Chapter 7
H undreds of Fae and humans lined the stone pathway that cut through the lush green park before the Temple of Atabey. The humans dressed in Atlantian-style pastel silks that drifted on a current of air as our procession passed them by. Mom’s wrapped body lay upon a strong canvas material with its ends stitched around decorative steel poles, each held by four Guardians who dutifully carried her before us. I looked down at my own garments, still feeling uncomfortable, still feeling so human, feeling like the color didn’t match the scene before me. When I asked why the humans weren’t wearing black, Dad replied that the Atlantians didn’t wear black for mourning. Tradition mandated that those who choose to wear clothing don our brightest colors to celebrate the soul’s passing onto the Veil, their term for heaven. I didn’t bother arguing that the black would better reflect how I felt internally. Utterly hollow.
I cast a glance around the crowd, some of them looking upon Mom’s body with tears in their eyes. Others stared at her wrapped body as if she were an apparition. All bowed slightly in reverence as her body passed them by. When I felt the weight of their gazes pressing down on me, I held tighter to my father’s arm for support and stared blindly forward as if I weren’t hyper-aware of everything happening around me.
The Temple of Atabey rose high above us with stone steps leading to an open-air entrance bracketed by rough stone pillars, and a large metal bowl hanging from linked brass chains above the entrance. Myles had informed me that the temple had been erected to honor the goddess, Atabey, who was responsible for carrying us beyond the Veil. The Bohiti—the spiritual leader who led the high priestesses and lived in the temple—stood beside the pyre that sat before the entrance. The Guardians ascended the temple steps on graceful webbed feet, laying her body gently upon it. It was then that I recognized two of them. The first was Mayana. But my attention was fixed on the second Guardian, Draevyn. As if summoned by thought, his Caribbean green eyes landed on me—the same intensity cutting through me and causing my heart to beat erratically. I gasped a breath as he broke the connection and took his place with the other guards on the right side of the temple steps. The rough stone pathway bit into my knee as everyone knelt in reverence to their fallen Queen, to my mother.
Dad had warned that this would be different. There were no eulogies to utter pretty words about the dead, no burial site to visit when I was missing her. The Atlantians didn’t believe in that either, choosing instead to deposit the ashes of their dead into the ocean depths beyond the dome.
We bowed our heads, giving every living Fae and human a moment to reflect on our thoughts and memories. It was a designated time to have private conversations with the recently deceased. There were too many memories that flashed through my mind at once. Yet, I only thought of one thing I wanted to tell her. Please come back, Mom. Please, please come back. This new world is so scary, and I’m trying to play it cool and keep it together for Dad’s sake. I really am. But I’m terrified that I’m going to fuck it all up. I glanced around at the crowd weeping over my mother, their Queen. They will not love me as they love you. How am I ever going to do this? I just wanted to be a marine biologist, save sea animals, and be alone in a quiet life. I’m not you. These people will hate me, Mom. Come back. Please come back.
But as I beheld the Bohiti carrying the torch and lighting the pyre, I knew there would be no answer from her. My father’s muffled sobs heaved from behind the hands covering his face. Myles put an arm around his shoulder to console him, and I was grateful to him. I could offer him no comfort because I felt exactly the same—my own sobs threatening to tear from my throat as I gazed upon the dancing flames turning Mom’s body to ash.
The whole crowd seemed to disappear around me. I didn’t care about them, or my appearance with my puffy red eyes, or my face splotched and dampened with tears. All I cared about was anchoring myself to this moment and letting the grief consume me. It was precisely why I’d missed the man leaping from the crowd and running up the temple steps.
A giant ball of fire materialized from the pyre’s flames, catching in my peripheral vision. My head snapped up, and I gaped at the Fae at the top of the stairs. I’d never seen such sheer determination and anger in anyone. This was not a friendly Fire Fae come to mourn the leader of Atlantis. No one had ever looked at me with such hate in their eyes as this Fae did. His arm pitched forward, casting that ball of flame right at me. I braced for it, knowing there was no escape, knowing I’d soon be joining Mom because I didn’t yet know how to protect myself with my scales.
But the fireball never came.
The hissing sound of steam prompted me to cover my ears and squeeze my aching eyelids shut. The hissing continued for an eternity until, finally, it relented. I pried my eyes open, and my breath quickened at the sight above me. A small dome of water rose from the ground, encasing me in a half-sphere that appeared as solid as a wall. Ever so slowly, it lifted from the ground, and the erupting sounds of chaos instantly met my ears. Hoards of humans and Fae ran in every direction, seeking cover. Children wailed, and people yelled as they pushed each other to seek refuge in the village on the other side of the park.
“Long live the Akani! Death to the humans! And death to the Heir of Atlantis!” the attacker bellowed from underneath Mayana, whose trident pressed into the back of his neck as she pinned him to the ground. The other Guardians ran to her aid, but I held my watery gaze on the one before me, the being responsible for saving my life. Draevyn Eliron’s upright palm navigated the small dome of water before him. It fell with a loud splash at his webbed feet. My chest worked with the effort to steady my breathing as Draevyn’s pleading gaze met mine. I didn’t know how I knew what he was asking, but I nodded, and his shoulders sagged in relief.
I flinched when a hand grabbed my upper arm. I spun around and found my father’s face filled with panic. “We need to get to safety. Follow me.” Without a second thought, I followed him and a large group of Guardians through the hoards of panicked Atlantians and toward the village. I twisted mid-run as pounding footsteps amplified behind us, and instant relief consumed me. Draevyn followed in our wake. With every step we took through the village’s alleys and closer to safety, the inexplicable tether to my savior strengthened. The lingering glances we snuck each other as we hurried behind the various village shops, and finally, the safety of the castle confirmed that I wasn’t the only one who felt it.
The chaos from the Wylamei carried into the council room, all twenty-one members talking over one another in hysterical and angry outbursts. Draevyn and Mayana stood in silence at the wall behind my chair, and I felt grateful to them for not contributing to the circus unraveling before us. My head swelled with the shouts reverberating off the chamber walls, the hours and days of endless tears contributing to the pounding ache at my temples. I stared mindlessly at the dark and light patterns of the deep mahogany table before me, the numbness settling in as the adrenaline drained out.
“How the hell did the Akani breach the city?” Roarvyn asked, his expression turbulent.
“An Elemental Appraiser would’ve approved his entry,” said Shaegana. She was the only one who’d joined me at the table, the others too restless to sit. “All Fire Fae who have sought asylum here are heavily vetted and accounted for. The appraiser would’ve been the only way in.”
“Someone go fetch the Elemental Appraiser who was on duty today. I want them brought in for questioning,” Dad barked. Every strand of his dark hair was disheveled from repeatedly raking his fingers through it.
“I’ll fetch him straight away,” said Mayana. I heard the chamber doors lumber shut a moment later.
“My regimen has already begun questioning the Fire Fae who attempted to take the Princess’ life,” Draevyn informed the council, the deep baritone of his voice carrying across the room from behind me.
“By the goddess. Asherah could have been killed,” Roarvyn fumed, dragging a palm down his face.
“Thank Atabey that she wasn’t.” Dad shot Draevyn a look full of gratitude. “I will never be able to thank you enough.”
Draevyn’s trident came across his chest in my periphery. “It is my honor.”
“I hardly believe the honor is necessary, Draevyn. You were simply doing your duty. Besides, had the Regent and our former Queen taught the Heir even the barest of skills, she might have been able to protect herself,” Melysah scolded, her arms crossed tightly over her middle. The minimal light that shined through the tall arched window by which she stood reflected the pert nose turned up at Dad, expressing clear impertinence.
My father’s lips thinned. “Be that as it may, I am thankful to him regardless. Your Heir is alive because of his quick thinking. Perhaps you can save your bitchiness for a more appropriate time.”
“Fighting each other doesn’t help,” Shaegana pleaded. “We must figure out who did this.”
“The more important question is why the Akani did it and why the Queen is dead,” Melysah continued despite Shaegana’s pleas. Her casual steps took her closer to the table as she glared at me. “And it is because of you .”
I flinched, and I caught Draevyn’s low growl behind me.
Barely contained fury simmered across my father’s face, the muscles of his jaw ticking. “How dare you speak to our Heir that way? You will show some respect,” he roared.
“Maybe we should be questioning where your loyalties lie with that kind of talk?” Roarvyn questioned.
“I’m only saying what every council member in this room is thinking.” Melysah pointed a well-manicured finger at me, and I had the sudden urge to snap it. “She will be the downfall of Atlantis. You’ll remember this moment when it happens. You’ve been warned.”
“I think it best if you sit down, Melysah,” Shaegana said, flicking a hand to Melysah’s usual chair. “You make a fool of yourself speaking on behalf of everyone on this council.”
Melysah ignored her, continuing with her righteous rant, “She knows nothing of our customs, nothing of our culture, and nothing of the other realms. She doesn’t even know about herself! There are faelings who know more than her—some only a few years old. And you expect her to lead this queendom? It’s ludicrous. Her knowledge of the humans is more extensive than that of the Atlantians.”
“And that was our intention all along.” Dad placed his rugged hands on the table, leaning toward her. “We wanted Asherah to learn about the humans, to learn about their ways, their countries, their conflicts. Who better to guide the humans into the next Lomeage than someone versed in their ways?”
“But at the sacrifice of ours!” Melysah cried out.
“I see some merit in our Queen and King’s intention with this strategy,” a male council member sitting at the far end of the table remarked. “If Asherah has created connections with and learned of the humans, she’ll be better able to communicate with them. It is, after all, what the goddess would want.”
Melysah arched a lean arm through the air. “Oh yes. Our wonderful, absent goddess.”
“That is blasphemy!” Roarvyn admonished.
“Enough.” Melysah strode to the head of the table, her hip brushing against Mom’s chair. “I motion on a vote of no confidence in our Regent and the heir based on a severe lack of Atlantian knowledge and to protect our people.”
The entire room went deathly silent, a few gasps echoing throughout the room.
Roarvyn was the first to speak, his grip tight on the back of his chair, “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? You were just waiting for the proper moment.” His tone was heavy with accusation.
The corner of Melysah’s mouth faintly twitched up. It could’ve been missed in the blink of an eye.
“Melysah, you cannot go against the goddess’ blessing. Her element must be revealed. And going against the goddess’ Mark has never been done,” Shaegana breathed.
Melysah’s head tilted. “And an heir has never been raised amongst the humans and away from this realm.” She glanced around at the other council members. “All in favor?”
I could hardly breathe as the hands of several council members rose, and an evil smile spread across Melysah’s face. “All opposed?”
An equal number of hands rose in the air save for one. A male with long black locks tied at the nape of his lean neck sat at the opposite end of the long table. He glared at Melysah, his deep brown eyes cold as ice, before shifting his gaze to Dad—his demeanor softening. “My King, I want you to know I don’t fully disagree with what Melysah has said today. She is right. The people will likely challenge the authority of an heir who’s never been educated and trained to lead our people. However, I do see the merit in raising her in the Above World.” His flawless, fair-skinned aristocratic face held its neutrality as he addressed the room. “If Princess Asherah has experience as a human, I see no reason why we couldn’t convince the Atlantians to accept her on the basis that she can help our cause,” his head cut to Melysah, “to the goddesses’ cause. We also owe it to our Heir to give her a chance. For this reason, I must abstain and put forth a new, more reasonable motion.”
“Thank you, Silas,” Dad said on an exhale, but I barely shared in his relief.
“I motion that the Regent rule for six months,” Silas declared. “Should her Elemental Mark reveal what we expect since her lineage has revealed little else, the Regent and The Secretary shall educate her on our customs and traditions as well as the ways of the other realms.”
I leaned in and whispered into my father’s ear, “Elemental Mark?” But he gave a small shake of the head. Message received. Not now.
“I volunteer to assist in her education,” Roarvyn interrupted. “She’ll need to know the council laws that govern this chamber; no one knows them better than me.” He gave a wink in my direction.
Silas’ head dipped in a quick nod. “Very well. Roarvyn has volunteered to teach Princess Asherah council law. For her protection, I request that the Commander train her in self-defense tactics.” I stiffened at that suggestion. That meant spending time with Draevyn—one on one. My anxiety began building in the pit of my stomach. “No minute will be spared save for eating and sleeping while she prepares for the role of Queen. In six months to the day, we will reconvene and vote on the status of her coronation or present alternative options. All in favor?”
My breath caught in my throat. For the first time since arriving at the gates of Atlantis, I had an overwhelming feeling of want. I wanted to be the Queen of Atlantis. Even though she was no longer with us, I wanted to make my mother proud. I wanted to prove to the council members who’d raised their hands against my reign wrong. A small flame flickered from deep within. It was tiny, but it was there nonetheless. The desire to prove myself to the people—her people—burned like kindling in a newborn fire. As every council member save Melysah lifted a hand, I exhaled in relief. Roarvyn wiggled the fingers of his smooth hand at her with a Cheshire cat smile.
Melysah’s face burned beet red. “So be it.”
The council room doors flew open, and Myles rushed into the room with Mayana hot on his tail—his mouth set in a grim line while her eyes were impossibly wide. He placed his hands on his hips and tipped his head toward the high dome ceiling. “The Elemental Appraiser has been found dead.”