Page 1

Chapter 1

Light danced through the water in a thousand shades of blue and gold.

Kaerius burst from the waves in an exultant rush, and his song might have split the sky with its beauty. His tail flashed in the brilliant dawn before he dove deep only to twist toward the surface for another joyful leap.

He sang for the joy of the morning, for the thrill of the icy water upon his skin and scales, for the ecstatic bliss of a new day full of possibilities. He sang for the deep tones of a whale song and the joy of fish flesh between his teeth, for the joy of leaping between sea and sky, and for the beauty of the droplets that caught the sunlight and cast it around in a thousand little rainbows.

He sang for the splendor of the Mer voices that echoed through the water around him, high and pure and enchanting, and for his exhilaration and pride in knowing that his voice was the loveliest and most irresistible of all.

The prince of the Mer was not humble, and he had no reason to be, for he was the fiercest, strongest, cleverest warrior his people had ever known, and he sang with power and beauty that surpassed any other. He sang with lust for all that the worldoffered and all that he would take from it, and for the pride of the life within him. For what reason would such a prince be humble?

Kaerius sang until the sun was well above the water, and the other Mer had retreated deeper beneath the surface to the quiet, dark depths to hunt. He admired the coruscating flash of the scales upon his tail in the sunlight. He danced in the shallows, turning circles and twisting around and around to let the light play on his scales to dazzling effect.

“Kaerius!” His father’s deep voice rang through the water, and the young prince scowled.

His tail flip was sharp with insolence, but when he reached the Mer king some three miles away and a mile beneath the surface, he said only, “What is it, Father?”

“The sun is up. It’s time to stop singing and focus on the hunt.”

Kaerius snarled, “Why can’t I appreciate the beauty of the sunrise, Father? Why do you hate it so much?”

The Mer king took a deep, slow breath of water; every muscle of his chiseled body was tight with anger. “I do not hate the dawn, insolent child,” he said quietly. “I am glad that my sacrifices in war, and your mother’s sacrifice of her life for yours, have afforded you the luxury of spending your time singing to the uncaring sun. However, I had hoped that when you reached the age of majority, you would understand that ruling requires more than a beguiling voice and a pretty face. It requires sacrifice, Kaerius, and you’ve been sheltered from so much that I wonder if I’ve ruined you entirely.”

The young Mer prince’s mouth dropped open. “This is how you insult your best warrior? How many times did I go to battle for you?” His voice cracked with offended fury. “I haven’t been a child for years. But you wouldn’t know, would you? You stay in the depths, hiding from the light, and from me, just because I look like Mother.”

“Enough!” roared the king. “You speak of what you do not know.”

“Then tell me!” cried Kaerius. “How many times did I ask for you to give us better guidance? We won the war, and still you stayed down there, as if nothing in the light had any appeal for you.”

The Mer king’s chest heaved with the effort of keeping his temper, and his silvery hair made a pale cloud around his grim face. “Did you ever think that others made greater sacrifices than you did, and our healing comes more slowly? The war did not end as quickly and easily for me, or others, as it did for you.

“Nevertheless, I did not call you here to reprimand you for your appreciation of beauty. I called you here to focus your attention on your responsibilities. The hunt. Your life is not your own, Kaerius. You are a prince. Act like it.”

Kaerius trembled with rage. “Iamacting like a prince! Is it not our life’s work to sing and bring joy and beauty to the world? You’ve forgotten the very purpose of our existence!”

The king snapped, “It isn’t all about you and what you enjoy! It is and has always been about sacrificing oneself for one’s people. That is why I stay in the depths. I guard our people against the Lord of the Deep! Do you think I do not miss the light upon my face, or the taste of shallow waters? I give myself for my people day by day, and you are too self-centered to even see it.”

Kaerius’s nostrils flared. “Then you should be glad I sing to the dawn, since you have apparently delegated that task to me, the inadequate prince. At least I sing well.” The prince knew this was a horrible thing to say; his father’s throat had been nearly ripped out by a warrior of the southern Mer during the war. The king had escaped with his life only because of his exceptional strength and ferocity, but his exquisitely beautiful voice had never recovered its purest tones. The king could still sing, andhis voice rippled with beauty and magic, but it was a far cry from its former glory.

Guilt twisted within Kaerius’s offended anger at the sight of his father’s wounded fury. He wanted his father to say something horrible in return, something that would wound him in similar manner, so that he could focus on his anger rather than his guilt and regret.

Instead, his father said stiffly, “I am glad you have not suffered as I have, Kaerius, and I am glad you recovered so easily from the pain that still troubles me. I wish you had learned a little empathy and compassion along with your skill as a warrior. Now go and hunt. The little ones are hungry.”

The king disappeared into the depths before Kaerius could say anything else.

At this depth, even sharp Mer eyes could see only a short distance, and he imagined that his father was not yet far away. But he could not think of what to say.

He darted off to begin the hunt, his heart full of wounded pride.

By late afternoon,Kaerius had brought the little ones more than enough fish for their evening meal. Their mothers were capable of hunting, and their fathers… well, there were fewer Mer men of age after the war, but those who remained were easily capable of feeding their own families and the orphans and widows. The king had given Kaerius this task on principle, not out of any real need for another Mer in the hunt.

When Kaerius turned away from the nursery, he rolled his eyes and sighed in annoyance. He liked hunting, but being told to do anything rankled.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” one of the Mer maids sang, her voice laced with magic to draw his attention.

“You’re welcome,” Kaerius said, his sharp teeth bared in a forced smile.

The maid drew closer and darted in front of him, waving her tail gracefully as if she wanted to draw his attention. “You are so gracious to the widows.” The maid reached for his hand, and he turned away, ignoring her admiration.