THALASSAR
I stood in shadow beyond the translucent water barrier, watching Lucy move through the room I’d given her.
The chamber I’d placed her in was one of our finest---built into the eastern cliffs of the island, with panoramic views of the ocean below.
The golden-blue glow from the luminous pearls illuminated her hair, highlighting those intriguing streaks of silver.
None of my people’s hair ever changed color like that.
I wondered what it would feel like between my fingers.
A strange warmth spread through my chest, an unfamiliar easing of the constant tension I carried.
Stop that.
But I couldn’t stop watching.
She ran her hands over the intricate coral carvings that lined the walls, pausing to study the ancient stories etched there.
The silk of her nightgown floated around her with each movement, caressing her form.
I stared, transfixed as she stretched up on her toes to examine a higher carving, the fabric pulling tight across---
What is wrong with me?
I jerked my gaze away, directing my attention to the schools of fish darting past the great window.
But even they reminded me of her---the way she’d moved through the water when I’d carried her here, graceful despite her near-drowning.
And yet, this human woman---so fragile, so alien---had unsettled me in ways I couldn’t explain.
Why had I saved her?
Why had I brought her here?
These weren’t decisions I’d ever planned to make, and they gnawed at the careful control I’d spent decades cultivating.
And yet, there was something about her---something I couldn’t ignore.
She wasn’t just another human intruder.
The way she’d looked at me, unafraid and defiant, had stirred something deep in my chest.
It was madness, but I couldn’t deny it.
I couldn’t stay out here forever.
The liquid-like surface parted around me with a faint hum, and the cool droplets slid off my scales as I entered.
Lucy spun toward the sound, her body tensing.
Her arms instinctively crossed over her chest, her expression sharp and wary.
“You again. Did you...” Her voice faltered, but then she straightened, chin held high.
“Did you change me?”
The question caught me off guard.
My gaze dropped to the robe, thoughts straying to the bare skin beneath before I caught myself.
I forced my tone to remain even.
“No. My handmaidens dressed you while you were unconscious. We don’t let guests remain in wet, damaged clothing, especially when they’re injured.”
Her nose wrinkled, and she glanced down at the soft nightgown and robe.
“Right. Guests.”
The word carried a sharp edge, and I had no doubt what she really thought of her situation.
As I opened my mouth to reply, Naia emerged from the shadows near the door.
She bowed slightly, her pale violet scales shimmering as she moved.
Lucy’s gaze shifted to the smaller female of my species, her suspicion momentarily replaced with curiosity.
“Thank you,” she said slowly, gesturing at the robe.
Naia tilted her head politely but said nothing.
“She doesn’t understand you,” I explained.
“Our languages are vastly different. I’m the only one here who knows yours, and only because I monitored your people's transmissions for months before your arrival - even then, complex nuances are easily lost.”
Lucy’s attention snapped back to me. “Why is that?”
I hesitated, my fingers following the familiar patterns adorning my forearm. “Because I never expected to need it,” I admitted. “I never thought I’d see a human up close. Much less bring one to the Storm King’s realm.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “The Storm King’s realm?”
I gestured toward the window dominating one wall. “Come. I’ll show you.”
She followed me cautiously. The window stretched from floor to ceiling, the pressure-resistant material rippling faintly with the movement of the water beyond.
Lucy gasped softly as she took in the view.
The island spread below us, illuminated by twin moons hanging low in the sky. White beaches glowed faintly, their sand reflecting the strange glowing plants that dotted the jungle just beyond. The water surrounding the island was clear and calm, its surface shimmering like liquid glass.
But not far from the shore, the calm was broken by a massive, swirling wall of clouds. The storm barrier encircled the entire island, its roiling gray depths lit by flashes of lightning that danced across its surface. It was both awe-inspiring and terrifying, the kind of sight that made even my people pause.
Lucy stared at the storm wall, her expression unreadable. “Why is it there?” she asked softly.
“It protects this place,” I said. “Nothing enters or leaves the island without my permission. Maintaining it requires immense energy drawn from the island's core, and even controlled openings for our own vessels carry risks. I’ve learned my lesson.”
Her fingers brushed against the window, her expression lit with awe and determination. The storm wall was magnificent, but I found myself watching her instead. The way the light caressed the strands of silver in her hair, the curve of her lips as she frowned in thought---it was a beauty I hadn’t expected, and it unsettled me.
“It’s beautiful, in a dangerous way. Like it’s alive.” She glanced at me. “It’s not, is it?”
My lips twisted. “No. But it responds to me. I control its movements.”
“I’ve rested.” Her spine straightened, her need to stay confident clear even in this unexpected situation. “It’s time for me to contact my team.”
I moved to a storage alcove in the corner and retrieved her survival gear. When I handed it to her, our fingers brushed for the briefest moment. Her skin was warm, softer than I’d expected.
Lucy pulled back quickly, busying herself with the communicator. She bit her lip as she adjusted the settings, her expression growing darker with each attempt.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I can’t reach my team.” Her voice was tight with frustration as she glanced at the storm wall. “Is the barrier blocking it?”
I shook my head. “It shouldn’t. I’ve been able to monitor your people’s transmissions for months, even through the barrier.”
She froze, then turned to me sharply. “You’ve been monitoring our communications?”
“I’ve been protecting my people,” I said evenly. “Strange beings falling from the sky? Of course I watched first.”
Her lips twitched, and a sharp laugh escaped her. “Right. That sounds about right.”
I studied her for a long moment. The storm wall rumbled faintly in the distance, a constant reminder of my duty. But something about her pulled at me, made me want to ease the tension in her shoulders.
“Shall we explore the rest of the island?” I asked, my voice quieter than usual. “When we return, I can show you how to use our technology to boost your communicator’s signal. It may help you reach your team.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion lingering, but I saw the flicker of hope beneath it. “You can do that?”
I inclined my head. “If your device is compatible, yes. Believe it or not, you’re my guest, not my prisoner. Though you’ll need proper attire first.”
I turned to Naia. “Help her prepare for a tour.”
Naia approached Lucy, reaching for the ties of her robe. Lucy flinched, stepping back immediately.
“Wait---what are you doing?” she demanded, her voice sharp.
Her sharp look cut through me.
“You’re just going to stand there?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
I stood there a moment too long, confusion giving way to understanding.
Heat crept up my neck, and I pivoted, my tone sharper than intended. I didn’t understand this reaction---why the sight of her bare shoulder made my pulse quicken or why I couldn’t stop imagining the smoothness of her skin beneath my fingers. It was infuriating, this loss of control.
“I... didn’t mean to stay.” I strode to the door. “Prepare her quickly,” I said over my shoulder.
Outside, I moved to a balcony overlooking the ocean. Below me stretched the terraced city, white buildings gleaming in the sunlight, water channels winding between them to accommodate those of my people who preferred swimming to walking. Beyond the island’s edges, the sound of the storm wall rumbling softly in the distance was a backdrop to my thoughts---the barrier that had protected us for years, keeping outsiders away and my people safe within.
The memory of Lucy’s bare shoulders as the robe slipped haunted me, refusing to fade. I gripped the railing tightly, willing my thoughts to concentrate on my duties---my people, my realm.
She was human. An outsider. Someone who didn’t belong in my world.
So why couldn’t I stop thinking about her?
As I gazed out at the kingdom, Elder Veda approached silently, her ancient silver scales gleaming in the sunlight. My mother’s oldest advisor and friend, she had guided me since my ascension to the throne.
“The human fascinates you,” she observed, her black eyes knowing.
I didn’t bother denying it. “She’s... unexpected.”
“Your mother believed outsiders would come one day,” Veda said, her voice carrying the weight of decades. “She prepared for it, even as the council grew fearful.”
I traced the scales on my forearm. “The council will not approve of my bringing her here.”
“Some will not,” Veda agreed. “But some remember your mother’s vision of a future beyond our storm walls.” She touched my shoulder lightly. “Watch your heart, young king, but do not close it. That was your mother’s final wisdom.”
Before I could respond, she glided away, leaving me with thoughts more turbulent than the sea.