Page 55

S eidon stood on the rooftop well before the first light of sunrise painted the puffs of clouds with pinks and golds and oranges. Hands braced on the railing, he looked east, into the gray not-quite-dark that preceded dawn.

He could feel the wall out there, feel it like a rising blister. First it had been the place where all sensation stopped, then he’d become slowly aware of the chafing of it, the rubbing, the heat. Now it was a constant burn edging its way into outright pain.

That was the part he hadn’t told Arden, hadn’t told Enoch, hadn’t told Rico or Lee or Datlov or anyone else.

It was worse here on the Banks than at the palace.

No doubt worse at the palace than it would be if he traveled inland.

And his advisors were loyal enough to him that they might say something as ridiculous as “go inland to get away from the pain” if he’d let them know it existed.

Evading it wouldn’t solve it. Running away wouldn’t fix the problem.

He needed to unlock the mystery. He’d tried pulling the water away from the wall, thinking maybe it relied on it for its power—and maybe it did.

But he couldn’t do it, because he couldn’t sense the water on the other side of it, to separate it.

It was the first time in a century that he’d set his mind to something and failed. Sure, there were plenty of times he’d tested his limits and found them, but usually once he knew them, he could train to push past them. Ever stretching, ever growing.

Not this time. Every push pushed back, and it pushed with daggers.

If he didn’t figure this out soon, he knew in the pit of his stomach that the pain wouldn’t just keep bothering his proverbial toe.

It would infect everything. Weaken him. Destroy him.

Perhaps had it been some freshwater river, he could amputate the connection—but this was the ocean.

His ocean. This was the very water from which he pulled his strength.

His fingers dug into the weathered wooden railing of Rico’s rooftop deck. One thing he knew—no one mer had created that wall alone. It had quite likely taken an army of Black Tails to accomplish it, all joining their magic together.

It was nothing but hubris, then, to think he could take it down on his own. He needed help. That was all. It was perhaps even a test from the Triada, to be certain he hadn’t grown too arrogant, too proud. Well, he could admit it. He needed help.

Who could he pull away though? He had so many fewer Awakened than the mer did, so few who could get here in any reasonable amount of time.

So few whose magic was strong enough to do much more than protect small regions.

And what would happen to those regions if he pulled them away?

When his own senses were cut off at the knees because of that blasted wall?

It could mean heightened attacks along the coasts. It could mean raiders from the desert to the west. Without those Awakened Guardians at each station, those regions would be unprotected.

He tilted his face heavenward. Enoch had said it was the will of the Triada that Seidon wore the crown, that he was king.

But no kingdom lasted forever. What if his family’s thousand-year reign had come to its rightful close?

What if he wasn’t the king that the Triada had ordained to lead Daryatla to new heights of peace and prosperity—what if instead he was the one destined to destroy it with his own weakness?

His chest ached. At the thought of failure, yes. At even considering that all he’d worked so hard to achieve would come crumbling down around him. But also because he knew that when he crumbled, he’d take out innocent bystanders with him. So many of them.

Geysers. His eyes stung, making the first hint of color on the horizon blur.

He knew he was only a man. He knew that his power would fade.

He knew that he only had it now by the grace of the Triada.

But all he’d ever wanted to do was protect his people.

See to their needs. The thought of failing at that hurt the most.

The stairs creaked, warning him to pull himself together—especially when the continuing creaks told him it wasn’t Arden with her light tread, it was Rico.

With her, he wouldn’t have bothered hiding the emotion.

She’d have sensed it in a heartbeat anyway, as she did his every frustration and fear.

But the High Guardian of the Barrier Banks didn’t need the distraction of Seidon’s fears today of all days.

It was Awakening Day for the Banks. Everyone over eighteen who had not been of age to undergo the Ceremony five years ago would make their way in the next few hours to the beach before him now, in front of the High Guardian’s house.

Arden. Storm. The friends he’d met last night at the bonfire on the beach outside the village center. Seidon’s job today was to stand before them as their king, to welcome each one into the future they chose for themselves. To encourage them through their own insecurities, not to wallow in his own.

He drew in a deep breath and let it ease out.

He performed these ceremonies at least once a year, in whatever region he’d been touring.

But he hadn’t been present to do the ones in the capital for decades, and he was looking forward to this one that would open the season, then the others on the mainland in the weeks to come.

Maybe somewhere along the coast, the Triada would raise up the Awakened he needed. Maybe hope was only hours or days away.

“You’re up early, Si.” Jericho’s voice still had that rumble of early morning as he crossed to where Seidon stood and held out a steaming cup of coffee.

He took it with a smile. “Arden has painted such a beautiful picture of the sunrise from your roof that I figured I’d better seize the chance to watch it.

” He always stayed the night before an Awakening at whatever High Guardian’s home would host the event.

And he’d stayed in this one plenty of times—just not since Jericho held the office and hence the house.

Rico chuckled and glanced over his shoulder. “Usually she beats me up here—but Sapphire has her claws in her already.” This he delivered with a grin. “And the prospect of the Ceremony seems to have helped her fight off the migraine. Hopefully she won’t pay for it later.”

Seidon smiled. His hostess had made it quite clear when they arrived last night that Arden was hers this morning, “And I won’t hear a peep of protest. You’re going to let me pamper you and help you get ready, and that’s that.”

The unspoken bits had been fully understood by them all.

Arden would let her fuss, because Jade wasn’t here to be fussed over for both of them.

She’d nodded more meekly than Seidon had ever seen her do, even when he’d grinned and passed a garment bag to her stepmother.

Well, she’d glared at him—but smiled again for her parents.

Rico took up position at the rail beside him, not scouting the horizon so much as soaking up the sunrise, from the looks of it. “You’ve set the village buzzing, you know.”

Though he knew exactly what Rico meant, he went for innocence. “Side-effect of the position, I’m afraid. Happens wherever I go.”

His friend shot him a sidelong look. “Mm hm. Especially when you scarcely leave the side of one of their own, holding her hand all night or keeping an arm around her.”

A grin wanted to curl his lips, and the wanting pushed the pain away a bit. Still, he held it back. “Are we reprising that intentions talk, Rico?”

Rico sighed. “Si, I know you’re…affectionate. And that the two of you have become friends. But even Sapphire seems to think—”

“I’m in love with her.”

He glanced over, saw his friend’s eyes sparkling. “With Sapphire? I’m afraid she’s taken.”

The jokester. “With Arden. I asked her to marry me.”

Catching Rico off guard required true skill, but he’d clearly done it. “You what?”

“She said no.”

The blink spoke of utter, complete bafflement. “She what?”

A breath of laughter pushed the pain back another few degrees. “I’ll ask her again. And again, and again, and again, until I wear her down. Assuming I have your blessing.”

He’d known Jericho Bleu since the man was eighteen years old, since Seidon raised the Awakening Blade over his finger, let the blood drip into the bowl, and saw only normal, “uninfected” blood, as Datlov would call it.

He still remembered looking up into the eyes of the young man who stood a head taller than most of his companions, a fierce set to his jaw, determination in his eyes.

Seidon had said to him the same words he said to all whose Ceremony determined they were Unawakened.

“Your future stretches before you, friend, your path your own to determine. Do you know where you mean to go?”

And Jericho had lifted his chin—then bent his knee. “To your Guardians, my king, if you will have me. I may have no magic, but what strength I claim I will use to defend Daryatla.”

He’d risen quickly through the ranks, proving himself time and again, as Storm was already doing.

Seidon had kept an eye on him, had requested he be assigned to the Elite Guard, and soon he’d been the Master of it.

They had become friends in those next years.

A friendship that had spanned nearly half a century now.

Rico’s lips turned up in one corner. “You’re a little old for her.”

A bark of laughter this time. “Can’t argue with that. Though women my own age are a bit hard to come by.”

The smile melted back down into seriousness. “I can’t think of anyone else in the world who deserves her. Though to be honest, I thought you were just proving a point last night. Trying to show those boys they’d been overlooking something precious all these years.”

Seidon tilted his head to grant the point. “They did infuriate me when I heard their conversation.”