Cursed Throne: Lord of the Ocean #2 Read online

  “Naia…” A flick of his tail carried Kai forward. He closed the distance until scarcely a breath separated them. “I am trying to protect you.”

  Her chin lifted, and the translucent fins of her violet tail flicked. “I don’t need your protection.” She bared her teeth, more snarl than smile. “I never did.”

  Zamir shook his head. “We’re wasting time. Ginny and I will return to the surface to make sure the Endling is ready for the journey—”

  Badur gaped. “More humans are coming with us?”

  “You are not coming,” Kai said. His voice, colder than ice, harder than steel, tolerated no disagreement. “No one is.” A flick of his powerful tail turned his back on the Beltiamatu, and propelled him up, out of the underwater canyon. Zamir gripped Ginny’s waist, and they followed Kai.

  Only after they had put a long distance between them and the colony did Zamir speak. “If you had asked for warriors, you would have found more volunteers than you need.”

  “Their warriors must stay to protect them.” Kai shook his head. “We both know Atlantis is an unlikely—and dangerous—solution.” His expression revealed nothing, but his eyes were bleak and his jaw tense. “I did this to my people, so I must undo it any way I can, without shattering more lives in the process. The cult will follow us, which buys safety, at least for a while, for the colony.”

  “And if you do not return?” Zamir asked.

  “They would be no better or worse off than they were yesterday, when they thought that I—and you—were dead.”

  “It is difficult to lose, once more, a prince they had given up for dead. They have hope now. You can see it in their eyes,” Zamir said.

  “I know,” Kai murmured. “And that is why they cannot come. I cannot fail them again.”

  Ginny rolled her eyes. “There is nothing logical in anything you’ve just said. If you don’t want to fail them, if you want any chance to succeed, then you should bring others along. Maybe not the blind merman, and probably not Naia—she’s too distracting—”

  Kai frowned.

  Ginny continued as if she hadn’t noticed his reaction. “But you can’t do this alone. Especially not Atlantis.”

  Kai spun around in the water, all sleek, deadly grace. A flick of his tail carried him up to Ginny, their faces so close that they could have shared the same breath. “Do you understand, Ginny, the chance of failure?” His eyes, the color of sea-tossed waves, narrowed, the glitter of gold nearly invisible. “It is very nearly absolute. Even you and my grandfather will not accompany me into Atlantis. I will take the final journey on my own. It is absurd, unconscionable, to spend lives so recklessly.”

  “Then what about your own life?” Ginny demanded.

  “I did this—”

  Zamir cut in. “We did this.”

  Kai shook his head. “I redirected the Dirga Tiamatu. The fallout is mine to undo.”

  “It can’t be undone,” Ginny said quietly. “We can only pick up the pieces, and throwing your life away isn’t going to make it any better. If Atlantis is that much of a fool’s quest—”

  “The only remaining aether core is in Atlantis. Perhaps the Beltiamatu can survive as scattered colonies, but if we are to ever rebuild the empire—not for the empire’s sake but for humanity’s sake—to stand as we always have between humans and our power-mongering spawn, the Atlanteans—then we need the aether core. Don’t you see, Ginny?” Kai snarled. “No matter which way I turn, the responsibility is mine, spawned by my ancestors before me.”

  “But it is not yours alone,” Zamir said quietly.

  Kai’s smile was ironic. “As of right now, I am the only Beltiamatu of royal blood. Perhaps the effort can be shared, but the burden cannot. The cult of Ishtar has to be stopped, and there are other ways to do it. Finding the aether core and rebuilding the Beltiamatu empire is not the only way. If I fail, then you have to find another way.” His gaze rested first on Zamir, then on Ginny.

  A muscle ticked in Zamir’s cheek. “So be it,” he said tersely.

  Ginny glared at him. “You’re not going to—”

  “We’re wasting time,” Zamir cut her off. “We still have to radio the Endling to haul anchor and meet us in open water. And we can only hope that the submarines and frigate are gone, for now.”

  “I’ll scout ahead for the cult,” Kai said. “You two rejoin the Endling, and I’ll meet you when I’m certain the immediate way is clear.” He darted away, vanishing quickly as water darkened with distance.

  Zamir took Ginny up to the surface, perfectly aware of the tension clenching her small frame. He held an explosion in his hands; of that much he was certain, even though he knew almost nothing about human women.

  Together, they broke the surface. He tugged the satellite radio out of the waterproof pouch he wore around his waist and contacted the Endling. Meifeng, the navigator, took the call. “Zee? Is Ginny with you?”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “While we were docked nice and cozy on the far side of Kalymnos, we heard news of a Chinese frigate entering Greek territorial waters. Before the Greek navy could check it out, there were reports of a flashy firework display, then the Chinese ship hightailed it. Seemed to us like the kind of stuff you’d be involved in.”

  “We were, but we’re both all right. Is the Endling ready for a long journey? We’re going to need a ride.”

  “Hauling anchor now,” was Meifeng’s immediate reply. Zamir heard the shuffle of movement before Meifeng continued. “Homing in on the phone’s signal…got you! We’ll be there in a half hour. You can turn off that sucker now. Stay safe. We’re on our way.”

  Zamir returned the phone to the pouch, but before he could say anything, Ginny snarled, a surprisingly ferocious sound, considering how petite she was. “You can’t possibly think it’s okay for Kai to go off and tackle Atlantis on his own. It almost damn near killed us, and we had several powerful elementals on our side.”

  “He is the only person who can carry the aether from Atlantis—unless, of course, you want another aether core in you.”

  She glared at Zamir. “Of course not, but there’s no value in him getting killed. We’d have no aether, and worse, no prince. Does reckless heroism run in your blood?”

  “No, it doesn’t. But a propensity to face up to our responsibilities and fix them does.”

  Ginny shook her head. “We can get others. Humans, of course. Prime International—”

  “Is overwhelmed. We’re lucky to have received what help we did—and I’m not certain I trust any other group.”

  Her hands on her hips, she glowered at him. “Don’t you trust anybody?”

  “Trust got us into this nightmare, Ginny. At every decision point along the way, someone trusted another’s information as the truth. I did,” he said harshly. “I’m not blind to the fact that my decisions forced Kai into making his, or that my mother’s compelled me into mine—”

  “Forced? Compelled?” Ginny folded her arms across her chest. “Have you never heard of free will, or do the Beltiamatu royal family not believe in the most basic tenet of intelligent life?”

  “Free will works, until circumstances escalate and momentum takes over. That’s how disasters start.” He paused and drew a breath, infused with the salt of the sea. “It’s also how empires begin.”

  Ginny turned her back on him with a flick of her blond ponytail.

  Human women were exasperating. Zamir bit back a growl, but his tone sounded like a grumble anyway. “You told me to leave Kai alone, to make his own decisions, to rule,” Zamir said.

  “That doesn’t mean letting him get himself killed.”

  “Either I rule, or he does. And like it or not, he is the face of the Beltiamatu throne. The sole surviving member of the royal family.” Zamir bit back the words on the tip of his tongue. And he has no heir.

  Yet…

  Chapter 7

  The Endling sliced over the water. It was far swifter than the marine research vessel, the Veritas, but
it was also a great deal smaller. The two crew quarters, which each accommodated three people, were cramped. Ginny took over one of the cabins, while Meifeng, the former navigator of the Veritas, Corey, the former medic of the Veritas, and Zamir shared the second. The mess hall and recreation room utilized a common space, and the clinic was tucked in an alcove in the corridor, little more than an examination table and a cabinet of emergency medical supplies.

  “And they expect me to work my magic on this,” Corey grumbled, his frown invisible beneath his Santa Claus-like beard.

  Ginny chuckled. She slipped her arm into his and gave him a peck on the cheek. “With luck, you won’t have to work any magic at all.”

  “What?” He faked outrage. “Am I then supposed to earn an honest living? I’m not swabbing down any decks—”

  “The deck is the nicest place on the entire ship. Come on; you’ll enjoy the view.”

  “I bet I would, but the engine’s rattling a bit. I figure I’ll keep an eye on it and see if I can isolate the little bugger’s problem. You go on; I’ll be along in a bit.”

  Ginny nodded and climbed up the narrow steps that opened onto the deck, into bright sunlight and the crisp bite of fresh air. The last of the Greek islands were a barely visible indentation on the horizon, and the open sea beckoned.

  Her eyes narrowed on Zamir’s back as he stood at the stern, looking out over the ocean. After only a moment’s hesitation, she joined him, while firmly ignore the skittering beat of her heart.

  “Is it supposed to be symbolic that you’re looking out over the rear of the ship, into the past?” she asked.

  “Practical.” He glanced at her with a smile. “Meifeng’s got his attention on the front. Last time I checked, pursuers usually come from behind.”

  “Are they going to be able to keep the ship running, with only two crew?”

  “Meifeng said that he and Corey will take the helm in six-hour shifts. I can help too.”

  She met his gaze. “You don’t sleep much, do you?”

  “It’s difficult. It’s as if a part of my mind is always awake. I don’t feel tired or sleepy.”

  “I keep forgetting that you’re not really human,” Ginny said blandly. “The problem is that no one knows what you really are.” Her mouth twitched. There was no good way to say it, so there was probably nothing to be lost by jumping straight in. “At least the First Commander has a name now—Arman.”

  “There’s something I want to show you. Something I found when I lured the drones into Medea’s cave.” Zamir pulled out the small orichalcum box from his belt pouch.

  Ginny’s jaw dropped. She ran her fingers over the edges of the case but found no way to open it. Thwarted, she pressed the glass lid, but it did not open either. “Isn’t that your mother’s necklace?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “She was wearing it—at the final battle. How did it get in here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “And that’s the cursed dagger, isn’t it? The Isriq Genii. The dagger that your mother used to kill Nergal.”

  Zamir nodded.

  “I thought we left it in the Dalkhu Libbu.”

  “We did.”

  Ginny frowned and shook her head. “I don’t like it, Zamir. How did both of these land up in Medea’s cave?”

  “In Inanna’s cave,” Zamir corrected. “She’s frivolous.”

  Ginny’s eyes widened, and she pressed her hands to her lips to suppress a giggle. “Did you just call a goddess, the queen of heaven and earth, frivolous?”

  “She’s not a goddess. She and her kin are aliens from another planet, and they brought their family bickering down to Earth, except that here, what seems like a trivial argument to them escalates into a world war for us. Inanna has no sense of proportion, and worse, everything is a game to her.” Zamir’s hands tightened on the small box. “My mother’s life was a game piece, to be used then tossed away, as was my life. And Kai’s.”

  Ginny tried not to roll her eyes. “I don’t think Inanna was ill-intentioned, although I will grant that she has no sense of proportion. With all her powers, she probably expects to skim over every problem.”

  “She uses people. Both she and her sister use others.”

  Ginny winced. It was time to head off that bitterness in Zamir’s voice. “Your mother’s necklace—what do you think it means? Do you think she could be…alive?”

  “I don’t know. How could she be? There’s been no sign of her since— If she were alive, you’d think she would…let me know.”

  “She would,” Ginny murmured. Her fingers twitched. Ah, what the hell. Ignoring instinct and common sense, she placed her hand over Zamir’s. “And the dagger? When Inanna revealed herself in Atlantis, she spoke in Beltiamatu. I got only the bare outlines of it. Something about her forging it—”

  “The metal comes from the core of Aldebaran, their home planet, and she forged it while on their way to Earth. It was the only weapon that could kill Nergal.”

  “Did it steal his soul?”

  Zamir stiffened. His head swiveled toward her. “What do you mean?”

  “The dagger’s name is Isriq Genii. It means Soul Thief in ancient Sumerian.”

  Zamir’s expression suddenly tightened. “Inanna, as Medea, had first given that dagger to my mother three hundred years ago. If my mother had used it, it would have stolen the slain human’s soul for me. But she chose not to—twice. The first time, she chose not to because his soul was not good enough for me. The second time, she chose not to because his soul was too good for me.”

  Varun. Of course. “And thus was born the legend of the Little Mermaid,” Ginny murmured. “Then you were gifted a soul—Arman’s soul.”

  Zamir nodded.

  “But the dagger did eventually take a life,” Ginny continued. She did not miss the tension that corded Zamir’s biceps and curled his hands into fists. Nergal. The god of fire and pestilence. The god who would have destroyed the Earth. “Where is Nergal’s soul now?”

  * * *

  Zamir did not know.

  The god who lusted for Inanna, who would have destroyed a world when rejected by her, was dead. What did it matter where Nergal’s soul was?

  Zamir lingered on the Endling’s deck for hours after his disturbing—no, shattering conversation—with Ginny, yet he was no closer to an answer. He stared down at the hands that were his—yet not his. Arman’s hands. His pulse beat in time with the low hum of the engines. The scarcely audible, regular hiccup told him the piston rings needed oiling. That’s Jackson’s knowledge of human technology and human ways. His gaze flashed over the water. White caps of sea foam splashed against the side of the Endling. The waves rippled, a tiny motion counter to the laws that controlled the wind and tides; something was moving beneath the surface of the water. That’s me—my understanding, my insight as Zamir, once king of the Beltiamatu.

  There was no Nergal in any of this.

  No Nergal in him.

  Zamir stared at the veins popping in his tightly clenched fists.

  There could not possibly be—

  Yet Ondine who had no ties to him, to Jackson, or to Arman—but who had served Nergal for a time—claimed some kind of affinity, even kinship.

  If not Nergal, then—

  No, it couldn’t be. Zamir shook his head sharply. If there was more to him, more than himself, Arman, and Jackson, surely he would know. Surely there would be some evidence of Nergal. The defeated god would not—could not—remain inconspicuous for any amount of time.

  His world-shattering ego would never permit it.

  “Zamir?” Ginny’s voice interrupted his thoughts. She emerged from the bridge and crossed the deck to join him, leaning on the rail beside him so that she could see his face. “Are you still brooding over Nergal?”

  “Still?” He stared incredulously at her. “You cannot drop that question on me, walk away, and then come back expecting me to have forgotten all about it.” He clenched his teeth. “I detest the way yo
u humans converse. Your questions are not questions, but statements. Your smooth innuendos—that you would defend as innocent—are as devious as lies.”

  Ginny’s jaw dropped. “I…”

  “Nothing to say?” he snapped at her. “Remember, Ginny, the only reason you’re here is because you can’t be trusted to protect yourself, and I don’t trust you to not ally with the cult against the Beltiamatu.”

  She blinked at him, her eyes wide and stunned, as if his outburst had truly caught her off guard.

  Some part of him—Jackson, probably—recoiled, when he realized how much he had hurt him, but it was too late. He had said too much—words he didn’t mean, but knew would hurt.

  Anything to conceal how badly her questions had shaken him.

  From the water, Kai’s voice called out, scarcely a whisper. “Grandfather?”

  Zamir looked over the rail. Kai darted alongside the Endling, keeping up easily. “Are the submarines gone?” Zamir asked.

  “All but the ones that struck the ocean bed. There’s no one alive down there.” Kai’s gaze flicked between Ginny and Zamir, but he said nothing. “I’ll go on ahead, but will stay close enough to swing around in case of trouble.” He arced, then dived, vanishing with a flick of his dark tail. For a moment, the spread of his translucent tail fin caught the sunlight, as dazzling as the spread of gems across chiffon.

  I am lord of the Beltiamatu.

  Kai, their prince, the sole remaining visible representative of the throne, still instinctively deferred to him. Still acknowledged the familial relationship even though there was nothing left, physically, of Zamir in the body he now wore.

  Zamir’s chest constricted against the breath-stealing ache.

  If Kai could see and acknowledge who he was, why couldn’t Ginny?

  Chapter 8

  The distant hint of shore gave way to the endless spread of green. Ginny had never realized it before, but she could tell the Atlantic Ocean from the Pacific. The Atlantic was greener. The Pacific bluer. It didn’t make any sense to her, especially since the remnants of her middle-school science classes told her that the color of the sea was merely the reflection of the sky—which was definitely not green over the Atlantic.