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Chapter Three

VAARIN

W aves crash against the cliffside below me like an angry lover demanding my attention. I step forward and tip back my head to bathe in the mist that rises to kiss my skin.

The transition from sea to land is never easy. The burn of air in my lungs, its alien touch on my skin, and its invasive fingers raking through my hair. I hate it, and yet it is a necessary evil.

This island was a necessary evil, the humans who once inhabited it a desperate concession that my father was forced to make, and for some time, the Northern Sea Kingdom thrived, but the agreement my father forged with the land dwellers ended, and our numbers eventually waned once again.

This new alliance with King Bronan of Faircaster Isle is a permanent solution. The gift that the royal female will bring will filter into my bloodline and to my people through the power that binds my kingdom to me. Although, when the deal was first brought to me, I did wonder what kind of king would name his isle after himself. I wondered at his arrogance, and in other circumstances, given the luxury, I might have turned down his offer.

But the circumstances were dire.

His offer our only hope.

And so, arrogant or not, our bloodlines would soon be united by marriage.

“We were lucky,” Lyam says beside me. “If the Faircasters had gone to the eastern kingdom, or even the west…”

“I know. But I doubt that the news has escaped the other sea kings’ ears.”

“Our ocean guard have reported no breaches on our territory, and the blue coral route is a no conflict zone.”

“The oaths that make it so do not apply to all, Lyam, and you know that well.”

“Then we must hope that news of this alliance has not reached the wrong ears,” Lyam replies.

I don’t need to look at him to know that he wears a frown. It is a favored expression of his of late. His cobalt blue hair is beginning to gray, and there are lines of exhaustion around his eyes that were not there a summer ago. My adviser is beginning to show his age. I’m not sure why I’m surprised by this. He isn’t a royal, and his lifespan will be that of any other sea fae, and yet the thought of losing him evokes a sense of unsettlement inside me.

He has been my confidant and closest friend for the last one hundred years. Losing him will be unpleasant.

The wind howls, a message from the sea, begging me to return.

Soon, I promise it.

Once the deal is sealed.

My attention moves to the dark skies in the distance where a storm races across the horizon, into the path of my most precious cargo.

I suspect it is no ordinary storm, that it is a conjuring, and my suspicions are confirmed as it shifts trajectory too suddenly to be elemental in nature.

“I see it, sire,” Lyam says. “But it cannot be a conjuring allied with one of the other sea kingdoms. They would not break the no conflict pact.”

“Then that leaves only sea looters or…”

“Yes, sire. I believe it could be the Obsidian Pearl.”

Delusional, and dangerous because of their twisted beliefs, the Obsidian Pearl is a sect of sea fae who believed in myths and legends. Tides, they may even have spawned the stories that they so fervently cling to now.

If they are in pursuit of my cargo, then it is in grave danger.

I drop my gaze to the ship below us, sleek, fast, and manned by a crew of my own in preparation for such a possibility. I had hoped not to have to use it.

I sense a presence behind me and recognize the vibration of my squire’s pulse.

“Where is Prince Dylon?” Lyam asks him.

“He…um…He has not arrived yet…um…sire.”

“I didn’t ask of his arrival,” Lyam snaps. “I asked for his whereabouts.”

“We…um…do not know.”

A sigh burns my lungs, which sparks my temper. “Find him and bring him to the castle.”

Dylon, the fruit of my loins and the bane of my existence. Praise Thalor, some days I wish that Evya and I had been plagued with the infertility that so many others are cursed with. My son is a man whore who would live between the thighs of females rather than learn how to run a kingdom. This match will force him to turn away from frivolity and toward serious matters of state.

I can’t help but blame myself for his cavalier attitude. I allowed him to be spoiled. Allowed my queen to dote on the boy, giving him all the love that I could not find in my heart to reciprocate. But my queen is gone now, and my son is all but lost to me.

“The prince will come around, sire,” Lyam says, reading my thoughts as accurately as always.

“I hope so. Enough women have suffered at the hands of my son.”

“Maybe if he finds his heart’s desire before he takes the throne?—”

“Please, Lyam, tell me you do not believe the old tales. They are stories, nothing more.”

“The abyss is no story, sire.”

I have no argument for that except, “We have no idea what lies beyond.”

“And yet the Obsidian Pearl guards it.”

“Insanity takes many forms.”

“But—”

“Prepare the quarters in the east wing for the princess and her entourage. I will be back with our prize soon enough. Make sure my son is present to receive his betrothed.”

I stride to the edge of the cliff and leap into the arms of the ocean.

I cannot allow the Obsidian Pearl to take my prize, and if I must go and fetch it myself, so be it.