Cursed Throne: Lord of the Ocean #2 Page 3

Zamir stiffened.

  Ondine laughed. “You didn’t know? Sometimes, I wonder if the merfolk are as ignorant as the Atlanteans. Only Beltiamatu of royal blood, as the most-trusted servants of the Illojim, can carry aether without absorbing it permanently, yet they cannot command it. But humans,” she purred. “They are special. The innate craving for power—the hallmark of all human hearts—allows them to accomplish what the Beltiamatu and Atlanteans cannot. Greed makes the human soul cling to the aether core once it is within them. Their selfishness prods aether into obedience.” Ondine shrugged, the motion graceful and dismissive. “Aether is the key to rebuilding the Beltiamatu empire, but it will not be the aether core secreted within Ginny Waters. That power source is gone forever, subject to the careless whims of a child in the ways of the ancients.”

  In the distance, something small broke the surface. For a moment, Zamir thought it might have been a Beltiamatu, but the painfully slow way the person paddled through the water confirmed that it was Ginny.

  “You cannot save the Beltiamatu.” Ondine’s voice rose like a melody over the waves crashing on the islet. “Their time has come, as it came for the Atlanteans thousands of years ago. No civilization has ever survived the destructive power of the Dirga Tiamatu. There is nothing left to rebuild. Your power source is permanently locked in a frail human. The mer-prince fights a hopeless battle, outnumbered. Your people’s spirit is crushed. But…they are not you.” Her lips parted. Even at that distance, deep red, they beckoned. “You are not Beltiamatu. You are not human. You are not a race created to serve the Illojim. You are—more than anyone on this planet—unique, and you don’t know everything in you.”

  “And you do?” Zamir challenged her.

  “You possess knowledge more ancient than time. Arman witnessed the fall of the royal family, and their escape to Earth. He is the keeper of the Illojims’ secrets, and for uncountable years, he kept those secrets with his death. But now, his soul lives, in you.”

  Zamir turned slightly so that he could keep his attention focused on Ondine and Jacob, while still tracking Ginny’s slow progress in his peripheral vision. “I do not have his memories.”

  “Of course you do. You have simply not permitted yourself to draw on them. Are you afraid of losing yourself?” Ondine asked. She smiled, shaking her head. “By letting go, you will find more of yourself.”

  Zamir’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t have time for this, Ondine. I’m not interested in the details of who I am as long as I can accomplish all I need done.”

  “Like restore your empire? You are ever the king,” she continued. “Nothing I say will turn you away from your responsibilities, but the future you seek may lie in the past.”

  “I’m not interested in riddles either.”

  “They’re not riddles. Just ask your little professor of history. She will tell you that the past gives you the answers you need to solve your future.”

  “Ginny has odd ideas.” Zamir glanced at Jacob, whose face was a mask of simmering anger. “Your partner does not appear comfortable with the concept of rebuilding the Beltiamatu empire. He does not share your goals.”

  “We share nothing, except a common direction,” Ondine said. “I want you. He wants her. He thinks he can convince Ginny to do her duty to the human race. Except of course, we all know how compelling human women find mermen, especially someone as physically perfected as Kai, the mer-prince.” Her lips pursed into a sneer. “After all, isn’t that exactly what led to the birth and rise of Atlantis—the mer-king dallied too long with a human woman?”

  “We all make mistakes,” Zamir said grimly. “And some require several millennia and generations to fix.”

  Jacob snarled. “Haven’t you heard? Your time is past. You tried to destroy everything about Atlantis, but failed. The tide’s turned now. Your power has declined. Atlantis is the rising power—”

  Zamir fixed his gaze on Jacob. “Atlantis consists of you. What you are is a cult, clinging to the past, filling humans with ideas greater than themselves, dragging them into a war that isn’t theirs to fight.”

  Jacob pounded his fist down on the ship’s rail. He beckoned to the sailors. “Shoot him. Kill him!”

  “No!” Ondine shouted. “He is my prize.”

  Jacob glared at Ondine. “Your prize would deprive me of mine! Kill—”

  Purple-tinted waves surged straight up, taller than buildings, to surround the warship. His jaw slack, Jacob stared at the massive liquid wall that defied all laws of physics.

  Ondine spun, laughing with the simple delight of a child. “This, Jacob, is what you can do with aether. This is why you will tolerate me, even need me, beside you. This is why you will let me claim my prize, even if it thwarts yours.” She flung her arms up. Green light sizzled at her fingertips, but before they could lash out, the waves collapsed on the ship, drenching it in water and light.

  But instead of spilling off the ship and sinking back into the sea, the water swirled into another wave, looping over the ship before plunging down again. It almost seemed as if the water and the ship were contained within an invisible sphere, which tossed so violently that Zamir could not see beneath the constant spray.

  Voices, shrill with panic, screamed.

  Something was happening in the circle of death inscribed by aether.

  Ginny’s aether.

  A muscle twitched in Zamir’s cheek. He wasn’t going to stay around for the climax of the magic show. Zamir sprinted to the edge of the water and dived into the sea. Swift strokes carried him to Ginny. She bobbed in the water, her blond hair plastered against her head. “Glad you got away.”

  “Good timing,” he said simply. He might have been able to escape unscathed, but Ginny’s intervention had made it a sure thing. “The colony—”

  “A torpedo took it out.” Ginny shook her head, her usually clear voice clogged with tears. “Some got away, but many died.”

  “Kai?”

  “He was still battling the divers from the first three submarines.”

  “We have to get to him. The air and water is concentrated with aether; even I can feel it. It’s got to be affecting him. Ready?” Zamir’s grip tightened around Ginny’s waist.

  Ginny nodded.

  He dived deep, pulling her beside him. She tensed briefly, and then relaxed, as if recalling that she could breathe underwater. “There,” she murmured. Her voice sounded low and garbled, but the direction in which she was pointing provided no doubt.

  Limp shapes emerged out of the deep blue. Bodies of divers floated lifelessly in the water, heads slumped against chests, limbs dangling.

  Trembling against Zamir, Ginny extended her hand. A wispy crimson thread of blood wove between her fingers, stark against her pale skin.

  Diaphanous shreds of dark fins floated in the water.

  Kai.

  Chapter 4

  Zamir and Ginny followed the trail of blood to the ocean floor. Kai’s dark blue hair stood out clearly against the sandy ground. He curled in a fetal position, his legs drawn up to his chest.

  The aether spewed into the water had transformed his tail into legs.

  Zamir bit back the curse on the tip of his tongue. There was no need to make Ginny feel any worse for using her powers to defend herself and the colony, not when the guilt was already eating her up on the inside.

  “Are you hurt anywhere else?” Zamir asked his grandson.

  Kai nodded, the motion barely perceptible. His shoulders shifted, and Zamir turned him gently, revealing a deep gash in his thigh, and terrible burns and scorch marks against his chest and back. He had been attacked, repeatedly, at close range, with sonic guns.

  No human could have sneaked up on a Beltiamatu in the water.

  Not unless that Beltiamatu were convulsing in the throes of transformation.

  Fury knotted in Zamir’s chest, but willpower kept his tone calm, if only for Kai’s sake. “The threat’s gone, for now. I’ll get you to safety.”

  The water rippled ar
ound them.

  “You stay away from him,” a harsh voice snapped.

  The blind merman, Badur, accompanied, as always, by Thaleia, and by several other mer-warriors, swam up to them. Badur’s nose twitched at the scent of blood in the water. “He is our prince. We will care for him.”

  Zamir’s eyes narrowed at Badur’s preemptory tone, but Ginny’s hand upon his arm coaxed him into stepping aside. They hung back as the merfolk lifted Kai up, then followed the Beltiamatu through a warren of underwater canyons. As they swam beside the rock walls, they passed several merfolk. Male and female, adult and child, they reverently reached out to touch Kai as he was carried past them.

  “Is that normal?” Ginny asked Zamir.

  He nodded. “He is the prince. There is—or was—a lot of respect for the throne. Few dared challenge the king’s decisions.”

  “Must have taken a lot of courage to do so,” Ginny said blandly.

  Zamir tensed against the not-so-subtle rebuke. “Yes. Kai risked a great deal. He knew—they all knew—what happened to those who challenged tradition, who challenged the king.”

  “Za…Zee?” Ginny winced, catching herself before uttering his name. “I’m having trouble with this.”

  “Would you rather call me Jackson?” he asked her.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped.

  “Or Arman?”

  “Who’s Arman?”

  “The name of the First Commander.”

  “How did you…?” Ginny paled. “Ondine…”

  Zamir nodded grimly.

  “How does she know the name of the First Commander when you didn’t?” Ginny ground her teeth. “Ondine’s not quite right.”

  “I don’t think she has been right for a long time. She’s possessed by something…different.” He frowned. “She knew what I was thinking, even though I did not speak aloud.”

  Ginny’s eyes widened. “Za…Zee. That’s a problem. That’s a huge problem.”

  “Is it?”

  “There’s something about you that’s drawing her in. All this time, we wondered how the cult was keeping up with us, but there’s no tracking chip in Kai. Not anymore; I’m sure of it. What if Ondine’s weird connection with you allows her to track you?”

  “That’s absurd.”

  “Anything’s possible, or haven’t you noticed that the rules don’t hold anymore?”

  He had noticed, and it worried him. He remained silent as the Beltiamatu convoy set Kai down on a bed of kelp. A purple-haired mermaid brushed the others aside, her motion imperious, then folded her tail beneath her as she tended to Kai’s injuries, smoothing a thick paste over his wounds before covering them with thin bands of dark green seaweed.

  Zamir exhaled, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “He will be all right,” he murmured. “All Beltiamatu heal quickly in the water, and gishtil will accelerate his healing.” His gaze flicked to the purple-haired mermaid.

  “Her name is Naia,” Ginny supplied.

  Naia. Zamir turned the name over in his mind. It sounded familiar. The mermaid looked like someone he had seen before, in fact, several times before. He frowned as it came back to him in a rush. “She is the eldest daughter of the Anaitis family.”

  “You knew them?”

  “They were among the most influence and wealthy families in Shulim.”

  “Nobility?”

  Zamir shook his head. “There is only the royal family. There is no nobility.”

  Ginny rolled her eyes. “There is something both absurdly unjust and pleasingly fair-handed about that concept.”

  “Your human traditions and societal rules would not work here.”

  “You really need to stop speaking of humans as if we’re a single, monolith being. Nothing could be further from the truth. There are—or were—eight billion people on Earth, and among that eight billion, there are no two humans alive who agree on everything.”

  “It must make for stimulating conversations.”

  “Very.” Ginny smiled. Her attention remained fixed on Naia and Kai, on the way Naia’s fingers paused in her ministrations when Kai’s breath tensed with pain; the way Naia’s brow furrowed, her lips pressing into a frown. Ginny cleared her throat. “So…how is it Naia survived the destruction of Shulim?”

  Zamir shrugged. Ginny’s much-too-casual tone more than implied that it had not been the question she had intended to ask. “I do not know.”

  “I’m going to ask her. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “I’m not sure why you bother asking for permission. It’s not as if anything I say has ever stopped you from doing exactly what you want.”

  Ginny giggled, the sound rippling a matching chortle in the water. “You’re not used to that, are you? People ignoring you? Disagreeing with you?”

  He looked at her askance. “Are you baiting me?”

  “Just trying to understand you.”

  Zamir shrugged her off, his attention flicking to two Beltiamatu warriors as they swam into the cavern and approached Badur. Their gazes shuttled between Zamir and Ginny as they leaned over to whisper in Badur’s ear.

  “Get ready for trouble?” Ginny asked.

  Zamir nodded.

  Badur suddenly stiffened. He swung around, the motion pushing the two warriors away from him. His blind gaze swiveled as if trying to find Zamir and Ginny. Thaleia pressed lightly on his arm when he was staring in approximately the right direction.

  His wild search stopped.

  The heavy curtains of his eyelids emphasized the balefulness of his blind stare. “You. They were looking for you. Both of you!” He closed the distance, his dull black tail shifting in the thin current. “Don’t deny it. The humans on the ship affirmed it.”

  Zamir scowled. How distracted had he been that he hadn’t noticed the two Beltiamatu warriors lurking nearby? Ginny. He had been distracted by Ginny—watching out for her, making sure she did not get close enough to be discovered, to be captured.

  Badur gestured and several mer-warriors immediately surrounded Zamir and Ginny, their spears aimed at their chests. The blind mer-warrior snarled. “Take them back to the surface, to the ship. Turn them over to the humans—”

  A quiet voice cut through the swirl of motion. “No.”

  The attention swiveled to Kai. Grimacing against the pain, the mer-prince propped himself up on his elbows despite Naia’s soft admonishments to lie still. “The cult wants them because they’re the key to winning the war they have unleashed on us. If the cult gets its hands on Ginny and…Zee, they would have as well as won.”

  “Have you not noticed?” Badur twisted around to face Kai, his blind gaze fixing on a spot above Kai’s head. “We are losing the war. The missile took out half the colony, mostly women and children.”

  Ginny cut in. “I told you to evacuate them. If you had listened to me and acted sooner, instead of arguing—”

  “How dare you!”

  Badur’s hands curled into fists, and he surged forward, but Thaleia caught his arm and drew him back. “Please,” Thaleia pleaded. “Not now. None of this arguing will change what happened.” She turned to Ginny. “We just need the aether back. We have to rebuild, and we cannot do it without our power source.”

  “Yes, of course.” Ginny stepped forward. “Kai, let’s try again.”

  A muscle twitched in his cheek, but he nodded.

  “No,” Zamir said quietly. “It won’t work.”

  “The only one who can take the aether from me is Kai. We’ve only tried it once. It didn’t work then, but it could now,” Ginny insisted. “Maybe if we transferred it quickly enough, he can take it back before he transforms.”

  “He can’t take it back. You won’t be able to give it up.”

  “We can’t stop trying. The aether knows and does what I want—and it knows I don’t want it.”

  Zamir shook his head. “Ginny—” He grimaced as Ginny and Kai pressed the palms of their hands together.

  “Are you ready?” Ginny asked.

>   Kai hesitated for only a moment, but nodded.

  A purple glow emerged between their joined hands. Kai gasped sharply, his head snapping back as his back arched. His muscles trembled, his entire body shaking.

  “Stop it!” Naia screamed. “You’re hurting him.”

  But Kai did not break contact with Ginny, even though it seemed as though willpower alone held him there. The purple glow deepened, but did not move, did not transfer, did not—

  Kai screamed, his voice shattering with agony. Skin peeled off his thrashing legs until they were bloody, raw flesh. Tiny sizzles of purple light flashed along the length of his body, forcing his legs together. Flesh seemed to melt, but an instant before they would have liquefied completely, they remolded into a shape of a tail, the flesh still utterly raw.

  This time, it was Ginny who broke away first. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She spun around, the black aether cloud vanishing. Zamir grabbed her, drawing her against his chest and holding her until her sobs no longer heaved from the pit of her stomach.

  Zamir said nothing. No one said anything. The only sound was Kai’s wrenching gasps for air as his black scales pushed out from under a million cuts on his flesh, layering until they covered his tail with that deep, perfect, iridescent hue.

  He was once again a merman, in agony, with a tail, instead of legs.

  And the aether was still in Ginny.

  “Ginny.” Kai’s voice was an anguished whisper, but he extended his hand to her—an overture of forgiveness and reconciliation. The regret and despair in his eyes perfectly mirrored Ginny’s. With a sob, Ginny surged into his arms, and was welcomed by a tight embrace. She buried her face against his chest; he leaned his cheek against her hair.

  Zamir fought to breathe through the sudden tightness in his chest.

  Whatever it was he was feeling—he had no words for it.

  Chapter 5

  Long after she had regained her composure, if not her peace of mind, Ginny sat on the edge of a wide stone in the chamber set aside for Kai’s use. Kai was well-tended and fast asleep on a kelp bed, but she still felt compelled to stay close to him, if only because not staying near him felt like defeat—an acknowledgement that aether had outwitted both of them.