Page 29

N o one noticed Arden as the hawk let her down at the northern tip of the main island, as she hiked over the dunes toward the village, or as she strode the familiar weathered boardwalks toward home.

Granted, the only people out this early were the fishermen, but even so.

No one so much as lifted a hand in greeting or asked her why she was dressed like a cadet.

No one asked how her visit to the king had gone. No one asked if she was all right.

For a second, something dark and hard fisted in her chest. Her sister had just been kidnapped, her mother was in a coma, her father had been responsible for protecting them from a mer attack yesterday—you’d think they could at least bother themselves to acknowledge her with a wave.

She shoved the resentment down, though, when a few of the old-timers’ words drifted her way.

The entire fishing fleet had been damaged—that had been the focus of the mer’s attack. Not the people. The boats.

Interesting. She made a mental note of it, even though Papa had, undoubtedly, already included the information in a report to the king. She didn’t slow, didn’t ask them any questions.

The need to see her parents gnawed at her, making her break into a run for the last quarter-mile.

Their house stood as it always had, there at the end of the village, bigger than any other islander’s.

Big not for status but for necessity—its porches and decks and observatories all designed to provide the High Guardian with the best views, the many rooms for guests as they arrived.

Every day of her life, this house had been home, yet it felt odd as she ran up the wooden steps. It felt strange as she burst through the door. Something seemed wrong, and that made her heart pound. Please, Triada. Not Mama. Please, spare Mama. “Hello?”

Papa hadn’t been on the upper deck—that was what was off. This time of day, he was always up there. He should have been today too.

He should have spotted her as she and her winged friend landed. He should have run to greet her. The fact that he hadn’t surely meant something was wrong. “Papa?”

“Arden?” He hurried out of the bedroom at the end of the hall—not only fully dressed, but still in yesterday’s clothes.

The circles under his eyes made her think he hadn’t slept at all.

He opened his arms, and she rushed into them.

“Praise the Triada. I was so worried. You’re well?

And Storm? Did you speak with Seidon? I’ve heard nothing from him but for the instructions during the attack. ”

For a moment, she breathed him in and held on.

Coffee, salt air, bergamot. Strength and warmth and love.

Papa . Then she pulled back enough to look him in the eye as she answered.

“We’re well. The king said to tell you he’ll be reading your reports within the hour, and he’ll come to see you as soon as he can get away.

He said not to leave Mama, that he would come to you. How is she?”

Papa nodded, then frowned. “Unchanged. But you spoke with Si this morning? I suppose anyone wishing to leave the safety of the palace needed special permission. I’m surprised he let you come, to be honest.”

Her lips parted, but she wasn’t sure how much she should say, or which pieces.

Of all the people in the world, she trusted him most, and obviously the king did as well.

But Papa had Mama to worry about, not to mention all the official concerns in the wake of the attack.

For now, this minute, it seemed best to keep the explanation simple.

“Storm and I were with the king at the ball last night when he sensed the invaders. He thought it may be linked to the kidnapping so brought us with him to his headquarters.”

Papa’s eyes sparked. “The lagoon?” She nodded. “You’ll have to tell me everything. But first, you’ll want to see your mother. Come.”

How could eagerness and reticence both fill her?

She let him pull her down the corridor toward the master suite, but dread churned her stomach with every step.

If Mama was unchanged from yesterday, then she would still be lying in bed, unmoving, massive bruises and swelling mottling her face. She’d be too still. Too quiet.

The room smelled funny, likely from the medical dock that the physician had brought in and whatever it seeped into her through the arm clamped in it.

Medicine? Fluids? She took one sniff and wished she could spin around and run away, back in time, to a day when none of this was necessary.

When Mama would be in the kitchen making breakfast, when Jade would be laughing with her over something, when Papa would be claiming he didn’t need any magnifying lenses so long as he had Arden.

How had the script of their lives been rewritten so entirely?

Tears blurring her vision, she moved forward instead, toward the empty chair at the bedside that she’d sat in a day ago but which still seemed so out of place. There should not be a chair by their bed. There had never been a chair by their bed.

She sat and reached for the fingers of the hand not held prisoner by the med-dock.

“Mama.” They’d said she might be able to hear them.

That she might understand. They couldn’t guarantee it, but it was possible.

She gave the familiar fingers a squeeze and looked at Mama’s chapped lips instead of the bruised and swollen-shut eyes.

“We’re looking for her, Mama,” she whispered.

“The king promises we’ll find her. I promise we’ll find her.

Please don’t worry. The king thinks they don’t mean her any harm.

They think…they think she has magic in her blood. Powerful magic.”

Papa’s hand rested on her shoulder. “That can’t be. There’s no mixed blood in her to create it. I know we’d come to expect perhaps some residual magic, given everything, but…that’s never so strong.”

She wasn’t going to argue. Wasn’t going to cast any aspersions on Mama. “Perhaps the Triada has made a way for something new. There was a mer Awakening Blade at the ruins, Papa. Planted there—we didn’t know it for what it was, theirs look different. She cut her finger. Then they took her.”

“The Triada can always surprise us.” Papa’s tone conveyed his worry. “Perhaps both Sapphire and Liam had some recessive magic. That could have combined to create a stronger version in her, I suppose. I’m no expert, of course. I served with only my natural senses—”

“And those were good enough for the king,” she finished for him, a smile flitting onto her lips at the old refrain. “I know.”

Silence throbbed for a second, then Papa sucked in a breath. “Why are you in uniform? He hasn’t inducted you without me there to witness, has he?”

She breathed a laugh. “No—though don’t be surprised if Storm is sworn in quickly.

No, these were just the only clothes stored at the lagoon, and I couldn’t exactly keep wearing a ballgown forever.

” Not in a million years would she tell him about the one she’d worn.

About Seidon’s absurd plan that hadn’t been necessary anyway.

About the ridiculous things he’d said to her to make her relax.

But she would say, “I see now why the two of you have always been such good friends, even though you haven’t seen each other in person in so long. ”

“He’s the best man I’ve ever known.”

He’d said so countless times. But that had never explained the friendship. Being good didn’t mean one was funny and sharply-intelligent and able to size up people in a glance. No, the king was more than good. He was…

She didn’t actually have a word for it. And it was no doubt best if she didn’t linger on him in her thoughts long enough to come up with one.

Papa patted her shoulder. “I’ll make breakfast while you sit with her. Then if you wanted to help me organize my latest reports before I send them on—”

“Actually…” Geysers. She’d been too consumed with the wonder of flight, too afraid the hawk wouldn’t listen when she asked it to drop her here and then return for her in an hour, too apprehensive about what she might see beneath the waves today to give any thought to how she’d explain to her father that she wasn’t actually home.

She shrugged. “I’m only visiting. For some reason, the king thinks Storm and I will be helpful in the search for Jade. He asked me to return to the palace.”

She expected questions. The pointing out of the obvious—that a twenty-year-old girl with no higher education or formal training, Unawakened, had absolutely nothing more to offer the king than the explanation of the events she’d already given.

Which was true until one learned that Jade’s hawk was desperate enough to find her that she’d let Arden onto her back.

Papa straightened his shoulders and beamed down at her with pure paternal pride. “Of course he does. Because you will. If anyone can find her, it’s you. The two of you have always had a special connection.”

Because of Jade, not her. Jade had that way of connecting with everybody . Surely he knew that.

But he was her father, and he needed to believe she was special too. She smiled and stood. “I pray so. And I’ll visit as often as I can. But right now I need to put some things together, change my clothes, and…get to work. The king said he’d have someone bring my things over later.”

Papa frowned. “You can’t take them yourself in the skiff?”

The skiff was still moored at the palace docks, so far as she knew. “I didn’t bring it.”

His face brightened again with supposed understanding. “Ah, someone brought you. Of course—I can’t imagine he let you come alone. Too crowded for your bags?”

“Definitely not enough room.” She should really try to explain the truth…

and she would. Tomorrow, when she’d wrapped her mind better around how to put it into words.

Jade’s hawk caught me in a cliff-dive then came back for me again today .

Practical, military-minded Papa wouldn’t like that.

He couldn’t explain it. Couldn’t understand it. Therefore it would be unacceptable.

And she didn’t mean to let him put his foot down. Not yet. Not when it would mean deciding who she needed to obey, her father or her king.

Actually, better plan—she’d let Seidon tell him, and confess that he’d instructed her to make a routine of the flights, if possible. Then he could be the one to argue.

Skies knew he was the only one with a chance of ever winning in a battle of the wills with Jericho Bleu.