Chapter 11
AYA
Aya passed the evening feeling as though her head were under seven hundred more feet of water than it was. She had been looking for…something—no, someone.
Kai? Something within her whispered his name.
However, whenever she thought of Kai, the pressure in her head got worse. The ache pushed at her from the inside, pounding at her when any of her sisters or guests kissed her hands and offered congratulations. The hurt only got better when she was looking at Ellian. Even then, there was something about him that seemed wrong somehow, but for the scales of her, she couldn’t think what. But, looking at him, the pressure didn’t seem to matter so much. In a sea of faces and fins, he fairly radiated with color. That was what she had been looking for…wasn’t it?
In the blurry haze, Ellian offered an arm to her, and she clung to it. The moment her skin touched his, happy warmth flooded her veins, and the water around her went cold. She wanted to wrap herself in him—wanted him to touch her—far more of her.
“Get out of the way,” Ellian snapped at a kuo-toa that crossed their paths as he escorted her back to the dance floor under the lull of celebratory music.
How regal, she thought dreamily, watching the servant scuttle away.
She’d never had so much authority over the servants in her own palace, and Ellian simply commanded it—it was the kind of influence her sisters and father had. When he wanted something, it happened. The very thought sent goosebumps down her arms. She didn’t mind the jealous looks she was getting from all the mermaids in the ballroom, either.
Wherever he swam, heads turned. He was all chiseled jawline, and bright scaling—was there any better color in the world than orange? The skin of his face was smooth and flawless, even though King Ezra had given him a hard time about it being too clear, which was ridiculous.
As they swam through the music of the ballroom, she enjoyed the envious stares of the nobles around her. Even the kuo-toa serving that night all looked as though they desperately wanted to be in her fins, and yet, as the announcements, the songs, and the congratulations passed through her ears, something was so very wrong.
“Princess Ayalina?” Marlin called her from her musings. “Princess, the high king wishes a word with you.”
“Alright,” she agreed dreamily, pulling Ellian along.
Marlin said, holding up a flipper to stop Ellian from following her. “If you will, Princess? Ah—alone with his daughter was specifically requested, Prince Ellian.”
Aya disentangled herself from Ellian’s grip, noting with a small smile that he was as disappointed as she when she pulled away. She shot him an apologetic glance over one shoulder, and a confident grin spread over his face as he inspected her hesitance.
“Not to worry! A prince is patient by nature!” he proclaimed, running a hand through his perfect yellow hair.
Marlin’s expression was unreadable as Aya giggled at Ellian’s gallant bow.
She was delighted at how carefully Ellian watched them as they swam off toward the throne room through the dregs of the ball’s enchanted finalé.
The main ballroom, adorned with its glittering bioluminescent jellyfish chandeliers gently brightened as the sky faded to black. At Marlin’s signal, dancers, nobles, merchants, and royals alike mirrored the gentle sway of the currents as couples paired off for one last song. A last round of cheers and applause followed her, the only of her three sisters who had announced a betrothal that night.
Aya turned to blow one last kiss to her people, catching Sephina’s attention as she did. Her sister danced with the Depths’ ambassador, glaring over his shoulder directly at her. Concern and disappointment riddled her brow as she watched Aya go.
Jealousy? From Sephina? Aya thrilled. She had always been second to Sephina. In age, in their studies, and in losing her hatchling color. It was the first time she’d ever beaten Sephina to anything. And there she was. Sephina was jealous!
Not jealous, the little voice in the back of her head struggled to be heard. Worried.
Aya ignored it.
Music and smiles drifted after as Marlin led her into the throne room where, for once, her father waited for her alone.
Aya couldn’t remember the last time High King Titus had asked to speak to her privately. The last time had been when she’d broken into a human ship to steal star-charts—in the middle of its winter voyage. Through her murky bliss, every instance she’d broken palace rules in the past month flitted through her head. She’d been out past curfew nearly every night to visit the surface, visited forbidden waters, pranked the guards with pufferfish pillows, and publicly disrespected her fiancé over dinner. Perhaps then, this wasn’t another congratulations? Gills fluttering nervously, she approached the looming tridacna throne where her father sat with a limp tail and sagging eyes.
“Leave us, Marlin,” Titus boomed.
Has he always looked so tired?
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“Ayalina,” Titus breathed, his graying irises locked on her. “Ayalina… come a little closer. My daughters are always so distant from me…”
There was real regret in his tone as he reached for Aya’s hands.
Though the gray in her father’s skin pulled at her heart, Aya couldn’t help but wonder when she was going to get to see Ellian again. Looking at her father’s face, and not Ellian’s, was making her head pound.
“Father, you called for me?” Aya said gently, hoping that her father would tell her what he wanted and let her go. Irrational annoyance prickled through her head.
Ellian wouldn’t wait forever.
“A gift,” he said, placing a cord of pearls and rubies over her head.
She balked. It was a kingly gift. Something like this would cost as much as the western tower.
“Your mother’s,” the king said by way of explanation. “Perhaps I should have bestowed it on one of my children long ago, but… I couldn’t bring myself to part with it then.”
“Thank you, father,” she said, doing her best to sound sincere.
“I thought that perhaps it could persuade you to reconsider your declaration this evening.”
What? She’d done what he’d asked, hadn’t she? Then why wasn’t she allowed to be with Ellian? Was nothing right, in her father’s eyes?
So, it was to her great surprise when Titus asked:
“Ayalina, are you….alright, my daughter?”
Titus pushed himself higher in his throne, his once heavily sinewed shoulders shaking with the effort. He held the bident with two hands as he steadied himself in his seat which she didn’t remember him ever doing.
Titus looked… sick. Sicker than she’d ever seen him, and he certainly hadn’t looked so haggard at the ball. Unless…unless she hadn’t noticed. Aya cursed herself, shaking her head for some semblance of clear thought, and in the rays of moonlight illuminating Titus’ graying scales, her thoughts cleared a little.
“Father I feel…I feel foggy, like my head is full of silt!” Aya surprised herself with her own honesty. “I don’t know if an evening has ever gone faster.”
“Love can feel like that,” Titus said, a wisp of a smile playing across his mouth. “When I was courting your mother, the days felt like months, and the minutes passed like seconds. There was never enough time with her, and you, precious Aya….of all your sisters, you look so much… like her. The Aegean is…so very far.”
It was as though speaking took a toll on the King, and his chest heaved with the effort. As her sensibilities returned to her, Aya could feel her brows knitting together on her face taking in the changes in the king.
“Father, are you alright? This isn’t like you.”
He held up a hand to dismiss her concern.
“Fine, fine,” he said, blowing a weary stream of bubbles, and suddenly, she understood why he may have wanted to speak to her alone. What ruler would want to be seen like this?
“But this is not love, is it, Ayalina?” he asked, gently pulling her closer as he sunk a little into the throne.
Aya pulled her arms from her father’s hands and swished her tail angrily.
“Ellian is everything a prince should be. He is…he is….” but suddenly, Aya found that she couldn’t find a single defensible quality about Ellian.
He had been insufferably rude, and apart from his dancing, and the feelings she’d felt earlier that evening, she’d disliked him because—Aya gasped as the memory of dinner came flooding back into her head like the rising tide. He’d killed a cecaelia, and she didn’t yet know who. Aya knew most of the citizens hiding along the border, and kept their secrets well. There was no way an unpapered would have been caught in the open. Suddenly doubt crept back into her chest. She’d flirted with Ellian. Their engagement was announced!
How had this happened?
“You didn’t seem to like him much over dinner, not that I can blame you,” Titus spoke through her pause. “Although, if he turns out like his father, he will protect you.”
Aya nodded. “So that’s why you chose him.”
“I had hoped he would have turned out more like his father at his age, but he seems to be… well….” Titus chuckled weakly. “Agreeing to his proposal, you must have seen something I have not yet had the chance to. You always were so perceptive—just like Aria. I can only count myself lucky that she saw something in me…I just want to see you taken care of, Ayalina.”
He was rambling. Aya raked her eyes over her father, though still sitting proudly, was still gripping the bident—not to wield it, but to support himself.
“Father, something must be wrong. You should have another century at least! I can call the physician.”
“Calm yourself,” Titus hushed, dismissing her concerns with another regal wave, though this one held less rigidity than the last. “I have a few years in these oceans yet. I only want to see my daughters protected before I leave them. So, Ayalina, are you happy with Prince Ellian? I might have promised a bride to the kings of the oceans for their assistance in the civil war, but I never said in contract that those brides were to be of my own sire. And of course, several of those kings, like Ellian’s father, chose to take different mermaids when the time came. There is still time to find other noble options.”
Her mouth fell open in a very un-princess-like fashion, and she found her already-unbalanced head swimming again.
“Then I could be…I could be free to choose? You’d let me?”
“Within certain parameters. Of royal blood, of course. Honorable. And, Ayalina—” his smile was weak, but stern, “—you cannot wait forever.”
Aya could hardly believe her ears. “You seemed so…. Things just seemed different earlier.”
“You really must learn to be diplomatic in front of foreign guests, Aya,” Titus scolded gently. “What is decided before advisors or even other kings is not the same as what is between family. If you haven’t learned this as well as your sisters, then perhaps you’re not quite ready to be married after all.”
Aya hung her head in dismay. “The engagement is already announced, father. Is there anything to be done if I’m not?”
“So you don’t want him… I thought not.”
At last, the last of the silt fell from her thoughts. Pulling herself upright in the moonbeams that filtered in from the dome above, she was absolutely sure. She shook her head, firmly.
“I am High King,” Titus said imperiously, not a trace of the tremors in his tail reaching his voice. “It may take some time: a few delays for your ceremony, and when the excitement of it all dies down, it could be canceled completely. You were accepting him out of duty, then? What you tell me now, you must be absolutely sure.”
Aya paused, considering—not whether she wanted to marry Ellian, but Ezra’s words those few nights ago. ‘Keep your power close,’ he’d said. ‘A ruler is only as good as how well he uses his pawns.’ Personal grievances aside, Ellian was not an ally that she wanted. She already couldn’t trust him.
“I will accept the royal marriage duty when it comes, Father,” Aya said carefully. “But I can’t accept Prince Ellian. I don’t see the potential in him like you saw in his father,” Aya said finally, and Titus’ face, if possible, grew more grave.
“I will order a delay then, to your wedding. If you change your mind, Ayalina…”
She shook her head, fins unfurling with resolve, she curled a hand around the necklace, feeling more connection with her parents than she had since her early childhood. It gave her assurance. It gave her resolve.
“I won’t,” she promised.