Chapter 25 #2
They moved through quiet halls, passing each room with ceilings and windows with vibrant clear, crimson, and cobalt hues. The floors were made of stained glass, depicting rocks, seamounts, sea caves and corals, and various fish species.
Kaden stopped.
“Shouldn’t we keep going?” she whispered.
“This is the princes’ quarters. The servants are on break, and Cyrus is at court.
We’ll be alone for a few moments.” He motioned with his head toward the stained-glass ground.
“These are the stories of my people.” They continued onward, and he pointed out different pictures to her as they carried on.
The first was of two groups of mer on opposite sides of the mural, facing one another. “This is when my parents traveled to this region and settled here thirty-five tidesyears ago, and the first group of mer that joined them.”
He pointed out a second drawing in the next room, of three regal, elegant merfolk.
“This is Iarra, one of the mer Goddesses.” He motioned to a golden beige-skinned mermaid with flowing chestnut hair down to her waist. “Another Goddess and our primary deity in the Pacific queendoms, Sanyue.” The second Goddess’ straight raven hair was swept into a neat updo, her skin pale and nearly translucent.
“And this is Aruna.” He pointed to a depiction of a merman with umber-hued skin and wavy jet-black hair.
“The mer God. They represent the tidal cycles.”
The third illustration, beside the second, was of mer and humans shaking hands by a shoreline. “This was over three centuries ago, when your people and my people were still cordial and had an alliance.” Kaden shook his head slowly. “The last time we were.”
Angie set her lips in a tight line and bowed her head. “But what happened? Our stories say that you suddenly disappeared.”
Kaden beckoned her to keep following.
“This is what happened.” The fourth drawing he pointed out to her was of a group of humans standing over dead mer, with muskets, pistols, and swords in hand.
“At one time, mer lived in harmony with the humans, and they would give them our magic so they could join us in the seas. But, a large group of humans used that ability against them and besieged them in the seas and at the surface, killing mer by the thousands.” His voice lowered.
“There were so few of us left to fight back. The remaining mer decided that humans couldn’t be trusted, and closed their queendoms off from the surface world. ”
“Oh, tiān. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” Angie’s hand moved to cover her mouth. “That’s horrible.”
“It was, yes.” Kaden thinned his lips. “Since then, we’ve learned to use our Goddess-granted ability to manipulate water, and help us in battle with landwalkers. It is our second gift from them. The first being able to give you breath underwater. Let’s keep going.”
The throne room was next, situated to her left when she passed it, and she peeked over Kaden’s shoulder.
The thrones, in the shapes of pillars, were carved of pink, white, and orange corals, surrounded by fish who made their homes there.
They sat on a bed of trimmed seagrass, and Kaden’s mother and father were upright, their tails wrapped around the pillars.
They faced ahead, another mahogany-tailed merman floated beside them.
Given his resemblance to Kaden, he must be Cyrus, but where Kaden’s features were soft and gentle, Cyrus’ appeared harder, sterner, reminding Angie of Bàba’s austerity. Three mermaids and mermen were before them, gesturing wildly as if pleading a case to their superiors.
The mer-queen was lovely, her hair of ebony and silver tied into a single large braid surrounded by threads of smaller ones.
Her skin was iridescent pale, her eyes creased with deep lines, and she sported jewelry of pearls and shimmering gems covering her neck and breasts.
The mer-king had moved upright and was speaking to the small crowd, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth.
Possibly a gesture of annoyance. His hair was silver, his chest and arms strong like his sons’ were, and rough edges lined his face.
On his right wrist was a thick, brass bracelet full of inscriptions.
Cyrus wore an identical one, except his was bright silver, bordering on white gold.
Kaden didn’t wear one. Was that for the father and eldest son, the same as in her own culture, where tradition dictated the eldest son became head of the household when the father passed?
Despite her insides quivering, she couldn’t look away, fascination taking over.
Cyrus turned his head in her direction, and she lowered herself so she sank below Kaden’s level. “Angie, come on. If they spot us, they’ll have us imprisoned or exiled.” His voice grew urgent as he tugged on her wrist.
“Okay, okay. Sorry.” She followed him down another hallway, and then another, stopping once to allow a mermaid to swim by far ahead of them.
They reached his private quarters several kicks later.
The room was more cavernous than the rest of the palace, or at least, the little she’d seen so far, and she took it in.
Kaden swam to the oval mirror across from them and shuffled away his floating trinkets and personal care items into small nooks inside a rock ledge.
“Sorry for the mess. I put everything away before I came to you, but the currents must have gotten to them.” Kaden rubbed at the back of his neck, looking sheepish.
Angie thought it was cute. She returned her attention back to her surroundings.
A bookcase embedded in rock sat on the other side of the room, filled with what looked like thin slabs of stone.
Beside it, two hooks kept a stack of thick, square-cut kombu kelp in place.
Underneath the stacks were what looked to be a handful of thick, pointy rock cylinders and shells, anchored to the rock wall with sturdy, fibrous rope.
Must be writing utensils, given their proximity to the kombu stacks.
She looked closer at the first piece of kombu, with writing on it. The words ocean and hello were scratched in neat lettering, and three symbols were above them. The symbols looked vaguely like traditional Chinese characters, but she couldn’t make out what they said.
“It’s the first piece of translation I learned when I was a child. I kept it as a memory.” Kaden swam up beside her, resting a hand on her elbow.
“I kept one of my old childhood drawings of mermaids, too.” She performed a gentle sidestroke so she was closer to him. “How did you learn modern English, anyway? I thought you’ve all been closed off from us for three centuries.”
“Well, the royal families sent sentinels to the surface to observe and keep abreast of human behaviors and speech. As a way to keep an eye on and understand their enemy. Mostly, they watched ships and sailors, but some would venture closer to shore or through rivers. They were very careful in staying out of human sight.” Kaden’s hand slid around to her waist and pulled her so they were flush.
“They would report their findings back to our royal and noble families. All royals and nobles and their families are taught human languages, of the land regions they are closest to. Some non-nobles and royal mer may speak your languages, too, but most do not.”
Angie nodded, absorbing what he told her. He kissed her temple before moving away from her. She returned her attention to her surroundings, taking in everything she saw.
Violet seagrass atop a sandy, ridged seabed dusted underneath the bookcase and beneath his dressing ledge. The sides of the room were of frosted glass embedded with seashells, pebbles, and preserved bright sea grasses and seaweeds.
The room was lit of pale greens, blues, reds, and aquamarines from a glass ceiling, though there was no natural light this deep in the ocean.
Angie looked closer at the lights, lips pursed. They were thousands upon thousands of tiny lights of varying colors, from bioluminescent deep-sea critters.
Utterly fascinating.
A small grouping of cylindrical rock protruded from the ground, its tops flat and sloped.
“What are those for?” She pointed to them.
“For us to sit on. It’s sloped so we don’t crush our fins.” He was still across the room, rearranging the stone slabs in his bookcase.
Angie let herself float in stillness, looking for something to grab onto so she could relax for a moment. Her sights settled on a large, thick, and gelatinous hammock, held in place at two adjoining walls.
Kaden swam behind her and pulled his turquoise, frosted, sea glass door shut, and with a hungry glint in his eyes, he zipped to Angie and pulled her into a hard, desperate kiss, his lips parting, and his tongue finding and entwining with hers.
Kissed her like he hadn’t eaten in weeks, teeth playfully dragging on her lower lip, a sultry groan escaping his throat.
She kept her arms tight around his neck, wanting to savor every tingle, every pleasurable ache flooding her.
“Do you want to stay longer?” He moved his head back and cupped her cheeks.
She hovered her lips inches from his. “I’d like to stay here. With you.”
He responded by swimming upward with her and laying her inside the hammock, which shifted and molded around her, preventing her from floating away.
“What’s this made of?” She tapped it and stretched out.
“Seaweed and seagrass fibers of the highest quality. I could lay there for hours on hours and feel no need to leave.”
“Sounds like me every morning”
Kaden’s laugh made his shoulders shudder. “It’s hard to leave the arms of comfort.”
Angie wiggled her eyebrows, then pointed at the ceiling. “Those lights. They’re from fish?”
“Yes, jellies and anglerfish and sea worms.”
With the mer magic, she didn’t struggle to understand Kaden’s words in Renyuhua for marine animals, and she was grateful.