Page 30

ADRIANA

T he huge doors of the warship open, and the endless sea spreads out before me. The calm of the oceans is disturbed by the huge ripples as the Imperator settles in on the waters, a massive, blinding white dot against the brilliant blue that spreads out around.

Aurelian triads are packed in behind us, an alert wall of marble flesh. They do not trust the planets of Pentaris. When I walked with the triad to the main bay of the warship, I saw the way the soldiers looked at him and his battle-brothers.

Respect, bordering on worship. I’ve studied these three intimately, poring through endless victories and heroics.

I could have saved myself the time. One gaze of his brutal men, hard warriors who have endured centuries of violence, would have told me everything I needed to know.

These three did not get their respect through the crowns on their heads but by the swords at their belts.

But of all the packed in warriors, of all the corded muscle and raw testosterone behind me, Doman is the biggest. He towers over even his battle-brother Titus, a huge barbarian of a man, and the three of them scan the empty seas.

“Where is everyone?”

“Some Etherion trick?” Titus answers, his legs widening in a battle stand. He is to my left, while Doman is to my right, and Gallien stands behind me, keeping his body between the mass of soldiers and me.

When I first met them, I would have felt pinned in, trapped. Now the mountains of men are like a protective embrace.

Dangerous waters, Adriana.

“No, look,” I say, motioning forward to what looks like a marble in the middle of the ocean. Waves crashing out from the enormous warship ripple out through what had been a still sea, but they cascade over the empty Etherion craft, droplets dripping down the shimmering air-shield.

It is like a bowl in the ocean. It rests exactly level with the waters, a glittering, transparent half-circle. Under it, jellyfish-like tendrils ripple, moving and oscillating, keeping the watercraft level with the ocean.

“Bring us in closer,” commands Doman into his smart-watch. The warship, resting on the waters, slides forward, huge waves cascading outwards and splashing over the air-shield of the bowl. We stop in front of it, close enough we can jump the small gap into it.

“Keep it still. Not a wave,” orders Doman. Whoever oversees the ship while he is gone slows the Imperator, until the last ripples flow out from the huge ship and it rests, perfectly still, a white dot against the blue.

“I don’t like it. We’re exposed. We can dive the Imperator, take it down to their underwater cities,” says Gallien from behind me.

Doman raises his hand. “We go alone,” he booms out, and his troops step back in unison, their boots hitting the ground at the same moment behind us. He steps out over the ledge, over the lip of the bowl, his feet on the seats.

Then he turns, extending his hand to me. I take it and jump, and he lifts me into the craft.

The bottom of the craft is not quite soft, but it’s not hard either, subtly conforming to the pressure points of my shoes.

The craft almost seems to breathe at our arrival, an undulating vibration that courses through my body, grounding me but making me feel almost buoyant.

We walk to the far side and sit on the ring of seats that circles the transparent craft, and the seats mold against our bodies, gently adjusting to our presence.

The enormous warship dominates my vision, the bay open to a horde of Aurelian soldiers. Titus and Gallien step over the gap and into the craft, but they are tense as they sit across from Doman and me.

The jellyfish tendrils pulse in unison, and we’re pulled downwards. Titus tenses, his hand roaming to his blade.

“Relax. You’ve got a warship big enough to turn this entire planet into a seafood boil.”

Titus snorts. But he leans back in the transparent seat, which molds to him as he relaxes, as much as he can. Even with his arms stretched out and resting against the material, he has a coiled violence to him.

We slip under the waters, the light cascading through. My heart beats quicker, and to my surprise, Doman takes my hand, gently yet firmly. I don’t pull away.

I thought it would feel claustrophobic below the ocean. Instead, we’re enclosed but not confined, the shimmering airfield encapsulating us, holding the waters at bay. Titus raises a finger.

“Don’t you dare,” I say, and he grins, poking it through the air-field. I take a hissing breath, and Doman squeezes my hand, and Titus pulls his wet finger back. “You ass. How did you know it wouldn’t burst?”

He smiles at me. “If my finger would burst it, I needed to know. Before we’re deep below. I’m not going to have my death because some fish bounces against us and breaks the air-field.”

“Brave Titus, slayer of a thousand Fanatics, killed by a carp,” says Gallien, in a deeply serious voice, but his slate-gray eyes sparkle for a moment.

Doman turns his head. I see what he’s looking at. In the blue of the seas, another craft the mirror image of ours is rising. “For Aeris,” I say. “She’ll preside over the ceremonies.”

“She’s been in your ship for the last week. I thought I’d see more of her,” says Doman. “I thought she’d berate me about the planned test. Try to stop me.”

“She picks her moments,” I say, remembering each time I’d nearly wrangled the planets and Administrators into a vote, only for Aeris to speak up at the last moment, swaying things.

A school of iridescent fish dart away as we descend, the craft seeming to accelerate, yet there’s no turbulence as the jellyfish tendrils pulse, pulling us lower.

It is as if the ocean itself has granted us passage.

The watercraft has its own glowing light, and as we descend until the sun fades above, it’s like we’re a single ember in the night.

I squeeze in closer to Doman, pressing against his enormous bulk.

There’s a thousand reasons why this can never work, but for now, in this moment, I turn off my mind, enjoying the sense of safety, the huge, mountainous strength of the Aurelian.

I never thought I could be alone with these three.

Not when I felt their auras and the ravenous hunger that is inherent to their beings.

Gallien leans forward, looking down through the transparent bottom of the ship. The glowing outline of luminescent coral greets us, and between the lights, there is a black scar, a deeper darkness. “The abyss,” says Gallien.

“I’ve never been there before. Even as Prime Minister. Etherion is… polite, yet distant to outsiders.”

“You rule over so many people. So many cultures,” says Doman.

I shrug. “I don’t rule. I’m just one vote.”

Gallien smiles from across the craft. “One vote. But yours is the one that counts.”

“Sometimes I wish that were true.”

Titus raises a brow. “A tyrant in her own right.”

“It’s true my vote is needed to finalize decisions. But if I go against a majority, it goes to a no-confidence. I’ve faced four, and each time, the voting blocs have resubmitted proposals rather than strip me of my title.”

“Ah yes,” says Gallien. “Because if they go against you, they have to call an election for a new Prime Minister.”

“Fucking politics,” growls Titus. “Just give me a sword and an enemy, and keep it simple.”

Doman goes from sitting next to me to standing in an instant, his blade activated, staring outwards at a writhing shadow against the rocks of the ocean canyon that yawns below us.

An eye the size of a horse appears, pressed against the air-field, then as quickly as it came, it disappears into the darkness.

“One of the krakens,” I say, swallowing, awed by its size.

“That’s the ceremony then? Present ourselves to giant squids?

” Titus has his arms outstretched against the cool, flowing material of the shuttle, but his bared left arm is taut, the muscled corded, the veins popping out against his marble skin.

His thighs are flexed, thick as tree trunks, ready to join Doman’s side.

“Can’t I just ask your father’s blessing for marriage?” quips Gallien, unmoved by the behemoth that could have swallowed our shuttle whole.

Doman deactivates his blade, but he doesn’t sit. He’s no longer relaxed. He’s alert, eyes scanning the depths for any sign of movement.

I shiver, imagining the fourth ritual on Virelia.

The krakens don’t bother me. They co-exist with Etherions, protecting their territories from predators, so even children can swim deep below.

“That’s going to be a whole other story.

You might prefer the krakens,” I say, because I’ve been avoiding the thought of facing my family.

They know, of course, that I am to be wed to the Aurelian princely triad, but I’ve refused their calls, unable to look my parents in the eye.

My older brother, especially, so protective of me, who respected and supported my campaign, proud to say his little sister was fighting for us. What will he think of me, wed to the very alien species I railed against?

We quiet as we enter the abyss, the vessel so small against the sheer black face of the underwater canyon that rises up on either side of us.

“I don’t like this. Feels like the Rift,” growls Doman, his stance widening as he peers out through the shimmering air-shield into the pressing darkness of the deep waters. He is a warrior without an enemy in front of him, taut and waiting for danger.

It sends a chill through me. These three have been in that place between worlds.

“What… what’s it like? To Orb-Shift?”