Chapter 1

KAI

Kai dodged ripped pieces of mast and rotting floorboards as he scanned the bottom of Shipwreck Valley for signs of movement. His limbs and tentacles ached from the pace he was keeping in the debris, but the last thing he wanted was to linger in the dark, unstable ship stacks longer than he had to. As he moved farther in, the hair on the back of his neck prickled unpleasantly. He knew that something was watching him, but at the moment couldn’t afford more distraction…oh, but it was so easy to let himself be distracted when he was alone and so bone-tired.

“Blast it,” he cursed under his breath when a sharp throbbing began behind his right eye. He shook his head trying to rid himself of the aching, and succeeded in making it worse.

“Focus, blast you,” he urged, willing himself to keep moving. “Focus a little longer…”

Movement in the corner of his eye caught his drifting attention. A piece of seaweed in his peripheral jolted him to attention before he realized what it was. He sighed—something he was not prone to doing often. Seaweed wasn’t what he needed, but it also wasn’t someone else’s tentacle, a predator, or a threat. He kept moving.

Shipwreck Valley was a desolate stretch of shallow trench where the remains of ancient ships lay trapped on top of each other like broken bones. The water was thick with the scent of salt and decay, and the constant crash of waves overhead echoed ominously through the murk and debris. Few merfolk ventured into the valley, as tales of ghosts and curses surrounded the area. All of them were nonsense, of course. Any threats that the valley held were just as fleshy as the next creature.

One of the few perks of Kai being cecaelian was that he didn’t need as much sleep as other species of mer-folk. He was faster, more observant, and generally more suspicious. He had every confidence that this trip would be just another errand, but even only needing a few hours per day, he’d been pushing his limits. His eyes burned in the saltier water that clung to the rusting metal and sediments of shipwrecks. If he’d had a full night’s sleep, it might have been easier to keep his eyes open—even so, they were playing tricks on him. There to his side, it looked an awful lot like the shadow in one of the wreckages was moving…

“Got you!”

If he’d had a fraction of a second less rational thought, Kai would have emptied his ink reserves and disappeared. Worse, he might have seized the mermaid who had grabbed his shoulders with his tentacles and throttled her. It was only by grace of his years of practiced restraint that he kept a grip on himself long enough to recognize the dainty fingers gripping his shoulders.

Princess Ayalina laughed in her mischievous, carefree way as she pounced again, apparently finding his skittishness funny. The truth was that Kai could never be sure exactly who was watching, or when, and the way that Aya pushed on convention was bound to get him in real trouble someday… or worse, herself.

“It’s cheating when you hide in the shadows like this,” Princess Ayalina scolded playfully as she swam over his head into view. “You know I can’t see in the dark like you can.”

Kai felt himself jerk back a few inches when Aya’s nose nearly touched his, and one of his hearts tugged right back. Aya rarely swam so close, and he rarely let her.

Depths below, he really was tired.

Now that the princess was in front of him, Kai wasn’t sure how she’d managed to sneak up on him. Her long dark hair blended in with the shadows and seaweed well enough, but it only reached her waist. The ocean-blue scales of her hatchling camouflage were nearly gone, replaced over the last few years with a shining, jewel-red tail. Not even the long woven blouses she’d taken to wearing could hide her. Despite her obvious position, Aya insisted on dressing to match the people she’d seen living on the outskirts of Atlantis: plain woven seaweed, simple fastenings, and no ornaments. Despite her efforts, however, there was just no more hiding who she was. With her bright eyes and smooth skin, Princess Ayalina had become a vision of the beauty that the royal family’s daughters were known for across the oceans. In Kai’s opinion, she had already outpaced her sisters.

It had been a difficult year, watching Aya begin to drift away from the bonds she’d formed in the outer reefs—or rather, it was difficult to watch Aya’s confusion as her subjects began to drift away from her. That hadn’t stopped her efforts, however. Aya had a way of finding people—something that he, himself, was going to have to start to be wary of as he forced distance between them. She was a princess, after all. And she was of age. Her future was inevitable, even if she seemed determined to ignore it.

All three of his hearts still pounding, Kai ran a nervous hand through his white hair, and effectively messed it up worse than any current could. He kept his eyes carefully away from her intent gazing, and tried as subtly as possible to put some distance between them.

“I have a job to do,” he sighed again, pulling the list of ingredients he had yet to collect from the pouch at his waist. He glowered down at the vellum scroll until his pulse calmed down. “I still have to collect these, and you shouldn’t be here in the wreckages. It’s almost squid season, and believe it or not, I can’t watch for the list, and danger, and you, all at the same time.”

Her grin widened, and she nudged his shoulder distractingly. “You’re not supposed to see me. That would be the point of the game.”

“Game—” He nearly groaned aloud. The throbbing behind his eye, almost forgotten, came back in full force. “I need to collect anemone buds before I take any breaks. Some of us work for a living, Your Royal Highness.”

Aya pulled a face. “Don’t call me that. And, I do work. What do you think got me out here?”

Kai raised a silvery brow at her, and folded his arms over his chest, where the sadly half-full ingredient pouch hung.

“Is that what this is?”

Aya frowned, but Kai knew her well enough to know when it was fake.

“This is efficiency. You get more eyes looking for the things on your list, and at the same time, it can feel like a break. When was the last time you had a break, Kai? You look….you look tired.”

Aya looked as though she might have wanted to say something else, but Kai was far too exhausted for guessing games. He was barely self-aware enough to flinch back when she reached out to trace one of the dark circles under his eyes.

Honestly, it was like the princess had no sense at all of what he was.

Most mermaids turned tail and fled at the sight of a cecaelia. Few were the ones who would approach one on the far-out reefs, and fewer still were any who would try to touch one—unless it was some sort of bet. Or dare. Or both. From the day they’d met, Aya never seemed to care, but he knew she couldn’t be entirely unaware of the nervousness he elicited in the eyes that tracked them when they swam down city streets—even if some days she left him guessing.

“I am tired,” said Kai. He rolled his eyes, and his shoulders to brush her off. Aya pulled back then, but she still looked worried.

I shouldn’t have told you about that lunar eclipse coming up, should I? You’ve had more work ever since I made that chart,” she said with a slight pout. “And here I thought my studies were finally useful.”

The wave of deadlines and potion orders that came crashing through his head at her reminder sent a growling groan through his middle.

“No, no…” he said, rubbing at his eyes. As though it had heard her, the throbbing in his head was suddenly worse. “If you hadn’t told me, it would have undone all of the spellwork in the kingdom for the last year. I would have had a lot more work next month…and probably the next three months after that.”

“I couldn’t have done it without your dark-vision,” Aya said graciously, with a little performer’s bow. “I still can’t believe how many of the charts you could read in that cave.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he forgot to stop her swimming closer again.

“And here I thought my eyes annoyed you.”

She poked his cheek, once more just a few inches closer to his face than was strictly polite.

“So, we’ve bought you a little time to relax,” she teased.

It was as if some sort of spell had been broken as that word sent jitters of adrenaline down his spine. If Cirrina so much as heard the word ‘relax’ in her territory, he might be scrubbing the sponge beds until dawn. Worse, she may decide to extend the punishment to her second apprentice, in order to call on his guilt. Though the labor she assigned could be taxing, Kai certainly wore it better than young Krill.

Cirrina, the most infamous witch in the Atlantean borders, was his caretaker and taskmaster—with a preference for the latter. If not for her, Kai might be prone to taking up Aya on her occasional invitations, but one never knew which pair of eyes Cirrina was using to watch him, and her wrath was a lot harder to dodge than Titus’ guards.

“Princes—” he broke off at Aya’s glare. Kai was tempted to chuckle at Aya’s stubborn resistance to his trying to be more formal. He cleared his throat. “Aya, are you sure you should be…”

He paused. How to phrase this? In the shipwrecks? Swimming with a cecaelian? No, there was no getting around the truth. He wasn’t rested enough for niceties.

“Aya, if your father’s guards see you with one of Cirrina’s apprentices—” specifically me, he didn’t say, “—you’ll be in a lot of trouble.”

Instead of rolling her eyes, Aya turned her whole self over in the water, flashing her glittery scales.

“The more my father gets used to doing without me, the more likely it is that I can convince him that I’m actually useful to the kingdom outside the palace. More useful than political leverage, anyway…”

“What, you’re offering to work every day?” Kai couldn’t resist a smirk. “Princess?”

“I’m more efficient at it than you,” she retorted petulantly.

“You do realize that lunar predictions and astronomy are mostly used for magical opportunities and catastrophes,” Kai said dryly. “Especially yours. And there hasn’t been an astronomer position since…”

“Since the war? Maybe some things need to come back. It's not as if every kingdom doesn’t need magic to run.”

Kai raked one hand through his hair. Aya—the princess—as he was increasingly determined to think of his friend, wasn’t wrong. However, the idea that she could change King Titus’ mind about magic, or the thought that she might try to assist in it herself…well, he wouldn’t even want to be in the same ocean if her father decided to blame him for that.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, instead, dismissing the argument. “You need supervision. Like I said, I’m working, and if any of these ships decide to come crashing down on your royal head I’d rather not have reports out that it happened on my watch.”

She batted at him lightly with her tail. “I am under supervision. I’m pretty sure Adin’s waiting to ambush me from his hiding spot over there—” she pointed to the looming mast where Kai had thought he’d seen a shadow moving, earlier. “And if you’re worried about reports getting to my father, Adin’s not really a guard yet—”

“Hey! I am a guard! Enough that they let me chaperone you today, and you two are both cheating!” Adin’s bushy blond head and tiger-fish tail came wriggling out from a ship hull from the opposite direction of where Aya had predicted. His black and white stripes hid him among the ruined wood until he moved, but when he did, he couldn’t be missed. His white scales caught the meager light in bright flashes, his voice echoing uncomfortably loud around the ships on the bottom of the valley.

Kai groaned. Even without the headache, Adin’s voice was grating. Then, just as Adin reached them, Krill appeared, too, and it seemed their little game was over.

“Aren’t you guys supposed to be swimming away from Aya? Is the game over?” Krill, a Cecaelian boy of only eleven years, poked his head out of the porthole in one of the wrecks around them. Nearly ten years younger than Kai, his tentacles hadn’t darkened yet, and his hair, instead of white was still the youthful gray of a child.

“It might be,” Adin growled, folding his arms across his middle in a way that showed he was trying to look older than he was. “Aya, isn’t the objective of playing ‘Squid’ for you to chase us all back to the starting point when you find us?”

“I was going to, but Kai forgot to yell for the rest of you!”

“I’m working,” Kai repeated firmly, exchanging glares with Adin.

Aya wasn’t exactly subtle when she backed away from Kai, but it appeared to be subtle enough to fool a teenage guard-in-training. It had taken Adin this long to realize that Aya was distracted, and nothing in his petulant expression gave away that he had any clue why her face was quickly starting to match her tail. Though, to be perfectly fair, neither did Kai.

Kai stuffed his fists behind his tentacles, doing his best to appear unaffected by Adin’s tone. He’d been friends with the little merman for a number of years, but ever since Adin turned seventeen, he’d become a special sort of nuisance. Adin had become more stiff and less playful by the day, which would have been helpful if, despite knowing each other for years, his new position had also made him more suspicious of Kai. Kai knew very well what Adin could turn into if he ever sank whole-heartedly into the Atlantean politicoscape.

“Anyway,” Adin complained, rolling his eyes mulishly, “isn’t Shipwreck Valley off-limits for everyone but…I mean, off-limits for the princesses?”

Kai’s eyes narrowed, his headache making him more irritated than he should have been. Adin at least had enough tact not to point out that Cecaelia weren’t banned from any of the ocean’s danger zones—probably in some royal effort to kill the rest of them off—but only just.

“That’s why we’re here!” Aya said brightly, giving Adin a dazzling smile that turned Adin’s freckled cheeks pink. “No one will bother us here! Unless you really think it’s too dangerous…you said earlier this was where you wanted to come, Adin.”

Of course he did. The little coward….

It was just like Adin to offer to take Aya somewhere dangerous as a show of bravery, and then not know what to do with himself once she actually agreed. This explained why he’d been so flummoxed once Aya had invited himself and Krill in the name of ‘working.’ He had no doubt the little eel had realized he wouldn’t be alone with her and spent half his time hiding and sulking.

The poor fool, Kai almost tsked.

What Kai had anticipated, Adin would have to learn the hard way when the day arrived that Aya’s royal responsibilities caught up with her. Kai almost wished it would all hit sooner. Despite Aya’s efforts, he doubted anything short of an apocalyptic event would make Titus see Aya as anything but a potential lever for a union with one of the last unallied seas. Perhaps if Adin realized that, then the young guard would try a little harder to keep Aya in the palace. Perhaps he would finally realize that Kai wasn’t a rival. Neither of them ever could be.

Meanwhile, Adin was looking more and more uncomfortable under Aya’s attention. She was giving Adin a look that belied nothing of his own suspicion. Her looks was full of things like warmth, sincerity, and curiosity. They were all things that, coming from a young mermaid as pretty as Aya had turned out to be, were enough to undo any sense a merman as young as Adin possessed. Though Kai was only seven years older than Adin, the age difference could have been centuries when it came to control. Kai almost pitied him.

“Are you okay to stay a little longer, Adin?” Aya steepled her fingers together in a pleading gesture, completely unaware of Adin’s turmoil. “You know how hard it is to sneak out of the palace…”

Adin visibly puffed under her question. “Of course I’ll be okay! I came to protect you!” he grumped.

“Excellent! And, Kai?” she turned that dazzling smile on him, and he found himself looking away for the second time as his gills fluttered in guilt.

This area wasn’t particularly dangerous, but with so much flotsam in the water, it wasn’t exactly safe, either. Now that he knew there was still a bit of the boy that would ignore the protocol in favor of impressing Aya, Kai’s irritation with Adin grew. Part of him wanted to dump both of their fins right back on the palace doorstep. The other part knew that he couldn’t both find the ingredients he’d been sent to collect and run another errand….and the days they all had left together were limited.

“I know that face. You’re thinking about work,” Aya said cheekily, managing to touch his arm as she swam past. “Come on, Kai, we won’t be here much longer. Just another round…and besides, my idea is working. I spotted three of the crabs you were looking for up in that new wreck.”

Kai followed her pointing finger to where a heavy galleon teetered precariously on the top of a pile of shattered hulls. The galleon was in pristine condition. Were it not for an enormous bite taken out of its portside, the vessel might have still been seaworthy.

“So high up?” he mused, inspecting the painted sails, high enough in the water to catch glimmers of sunlight at the surface. “Blue crabs usually prefer the dark.”

“They’re up there,” Aya giggled. “And now I know where to find you next round. I’m counting!”

“This is the last round,” Kai said with a pointed look at Krill.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Krill had kept quiet through the bickering, mostly because he didn’t understand why it was happening in the first place.

“Last round!” Krill agreed cheerfully. “Good luck finding me, Aya! You haven’t managed it yet!”

Krill would play with Aya all day if he was allowed, and he was too young to see that while this area was safe for cecaelia like them, Adin and Aya weren’t the wisest for coming here this time of year.

“That’s because you blend in with the wall!” Aya cried darting over to him. “Try this round with no camouflage!”

“Nope! Just look harder!” Krill grinned, and darted off, his tentacles flashing different colors behind him.

Kai nearly groaned. Krill was young, but his cracking voice and lack of control over his coloring always drew the wrong sort of attention. He would have to have a word with him about it, later.

“If you stay there, Adin, there’s no point in running. I can still catch you!” Aya teased. “If I’m the squid, then you should get some distance.”

“You make a terrible ‘Squid,’” Adin grumbled, but wandered off in search of another hiding spot all the same.

As Aya’s counting rang out over the quiet wrecks, the pounding in Kai’s head eased a little. Quiet was rare. Quiet was good.

As the ruckus died down, the prickling feeling at the back of his neck was still there, but after making sure the waters around Aya were free of floating debris, he felt secure enough to go after the crabs. Focused on the galleon, he sped off toward the surface.

The corners of his lips twitched when he saw Krill camouflage himself behind a crevice in one of the rocky walls. Krill had plenty of practice at hiding from living with Cirrina. Avoiding her kept him safer, and he had somehow become the only one who could ever avoid Aya’s keen sight.

“Seven, eight, nine…” her voice followed him as he moved through the valley toward the galleon she’d pointed out to him.

The wrecked Galleon creaked in the pull of the waves, wobbling precariously on several much older remains. An ancient trireme supported its stern, where a bronze ram at the bow had long rusted through. Pike darted through its carved horns, swimming in and out of the cracks in the Galleon’s side. Along the Galleon’s hull, bits of longships, cogs, and freshwater ferries leaked brightly-colored paint chips into the waves. Ships from every time and corner of the world ended up here, as worthless as tinder.

“Ten…”

Kai soared over the galleon’s railing fast enough that his tentacles had to snatch at the rigging to slow himself down. He had no interest in children’s games, but he wouldn’t lie that the company, and a few sets of more rested eyes to help him weren’t entirely unwelcome. As usual, Aya was right. Several blue horse-shoe crabs skittered brazenly about in the sunlight on deck. If he caught them all, he would harvest enough hemocyanin for Cirrina’s order.

“You’d better be hidden! I’m hunting!” Aya never counted for long. Somewhere below, she was off to find the others, and yet… the prickling on his neck was getting worse—thinking of Cirrina could do that, he supposed.

Kai descended onto the deck, scowling in displeasure at the memory of the sea-witch waiting for him to return. With his tentacle-reach, it was easy enough to flip the crabs over and begin the extraction, but the chore itself was odious, stinking work. While he hated the task, he hated even more that Cirrina was making a boy as young as Krill perform these sorts of errands. They had both been apprenticed to her under one of her odious contracts, and if they’d been old enough to know better, they should have refused. Kai credited natural cecaelian durability for how they had survived her upbringing at all.

Cirrina had no sense of how to raise a young cecaelian, and though Kai did his best to make sure Krill grew up with a few normal memories, he was only one person. If they didn’t deliver her collection order by the end of the day, Krill would have a few more scars on his back to match Kai’s—and those were getting harder to hide from Aya.

“Squid!” Adin yelled from the bowels of one of the stacked ships below. Unsurprisingly, it sounded as though Aya had found him first. Probably intentionally, this time, the little cod.

Kai ignored the call, supposing that when the round ended, he could pretend he hadn’t heard. Getting the hemocyanin was more important than the game—even if it was a rare chance to humor Aya.

“SQUID!” warned Krill, just a touch higher.

Kai listened as they all darted back to the counting point, hoping to out-swim Aya before they got tagged. It wouldn’t matter as much as this was the last round, but it sounded as though they were all giving the round their best. He would have liked to watch, had his agenda not been so packed for the coming days.

“Squid!” Aya shrieked. “M-Monster squid!”

Kai blinked, fatigue slowing his reaction. That wasn’t right. Aya had been counting…

Without thinking, his tentacles were already hurling him over the edge, leaving a trail of uncollected blue blood in the water behind him.

Kai bulleted toward the sound of her voice, just in time to see Adin pulling Aya by the hand into the jagged shambles of a company ship. Not far behind, and bigger than his tentacle span twice-over was a real squid. The thing’s body alone was at least the length of a rowboat. Its tentacles and beak extended it another dozen feet….And it seemed that Adin’s brilliant solution was to squish them into a merchant vessel so small, they’d be out of rooms to swim through by the time they hit the brig!

“Krill!” Kai called out, just before he dived.

Judging by the color it had flushed, this squid was in season early. The thing had made a nest of Shipwreck Valley, likely because of the quiet hiding place it provided—a quiet that they’d disturbed. It couldn’t have been long since it had come up from the depths to breed. It needed rest. It needed food. And when it had been woken up by the chattering of young merfolk, it was angry.

The squid dove into the ship after them, breaking through broken planks and broken colored glass as though they weren’t even there. The squid’s beady eyes fixated on Aya’s red tail. Aya was small enough at least to wriggle through the bars of an old cell. As things were going, she would have had a better chance on her own, but—and Kai growled, as he witnessed Adin’s insistence on not letting her go—it seemed Adin was set on being the one to get her out. It reached them before Kai did, tentacles pinning them into the broken brig bars.

Kai’s breath seized when its beak snapped inches from Aya’s tail. In the little pre-medieval shipwreck, Adin was only just maneuvering them fast enough to get caught, and he was doing a bad job of it.

Fortunately, Krill had paid attention to Kai’s yell, and reached the ship before he did.

Krill threw his tentacles out before him, and slammed himself down hard into the wrecked hull. Though he was small, the force of the impact sent splinters raining onto the creature’s bulbous head. Aya managed to duck and weave behind Adin as the fragments rained down.

Undeterred, the squid's long tentacles followed Aya and Adin through the sharp debris with remarkable dexterity, attempting to tangle her fins, when Krill let his camouflage fall, and squeezed through the hole he’d just created. He dropped seemingly from nowhere onto the squid’s upper body in an attempt to slow it down, but with his size, only succeeded in making it angrier. The squid’s thrashing gace Aya and Adin a chance to scuttle away—Adin, through the hole Krill had made, and Aya, fleeing for the corner. Adin, not noticing that they’d been separated, left her behind, and darted toward the surface.

Kai snarled. He didn’t have the luxury of waiting for an opening. Passing Adin on the way down, he braced an arm over his head, letting his tentacles throw his body through the rotting hull. He smashed through one of the cannon port-holes with a loud CRUNCH!

The whole ship shuddered as he hit the lower deck, feet from the squid’s head. With a grinding, snapping growl, it bucked under Krill’s grasp, and flung the boy against a wall. Behind him, Aya hid herself behind an old desk that offered no real protection. Kai rounded on the squid, and threw one pair of tentacles around the squid’s body, and threaded another pair into the anchor locks on the floor.

“Go!” he grunted at Krill, who, though he was still trying his best to slow the beast down, couldn’t hold it. He just didn’t have the span.

Though he shot Kai a worried look, Krill at least didn’t stick around for questions.

“Take my hand, Aya!” Krill gasped. He let the squid throw him one last time, and managed to aim for where Aya was cowering.

Seeing the flash of red scales as Krill helped her up, the squid pursued.

Krill pulled her out of the way as the squid’s arms hit the desk with a sound like an axe chopping wet logs. The tang of squid blood hit Kai’s nostrils and tongue. Kai snatched it up right out of its trail of pursuit and slammed it into the deck hard enough to splinter boards. The squid’s yellow eye widened at the sight of him, and he could have sworn he heard a feral whimper rumble through its body. Encouraged, Kai gritted his teeth and slammed it down again, feeling the old wood beneath his tentacles creak and snap.

Krill kept Aya away from the sharp bits of wood that rained down, but trapped in the back of the hull, he couldn’t do much more than move her away from the squid’s arms as Kai thrashed the beast.

CRUNCH! Kai threw its head down harder into the deck. The squid sprawled in the splinters, stunned, and Kai didn’t waste a second. He darted behind the desk, and scooped up Aya from her hiding place behind Krill.

“I’ve got you,” was all he took the time to say.

Releasing a stream of black ink over the squid’s ugly yellow eyes. With krill in tow, they sped toward the surface after Adin.

Kai cursed under his breath. He cursed, Adin, himself, the guards, the palace, and the entire squid breed. Titus’s guards were supposed to watch for early arrivals for the architeuthis breeding season—after all, it was quite the risk to the Atlantean citizens. Adin, as one of the guards, should have been aware of the risks, even if he’d never seen one of the beasts in person before. It was his job.

He forced himself to focus on carrying Aya out of the valley so that his temper didn’t get the best of him. If one beast had arrived early to the season, then there was a big chance of there being more. Once the wrecks thinned out and they reached the city border, he could breathe again.

“Are you okay, Aya?” Krill, who looked appropriately terrified, murmured to the princess once Kai slowed down.

Krill had a way of being instinctually soothing, something that had served him well while living with Cirrina. It was something that Kai often forgot, but was just as often grateful. ‘Soothing,’ was not one of his natural skills.

“I—Ah—”

Kai really looked at the princess for the first time since the attack. Aya was shaking in Kai’s arms, and despite the warm summer waters, her teeth chattered. Hard. His hearts pulled a little at the sound. She wasn’t the sort of mermaid who cried—thank Poseidon—and she wasn’t angry, but she was shaking like kelp-leaves in a storm.

“Yes, Krill. Um. Thanks. I think I’m—”

Adin swam down, meeting them halfway before Kai completely breached the valley.

“What were you thinking, Aya?” Adin demanded, swimming up closer than Krill. His usually-perfect blond hair was mussed, and his tail stripes were quivering as he tried to hide how much he, too, was shaking. “I told you we’d get out fine if you just followed me, but—”

Kai pulled Aya closer to his chest, spanned his tentacles to their full width, and snarled.

“No,” he hissed, letting his pointed teeth show more than usual. The ridges on cecaelian teeth never failed to make Kai feel ‘other’ when he spoke to mermen, but in times when he wanted to intimidate, the effect was… satisfying.

Adin froze as still as if he’d really been iced to the spot. Kai leaned forward, cutting off his view of the princess. This debacle was Kai’s fault as well, but he had trusted Adin to at least take his job more seriously, and less stupidly.

“You don’t get to scold her, Adin. Krill, a boy, stayed with her and fought that thing. You, one of her father’s trained guards, just turned tail and left her.”

Whether it was because of Kai’s bared teeth or his tone, Adin wisely clammed up, but he definitely didn’t look happy about it. Kai knew he would have some reparations to do later if he wanted to keep their old friendship, but Adin’s behavior had been getting steadily worse, particularly around Aya. This time, at least, Adin seemed to be aware of his mistake, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t glaring spears at Kai and Krill in his angry shame.

“Keep moving,” Kai barked. “It won’t follow us to the sunlight, but it might track us if we stay where it’s darker.”

They swam in tense silence, and Kai had no qualms about leaving Adin struggling to keep up.

“Thank you, Krill,” Aya said, after a pause long enough to allow them to breach the sunlit portion of the waters.

“That thing would have gotten me before Kai if it weren’t for you,” Aya murmured from where she was tucked under his jawline. Krill’s cheeks blushed a light purple at the thanks.

“You’d have done the same,” Krill mumbled. Propelling himself between Kai and Adin, he pointed his tentacles down and to himself a little smaller. “Adin, would too, y’know, if he hadn’t gotten lost.”

Krill meant well, but his words only seemed to make Adin angrier.

“Fine!” Adin snapped, finally. “Just fine! You’re obviously okay without me, Princess, so next time, get another guard to take you to the wrecks!”

Kai was confident that Adin would have swum off right then if his duties didn’t require him to return Aya to the palace that night. Kai’s mouth formed a hard line as he continued to glare at the young mer.

“Um, Kai…” Aya said meekly from somewhere at his chest, and he ventured a glance at her expression. She was still shaken, but apart from a few scratches on the end of her tail fin, she was fine. Kai was more frustrated that she’d been in a position to get hurt at all. “Kai?” she said again, interrupting his angry inspection.

“Hm?” he responded,

“I’m okay to swim on my own, now,” she said, placing a hand on his chest.

He almost swore. Her hand was on on bare skin, which meant that he’d left his ingredients bag behind.

He was reluctant to let her go, particularly when his anger hadn’t yet faded, but at her request, he righted her in the water, and put some distance between them. He folded his arms over his chest, trying to ignore the cold place she’d left there.

“There’s some blue on your face, Kai.” Krill tilted his head curiously, his torso twisting to see him better. Kai would forever be grateful to Krill. He always knew when to break the tension. “Just there on your cheek.” Krill pointed. “Is that…is that blood?”

“Hm?” Kai touched the place Krill indicated, and upon examining his fingers, cursed grievously. His ingredient bag was gone, and he’d left the crabs mid-extraction!

Adin muttered something about language ‘in front of the princess,’ as Kai darted back to the ship to find the crabs he’d abandoned.

Spilling his tentacles over the railing of the precarious galleon once more, it didn’t take long to spot where he’d left his project. He’d managed to extract about half of what he and Krill needed for their day’s mission, but the other half had already been lost to the current, and the crabs had long bled out. He scrambled to gather his equipment, not taking care to watch himself in his frustration.

Perhaps there were more on board…

One of his tentacles knocked into the mast, hard. It wouldn’t have done anything if a wave hadn’t caught the remnant of the topgallant at the same time.

The whole ship gave a horrible, crunching CREEEAK!

Kai scooped up his tools and darted overboard before the suction of the current of the ship’s fall could pull him back down into the valley. And, fall, it did. Slow and inevitable, the water filled with a cacophony of splintering wood and crunching metal that echoed down the valley. The taste of rust and blue blood trailed after its every clung, clatter, and snap. Somewhere below a large dark shape or two darted away from the ship as it picked up speed, and hurtled into the silt with an earsplitting CREAK! SNAP! CRUNCH!

“Cod’s gills!” he cursed again, before returning to Krill with as much haste as he could muster.

This much blood in the water would warn away other crabs if the noise, and silt-shaking crash hadn’t already—not to mention the scents would draw in more predators. If there were other squid in the valley that didn’t know they were there, they certainly did, now.

Kai groaned.

It was just one lucky break after another today, now wasn’t it?

He returned to the group quickly, able to move faster without the concern of a more fragile creature in his arms. Much to Adin’s displeasure, and Kai’s amusement, Krill had his tentacles wrapped around Aya’s tail, and she was hugging him to her like a little brother and cooing over his bravery back at the ship. Adin looked like he was about to try lecturing again, but Kai beat him to the point.

“Get the princess home,” Kai snapped, cutting him off. “Now.”

Aya looked at him, now, with alarm.

“Wait, Kai; there’s something—” she started to say.

“Well, well, well,” said an old, gravelly voice. “I’ve been halfway across the reefs looking for your naughty fins, girl!”

Kai whirled on the newcomer, and relaxed somewhat. Marlin, High King Titus’s advisor, was flipping his way toward them. The old turtle moved slower every year, but that didn’t stop him from covering the distance from the palace to the out-borders in search of his charges. For all his sternness, it was no secret how Marlin cared for the princesses.

At the sight of him, Krill curled his tentacles back, and tried to make himself look small and non-threatening. Kai almost smiled. It wasn’t the first time he'd run-in with Marlin, and he was generally regarded even in the outer circles of the kingdom as ‘fair,’ and a ‘decent sort.’ Even if seeing him rarely meant good news, Kai didn’t mind Marlin most days, but for Aya’s sake, he wished that today he’d shown up an hour or two sooner.

Marlin propelled himself to eye-level with the group, and though Aya hadn’t let go of him, Krill was already trying to distance himself from her. Marlin seemed too weather-worn to notice, or he didn’t particularly care about the princess’s attachment to a cecaelian, and that was a rare point in his favor in Kai’s book.

“Princess Ayalina,” said Marlin, somewhat out of breath. “Young one, you could learn to leave a note!”

“How did you find us?” Aya yelped, her fins fluttering.

“Half the ocean heard that ship fall! And I thought to myself, where could the princess possibly be? ‘Inspecting’ the most dangerous thing in the area, as usual! One of these days, these kingdom ‘inspections’ are going to have to come to an end, Princess Ayalina,” Marlin scolded. “Before you do.”

Aya had the grace to bow her head to the turtle, instead of arguing. Kai considered telling Marlin that the princess had nothing to do with the fall, but the reality of why she was in the valley seemed worse. He stayed quiet, wondering whether or not Adin would confess what happened.

“You, young mer-man!”

“Yes, Advisor Marlin!” Adin snapped to attention, snapping to salute.

Kai hid a smirk.

“Good to see you’ve prevented the princess from swimming too close,” Marlin addressed Adin once more, “especially with Archeteuthis season so close, although I’d have preferred if you kept her from coming into these waters at all. Shipwreck Valley! I hate to think what would have happened if you’d actually gone in!”

Aya and Adin shared an uneasy glance.

“And you, young Kai, young Krill! Staying safe as well, are we?” Marlin narrowed his eyes at the cecaelian boys, but not unkindly.

“Yes, sir!” Krill announced from behind Kai’s shoulder.

“Advisor Marlin,” Kai greeted with a small bow. “Glad to see you in good health. I apologize for the excessive journeying we’ve caused you.”

“Hmph,” Marlin gruffed. “No need to apologize young man. I don’t doubt you’ve saved me some trouble today, yourself.”

Kai suddenly suspected Marlin had seen more than he let on. He was old, not stupid. However, Marlin never gave Aya more trouble than absolutely necessary. Despite his well-known history in the old wars, he was perhaps the most encouraging at court of Aya’s interaction with the people—including himself. However, though he liked the turtle, that didn’t mean that Kai particularly trusted him. That familiar suspicion resurfaced when Marlin delivered his message:

“Well, that’s enough of that,” Marlin dismissed, and once more, Kai was appreciative of the old turtle’s gruffness. “Your father has summoned you, Princess. ‘Afraid he’s already been waiting half the day.”

Aya groaned. “I’m already late? He didn’t schedule anything. My sisters don’t arrive until tomorrow.”

Although Kai understood the feeling, he couldn’t help but raise a silvery brow at the order. It was rare for Titus to summon his daughters individually. He wasn’t exactly a terrible father, but he wasn’t a present one, either.

“He has some...eh, news,” said Marlin.

There was something about the way he avoided Aya’s gaze, the way he tucked his flippers, and the too-casual dipping of his tail when he said the word ‘news.’ Like it was a sickly, nasty sort of thing better dropped off the ledge of a valley than presented to Aya directly.

Like it was something he couldn’t say in front of two Cecaelia.

“Come on, Krill,” Kai said quietly. “We have some work to do, and I think it might have just gotten harder.”

“Do you think she’s in trouble?” Krill whispered low enough that only Kai could hear as Marlin led Adin and Aya away.

“If we keep her much longer, she will be,” Kai said, feeling an ominous weight to his words that hung strangely in the water as he led Krill home.