23. 23 #2
They all bear scars. Some more severe than others.
One stationed outside my door has a thin scar tracing from his ear to the curve of his lip.
Another, positioned near the bottom of the spiral way that leads to my quarters, has a long, jagged mark running the length of her arm.
The skin is raised, uneven, appearing as if it never fully healed.
And the final one, the guard standing just inside the dining hall, holding a deep blue coral tray, is missing an eye.
This kingdom may not believe in killing its warriors to prove their strength, but forceful blows clearly carry weight.
I got lucky. Defymin only managed to land a small nick on my tail.
I couldn’t even tell you where he struck me, because it was healed by the end of the fight.
Regeneration abilities and all that, apparently.
But him? He’s going to suffer for the rest of his life.
According to Orion, that fin won’t ever heal properly.
The dining hall table is still covered with the remnants of what was served. I spot Orion and Nyxalene from across the room and head over.
“. . . give me a private . . .” I catch part of Orion’s words, and they stop entirely once I swim all the way up to them.
“Sorry for missing the meal,” I say, looking down.
“We understand.” That comes from Nyxalene, and it catches me off guard.
I wasn’t expecting her to understand anything I do . . . or feel.
“When I lost my family,” she shares, her voice steady, “I got stuck in the ship wreckage from the humans after my clan took it down. Through the massacre, I watched them die off one by one. By being trapped, I was safe. Until I wasn’t.
“A human found me, pulled me out, and tried bringing me to the surface.
We were only a few feet away when I dug my nails into his throat.
I was only eighteen sea years, practically a baby, but fear and adrenaline made every decision for me.
That human died a slow, painful death. He bled out and suffocated.
I watched. I followed his body back to the ocean floor as his life slipped away, right along with the rest of my kin. I stayed beside him for days.
“That’s when Thaldrin found me. I was scared, convinced he was there to hurt me too.
I didn’t go down without a fight. Not until he explained why he was there.
Word had spread of a human attack on sirens in the warm Pacific waters, and Thaldrin had come to rescue anyone left after the wreckage.
After only finding me, he decided to take me in and teach me how to defend myself, and how to defend those I love, so I’d never have to feel that kind of defenselessness again.
“Killing was never something I intended to do. But I had to. I had to survive. Because who knows what that human planned to do to me. Killing or harming something isn’t easy—not by any means—but sometimes you have to weigh the lesser evil.
I know I’ve been rough on you, and though my trust in you is still questionable, I want you to know that I know how you feel.
And I will do what I can to make sure you learn how to fight for the ones you love.
Especially yourself.” She finishes the story, and I have no words.
I stare at her for a moment, completely dumbfounded. I avoid the entire story to spare her from having to explain anything else in detail, and focus on something that’s confusing me.
“Did you say eighteen sea years?” I ask, my eyebrows drawing together.
Nyxalene answers promptly. “Time moves much faster in Virellan. A year in your world is about three beneath the tides.”
That sends my thoughts spiraling. If that’s true . . . Orion and Nyxalene both look my age, though.
I ask the only thing that comes to mind. “Wait . . . How old does that make you?”
Nyxalene smirks. “Twenty-eight, technically. In mortal years.”
“So, like . . . my age?” Still confused, especially since she just said eighteen sea years and practically a baby in the same sentence.
Orion speaks this time, his voice gentle. “Not quite. Time passes differently underwater, like Nyx said. So when she says twenty-eight in mortal years . . . that is closer to eighty-four in ours.”
“But you look so young . . .” I say. For someone with a bachelor’s degree in a very difficult field, I’m not sure my IQ is fully grasping the extent of what they’re saying.
“Time might move faster here, but aging doesn’t affect us the way it does above. Gravity is a destructive force for your kind. You live short lives, with hardly enough time to explore everything life has to offer,” Orion replies.
“So you’ve basically lived three of my lifetimes?” I ask.
“Give or take. Don’t worry, you are aging gracefully, for a land-dweller,” Nyxalene says, flashing a grin. It still holds her usual eeriness, but now that I know a piece of her past, it feels less intimidating.
“Are you also . . . eighty-four, Orion?” I ask, not sure if it’s appropriate.
“I’m ninety-six. Which equals out to—”
“Thirty-two,” I finish for him.
“In human years, yes,” he says. Nyxalene and he share a look, then let out a quiet, knowing laugh.
I cross my arms and roll my eyes. “How many more surprises are going to get thrown at me? I’m starting to have a hard time keeping up.”
“You've adjusted to everything well, so far,” Orion says as he glides closer to me.
Nyxalene just nods her head and makes her way out of the corridor. Not before she hollers at Orion, “Arrive with her beside you in about fifteen minutes outside the parlor room, Orion. Don't be late!”
“Oh, that’s right. The ceremony,” I mumble, almost forgetting the whole reason I returned down here, instead of staying within my room, hidden from the damage I've caused.
I can’t explain why hearing Nyxalene’s story helps me overlook what I just did earlier, but it does. And I am thankful for that.
“Yes, the ceremony—” Orion says, pausing after that, as if he might say more.
I look at him. Really look at him. Somehow, he looks different. He still holds himself high, as a king should. But something in his stare towards me feels . . . odd.
I’ve always been bad with reading signs of lust or longing, awful past relationships, and all that, but for some reason, I sort of feel that coming from him. Almost as if it's lingering in the space between us.
Orion continues to slowly inch closer, his eyes never leaving mine. If we were on land right now, I’d be sweating profusely.
I haven’t had a moment like this with a guy in months, before I even started the funding process for the expedition that led me to this mess.
“Sarah, can I be honest with you about something?”
Orion is practically on top of me, his height alone is the perfect intimidation tactic.
“You’re very close, Orion. What’s going on?”
He shifts nervously. “When I first met you at the doorway of your living space, I was there for one reason. To retrieve my father’s magic and return it to my kingdom, where it belonged.
I believed it had fallen into the wrong hands.
Human hands. But when I met you that day something changed.
Slowly, of course. I wasn't sure at first that you were the one my father meant to receive the magic. Not until you read the scroll. And the message it carried, it rang through something deeper.” His voice softens.
“Since then, I have watched you grow, adapt, and learn. But today, before the duel, I knew you were ready. Yet the worry stuck. Then you executed that final move. It was something I had never seen before. You made it work and let the ocean guide you. And when you struck—where you struck—all I felt afterward was shock and regret.”
“Why would you feel regret?” I ask, frowning. I hadn’t looked at Orion after I landed the strike on Defymin. I didn’t want my opponent to gain an edge for a counterattack. I couldn’t afford that risk.
Orion hesitates, his jaw tensing slightly. He doesn’t speak right away, but when he does, the words ring in my ears. “I can sense your emotions."
“S—sense my emotions? I don’t understand.”
“Well, actually, we both can. It's what happens with sea mates. We can mimic each other’s powers,” he says. "Normally, I'd be able to sense them anyway with my hydro-senses, but I haven't needed to since that day in the Trident Hall."
What the hell are sea mates? Mimic each other’s powers? Sense my emotions? I don’t know whether to be frustrated or confused—or both.
Before I can respond, a voice chimes across the dining hall. A Pearlguard pokes their head in and announces, “Your majesty, it is time.”
“You'll have to let me explain more when we have time, but for now, we have a ceremony to attend,” Orion says, cutting off our entire conversation like he didn’t just drop a reality-shattering revelation in my lap.
At the entrance to the parlor room, where the ceremony is set to be held, Orion gently grabs my hand and leads me to my position.
His grip is steady. Reassuring. As if none of this is as messed up as it feels.
He rattles off instructions, his tone shifting into that commanding, royal version of himself.
“Remain here until the Pearlguards open the doors.
I will go first and make some opening remarks.
When I say your name, the doors will open, and you will enter.
Move slowly, but with purpose. Keep your posture firm.
Show them your strength. I know today has been hard, but you won.
That's all that should be on your mind right now.”
I don’t say anything. I just nod. Then he’s gone, disappearing through the doors, leaving me alone in the corridor. Just me, two Pearlguards, and a stomach full of questions I have no time to ask.