Chapter 9

AYA

“Another glass of brine, Princess Aya?” asked a kuo-toa servant from somewhere near Aya’s tailfin. He approached from the side of the balcony balancing a tray laden with glasses of all colors and sizes.

The still-full cup of brine-gel in her hand forgotten, she tore her eyes gaze from the ballroom floor below, surprised to see it still there. Careful not to spill it on the long red skirts of her cotehardie that she suspected had only been chosen to hide the blue on her fins, she handed the vessel to the Kuo-toa with a polite shake of her head.

“No, thank you. I’ve only just finished,” she said, not noticing when she missed the tray with the cup. The kuo-toa tutted softly as he caught the falling glassware, and swam off the balcony and down into the ballroom, proper, to serve more attentive mer-folk.

Guests had been pouring into the palace for several hours now, although the foreign dignitaries hadn’t yet arrived. Aya’s sheltered view of the ballroom was hidden behind a curtain on one of the dozens of upper balconies that surrounded the architectural masterpiece of a ballroom. Unconsciously, she fidgeted with the droopy fabric on her sleeve, growing nervous. The hours of the ball ticking by felt like days as she searched for any hint of white hair and high cheekbones.

Citizens of every rank mixed and flowed throughout the room below on every level, the most flamboyantly dressed posturing high above the floor, and others staying low, where lavish foods were laid ready. Amidst the crowds, and noise, and gossip, her own guest wouldn’t want to be seen, and that was only making her search harder.

Every few minutes the kuo-toa offered her drinks that she didn’t need. Her sisters, the only ones likely to help, were nowhere in sight. Now as she struggled to see past the crowds, the grandeur of the palace ballroom was beginning to pull at her attention as well.

The room’s towering walls stretched upward from the ocean floor, adorned with patterns made from thousands of softly-glowing pearls. Sparkling lights above and below gave the room a sense of verticality that drew guests in a multi-dimensional social dance throughout the space.

A transparent air dome at the top of the ballroom allowed visitors to enjoy warm above-water cooking. Where most cooked foods were made with underwater boilers, vents, or alchemical processes, the simple fire-cooked food of the above was enough to tempt the pickiest eaters. Kuo-toa, one of the rarer amphibious species, gathered in the air dome around an elevated cooking station. Likely with the help of the kingdom mages, they conjured flames through a mix of magic and alchemical processes, crafting fires that burned without extinguishing in the limited air space. With an efficiency that would have made any chamberlain proud, they turned out servings almost as fast as they were eaten.

Beneath the frenzy of cooking, graceful nereids performed distracting dances before the Table of Kings—a table that was currently empty. Indentured asteroidea had been left in seats to the left and right of King Titus’ throne to mark the places of royal guests. Smaller pedestaled shell seats, decorated with the shed scales of the princesses’, awaited Aya and her sisters’ formal presentation. The only place that still remained completely empty was the place set for the Angler King Cetus of the Depths. Neither an entourage nor even a response had yet arrived from his ambassadors, and Sephina, though miffed at the lack of purpose she would have that evening, didn’t seem as disappointed as duty demanded to be delaying her suit.

King Cetus wasn’t the only one who hadn’t arrived for his summons to the palace. The last two days, Princess Seline had spent being courted by the entourage from the Arctic. She’d been trussed into a myriad of dresses, and sent on garden and city tours with their ambassadors and king, where they showered her with more magically-stabilized ice-jewelry than she could wear in a lifetime. A similar schedule had been prepared for Aya and the Crown Prince of the Eels, and for Sephina and King Cetus, however, when the time came to call, both were missing.

Marlin had been assured by messengers that when the time came for the introductory ball, that the ‘real’ processes would begin, but after two days, Aya was beginning to nurse a secret hope that neither of them would ever arrive.

Now, every time Aya caught the flash of black clothing on a guest, or a flaring tentacle from one of King Ezra’s personal guard, her heart leapt; however, the opening dinner had already been served, and the announcements made, and Kai was nowhere to be seen.

“He might still come.”

Aya jumped. Marlin’s quiet approach over the din of conversation thrumming through the ballroom couldn’t have been more gentle, but it startled her all the same.

“You should be with your sisters, it’s almost time,” he reminded softly.

Aya blew a stream of frustrated bubbles out through her nose in a way that would have her etiquette instructors comparing her to things like sulfur vents and blowfish, and other unladylike things.

“He’s—they’re not coming, Marlin! And even if they did, it would still only be to say goodbye. I’m starting to think it’s better this way. I’m not sure if I want Kai here when the Eel prince starts making advances. What was I even thinking? I think I’d rather—I don’t know—pretend I can always go back to my friends on the reef, instead of…of whatever this is going to be.”

“I doubt anyone can stop you from returning, Princess,” Marlin replied in the sort of infuriating fatherly tone that couldn’t be argued with. “Even so, nothing is final, yet. There is time to negotiate. To arrange other options. You have always been your father’s favorite, even if he…has unusual ways of showing it.”

Aya snorted, wrapping her arms around her middle. “Very unusual.”

“Introducing the Princesses Seline, Sephina and Ayalina, daughters of High King Titus…”

As the blowfish announced their many titles to the room, Marlin urged her away from the balcony with an insistent flipper.

“Hurry down, Princess. I won’t be able to help you if you miss your own introduction.”

Aya didn’t need telling twice. Bolting down to the corridor behind the throne, she smiled apologetically at her sisters’ silent stares before, like them, she plastered a calm and regal look on her face, and took her place at the Table of King’s.

“The daughters of the High King!” The blowfish bowed along with everyone else in the ballroom as they sat, and nodded to the crowds.

Seline and Sepphina always made it look easy to perch in their halves of a jeweled clam and wave, but Aya was having trouble perching, and keeping her blue fins covered. The last thing she wanted was for the whole of Atlantis to know she still had hatchling coloring.

Since the beginning of introductions, the rest of her sisters and their husbands had joined the table, and even amidst her nervousness, Aya relished seeing how many of her sisters had come to the palace at once.

Queen Adriatta now shared her throne with King Ezra to the direct left of their father. On Aya’s other side sat Queen Nina with the Unagi King of the Yellow Sea. Then there was Queen Corinne with her new husband, King Ketea of the Indian ocean, and Queen Arianna with King Vodyanoi of the Black Sea. She longed to hear how their lives had changed in their new homes, although she knew she likely wouldn’t get much time alone with her sisters with Marlins scheduling. She made eye contact with each one, hoping they understood how happy she was to see them, brief though it would be.

Two of her sisters were missing, Rina of the Merrow, and Rosalinde of the Caribbean Sea were missing, each caught up in the troubles of their kingdoms enough to have stayed away. Aya frowned. If Rina and Rosalinde had been here, at least they’d have taken some of the attention away from herself.

Too soon and not soon enough, the applause had hardly died down when the blowfish continued, turning the attention away from Aya.

“The Selkie King Fain of the Arctic Sea!” the blowfish announced.

Seated next to their father, the princesses had the pleasure of watching the foreign entourages make an entrance—and what a display it turned out to be.

King Fain, a middle-aged, white-tailed selkie with broad shoulders draped in seal-skins entered through the main doors. He wore a simple crown of enchanted ice, and his face, though sun-streaked in a way that made him look older than he was, was pleasant enough. The ballroom guests gasped in delight when he was flanked by a flock of penguins, zooming out and tracing designs in bubbles around the rest of his entourage—a stern-faced otters, each bearing a clamshell dish overflowing with ice-jewels that tumbled into onlookers’ open hands.

Aya gasped along with the rest. This king certainly knew how to get into the good graces of a crowd.

“High King Titus,” Fain greeted with a bow to her Father, “Gentlemen…Princess.” He nodded to Seline with just as much reverence as he’d shown their father. His cold, blue eyes locked with Seline’s as he rose, and Aya smiled when her sister’s cheeks went very pink.

She hadn’t noticed in her rush, but Seline already wore several of the gifts she’d received from the Arctic. Her wrists dazzled with white ice gems, and her skirts had been sewn with dozens of blue ones. The effect was lovely, and certainly not unnoticed by Fain.

“Welcome, Fain!” Titus boomed from his throne, more warmly than Fain had. “Sit down, sit down! It’s been years!”

“Time moves a little differently in the north, my king,” Fain said unapologetically, the tines on his crown looking a little sharper as he spoke. “The care of the Arctic seas is complex since the Gyre shifted the shoals away from our territories.”

“Can’t be too dire, Fain!” King Ketea snickered. “That entourage looks plumper than my guppy nursery!”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” chimed a chorus of the penguins flying about King Fain’s head. Fain dismissed them with a wave, not dignifying Ketea with a response, which earned him a round of disappointed ‘oooh’s’ from the princesses when the penguins disappeared up to the upper air-dome to investigate the smells of dinner. Silently, Fain followed Titus’s suggestion, and took his seat next to a very pink Sirena.

“The entourage of Angler King Cetus of the Depths!” the blowfish shouted an honorary announcement.

There were gasps and curious whispers as heads turned toward the entry door, but it was no king who entered. The representative of the depths arrived without anything more than the obligatory fanfare, swimming stiffly and alone up to the thrones, although his unworldly presence alone was enough to keep the room’s attention.

His tail was unlike anything Aya had ever seen—over fifteen feet long by her estimation, murky brown and black sinew formed an undulating black tail that ended in a point like a whip. His dorsal fins were torn as though he’d spent most of his life swimming through craggy rocks. His upper torso, all wirey muscle, and angles, was ghostly pale, and clad only in hundreds of strands of beads and teeth—though what had grown that shape of tooth, Aya didn’t know. It was impossible to guess at the merman’s age. With a jaw so rigidly set, it could probably crush bone, he might have been twenty or fifty years old. Eyes narrowed practically to slits, he approached the king.

Every ear trained on the lone merman, and Aya doubted she was the only one who had never seen someone like this, before.

“I am Djeval, ambassador to King Cetus. I hope you will forgive the King’s absence, I’m afraid there weren’t quite enough…means for his visit on such short notice.”

Djevel punctuated his greeting with a swig from a hip flask of what looked like spoiled tar. Sephina turned her eyes away politely, but Aya could see her shudder. Creatures from the depths needed special potions to change pressure when they traveled, but wherever they went, they always looked…otherworldly. The potions required for the pressure-changes they underwent were notoriously rare—hence, why so few of the citizens of the depths visited Atlantis—that, and no matter who she asked, no one could tell her where the kingdom of the depths actually was. This begged the question likely on the tip of every whisper in the room—how had the high king summoned him here?

Below the table, something brushed Aya’s tail, and she looked down to find Sephina handing her a long, billowing sea fan. Grateful, Aya took it.

Sephina hid her face from the stares behind her own fan. Face partially concealed, Aya leaned over to her sister.

“You alright?” she mouthed.

Sephina didn’t move, as though caught between a head shake and a nod. Aya knew how she felt, suddenly regretting not spending more time with her sister in the last two days. Eventually, Sephina’s head dipped, just a fraction, and Aya fluttered the fan to show that she understood. Sephina would make it through this dinner, and when they were done, she was going to take the time to properly hear her out. After all, the Angler King Cetus’ absence, and lack of evident interest could only give her hope. That’s what this meant, right?

“What, not enough potion? Even for their king?” Ketea scoffed half-heartedly, and not quietly enough, as Ambassador Djeval took his seat next to Sephina. There would be no more communication between them, for now.

“It is not wise to mock deep-dwellers,” scolded Vodyannoi quietly enough that Titus wouldn’t hear. “Even we have tales, Ketea.”

It was unclear if Djeval heard them. Next to Sephina, he said nothing—only smiled.

Looking at Djeval’s….everything, Aya wanted to ask Ketea if he really wanted the depths to have enough potion for large entourages to the surface. Luckily, before she could make herself an enemy in her sister’s husband, the last of the guests was announced.

“Crown Prince Ellian of the Red Sea, representing his father, the former General Elias!”

Prince Ellian’s entourage exploded through the doors in a way that to Aya could only be described as impatience, although the answering ‘ooh’s’ and ‘aah’s’ from the rest of the guests spread over the floor were impressed.

An escort of ten brightly-finned mer-guards spiraled into the room in perfect formation around Prince Ellian, whose eel’s tail was an impressive display of orange and yellow scales. Each guard wielded an orange-painted harpoon, doubtless painted to match the prince’s natural coloring. What made the group truly impressive, was the occasional orange and green snaps of electricity from the electric eels that curled around the spearheads. A particularly mean-looking cave-eel decorated Ellian’s orange harpoon-head, and Aya wasn’t the only one who noticed that it wasn’t particularly happy to be there. The guests backed away from its snapping teeth as Ellian swam past. As he approached the throne, the bulk of the electric eels dismissed themselves and were heeled in by the guards.

Not speech-gifted fish, then? Aya wondered.

Then, she noticed that the biggest and meanest of the eels hadn’t left the prince’s side, and he was bringing it close to her. Cringing away from the thing, each of the queens and princesses tucked a little further into their husbands’ protection. Even Sephina leaned instinctively toward Djevel when she caught sight of its snapping teeth.

“Kings and Princesses!” Ellian announced with an overly-wide smile when he’d reached the foot of the thrones. “And which of you would be Ayalina—?”

“Prince Ellian, if you would, feel free to dismiss your….people before addressing the High King,” Marlin guided near the foot of Titus’ throne, as he pointedly regarded the eel.

“Who are you to addresss the princccce?” snarled the cave-eel as it stretched out its horrible green head.

Aya couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath. That eel was speech-gifted, and it sounded as nasty as it looked.

Prince Ellian only chuckled, giving a flippant toss of his bright yellow hair and a portrait-worthy smile.

“Not to worry, not to worry! Happy to do so.” With a wave of his hand, the guards dispersed among the waiting guests, much to the delight of any single mermaids on the floor. “Now, as I was saying, which of you lovely mermaids is the Prin—

“Welcome to you and your men,” King Titus said officially, “I trust your father is well?”

“Ah—yes. High King,” the prince stammered, his face going orange.

Aya reopened her fan, and tucked her face behind it like a shield against second-hand embarrassment. It was the closest thing she could do to dropping her forehead into her palm, and even then, she thought if she did, her father might excuse it for this. What kind of crown prince forgot to greet his host, when his host was the High King?

The eel around his harpoon clacked its teeth menacingly at the king, and the prince at last seemed to recall some decorum.

“My father sends his greetings—er—regards, my king.” Prince Ellian dropped into another outrageous bow that nearly tipped off his gilded crown.

“And your birthmark? I thought your father was so proud of your royal markings.” Titus began to chortle. “Not surprised he was exaggerating. Not to worry, not to worry. It shows a father’s pride all the same.”

Across from her seat, Aya had a full view of Ezra’s disdainful sneer when he heard that bit of praise, but the look vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and no one seemed to notice, apart from Ellian—though that could have just been an embarrassed scowl.

“Well then, young Ellian, take your seat! Marlin! Music! Let this ball begin!”

“When you have dismissed your—er—company,” Marlin enunciated once more, before Ellian could take his seat. “I will be happy to show you to the Princess Ayalina”

With some of the bubbles taken out of his gills, Ellian dismissed the eel—to the visible relief of nearly everyone there. Oddly, Djeval and Ezra seemed the only ones miffed to see it go. Aya suspected that Ellian was only willing to comply in order to get seated more quickly, which was another absurdity. She was the only princess left sitting alone.

How could he have missed that?

Somewhat deflated, and with Marlin’s help Ellian did manage to find his seat—the only empty one left.

Aya risked another glance at Selina and Sephina. Seline seemed entirely content, if a bit agitated, next to King Fain. All of Sepphina’s nervousness had evaporated, however. She was now giving Aya a look of ultimate pity.

Aya did her best not to look at Ellian, who was now shifting and posing himself in his seat for the benefit of the guests watching them.

“We welcome the seas to Atlantis!” The blowfish concluded the introductions to polite applause from citizens eager to return to the ball—and to meeting the foreign guards.

The music began again; a symphony of coral flute players and shimmering jellyfish harpists and drums. The lively melody beckoned the earlier arrivals—already fed and eager—to the dance floor beneath the half-circle of throned seats. King Fain and Djeval were unfazed when the thrones began to rise toward the air dome where their own air-cooked dining table awaited, but Prince Ellian jumped and hissed when the seat below him began to move, too close to Aya’s ear for comfort. The fingers on her hand closest to his seat tingled with an unpleasant shock as a vein on the side of Ellian’s tail began to spark.

It was only by the grace of years of forced etiquette that she didn’t groan aloud. She could only hope that ‘sparking’ was something the prince would be able to control as he got older.

Once the royal family was comfortably seated above-water, the kuo-toa set dishes of steamed halibut and roasted sea-lettuce and bladderwrack before them, to the obvious enthusiasm of any of the north-dwelling diners.

“This is a treat,” Djeval said appreciatively before following Titus’ example and eating with relish. Then, to Aya’s surprise, he quietly and politely started to speak with Sephina who, though she was clearly still disturbed by his one-too-many rows of teeth, visibly relaxed into whatever topic he’d offered.

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“Air-cooked food. Only in Atlantis,” King Fain made a salute of thanks toward Titus before eating.

“Well, not only in Atlantis,” Ellian bragged next to Aya as he made a show of stirring his steaming filet about his plate unappetizingly. “My father has revolutionized the air domes in our kingdom. This meal would be a paltry appetizer in our kitchens.”

“This is the appetizer, highness,” said the kuo-toa serving him, bringing the next dish. “Is it not to your liking?”

Ellian flushed orange once more. “And in my palace, the servants never speak unless spoken to.”

The kuo-toa moved to set the next plate in front of Aya, and scurried away at the first opportunity. Aya could hardly blame him. As the courses passed her by plate by plate, she was ready to volunteer for a place in the kitchens all week if it would get her away from the table.

Ellian peppered her with questions about the kingdom and palace functions, all of which she tried to answer before realizing he was really only making openings to talk about his own kingdom, which, though much smaller than Atlantis, seemed to be far more important in his eyes.

“—in fact, we were on a squid hunt only this morning! What a season! We found some beauties in the wrecks, but of course it’s still too early for a real hunt…”

It was difficult to keep ahold of Ellian’s stories, and Aya found herself scanning the ballroom hopelessly. She wanted to run from this conversation where every question was its own sinkhole. She wanted to feel as though her future wasn’t circling some invisible drain. She wanted to be rescued. She wanted… someone to trust. And suddenly she was desperate for even a glance from Kai. If he were here, then somehow, this would all turn into some marvelous joke. He did say he would try to come, and Kai’s ‘try’ was better than most nobles’ vows.

Though she knew chances were still slim, she searched. The cecaelia present were given a wide berth by the other Atlantean citizens. He wasn’t there.

“—of course, it wasn’t a wasted trip,” Ellian was saying. “So many gorgeous shipwrecks in this corner of the ocean, and we caught a cecaelian of all things near the border trying to sneak into the city. Of course we did the palace soldiers a favor and took care of the whelp—”

Aya snapped to attention. “What did you say?” she demanded.

“Really, Princess, you will have to learn to listen if you plan to rule with me,” he smiled condescendingly, taking the opportunity to brandish his spear in her face. She was cross eyed before she realized he was trying to show her a place where it had broken off.

“It really was a fun little hunt, even if I did lose a tip—”

Aya gasped. Kai and Krill weren’t here, and Kai had said… Kai had promised—

“The cecaelia you mentioned. What did he look like?”

“Oh, nothing impressive,” he fixed her with a falsely humble sneer. “Nothing as terrifying as the Architeuthis we’ll see in the coming weeks once the currents bring in the males for season. Thought the boy was a squid at first. They do look so similar from a distance.”

“What do you mean, you ‘took care of him?’” she asked, dreading the answer, and trying to keep her gills from hyperventilating. Although she didn’t want any of her cecaelian friends who made their homes in the Atlantian reefs to be hurt, she guiltily knew she would feel better if Kai and Krill had shown up, and tried desperately to soothe herself with the thought that Ellian could never have beaten Kai…not fairly, at least.

Ellian preened under the attention, and started off on some unimportant detail about how they’d found the outer farms quite difficult for the hunt.

She gulped, taking in just how many guards he’d brought with him. “You couldn’t have killed a cecaelia,” she said hopefully. “I’ve seen one take on a giant squid on his own.”

“Of course I killed him,” Ellian scoffed, as though to him the life of one cecaelia was worth far less to him than the state of his harpoon. “I never leave a task undone. It would be unprincely! And of course you didn’t see one take on a squid,”

She could feel her eyebrows rising as he continued.

“It was likely just a squid you thought you saw. They’re in season soon! You do know about the creatures’ seasons, don’t you? It seems I’ll have to teach you about more than just history.” At that, he winked at her lasciviously, and Aya had no doubt as to what kind of ‘things’ he thought she didn’t understand.

Any remnants of her appetite were long-gone. “You said he was young? Short hair or long?” she demanded, realizing she wasn’t going to get him to change his mind, but might at least give her some information.

Ellian brushed off her comment with another flip of his wrist, more concerned with rewrapping the eel’s body to hide the broken tip of his weapon, and the leering smile didn’t leave his face even as he turned away from her to do so. “Does it matter? They all look the same.”

Aya felt sick. The pool of worry curled in her fins, and she could swear she could feel the blue creeping back up the length of them.

“No. No, they don’t. And they are citizens of this kingdom,” she emphasized. “And they don’t sneak in. Many of them live on the reef’s edge. Did you even ask for his papers?”

Righteous anger was beginning to build in Aya’s stomach.

What would happen if I took that spear out of his hand and ran him through? Definitely no more marriage… Aya considered the plan briefly before letting the thought pass. Harming the crown prince of a kingdom was tantamount to a declaration of war, and many more of her citizens would die if she let that happen. Ezra’s warning flashed through her mind. Are you playing a long game? Emotion clouds judgment, he’d said. If she was going to be forced to be a ruler, then she wouldn’t be a careless one, at least.

“After what the cecaelia have done to my people, I’m happy to rid you of an interloper. They would never be allowed in the red sea, of course. Come with me to see it. Not a tentacle in sight. You’ll never want to leave,” Ellian carried on, oblivious to her discomfort.

“I thought you were allies with King Ezra,” she interrupted, fighting the emotion that threatened to grip her tongue once more.

“Yes, well, royalty is royalty,” he sighed, as though that explained everything. “Perhaps I’ll tell you the history of the Cecalian people and the war with this very kingdom! I promise you’ll feel the same as I do when you’ve learned more.”

Her fins curled angrily under her skirts. “I’m quite familiar with my own kingdom’s history,” she grumbled, but apparently not quietly enough.

“Perhaps,” Adriatta leaned toward them from across the table, flicking a wrist in a way that reminded her of her husband’s tentacles. “Perhaps, you two should dance. You can show us the style of the Eel Kingdom, and Princess Aya can tell you some interesting tidbits about the inner city. You wouldn’t believe the things the royal family can tell you about the palace,” Adriatta, who to Aya’s knowledge hadn’t been paying much more attention to Ellian than she had, chimed in the moment Aya’s tone had slipped into anything less than regal.

Aya’s lips tightened, and she willed her smile toward Adriatta to communicate future retribution.

‘How could you?’ it said.

The way Ezra was pointedly ignoring Prince Ellian the Insufferable, Aya suspected that this was Adriatta’s plan for getting Ellian away from the table—probably at the cost of Aya’s own sanity.

“An excellent idea! I happen to be highly trained in all the latest styles!”

Once more oblivious to the more subtle cues around him, Ellian rose from his seat and offered a hand to Aya.

At least it’s offered. He could have speared me and then dragged me onto the dance floor, she thought angrily.

Aya would rather have eaten silt than take his hand, but with her sisters, uncle, and father’s eyes on her, she didn’t have the option to refuse. Casting a desperate glance at Marlin, who could do nothing more than shrug his flippers, she took his hand and let him pull her out of her presentation shell, and into the fray of dancers.

To her horror, the lively drums and flutes of the initial dance died down nearly the moment they took the floor, and were replaced by a heart-rendingly romantic piece from the strings. Ellian fixed her with a soft, sickly sort of gaze that she knew all too well from the bottom-feeders Kai and Adin had done so well at keeping her away from in the slums. She shuddered as he pulled her too close, and yanked her around the floor in what he seemed to think was the ‘latest style.’ In the Eel Kingdom, it may have been, but in Atlantis, this sort of odd, slow jig hadn’t been in fashion since Titus courted her mother. At every turn, they garnered more stares, which Ellian found deeply flattering, and made Aya want to hide. The only benefit of their positioning was that she could see nearly every face at the ball, though once more, Kai’s wasn’t one of them.

“Oof!” Aya grunted when Ellian steered her right into another dancing pair of groupers. “Do excuse me,” she apologized quickly.

The groupers took things in stride, but Ellian once more turned haughty.

“You don’t dance well, do you, Ayalina?”

“Princess Ayalina,” she corrected, taking both of them aback with her vehemence.

“Princess Ayalina,” Ellian rolled his eyes, “I said, you don’t dance well. It’s alright to admit it. It’s nothing that can’t be trained.”

Aya wanted to scream. She danced very well, thank you very much. However, she didn’t doubt by now that if a jellyfish had him in its stings and was in the act of eating Prince Ellian that he would take the opportunity to criticize its technique.

“How fortunate,” she bit out instead. “For now, try steering me away from the other couples? I have the great hardship of living without eyes in the back of my head.”

Ellian flicked his hair back and fixed her with a dazzling smile that was entirely wasted. He spun her around his orange tail and threw her into a dip that her back would be recovering from for weeks.

“Certainly!” he said, some of his princely flair returning. “But do take care to do your part as well, darling.”

Before she could protest at being called anything but ‘Princess’ by this royal cod, he’d swung her in a mad spiral in the middle of the floor. She held onto his hand and shoulder in the name of self-preservation as he bobbled her around the dance space. They bonked rudely into other couples, until she was sure that the reason the collisions stopped was simply that no one else wanted to dance near them.

At the end of the most torturous love song ever inflicted on two people, the music at last picked up its pace, and Aya might have liked staying to dance had she been with any other partner—but she wasn’t.

“Prince Ellian, thank you for the dance, but I really have to—” she tried to excuse herself.

She would order one of the guards to dance with her if she had to, to spend a few songs away from Ellian, but he still had a hold on her wrists, and wasn’t letting go.

“What? But this is the best piece yet!” Ellian cried, snapping his fingers horribly off-beat.

“Prince Ellian, thank you for the offer, but—” Aya did her best to pull away, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t know how to take a soft no. That realization helped her resolve. “Prince Ellian, I know we haven’t known each other long—”

He interrupted again.

“Oh, I feel the same!”

She blinked.

“What?”

“Incontrafibularitily so!” At last, Ellian pulled her away from the dance floor, right through a disgruntled group of elegant, brine-sipping mer-grannies. They squawked and some made obscene gestures at the prince until they noticed how handsome he was, and the noise was replaced with uncomfortably silent stares.

“That definitely isn’t what that word means—” She shook her head, getting back to the point. “Right. Feelings. Well, I suppose I wasn’t exactly subtle.”

“Don’t despair, Princess. You were plenty reserved! I am simply well versed in the art of.. Feminine subtlety.” There, he gave her another of those lascivious smiles, and any notion that she wouldn’t have to be anything but cudgel-blunt with this prince vanished. “But forgive me, I should let you continue. Tell me, what was it that made you fall for me? My legendary skill with the spear?”

I bet that’s what half the mermaids on your staff told you, she bit back. Cowards.

“You carry a harpoon,” she said, instead.

“The dancing? Being here in my arms—”

“Sorry, not that,” she interjected. “Listen, Ellian, I really—”

“The thought of my marvelous kingdom? I suppose—”

“I am not trying to rule.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to bring up my face, but what mermaid could resist—”

“I’ve managed so far. Ellian—”

“My hair? Who doesn’t like a blond?”

“That’s really not my—” she paused there, a particular head of perfectly white hair coming into her mind. “—I suppose blond is a decent color,” she conceded.

“Ah-ha! ”

She sighed. “I’m not interested in you at all, Prince Ellian.”

He still hadn’t let go of her, but was at least far backed away enough from the dancefloor not to hit anyone—until he pushed her into a kuo-toa holding an entire tray of serving ware. She clattered into him, and apologized profusely.

“Now, princess, no need to apologize to the servants. Let’s stay on topic, shall we? My looks and mannerisms have won over many a heart of—a moment, did you say, ‘not interested?’”

She could have cried. She was finally getting through to him.

“ Did you mean to say ‘not interested, because you are in fact ‘captivated?’ ‘entranced?’ ‘eager?’”

Or not. Although she was impressed he knew so many words.

With a frustrated flip of her tail, Aya yanked her hands out of his.

“Ellian, I am the worst match for you in the oceans. My closest friends and some of my family are cecaelian. I eat eel on the regular. And, I don’t want to rule.”

“Why, that’s just marvelous, darling!”

She couldn’t for the life of her understand why he looked so delighted.

“It is? Does that mean you’ll help me end the engagement suit?”

He was suddenly selectively deaf again. Heads were turning, and not just because of the noise. Apparently Ellian had garnered an unseemly attention from the room’s mermaids. Maids young and old were watching them with different flavors of interest. The attention made her want to flee, but this was a battle that had to be fought.

“Of course not! Don’t you see?” Ellian preened, as though puffing his chest anymore, and stroking various places on his armor would make her change her mind. The mermaids closest to them giggled, and she wanted to gag.

“What don’t I see?” she asked, an ominous feeling settling in her fins.

“That we’re a perfect match! You don’t want to rule, I don’t want to be ruled with. We can marry and you can do whatever you like in my lovely kingdom while I take care of all the heavy matters. As for the friends and family, you’ll make new ones! That is what marriage is for.”

He made a morbid kind of sense, and the dread only got worse. She clenched her fists.

“I hate indiscriminate hunters,” she tried to growl. The growl came out like a whisper, and Ellian leaned in to hear her, earning her even more unwanted attention from jealous onlookers.

Take him! She wanted to scream. He’s all yours!

“I’m nothing if not discriminate!” Ellian beamed.

That is true, a small part of Aya rued.

Reading her hesitation poorly, Ellian beamed.

“You see! We’re off to a grand start, already!”

“Ellian, what do you gain from an unwilling marriage? Why do you want this?”

The prince leapt at the chance to talk about himself. Aya subtly swam them away from people until they were all the way up against a wall. At least there, they wouldn’t be as well overheard.

“Marriage to a princess just suits a crown prince. I am the only crown prince. You are the only princess of age. It’s destiny, I say!”

“That’s it?” she asked, dumbfounded.

“Indeed! And, as I cannot rule until I am properly bonded, I feel that this is—”

She’d heard enough.

“No.”

She put as much vitriol and anger as she could into the word. Ezra had been right. This eel saw her as a pawn.

She and Ellian stared at each other a few moments. The music in the background was still lively and mirthful, as though laughing at them, but it no longer mattered. Servants passed by, and the buzz of conversation, eating and drinking, and frivolity pricked her ears. Penguins and otters and eels darted in and out of her vision, but nothing pulled her focus from Ellian’s open-mouthed floundering.

“No?” he spluttered at last. It was as though he was seeing her for the first time.

She dropped her voice again, and glared.

“No. Politics can pressure me, and my father can rage, and your father can write his empty declarations of hostility, but nothing in this ocean can force me to write my name on a contract next to yours. I refuse your suit, Prince Ellian.”

She folded her arms tightly against her chest, in case Ellian tried grabbing them and begging.

The prince opened his mouth and closed it several times, until something subtle in his expression shifted. He resigned himself to something, and at last, straightened himself and dipped into a shallow bow.

“I understand, Princess Ayalina. There’s nothing for it. This must be done.”

She blew a stream of bubbles in relief. He understood. He was retracting the suit! She didn’t think it would be nearly so easy.

“I won’t try to persuade you any further, Princess,” he said, and her gills fluttered in relief. “But…”

She nearly groaned.

“—But I have come a long way to meet you, and if my suit is being denied, well then.” He offered her a hand. She didn’t take it.

“Yes?” she responded in a smooth, measured tone.

“Princess, we’ve nearly lost the sunlight from the upper dome, and before all we have is coral torches to see the room in, there’s something I’d like to…to show you.”

Ellian was fidgeting with a small parcel on his waist.

A bribe?

“No, sorry,” she shook her head, swimming back a few feet. “Like I said before, I really have to—”

“Yes,” he smiled, the horrible leer creeping over his expression once more. “You do have to.”

He swam forward and took her hand without waiting for her to accept his offer. If not for that, she would have bolted, but his hold didn’t let her move another inch. She considered shouting for a guard, but what would she say to them? That her suitor wanted to give her a gift against her will? The scene that it would make alone would have her locked in her quarters until the wedding day, and she would never say goodbye to her cecaelian friends—or be able to check if they were alright.

“Come now, Ayalina, this is efficiency! If you’re not interested, I’ll leave at first light, so at least let me give you my welcome gift before I go.”

“Prince Ellian, you’re hurting me. I’m sure you could show me this…thing tomorrow.”

Ellian scoffed. “What and have every moment chaperoned by that old turtle? I think not, Princess.”

With that, Ellian yanked her toward one of the alcoves at the side of the ballroom.

Aya looked around frantically, trying to catch the eye of someone she knew, but not only did she not see any of her friends among the guests, but the mermaids watching her actually looked jealous.

I’ll trade places with any of you! She wanted to scream.

There was a barrage of giggles from a group of young noble mermaids collected around the base of one of the ballroom’s columns as they passed. Ellian even smiled and tossed them a wink before swimming right by.

At first, she thought he was going to pull her out onto one of the curtained balconies—all of which had guards posted by the windows. To her horror, she quickly realized that it wasn’t an alcove that he had in mind. With a tail much stronger than hers, he was pulling her down a corridor—away from the ballroom.

“This isn’t proper!” she protested weakly. Was this some attempt at persuading her—again? “If you’re seen taking me away from the ball early, it isn’t going to help your suit.”

“Ah, because you’ve been so receptive to my suit, princess.” Ellian rolled his eyes. “Come along.” He winked at her with the first sign of real understanding he’d had since they’d started speaking that evening, and it was a crying pity that this was the first of her that he really seemed to notice. “I really do have something for you to see. Surely you don’t want to hurt my feelings right before sending me off?”

As he dragged her toward a curtained side corridor, she realized they were already far enough from the dance floor that if she called for a guard, none would hear her over the jaunty music.

Aya made the mistake of laughing nervously, which he took to mean that she was finally willing to play along, and only pulled her harder and faster away—away from any help. To her relief, however, he did release her arm once they were far enough down the hall that the music allowed for a regular speaking volume, and instead of trying anything unpleasant, as she’d fully been expecting, he pulled the purse from its place around his tail, and pulled a fragile-looking coral pendant from the material.

The last of the light from the dying sun that filtered through the curtains in the vaulted corridor made the chain sparkle, and on the clasp sat a tiny carving of the Sunfish, her favorite constellation.

“Oh, that’s…that’s really lovely,” Aya said honestly, glancing between Ellian and his gift. “I’ve always liked the Sunfish,” she offered again, when he didn’t do much more than smile that infuriating smile.

“I thought you might,” said Ellian sweetly.

He held out the necklace. When she didn’t move to take it, his tail gave an irritated flick, but his grin only widened, and he swam round her back.

“Like me to fasten it for you? No need to ask, love, I am already well informed on what will make you happy,” he said suggestively.

She rounded on him with a glare.

“What are you talking about, Prince Ellian?”

Tail thrashing angrily beneath her, she put as much distance between them as she could manage before he caught her and forced her around again. He strangled the words from her as he forced the necklace onto her neck. The chain bit into her skin, cutting into her throat. She cried out. Droplets of blood formed where he snapped the chain shut.

“Still so formal,” he sighed around her struggles. “And here I thought a little solitude would help you be less… well, I suppose it isn’t the worst thing to have you already respecting your betrothed. It’s only a formality, all these tedious meetings they have planned, don’t you see? These tours and luncheons and balls. Wouldn’t you rather avoid them, too? After all, there are so many more exciting things we could do. We’ll just announce our betrothal while the guests are here this evening and have done with it all.”

Aya felt something inside of her snap.

“Let go!” She jerked in the prince’s grip. “I. Said. No! Unlike what you may think, you do not impress me, Prince. Like I said before, nothing in this ocean will force me to marry you. Not you. Not my father. Not threats. Nothing!”

Ellian’s leer at last dropped from his face, but instead of looking down-hearted, he was outraged. With a speed that Aya couldn’t have matched, he slithered forward, and snatched her arms painfully. He shoved her against the wall, where the last rays of sunlight streamed through the curtains, blinding her. Aya yiped as Ellian snarled into her face.

“I’d hoped to give you a choice, Princess. I’m honorable. Any mermaid would give their senses to be with me—and you will!”

With that, Ellian snapped the coral pendant he’d just put on, in half. For a moment, it hung uselessly on the chain, until, in the last dying rays of the sun, an iridescent powder shot out, filling the waters in front of her chest like a silt haze.

“Stop!” she heard a familiar voice bellow, as the dust rose.

Abruptly, Ellian let go of her and shot back.