Page 14

14

NERYS

“What happened?”

Thankfully, we could see everything from here since they’d moved closer to the water’s edge. I could see why immediately. The younger one had some difficulty summoning water. He was likely the one who had taken the fight outside.

“They’re fishermen,” someone said. “On the same vessel. One apparently summoned the other’s ale… directly into his face. I don’t know the cause.”

“Ooh,” Rowan said as the older fisherman hurled a small wave at the other, knocking him off his feet. In response, he brought a wall of water up in front of him.

“An impressive skill,” I said. “If he can…” the water came crashing down on top of him, “…hold it.”

Rowan chuckled as a fog enveloped them. “I can’t see you,” he said.

“One of them must have heated the water with a spark of elemental energy to create the fog. A more useful skill when its direction can be controlled.”

As quickly as it came, the fog dissipated.

Cheers erupted from the crowd as one of the fishermen—I couldn’t tell which— turned the sea into a tempest. It would have been amusing if he could have controlled it. Instead, onlookers were drenched.

Nerithia appeared next to us, clearly not amused. “Nerys, will you stop them, please? My patrons are getting wet. And the younger of them is my nephew. I’ve no wish to embarrass him.”

“Of course,” I said, unable to see either of the fishermen’s identities from my vantage point.

With a flick of my wrist, the water suddenly receded, leaving both men momentarily confused. Before either could react, I pulled the tide forward as two towering columns of water rose like serpents, one behind each man. Gasps rippled through the crowd as the shimmering liquid wrapped tightly around the fighters, hoisting them into the air.

With another flick, the serpents tossed both men into the waves, eliciting more cheers and chatter.

“I can’t guarantee your nephew will not be embarrassed anyway. But that should end it.”

Nerithia laughed. “He is rash, with much to learn.”

The crowd began to disperse. I attempted to pull coins from the leather pouch at my side. “I best not be here when he emerges from the sea.”

“Nay.” Nerithia stopped me. “There is no need. Thank you for your assistance.”

Unless I was mistaken, a look passed between Rowan and Nerithia, one I couldn’t decipher. She walked away, Rowan and I doing the same in the other direction.

“It isn’t a short journey, but if we walk along the coast, we can get to the palace this way.”

“I would be pleased to walk this way,” Rowan said.

With the sea on our left and soft glow of the city above us to the right, somehow the beauty of Thalassaria continued to amaze me. I stared out into the sea, its closest floating lanterns remaining in place despite the power of those waves: a testament to Thalassarian magic.

“How did you learn to do that?” Rowan asked suddenly. “The serpents?”

“Have you heard of the Deep Archives?”

“In Ventara? Aye.”

“My mother had a close contact there, so growing up, I accompanied her often. I was enamored with the clifftop village and spent many hours in the Archives there while she worked. For anyone curious enough, every skill throughout our history has been recorded there. I read about that particular wielding technique from accounts of one of the first kings of Thalassaria who ruled not long after The Great Sundering.”

“Elydor’s first war.”

“Aye. Though I supposed our separation was inevitable. It was then as it is now. Aetherians have always believed their mastery of the skies symbolized enlightenment, making them natural leaders, while Gyorians prioritized stability and connection to the land. Early Thalassarians, meanwhile, flowed with innovation and adaptability but demanded independence. We were likely meant to be separate, though connected still by our ties to the same land.”

“And the humans?”

“I do not believe even King Galfrid understood how they would influence Elydor. I know it unsettles you to be without your weapons, to know those around you can wield the magic that imbued our land from its inception, but you and your kind have more influence than many realize.”

“Our abilities are different than most, but I agree, humans do wield power here, even among a land of immortals.” Rowan stopped and squatted down to the sand. He picked up a shell, glowing faintly a light teal color. Turning it upside down, he inspected it. “It’s not bioluminescence. How is this possible?”

I took the shell from him. “The waters of Thalassaria hold memories of every tide, every storm, every life. Some objects, like this shell, absorb that magic over centuries. It’s not uncommon in the depths of the seas around us, but it is for this shell to end up here, far from the deep currents. Keep it,” I said, handing it back, our fingers brushing as I did. “It is a rare find.”

“Should I not leave it where it belongs?”

“It belongs on the depths of the sea, but since it found its way here, perhaps you are meant to have it.”

Rowan slipped the shell into his pocket.

“As for the sea serpents,” I said, returning to my story. “This early king not only considered them a favorite bit of magic, but he recounted how the spell was performed. It took much practice, I will admit, and has little practical purpose.”

“You’ve not used it to stop a wielding battle at The Moonlit Current before?”

“Nay, I have not.”

We walked in silence for some time, lights falling away as the cliffs to our right rose higher and higher. I closed my eyes, breathing in the air that gave my clan life. When I opened them, Rowan was watching me.

“You hold as many mysteries as the sea.”

“Not as many, but…” I could tell he wished to say something to me but struggled to do so.

“Tell me.”

“My grandfather… died last eve.”

We stopped talking. The pain on his face was real.

“I cannot tell you how I know, but the knowledge does not put you or Thalassaria in danger.”

A telepathic link of some sort, not unheard of among humans. Yet most had only one skill and Rowan had revealed his already. More importantly…

“I am so sorry, Rowan.”

“I’d have told you earlier but was uncertain if I could, or should. I know you have many questions?—”

“None of which matter.”

It was odd to not see him smiling. I went to him, without thought, and found myself, for the second time, in Rowan’s arms. Like before, neither of us spoke. What was this bond between us? I simply could not stay away, nor did I wish to. Closing my eyes, cradled into his chest with his arms around me… it should not have felt as right or natural as it did. But instead of questioning it, I welcomed the comfort, even though my intention was to comfort him.

“He was the best of men. He had my father’s patient nature, but a sense of humor too. I have not known a wiser man alive and will miss him dearly.”

I opened my eyes and watched the waves beside us that carried my tears from so many years ago but also sustained me and my people.

“The tides carry away what we love, but they always leave behind the memory of their touch. Your grief is the ebb, Rowan. In time, the flow will return, and with it, the strength to honor him.”

“You cannot know,” he said quietly, “what that means to me.”

Rowan pulled back slightly, looking down at me. I thought he might kiss me. Instead, he had that same expression as he did in the market.

“Rowan?”

He blinked. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

“Rowan, please tell me what is happening.”

“I…” He took another step back and then turned away. “I wish I could.”

And just like that, the moment was gone. Just like that, we went back to being strangers.

“I’m fine,” he said, and began to walk once again. “It has been a long day.”

He was not fine. But whether the news of his grandfather, however it had been received, or something else, bothered him, I could not know. Because Rowan would not fully let me into his world.

“You will attend your first Festival of Tides, then?” I asked, stepping back, changing topics. It was all anyone spoke of; the twice-yearly festival was an exciting time for Thalassarians.

“It seems so. Will you tell me more about it?”

As we walked, I shared past festivals and our traditions, explaining to Rowan what he could expect. One thing I did not tell him was how badly those close to me wished for me to challenge the queen. The truth was, as brave as I pretended to be, inside, I was afraid.

Afraid of the queen’s reaction. Afraid of what people would say. Afraid of failing. If I challenged her and was not successful, I could not continue my work at the palace. Queen Lirael was many things, but overly forgiving was not one of them.

As we turned a corner, the palace came into view well ahead of us. It was a spectacular sight, built partially over the ocean and partially on land, its lights glistening like the reflection of moonlight on the water.

“What if you succeed?”

Realizing I hadn’t heard the whole of Rowan’s story, I asked him to repeat it, admitting I’d been lost in thought for a moment.

“I was reminded of the first time I was given a steel sword. I asked my grandfather what might happen if I failed to defend myself. Would I be mortally wounded? He said that instead of being so concerned with failing, that I should ask myself instead… what if I succeeded? It is a question that resonates with me still.”

“Do you remember what you said to him?”

Rowan smiled, whatever had bothered him seemingly forgotten. “That I might live to see another day, and be proud of it.”

“Did you wear armor?”

“We did, but I was young and hadn’t realized the difference yet. But that was typical of him, to offer such advice rather than giving a more direct answer.”

“Which would have been?”

“That between the padded gambeson I wore and our blunted weapons, there was little chance of me being mortally wounded.”

What if you succeed?

It was a question I rarely asked myself, the answer more far-reaching than I could imagine. What would happen if I succeeded in challenging the queen? The queen and I thought very differently on Thalassaria’s future, how it related to the other clans. And according to Aneri, more believed as I did—as Caelum and Marek did—than ever before.

What would happen?

Everything would change.

But also…

“Rowan?”

“Nerys?”

I loved the way he said my name.

“Something just occurred to me.”

“You finally realized I am the most charming, handsome, intelligent man you’ve ever met?”

That too.

I stopped, grabbing his arm.

“What is it?” he asked, concern, rather than laughter, now etched into his expression.

“If I challenged the queen…” I dropped his arm, realizing I still clutched the fabric of his shirt. “If I won…”

He waited.

“I could give you the Tidal Pearl. King Galfrid and the princess could reopen the Gate.”

Of course, he was not surprised. This would have occurred to him already.

“They still need the other artifacts, but aye, we would be one step closer to reopening it.”

He took me by both arms, his grip firm. Steadying.

“Listen to me, Nerys. There are few people in Elydor who wish the Aetherian Gate to be reopened more than me. Namely, the king and his daughter. Even so, that alone is not a reason for you to challenge the queen.”

“Is it not?”

“No,” he said, his voice firm. “It isn’t. I thought of it, of course. And would dearly love to bring that Pearl, or the promise of it, back to Galfrid and Mev. But not at your expense.”

I lifted my chin. “You do not believe I should challenge her?”

“I believe,” he said, “the choice is yours, and yours alone to make.”

“My magic is more powerful than hers, Rowan.”

“I do not doubt it. But the question is… do you?”