over a divine specimen such as myself? Or yourself, Thebian—a genuine general of the Atlantean armies!”
Thebian made a noise of agreement. “I can organize squadrons of soldiers to perform complex maneuvers, but I shall never understand the inner workings of the female mind.”
“Maybe if you spent less time organizing complex maneuvers, you would have a better grasp,” one of the female advisors retorted. “The princess has her reasons; of that I am certain. Why, given the choice, I would not choose either of you.”
I smirked at her sass, but Thebian hit her with a withering look. “And I am sure, if your husband were given his choice over, he would not choose you. The bittersweet beauty of hindsight, Iphigenia.”
“Remind me again. Who among us is married?” Iphigenia acted a gleeful charade. “Ah yes, that is right. I am, and you are not. Tell me, how can it be that a man such as yourself is still without a wife at the age of two hundred and fifty?”
Thebian looked away in embarrassment, and I swooped in to save his ass.
“He is selective, that is all.”
“Selective or greedy, Apollo? He wanted to rule our city, and look where it has gotten him. And you, for that matter.” Iphigenia flashed a mischievous grin.
I shrugged. “I accept defeat graciously. Would I have reveled in the prospect of marrying a beautiful friend? Of course, but languishing in prison taught me several lessons. One of which is that there is little time in life for bitterness or resentment. I am merely interested in understanding Her Highness’s selection so that I may improve myself.”
“Are you certain they did not give you a lobotomy in prison?” Iphigenia chuckled. I had to admit, I liked this woman. Banter wasn’t easy to come by in this city, and it made a refreshing change to have a worthy adversary.
“Perhaps they sent me the same fellow that performed yours,” I shot back with a grin.
Iphigenia exploded with laughter. “It is wonderful to have you back, Apollo. Just do not tell anyone I said so, or it shall smear my reputation as a hardened advisor beyond repair.”
“It will not leave this room or pass the lips of the thirty or so individuals you have just revealed your secret to.” I put on a stage whisper and enjoyed the good humor of the room as a ripple of laughter echoed to the cavernous ceiling.
“Apollo. A word with you, if you please?” Ovid rose from his throne, drawn by the laughter.
“Certainly, Your Majesty.” I bowed and cast a sly look at the other advisors. “Do not miss me too much, and do not fear if it takes me some time to return. It is unlikely I will be falsely accused twice in as many weeks.”
Their chuckles accompanied my walk toward Ovid, who promptly led me from the main room into an annex that branched off it. The smaller room was still about ten times larger than my puny abode in the SDC, with the usual arrangement of sofas and armchairs.
A hefty desk of black marble sat by the window, with a wingback armchair partially blocking the light. Someone had made an interior design mistake there. The armchair should’ve faced outward, so folks could at least get a decent view while doing drudge work. Nevertheless, Ovid took his place there. I followed obediently and sat in the smaller armchair opposite.
“Is something wrong, Your Majesty?” I dove right in. “Was I wrong to come here? I was informed, upon my release, that I had been reinstated as a royal advisor. I see now that I should have requested a private audience with you, to be certain.”
Ovid toyed with a quill on his desk. Oh yes, these people had insane technology, and yet they’d never thought beyond quill and ink. “Nonsense, Apollo. You are welcome here, in your position as trusted advisor. There is no need for us to discuss the former unpleasantness any further, as it is embarrassing for all involved.”
Ah, the old “sweep it under the rug” way of dealing with things. I hadn’t heard an apology yet, and I doubted I—or rather, Apollo—would get one from Ovid.
“Then what is it you wished to discuss?” I asked.
“It is the Bestiary, Apollo,” Ovid replied, his tone nervous. “You and I have often spoken of how we might remedy the situation. However, it has come to my attention that there is a new solution to all our problems—a panacea that will restore Atlantis, in every sense of the word.”
I leaned forward. “There is?”
“Indeed, but there is not a great deal of time to implement this solution. Soon enough, the Bestiary will be too far gone, and the fate of Atlantis will be removed from our hands.” He jiggled his knee nervously. “Which is where you come in. You are eager to regain the reputation you lost, through no fault of your own, yes?”
I hesitated. “Uh… certainly, Your Majesty.”
“Excellent.” Ovid’s leg vibrated more vigorously, to the point I worried it might fly off. “So you must set aside your personal feelings for Kaya and ensure that this solution is implemented.”
“Would you mind telling me what this solution may be?” I mean, he wasn’t giving me much here.
Ovid paused his jiggling. “Oh yes, of course. Apologies. It is imperative that you ensure Kaya marries Finch. It is the panacea that will save Atlantis. He is the solution. As such, you must keep Erebus away from my daughter. I fear that this old flame is refusing to die, and if my daughter is foolish enough to be swayed by that wretch, then we are all doomed.”
Wow… okay. How had I wound up as a double agent against myself? I needed to bring Erebus and Kaya back together, not separate them. And Lux wanted me to marry Kaya to piss off her husband. Now Ovid was asking me to marry Kaya, too, without realizing he was speaking to me, and keep Erebus from sniffing around. Did that make me a triple agent? I was losing track.
“If I may be so bold… I did not believe Finch was your first choice?” I had to buy some time to get my ducks in a row.
“That is true. I would have chosen Davin,” Ovid admitted begrudgingly. “But that treacherous fox ruined everything, so, naturally, he cannot be considered any longer. He will have to serve us in a different capacity, from captivity.”
I tapped my chin in pretended musing. “Please, forgive my ignorance, but I am eager to understand every facet of this. Why do you now believe that Finch can affect Atlantis’s survival? I have seen nothing, and heard nothing, to suggest he is of value, aside from his name, of course.” I might’ve teased her for it, but I was glad I’d spent so many hours listening to Kaya—it made speaking like an Atlantean much easier.
Ovid shook his head. “It is too soon to discuss these details. My daughter has asked that it remain between she and I until she is ready to make the revelation to the city. You are a trusted advisor, that is true, but I must keep my word.”
“May I have an ounce of information, to use as motivation?” I asked, frustrated. “Not that your request is not motivation enough. I simply fear making a misstep, if I do not know all the pertinent details.”
“All I can say is, my daughter is convinced that the legend of the Luminary has come to pass. But you are not to breathe a word of that to anyone.” His eyes glinted with warning. “I, too, have come to believe it. If this does not happen, Apollo—if this wedding does not happen—then Atlantis will be lost. It will drown, according to our own legends.”
The legend of the Luminary? What the hell was that? I’d never heard of it, but I made a mental note to look into this piece of lore once I got out of here. And how could my marriage to Kaya save Atlantis from drowning? I didn’t want that kind of weight on my shoulders!
“What makes you think your daughter might be swayed?” I cast a line, to see if my words of wisdom to Erebus had taken hold. Maybe he’d already started Hugh Grant-ing it arou
nd her.
Ovid’s face hardened. “Call it a father’s intuition. He fooled her once, and he may well do it again.”
Just when I’d thought things couldn’t get any more complicated, he’d gone and added another knot to the web I had myself tangled in. By the end of this, someone would be disappointed. But who would it be? Erebus, Lux, Kaya, Ovid, Atlantis… or me?
Twenty-Two
Finch
“I am relying on you, Apollo.” Ovid gave me a stern stare that he’d probably practiced in the mirror a thousand times.
I dipped my head. “Of course, Your Majesty. I will do my duty to the crown by pursuing Erebus and your daughter wherever they may go, to fulfill your wishes… within reason, naturally.” I wasn’t about to follow anyone into a bathroom. Then again, I wasn’t really going to do what he’d asked, either.
“Gratitude, Apollo.” Ovid sank back in relief. “My other advisors were right. It is good to have you back where you belong. I did not like to think of you in prison.”
Well, you didn’t do much to get him out, did you? I rose from my seat and gave what I hoped was an elegant bow.
“Is that all, Your Majesty? I really must go now, so I may begin.”
Ovid nodded. “Yes, thank you. You are dismissed.”
As I left the annex, saying a quick farewell to the advisors outside, I knew exactly where I needed to go, for more than one reason. And it wasn’t to chase after star-crossed lovers. Ovid’s mention of the prison had reminded me I had business there, with Davin. Namely, getting the oily blobfish to tell me what he’d done to Erebus, and how to undo it. But I had a feeling he’d have some insight into this Luminary legend stuff, too. That jackass always knew more than he should.
Harley Merlin 15: Finch Merlin and the Everlasting Vow Page 19