19. Story Tellers | Lyra
Drystan seethed the entire journey from the throne room to Lyra’s. His grip on her tightened and then relaxed with each muttered insult.
Lyra tugged on his hand and pointed to her collar.
He gritted his teeth. “I was surprised you behaved,” he grumbled, halting them.
He drew a key from a pocket in his robe and fitted it into an invisible lock in her collar. She hadn’t realized it would be that easy to remove.
She felt the magic untether from her, like hooks being pulled from her neck.
It was excruciating as each barb slipped from her flesh. But as soon as it was removed, she felt an overwhelming rush of relief.
Lyra sighed deeply and rubbed her throat with her free hand. It was tender, but not as bad as she had been expecting.
Drystan stared at her neck with widened eyes and then scowled at the collar in his fist.
“I didn’t realize it would injure you even if you didn’t try to speak,” he winced.
Lyra could feel the tiny puncture wounds around her neck and one on the bottom of her chin.
“It doesn’t allow for movement,” she grumbled. Her frown matched his. “And it felt like I was being burned every time I even thought of speaking.”
“Yet another problem to deal with,” he sighed. “It was designed specifically to prohibit your magic. But I didn’t want it to cause you pain.”
Lyra frowned. He had enjoyed reveling in her pain before.
Why was now any different?
He huffed something under his breath.
But she couldn’t make out the words. At least his ire wasn’t directed at her.
He resumed their journey down the hallway again, glancing over his shoulder as if he expected Aegir to have followed them.
“I should have him executed for speaking about you that way.”
With the ability to speak now returned, she couldn’t find it in her to stay quiet any longer.
“You do that, and it will make a martyr of him. Then you’ll have another coup on your hands.”
Drystan slammed them to a stop.
“What did you just say?”
She frowned and leaned away from him.
“You allowed him too much power, and if you try to take it back, they will fight you for it.” She nodded towards the throne room. “Did you not see their faces? The bloodlust? They were eating out of his palm.”
His eyes lowered to where his hand gripped hers. “I kept my eyes on the whip—the weapon.”
“You think too much like a warrior and not like a king. The whip wasn’t the only danger in that room. Aegir was.” Lyra rolled her eyes.
He didn’t say anything as he moved towards her room again.
But Lyra hadn’t imagined he would.
That would require him to admit to having done something wrong.
She didn’t know why she had the urge to speak to him.
Maybe it was because she had been forced to go so long without speaking, but she found herself opening her mouth again.
“You hadn’t been exaggerating your claims that I would dislike the ceremony.”
Drystan scoffed.
“It was excruciating to watch. But also, quite funny to hear them worship Ennosidas,” she snorted.
“How could you possibly find any of that funny?”
He stared at her, his lips snarled in disgust.
“Aegir is proliferating an ancient lie,” Lyra replied. “Ennosidas isn’t even the true god.”
Her arm was yanked hard enough that her entire body jolted with pain.
“What blasphemy did you just spew?” Drystan hissed, looking up and down the hall for eyes and ears.
Lyra rubbed her shoulder and frowned at him. “What?”
“Not, what?” He ground out. “What did you just say about Ennosidas?”
She heaved a breath and continued rubbing her shoulder.
“The elves said that our world was once ruled by three sisters, not the gods who rule over us now.”
Drystan glared at her with enough fury that she found herself wanting to take the words back.
“I don’t know whether to whip you myself or pity you. The elves lied. Twisted your mind and heart to their will. Nothing they told you was true. Nothing.”
Lyra swallowed down her argument and nodded.
She didn’t want him to put the collar back on her.
They were close to her door, and shadows moved at the opposite end of the hall.
Angler and Fang.
“I’ve got to head to another council meeting,” Drystan raked a hand down his face, exhaustion lining his face.
“It’s always something. First, your disappearance and now a missing mermaid from Huron.
” He stopped himself before divulging any more information.
“You can have any of your sisters for company, but you are not allowed to leave your room.”
She nodded, and he snapped his fingers.
She could feel Angler and Fang as they headed her way.
“Be good,” Drystan bit out before he left.
Angler was gentle as he shut Lyra’s door behind her, but her mind still reeled over what she had witnessed—and what Drystan had said.
Aegir was every bit the monster she had heard he was.
Her stomach cramped when she remembered Sienna’s screams.
There had never been anything like that before in the throne room. Executions, sure, but those were swift. Not a drawn-out display of violence over words.
Lyra wondered if it had been that way the entire time she was gone, and why no one had done anything about it yet.
Flashes of the whip shot through her mind. And a face. A face twisted with rage, just as hers had been.
Lyra swam towards her bedroom door and pressed her palm against the thick coral.
“Angler? Fang?”
One of them grunted in response.
“Can you fetch me Nerida?”
When silence greeted her, she clenched her teeth. “Please?”
“Fine.”
She thought it had been spat by Fang.
Lyra gave up on waiting by the door after a long moment had passed. She curled up on the edge of her bed and thought through what to ask her sister.
Nerida had seemed just as disgusted by the ceremony as she had, but she didn’t know how much her sister would share with her.
If Lyra were being honest, Nerida had always intimidated her. She couldn’t put her finger on why, but there was something otherworldly about her middle sister.
She also lived far away, in their southernmost territory, Naguini, with Ishmael.
They had married when Nerida was quite young.
A knock on the door had Lyra rising as Princess Nerida floated into Lyra’s room.
Silence stretched taut between them, but Lyra didn’t have the energy to force her sister to speak.
She hardly knew Nerida, but what little she did know of her sister was that she was intelligent, her mind as sharp as the talons she drummed impatiently against her arm.
Nerida’s saffron-colored tail pulsed between a rich yellow and a rosy orange depending on the amount of light that hit it.
The gown she wore from the ceremony had even been replaced with a gauzy top that covered much of her body. It rippled in the current that bobbed through the room.
“You called for me,” Nerida muttered, studying Lyra.
There was an uncomfortable power radiating from Nerida, and Lyra had to force herself to hold eye contact.
“Drystan said I could have guests,” Lyra shrugged, and Nerida stared quizzically at her youngest sister’s unruly hair.
Nerida’s hair was pulled back very tightly into a bun, and it tugged at the delicate skin around her warm brown eyes.
“Why me?”
Lyra frowned and twisted her hands in front of her. “You seemed—upset—at the ceremony.”
Nerida blinked. “As did you.”
“I think it was the only normal response to something like that.” Lyra looked down at her hands.
She couldn’t figure out how to get what she wanted from this conversation.
Nerida was more practiced with this courtly maneuvering than she was.
“Given how much time you spent away, I am sure it did come as quite a shock.”
Her sister’s delicate phrasing had a laugh bubbling out of Lyra.
“That’s one way to put it. But let’s be frank—I was kidnapped.”
Nerida moved deliberately towards Lyra’s window and peeked outside.
“Yes, well. Rumor has it you enjoyed your time.” Nerida’s manicured brow rose. “Learned many things.”
There was no way for Nerida to have learned about her personal tutoring with Wilder, but it didn’t stop Lyra from feeling her cheeks heat.
Nerida was probably referencing what was discussed in the council meeting, that is, if Ishmael discussed such things with his wife.
“Are you included in the inner workings of council meetings?”
Nerida jerked her chin down. “Ishmael often shares when he wants a different perspective.”
“How fortunate for you.”
A twitch of Nerida’s lips was her only response.
“I’ve heard what has changed in my absence. But I’m curious to learn how.”
Nerida’s eyes scanned Lyra’s face as if she were searching for something.
“No, you’re not,” Nerida shook her head. “In fact, I’ve heard things about you, baby sister. Powerful things.”
Lyra’s heart fluttered in her chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She was right to be intimidated by Nerida.
Nerida saw way more than she let on.
“The council didn’t ask the right questions,” she sighed. “It’s not why the Prince wanted to keep you on land, but why would the High King agree?”
Her words sent a shiver down Lyra’s spine, but she locked her muscles into place to keep from wiggling.
“He cares for his son,” Lyra deflected. “The elves are different from what we have been taught.”
Nerida glanced towards the window again, partially turning her back on Lyra.
“The sea sings to those who can listen. To those of us with magic.”
Lyra leaned closer to better hear the words.
“But I wouldn’t need to hear her to know what power you have. I saw you kill that boy.” Lyra sucked in a breath. “With nothing but your voice.”
Lyra backed away as if she could block the words from reaching her.
Nerida faced her again. “You have infinite power, Lyra. And I gather you know nothing about it?”
This conversation had gone very differently from how Lyra had pictured it going.
She had thought it would be difficult, but difficult in the way that her sister would not be forthcoming.
Lyra wasn’t expecting it to be so superfluous and render her speechless.
“I-I ...” Lyra reached again for the necklace that was no longer there. She grimaced as she floundered for the words.
Nerida eyed the room and then took a seat at Lyra’s vanity, gesturing for Lyra to take a seat as well.
Lyra sat on the edge of her bed and twisted her fingers together.
“Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?” Nerida prompted.
Lyra clamped down on her lower lip. “I don’t even know where the beginning is.”
She didn’t remember anyone seeing her wield her magic before, but the memory was so old and tattered in her mind it would come as no surprise if pieces of it had been lost over time.
“Have you used it before?” Nerida asked.
This was a dangerous conversation. It could see them both killed if the wrong people heard.
Lyra’s eyes slid closed. Fear permeated every facet of her being.
This could very well be the last conversation she ever had.
Nerida raised a hand, stopping the spiraling in Lyra’s mind. “This conversation stays between the two of us. I know we’re not as close as sisters should be, but you are of my blood.”
This was, in fact, the longest conversation she had ever had with Nerida before.
“You don’t have to tell me everything. But tell me enough so that I can help you.”
Lyra’s brow furrowed. “Help me?”
Nerida’s eyes slid from Lyra to the door.
“I know you don’t trust me. And why should you?
You barely know me.” Lyra nodded her agreement.
“You were right that I despised what happened earlier. If I could do something about it myself, I would. But I can’t.
So I’m doing the only thing I can do, the only thing I’ve been able to do most of my life, and that is to wait—for you. ”
“For me?” Lyra pointed at her chest.
Nerida shook her head as if she were shaking some sense into herself. “You are the only one who can change Atlantis, and I’m going to help you do it. Starting with teaching you how to wield your magic.”
Lyra’s jaw fell open, and a gasp escaped her lips. “What?”
“You heard me correctly. Too long have mermaids suffered. They tried to erase our people from history, and you, with the gifts of Tiandra, will set it all right.”
Tiandra.
Nerida had spoken the goddesses’ name. The goddess who had been wiped from her people’s memory.
“How,” Lyra spoke as calmly as she could, “do you know that name?”
Nerida’s lips curled into a knowing smile.
“She is our goddess—the true creator of our people.”