Chapter 39
Atlas
Atlas stood at the prow of the ship, one hand wrapped tight around the rail as the salt-stung wind tugged at his cloak, the stunning lands of Sumnae stretching ahead.
And, by the gods, was it beautiful.
Sumnae’s castle was surrounded by steep cliffs and dense forests that lay beyond its beaches, visible even from the sea. Mist rose from a magnificent waterfall that tumbled over giant rocks while the scent of pine and mountain rain lingered in every breath.
The kingdom was rumored to be elegant, enigmatic, and dangerous to outsiders.
A small smirk curved the edge of his lips as he thought of Elowynne.
His queen had been carved from the most stunning kingdom of all Rymelle, and she was the epitome of its beauty.
Perhaps even the terror that came with it.
Atlas’s mind drifted to the creature locked in the brig below.
The siren. The goddess. The murderer.
The woman who had shattered the balance of his kingdom and left him entirely alone.
He swallowed the bitter taste of Draevyn’s betrayal like poison, letting out a forceful breath.
Everything had unraveled since Esmyra Blackwood rose from the depths of the sea.
He could still hear her cruel voice clawing down his mind, could still feel her power tainting the realm’s air as he breathed it in.
Atlas wanted nothing more than for this all to be over with, aching for the day Esmyra was defeated and turned to nothing but bones and dust. He longed for what the world was like before her.
But most of all… he wanted his brother. Atlas had meant it that day in the castle, when he was suddenly forced to be crowned the King of Lephyrin. He had always intended to rule with Draevyn at his side. And since the moment the crown was placed on his head, he’d felt lost.
It had forced him to name Varis as his advisor, but only he knew it was for the time being. As grimy as the asshole was, he at least had been loyal, standing by his father’s side for most of his reign.
The truth was, Atlas didn’t know what he was doing. He hadn’t had a single clue of how to run a kingdom and had always longed for the days he and Draevyn could figure it out together.
But that dream was shattered. At least for now.
Atlas had always sworn to never become like his father, knowing it took more to be king than just placing fear on its citizens and ruling over them with an iron fist. He wanted to be Lephyrin’s first worthy ruler, but everything he loved had been ripped away from him the moment the title was placed on his name.
And he was having a hard time finding a reason why anymore. Why play fair in a realm where everyone else played dirty? What was the fucking point? His brother and wife were gone, and now he had the chance to seek vengeance on the monster who took them from him.
Maybe once she’s killed, Draevyn will snap out of whatever trance she placed him in.
That had to be the reason he felt so strongly for her. His brother, who never so much as cared to even bed a woman, had fallen completely obsessed with this siren. She had to have placed him under some kind of spell.
The masts creaked above them as the wind tugged at the sails, and he turned from the rail. His gaze roamed over the crew who were busy preparing to make port.
The door that led below deck flew open as Varis and a pair of guards emerged, dragging Esmyra between them.
She stumbled, her legs barely supporting her weight after days in the cell.
Salt and sand crusted her hair, her onyx locks now dull and tangled.
Her skin was bruised with cuts, and a gag stretched tightly across her mouth, silencing the venom of her serpent’s tongue.
Atlas knew it still brewed behind her lethal eyes as they burned into him.
He expected some of her fire to burn down to embers after the voyage, hoping the velsinyte had robbed her of not only her power but her will and energy as well.
But even now as she stood before him gagged, bound, and chained, she glared at him like she wanted to tear out his throat with her teeth and wouldn’t give it a second thought if given the chance.
The corners of his mouth lifted as he took a step toward her. “Well, you’ve seen better days.”
Esmyra’s nostrils flared, her body tensing as she lunged forward, but the guards violently jerked her back, wrenching her shoulders. She snarled behind the cloth tied around her mouth, glaring up at him like she’d spit fire if she could.
He leaned in closer, just enough that his voice reached her ears. “You’re going to answer for what you’ve done,” he whispered. “To my father. To my wife and kingdom. And to Draevyn.”
She growled at him like she was a godsdamn animal.
He stepped closer, towering over her. “Those pesky little claws of yours refuse to let him go.”
She stilled for just a heartbeat at the mention of his brother. A flicker of something unreadable behind her eyes. Guilt, perhaps?
Atlas refused to care. In fact, he didn’t even think the monster was capable of feeling anything at all.
He straightened, motioning to the soldiers. “Take her ashore.”
They wrenched her upright, the chains at her ankles clinking together. Mist curled along the dock, and the gangplank dropped with a heavy thud.
A crowd had already gathered. Elvens in fine robes and gleaming armor stood at the ready, eyes sharp and guarded as murmurs rippled through them at the sight of Lephyrin’s ships.
The guards began marching her forward, and Atlas watched as she stumbled. He couldn’t help but notice that though her feet were bare and bloodied, she still held her chin high.
Atlas hated that he respected her for it. Even though he wanted her to cower, wanted her to fear just as she had made so many others, the siren didn’t back down. She was braver than most of the men back on his ship, that was for damn sure. Just another irritating thing about her.
While Esmyra was dragged across the dock and through the growing masses, she stared each of them down as if she was counting down the seconds until she could drown every last one of them.
The throne room was carved from moonstone and white granite, aglow with a pale, shimmering light.
Violet and gold banners hung from all sides of the room, depicting the crest of House Everhartt, the ruling family of Sumnae.
It was eerily quiet, save for the rustle of robes and the low creak of armor as guards and royals lined the walls.
At the far end of the hall, atop a dais flanked by cascading silks, the elven king sat with his fingers steepled beneath his chin.
All the creatures of Rymelle held similar features outside of their magic, but the elvens were set apart by their pointed ears and ethereal beauty—even the males.
The king’s golden eyes were ancient and cold, glowing faintly like starlight through ice.
Elowynne’s eyes, Atlas thought.
This was how he was meeting his father-in-law?
Not once had Atlas felt even a hint of fear on his journey here.
All he had known was the need to take back what was his by any means necessary.
But to face his queen’s father? To stand before him at the edge of the dais and tell the foreign king that he lost Sumnae’s princess when he swore to protect her?
Atlas’s stare met King Keryth Everhartt’s, and it took every ounce of his self-control to not take a step back. Power clung to the male, and though it was subtle, it became suffocating.
“We received word that you would be arriving sometime soon. Though, it very much displeases me to see my daughter is not in attendance with you.”
Atlas took a hesitant step forward. “I stand before you now, no longer as a prince of Lephyrin, but as its crowned king. And I come bearing the news that my kingdom came under attack by forces that seemed to have abandoned our world long ago.”
The guards glanced at one another, the sound of their shifting armor floating through the room.
“Maerinys has risen from the depths, and with it, the lost sea goddesses,” Atlas admitted. “And from this, our beloved Elowynne was taken from me. She was kidnapped in the dead of night after my official coronation and has yet to be returned.”
Gasps erupted from every corner of the throne room. The royal family, several servants, and the guards all began arguing about how this could be true, some not even bothering to whisper as they called him a liar.
Keryth stood from his throne, the wrath of a king radiating from him.
“I will have silence!” he bellowed, and the room fell back into an eerie hush.
He turned his attention back to Atlas. “And how would you know Maerinys has risen? No one with half a brain would sail in Rymelle’s southern waters.
Nothing has been out there for centuries aside from storming seas and death.
The entire civilization perished in the collapse. ”
“Only it didn’t,” Atlas barked.
The elven king clearly wasn’t used to others challenging him.
“Why should I believe you? How do I know you didn’t rid yourself of my daughter and come here with a story so I’d spare your head?
” He descended the dais, his steps deliberately slow, as if he was trying to put fear into Atlas.
“Your father wasn’t a trusted man, so why should we consider you to be one? ”
Heat flared in his chest, and shadows formed around his wrists. The elven soldiers unsheathed their swords in unison, and Atlas’s guards mimicked the movement.
“Now, now, Atlas, I don’t think you really want to be doing that now, do you? Are you trying to start a bloodbath right here in my throne room?” Keryth gestured toward his hands, where dark tendrils continued to curl and dance. “Or do you forget what us elvens are capable of?”
A new sensation coiled in the air, like a shift in the pressure of the room. A cold, delicate thread of magic brushed against Atlas’s mind. It was soft, but sharp, like the sting of a blade drawn lightly across the skin. It wasn’t violent, but it felt invasive and probing.