Chapter 1
Twenty-two days earlier
The cake was an abomination. The embodiment of everything that enraged me about tonight, packaged into four tiers of frosting and flamboyance. Still, morbid curiosity got the better of me, so I raised a finger to the offensive dessert.
“Touch that, and I’ll have your neck,” said Mae by way of greeting. I barely heard her over the chorus of loud voices, the clang of kitchen knives, and the bubble of copper pots on heated stovetops.
Too late—not that her threats had ever stopped me before—a fingertip of frosting was already in my mouth. I wrinkled my nose at the tartness. Just as I’d suspected: lemon.
She hummed her disapproval. “Why are you not at breakfast?”
I lifted a shoulder. “I’m not hungry,” I said, eying the thick slice of berry tart in her hand. The lie was betrayed by a mighty grumble of my belly—an involuntary reaction to the scent of fresh bread in the air.
With a snort, she handed me the tart. “You’re like a stray searching for scraps.”
I swallowed a mouthful of sweet pastry. “If you want to see less of me, you should try sending up some decent food for a change,” I said in a sing-song voice.
She barked a laugh. It wasn’t her fault my grandmother insisted on bland porridge and hard-boiled eggs for breakfast every morning, and we both knew that food wasn’t what brought me to the chaotic kitchen of Vellamere Palace.
Crossing her arms, she quirked an eyebrow as I polished off the remainder of the tart in one bite. “And why are you hiding this time?”
Sucking on my sticky fingertips, I considered my next words. I’d always been skilled at bending the truth when it served me. But not with Mae. Over the years, she had become a master at sniffing out my little white lies. But that didn’t mean I needed to make it easy for her.
“It’s very tall,” I said, studying the ridiculous cake on its gilded pedestal, leaving her question hanging.
Her response carried a warning tone. “Alara?” The second syllable of my name stretched out like a wary growl.
“Are these real?” I wrinkled my nose again, pointing to the too-perfect seashells, pearls, and frangipani flowers ornamenting the ivory structure.
“Yes.” She narrowed her eyes at me.
“Her Majesty will be most pleased,” I said, unable to leash my sarcasm. While tonight was meant to be about me, my grandmother had found a way to get everything she wanted.
Well, almost everything.
“You don’t like it.” It wasn’t a question.
“I didn’t say that.” I leaned back against the cool marble of the freestanding workbench. The gaudy cake was most definitely not what I would have chosen, if I’d had any say.
She clicked her tongue. “You didn’t need to. Now, stop skirting around the question and tell me what happened.”
Crossing my arms, my gaze shifted to the harried-looking cooks and kitchen hands working hard to get everything ready for the evening.
Although they were used to me being down here, I still caught one or two uneasy looks in my direction.
Most were too absorbed in their tasks to notice me—which suited me perfectly, seeing as I was trying to keep a low profile.
“Nothing happened. Well, no more than the usual.”
“What was the argument about this time?”
I dragged my eyes back to her. She looked frazzled, with thin lips, pinched brows and a smear of powdered sugar on her cheeks. She’d probably been up since before dawn putting the finishing touches on that eyesore of a cake. “The gown,” I admitted, scrunching my face.
She raised her eyebrows. “The dessert gown?”
I chewed on my lower lip. How much could I get away with omitting?
The gown my grandmother had chosen for me was an affront.
As much as I liked to leave a lasting impression, the white sequins and puffs made me look like a bedazzled meringue.
I’d tried to reason with her, but it had been as effective as convincing the tide not to rise. She’d left me no choice, really.
“There was an accident,” I said, keeping my features neutral.
She heaved a sigh. “What did you do?”
“Me?” I asked, placing a hand on my chest in feigned innocence.
“I did nothing. But it was awfully clumsy of that maid to spill tea all over it during my dress fitting.” I didn’t mention how I used my magic to give the teapot a little nudge.
I’d been wearing the dress at the time and the spilled tea had been eye-wateringly hot, but it was completely worth it.
She opened her mouth, most likely to remind me that the maids weren’t paid enough to be chess pieces in a game with my grandmother.
Before she could speak, I added, “She wasn’t in too much trouble. Accidents happen. It’s just a shame the stain can’t be removed in time for tonight’s festivities.”
Closing her eyes, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m guessing you have a replacement?”
I nodded solemnly. “I can only thank Vell that I had the foresight to arrange for another gown to be made—just in case.”
She rolled her eyes. “And how did Her Majesty take the news?”
“As expected.” An understatement. My grandmother was livid. She’d immediately suspected me, of course, but had no way to prove anything.
Mae looked as though she was going to keep pushing the matter but was interrupted by an ear-splitting crash.
One of the kitchen hands had dropped something porcelain on the tiled floor.
Her face twisted in annoyance. “Then you’d best stay out of her hair for now.
But not here, unless you want to help with filleting the fish. ”
I snorted. “Don’t ever lose your sense of humor, Mae. It’s what I like best about you.”
“No, you like that I feed you tarts. Now off with you, I’ve got work to do.” She waved me off, but a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
“Very well.” I sighed dramatically, pushing off the workbench. “I’ll leave you to your fish.”
Hands on hips, she stepped in front of my path. “Before you go running off, I want you to promise me you’ll stop by tonight? I want to see you all polished up, you hear me?”
“I promise. If you swear not to cry—you know it embarrasses me.” A joke; Mae and I didn’t do emotional displays.
She scoffed, wiping her hands on her stained apron.
“And don’t forget—I’ll have your real cake tomorrow.
” She knew I loathed lemon desserts, so every year she baked me my own little coconut cake.
When I was a child, she used to make my favorite—chocolate—but that was a luxury these islands hadn’t seen in years.
“Maybe tomorrow you’ll think twice before you throw your future queen out of the kitchen,” I said, fully expecting a reaction.
“Ha! Goddess help us all when someone puts the likes of you in charge,” she chortled.
I showed her what my grandmother would call a most unbecoming gesture, then hurried out of the kitchen, helping myself to another tart on the way.
Our relationship might not have been conventional, but there was no one who understood me better than Mae.
It had been that way ever since she found me passed out in the pantry with cookie crumbs all over my face when I was four years old.
Honestly, not much had changed since then—I still counted on her to sneak me treats and hide me from the maids.
She was the only person I could truly be myself around. She understood why I despised the cake and the dress and everything else that had been chosen for me tonight. And she alone knew my secret.
I hated my birthday. When people asked me why, I’d say it was because I hated all the fuss.
A lie—I adored fuss. On any other day, I reveled in attention, special treatment, and gifts.
But not on my birthday. Only Mae knew it was because I found it hard to celebrate a day that marked another year of the curse and another year without the mother who died birthing me.
I was an orphan, and every birthday was a reminder of everything I’d lost. But, this year, I had no choice but to celebrate.
Vellamere Palace buzzed with anticipation. The servants strung decorations, polished silverware, and made food look artfully not like food. It wasn’t often that the kingdom of Vantillios had cause for celebration, and the excitement was infectious to everyone but me.
Tonight, I would be expected to put on a display I’d spent nearly twenty-two years preparing for. I’d deny it if anyone asked, but my body was a hornet’s nest, humming with nerves. Now that Mae had kicked me out of the kitchen, I needed a new distraction. I needed to go to the ocean.
My bare feet sunk into the white-gold sand of the palace’s private beach as I marched towards the beckoning water. The day was only in its infancy, but the overcast sky promised rain. Some interpreted it as a good omen, but, considering what was in store for me, I had my reservations.
Without stopping, I shucked off the simple silk dress, discarding it near a rocky tidal pool that housed crabs, starfish and thickets of sea urchins.
As I made my way forward, small waves playfully tickled my calves and tried to lure me back to the shore. I kicked them away, in no mood for their games.
The prickle on the back of my neck told me I was being followed. But the guards would not stop me; they never did.
Ignoring their presence, I kept moving. As soon as the warm water skimmed my thighs, I dived in.
My legs bound together and flesh gave way to scale.
The momentary discomfort of the transformation was a small price to pay for the unfettered bliss of gliding through the ocean and its mosaic of aquatic life.
The rhythmic motion of my tail against the water brought me the kind of peace I could never find on land. An escape.
My iridescent gold tail propelled me forward as I swam above Vell’s Crown, the coral reef encircling all of Vantillios. An underwater garden alive with colors and textures.
A school of bright yellow fish scattered when they sensed me, hiding amongst branched coral.
Curious, orange fish with black stripes peered out at me from the tentacles of a vivid pink sea anemone.
Pale seahorses no bigger than my smallest finger flittered between a tangle of red seaweed and a patch of orange sponges.
A stone-colored stingray with blue spots hovered above the sand near a purple starfish that looked like a thorny flower.
It was quiet—the only sound was my body moving through the water. But, no matter how far I swam, I couldn’t escape my thoughts.
I didn’t consider myself a dreamer. I kept my head on my shoulders, not in the clouds. But, on days like these, it was hard not to fantasize about swimming away. Escaping on an adventure like the heroines in the books I secretly read.
A fantasy was all it would ever be because escape was not an option. Not for me, nor for anyone who called Vantillios home.
An enchanted barrier wrapped itself around the kingdom to hold us all captive and prevent outsiders from getting in. Over the years, hundreds had tried and failed to break through the enchantment.
I sometimes wondered if the outside world still remembered us. It was impossible for Vantillios to forget the outside world when things were growing increasingly dire on this side of the barrier.
Not that I had anything to compare it to. The days of freedom and peaceful prosperity were bedtime stories that occasionally followed me into my dreams. This charmed existence of imprisonment was all I’d ever known.
There were those like Mae, who’d spent over two decades separated from their loved ones.
Her son had been exploring the outside world when the curse fell.
The pain of losing him ran deep. She’d never show it, of course, but I knew it was there.
If I actually believed in birthday wishes, I might have asked for things to be different. For Mae and for me.
I was so lost in my own thoughts that I almost didn’t notice I was overlooking the undersea canyon separating the cursed from the free.
Here, at the boundary of the enchantment, sat one of the many monuments they’d erected to commemorate loved ones who had been on the other side of the barrier when we were cursed.
Not far from where I floated stood a stone cenotaph inscribed with some of the names of those we had lost. It bore the epigraph, ‘May Vell guide you safe passage home.’
These monuments—cenotaphs, effigies, columns, all manner of stonework that could withstand the ocean currents—were found around the twelve islands that made up the kingdom of Vantillios.
Even now, grief-stricken Mer would visit the monuments to mourn their lost loved ones as though they had died.
Those loved ones could be right on the other side of the barrier, but the magic made it impossible to see.
As always, I tried to swim past the enchantment, but my body only ricocheted off the invisible barrier of the glorified fishbowl containing us. I’m sure it looked quite comical, but it fucking hurt—like crashing head first into a stone wall.
Rubbing my throbbing forehead, I squinted beyond the narrow walls of jagged rock stretching out in front of me.
All I could see for miles was a craggy seabed with honeycombed boulders.
In the distance, the occasional meandering fish was the only sign of life.
High above me, the surface of the ocean gently undulated like a rippling turquoise sky.
It was another world. A world where silence reigned, serenity its consort.
Being confronted with the endless ocean was a reminder that there was still life out there somewhere, even if I couldn’t see it.
When I was here, I could admit that I was aching to know what was beyond the barrier.
Would the reality be much different from what I had created in my mind? I supposed I would never know.
Enough brooding—my guards had caught up with me. Nice enough males, but divine goddess they were slow. Not that guards needed to be all that fast; the barrier made threats from outside Vantillios impossible.
“I’d say today is a new record, Your Highness.” Deniz’s breathless voice was accompanied by tiny bubbles.
I snorted at the sight of the panting guards, releasing bubbles of my own. “Let’s go,” I announced with a clap. At the alarmed glances the two of them exchanged, I rolled my eyes. “You can both relax. I have no intention of rushing back.”
I couldn’t hide out here forever, but that didn’t mean I had to hurry home.