CHAPTER FIVE
LAIROS
I scrubbed a towel through my hair, watching the swirling maelstrom outside the thick glass windows of Vigas’s quarters.
The water churned in a perpetual spiral, a natural defense that had kept Stillwater Hold safe for generations.
Any ship that tried to navigate it without proper guidance would be ripped apart and scattered across the ocean floor.
Any unauthorized swimmer who attempted it would be crushed against the jagged rocks.
Perfect for a frontier outpost.
Even better for hiding from a coup.
A patrol of Khadians returned through the swirling waters, their songs and movements synchronized down to the flicks of their tails.
Three of them peeled off with a captured deep-sea shark between them, its massive jaws bound shut, its thrashing growing weaker as they hauled it toward the holding pens.
A new tracker, if properly trained.
I tossed the towel aside and ran a hand through my damp hair.
Emme had been shown to guest quarters for her own bathing and comfort, but her absence gnawed at me.
The pull of her soul song was stronger now, a constant tug in my chest drawing me toward her.
Being separated from her, even by a few walls, felt wrong.
The heavy metal door to Vigas’s quarters creaked open, and the commander himself stepped in with arms crossed over his barrel chest.
The old warrior hadn’t changed much in the years since I’d seen him last, still built like a boulder with a temperament to match, his gray-streaked beard the only concession to time’s passage.
I’d spent years training here under Vigas, learning to fight, to lead, to survive.
Now I needed those lessons more than ever.
“The human is settled,” he said without preamble, closing the door behind him.
“Seems she’s made quite an impression on my crew already. Didn’t even flinch when Kora shifted forms right in front of her.”
I fought back a grin.
That sounded like Emme.
“She’s... resilient.”
Vigas grunted, moving to the comm unit on his desk.
“We’ve intercepted communications. Several of the humans have checked in with their rulers.” He tapped a few buttons, bringing up a map of reported locations.
“Three still missing.”
“And the Legacy?” I asked, studying the map.
“Still in orbit and unharmed. For now.”
Relief loosened some of the tension in my shoulders.
At least Nedaris hadn’t made his move against the human ship yet.
“Send word that Emme is safe with me. I’ll inform her of the updates myself.”
“Consider it done.” Vigas moved to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of amber liquid.
“And I’ll keep an ear out for any additional news concerning the humans.”
I nodded my thanks as he poured two glasses.
“I’m surprised you’re not more put out by all this. Having your peaceful outpost dragged into a coup.”
“Of all the seas on all the worlds,” he said dryly and handed me a glass, “I had to find myself in yours.”
The gruff taunt was so familiar, so normal, that for a moment I could almost forget the shitstorm we were swimming in.
I’d arrived at Stillwater burning with rage at the so-called ‘lesson’ of my father’s.
An exile, in pretty words and hard labor.
I’d wanted to tear the whole fucking outpost down, had even fantasized about swimming back to the palace and showing them exactly what happened when you caged a prince.
But Vigas had given me somewhere to direct that fury, turning my need to prove myself into something useful.
Strange how what started as punishment became the thing that saved my life, again and again.
“Admit it, old man. You missed me.” I raised my glass with a smirk and mock salute.
“Most people have to pay good coin for the privilege of my company.”
“Most people haven’t seen you puke your guts out after your first battle.” He took a long swallow of his drink.
“Or drag your royal ass through training when you couldn’t tell a spear from your own dick.”
“Those were the days.” I sipped my drink, letting the sharp flavor wash over my tongue.
What a spoiled prick I’d been.
No doubt I’d been intended to die in some training accident.
And who would make the mistake of naming Nedaris as heir, then?
“You were a real bastard back then.”
“Still am.” Vigas moved to the window, watching the swirling waters.
I downed the rest of my drink, letting the burn clear my head, then stepped to his side.
“What are we looking at, Vigas? How bad is it?”
“Hard to say.” He watched my reflection in the glass.
“Communications have been spotty since the attack. The Knights are blocking standard channels. But I’ve got runners in the water, carrying messages to those I trust.”
“And those you don’t?”
“Several of the coastal lords have already pledged to Nedaris. Others are waiting to see which way the current flows.” His eyes met mine, sharp and assessing.
“The Songbird Atolls declared for you immediately. Nedaris has blockaded their ports in response.”
Shit.
The Songbird Atolls were some of our biggest producers, their shallow reefs perfect for farming the algae that fed half my kingdom and traded to others.
An extended blockade would hurt more than just them.
“What forces do I still command?”
“The frontier garrisons remain loyal to the crown. That’s about two thousand fighters, spread thin across our borders.” Vigas tapped his fingers against his glass.
“The royal guard is split—those who weren’t killed in the initial palace culling have either fled or sworn to Nedaris.”
I paced the length of the room, mind racing.
Two thousand fighters against whatever forces Nedaris and the Knights had mustered.
Not great odds.
“You know,” I said, turning to face him, “you could make this much easier on yourself. Feed me a few lines about gathering allies, then send word to Nedaris that you’ve got me and the human. He’d reward you handsomely.”
Vigas snorted, the sound somewhere between amusement and disgust.
“My blade and my song belong to the king. Until you’re dead and your successor completes the trials, that’s you.”
“Thanks for the enthusiastic endorsement.” The words dripped sarcasm, but that unwavering loyalty hit harder than any palace wine.
Not that I’d doubted.
Much.
Vigas was probably the only person in all the seas I trusted completely.
A small, almost invisible smile cracked his weathered face.
“What was the most important lesson I tried to instill in you?”
I didn’t hesitate.
“The Khadian people come first.”
“Not kings. Not crowns.” Vigas pushed away from the window and set down his glass with a clink.
His shoulders drew back as his hands came together at his waist in the picture of a perfect commander.
“I’ve seen what the Knights do to any they consider outside of pure, Khadian tradition. I’ve heard the lust in their voices to ensure every molecule of moisture knows it serves Khadian songs.” His disgust was palpable.
“I won’t serve that.”
The old seal began to twist, and the door swung open to allow Emme’s entry.
The pull in my chest intensified, drawing me toward her like an invisible cord.
Her soul song thrummed in perfect harmony with my own, a melody only I could hear.
Vigas cleared his throat.
“I should check on things at the bridge.” He nodded to Emme as he passed.
“Ma’am.”
The door closed behind him with a heavy thud, leaving us alone.
Emme stood just inside the threshold, her blonde hair still damp from bathing, dressed in a fresh linen wrap borrowed from one of the soldiers.
The bruise on her cheek had darkened to an angry purple.
I crossed the room in three long strides, cupping her face gently in my hands.
Fury coiled in my gut at the sight of that bruise.
at the knowledge that Nedaris or one of his Knights had dared to harm her.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, brushing my thumb over the mark.
“You should never have been caught in the middle of this.”
Emme arched a brow.
“You mean when you abandoned me to the wolves?”
I dropped my hands and took a step back.
“I wasn’t abandoning you. I needed to dive deep, and you needed air.”
“So, you just... what? Decided I’d be better off alone on the surface with ships full of people trying to kill us?” Her gray eyes flashed with renewed anger.
“No warning, no explanation, just shove and swim?”
“The Knights wouldn’t kill you without orders. Not when you’re valuable as a hostage.” I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated.
Why did she want to fight over everything?
“If I hadn’t summoned?—”
“The sea monster. Right.” She folded her arms across her chest.
“And what the hell was that thing? Not that I’m ungrateful, but something like that is a story to scare children where I’m from.”
“The sea dragon is special to Khadians,” I explained, moving to pour her a drink and refresh mine.
“Legend says the first Khadian king fell into the abyss after slaying the last of a hundred pretenders. Too weak to do anything but sing his final goodbye to his queen, he sank deeper and deeper until the dragon answered his call. The beast saved and granted him dominion over the waters in exchange for protection from hunters.”
I handed her the glass, our fingers brushing.
Even that brief contact sent a jolt through me.
“To honor our first king, each potential ruler now offers to battle any contender for the throne. Only when no more object can the potential plunge as deep as they can swim and earn the dragon’s favor. If they succeed, they can call upon it in times of great need.”
“And you can command it?” Emme’s voice held a note of awe that sent a ridiculous flare of pride through my chest.
“Not command, exactly. Request.” I took a sip of my drink.
“The dragon chooses whether to answer.”
“It chose to answer you today,” she said, watching me over the rim of her glass.
I swirled the amber liquid in my glass, remembering the surge of power and exhaustion that followed.
The sea dragon hadn’t just come—it had answered with fury, as if it too recognized the threat Nedaris posed.
“Yes.”
Let my dear brother play at being king.
Let him wear my crown and command his Knights.
But he wasn’t the true king of Delovia Ridge.
Not yet.
Not until he faced the trials, and if I had anything to say about it, he never would.
Emme was quiet for a moment.
Her voice softened, a note of something like pity threading through it.
“So... your own brother?”
I sighed and poured us both another drink, buying time as I tried to sort through the tangle of emotions that came with thinking of Nedaris.
Anger.
Betrayal.
And beneath it all, a stubborn thread of something that felt dangerously like grief.
“I don’t know when it started,” I admitted finally, staring into my glass.
“We’ve always been at odds, I suppose. Driven there by our father, and then... it just continued into adulthood. He was always the perfect prince. Followed every rule, mastered every lesson, never stepped out of line. While I...” I gave a humorless laugh.
“Well, you’ve seen how I am.”
Our father had pitted us against each other from the beginning.
Watching.
Testing.
Waiting to see which of his sons would prove the stronger.
I’d always assumed it was to prepare us for the inevitable challenges to the throne.
Now I wondered if he’d simply enjoyed the show.
“Parental disappointment is a universal plague, it seems,” Emme said with a bitter twist to her lips.
I glanced up, curious.
“What do you mean?”
She hesitated, as if weighing how much to share.
“I lost my parents young. We hadn’t spoken for a few weeks, all over stupid demands for grandchildren. I wasn’t opposed to the idea, but...” She shook her head.
“How could I bring a child into a world where they faced a future with no food on the table and poison for an environment?”
The pain in her voice struck a chord deep within me.
I wanted to reach for her, to offer some comfort, but I kept my distance.
She wasn’t ready for that yet.
“Then they died in their sleep. Carbon monoxide poisoning, faulty detector.” Her mouth twisted.
“Nothing ever resolved. No apologies over tea. No closure. Just... gone.”
“I’m sorry, Emme.” I wished I had something more comforting to offer.
Better words.
Better actions.
A better fucking world where such senseless death and heartbreak didn’t exist.
She shrugged, the gesture too casual to be genuine.
“It’s part of what drew me to the Legacy mission. I want to ensure better conditions for future generations, even if I won’t see it for myself.”
The simple confession hit me harder than I expected.
Here was something of herself, freely given, not extracted through emergency or duty.
I wanted more, wanted to uncover everything there was to know about her, to learn what made her laugh, what brought her joy, what kept her awake at night.
The soul song between us thrummed louder, a constant reminder of what she was to me.
What we could be to each other.
“I don’t know if I could be so selfless,” I admitted, moving closer to her.
“Even if I was certain Nedaris wouldn’t destroy the kingdom.”
Emme didn’t back up.
Instead, she lifted her chin and met my eyes.
“I saw you choose saving me over fighting your brother. Why, if you’re as selfish as you claim? I’m nothing to you or your planet.”
Nothing?
Here was this incredible woman who’d crossed the stars to save her people, who’d faced death without flinching, who set every cell in my body singing for her, and she thought she was nothing ?
I closed the last bit of distance, tilting her head back with a knuckle under her chin.
“Do you truly not feel it?”
“Feel what?” Emme demanded.
“You keep saying that, but what does it even mean?”
I took a deep breath, steadying myself.
“The soul song,” I said quietly.
“It’s how Khadians recognize their mates.”
Her eyes widened.
“Mates?”
“A bond deeper than simple lovers. Rarer.” I reached for her hand, half-expecting her to pull away.
When she didn’t, I pressed her palm against my chest, where my heart beat in perfect rhythm with hers.
“I hear it in the frequency of your voice, in your heartbeat. It’s the one person in all the seas—or apparently, all the stars—whose very being calls to our own.”
“That’s...” She swallowed hard.
“That’s impossible.”
“And yet here we are.” I dipped my head closer to hers, drawn by the pulse at her throat, the scent of her skin.
“You are the furthest thing from nothing to me, Emme Mathis.”