Page 5

5

ROWAN

I sat on the same sort of bed, its insides as fluid as I remembered from my previous visit, though this one was much bigger. Waiting for the knock that would signal Nerys’s return, I took in my surroundings. Sheer, translucent curtains cascaded from the bed canopy, mimicking the gentle flow of water. A large, arched window opposite me offered a view of the sea, according to Nerys, though now it opened only to darkness. Sconces fashioned from shells cast a warm glow throughout the chamber, but the most striking feature was the adjoining antechamber that I had just left. Warm water cascaded continually from the high ceiling above, an entire room dedicated to cleansing, one like I’d never seen before.

Water magic, I assumed, made such a thing possible. Even now, I could hear its echo, a soothing sound that seemed unsurprisingly to be found everywhere at the palace.

And then there was Nerys.

I stood and made my way to the window. Lights of every color, but especially greens and blues, were sprinkled across the grounds. Bioluminescent algae could be found throughout Elydor, but this was something entirely different. Seemingly everything was imbued with the gleaming lights that could not be seen during the day but lit up spectacularly in the darkness. I could stare out this window all evening.

I could stare at Nerys my whole life.

Her beauty was as striking as the mysteries of the sea. Nerys’s sun-kissed skin and aquamarine eyes lent her an innocence at odds with the rest of her. No mention of parents, but those who raised her. Her strength and resilience were evident in the way she walked. Rode. Held her head.

Smiling as I remembered her expression when I told Nerys of my gift—a revelation that had come easily from my lips, though I did not regret it—I turned toward the door, as if anticipating her knock, which came a moment later.

Though Nerys had attempted to put me at ease about the fact that my bedchamber would be locked at all times, I still found it disconcerting. Not that I was alone with such unease. Every human visitor to the Thalassarian palace complained of the same.

Opening my door, I sensed anticipation before I could block her emotion.

Nothing could have prepared me for the sight of her.

Waves of hair fell down her shoulders and back, the smallest of iridescent seashells dispersed throughout. Her dinner gown was strapless, the turquoise bodice and broken up with swaths of cream. Shells adorned the front, distinguishable up close. From far away, they would look like small gemstones.

The best part of Thalassaria might be its people, according to Nerys. And the palace, according to the queen. But from my viewpoint, it was the woman standing before me.

“You are magnificent.” The words spilled out before I could stop them, my thoughts more addled than they had been in a long time. “Apologies,” I began, but Nerys interrupted me.

“None are necessary. Thank you,” she said, accepting the compliment with grace. “We’ve likely missed the first course.”

“How many are typically served?” I asked as we made our way through open corridors.

“Too many.”

At her tone, and before I could reconsider it, a consideration flew from my lips. “In Estmere, it is not seen as untoward for a guest to be served privately by their host. As a way to ease them into their environment.”

Nerys stopped. For a moment, I thought she might chastise my forwardness, so I rushed to add, “I mean nothing untoward by such a suggestion.”

“Come,” she said in response. “This way.”

We walked silently through corridors of polished stone in shades of pearl and sea-green, ornate archways decorated with carvings of mythical sea creatures all along the way. Tall windows graced one side of the corridor, allowing moonlight to fill the space.

“It feels as if we are beneath the surface of the sea.”

A couple, both dressed as formally as Nerys, moved past us. My guide inclined her head in greeting as both the man and woman looked at me as if I did not belong here. Which, of course, I didn’t.

“Even when you do not see water, it’s there. There are hidden fountains and trickling aqueducts behind each wall. Take a deep breath,” Nerys said, her gown shimmering with each step.

“It smells like minerals and fresh water.”

“The very palace itself is alive and breathing in rhythm with the sea. If you feel as if you are inside it, that is intentional. Just as if you feel you are among the clouds in Aethralis.”

She stopped in front of a door. Opening it, Nerys stepped inside. It was a near replica of my own chamber, though larger, with a table in the corner, just beside a window that was nearly as large as the wall.

“We have a similar custom,” she said, gesturing to one of the seats at the pearl stone table. “Though I thought perhaps you wished to dine in the same hall as the queen.”

“I look forward to my audiences with her,” I said, sitting. “But would much prefer this.”

Nerys had made her way toward a wall. With a wave of her hand, what appeared to be a mirror suddenly rippled. I looked more closely. How was such a thing possible? The mirror had turned into water.

“My lady?” a faint, male voice asked.

“May I have wine and a meal for two, please?”

“Of course.”

As quickly as it appeared, the water was gone. I had to see for myself. Joining her, I studied the mirror that reflected back both of us. “What was that?”

“You’ve not seen mirror scrying before, then?”

Mirror scrying. I’d heard of it, of course. “I thought that skill was merely a legend?”

“I can assure you, it is very real.”

“And you are a Stormcaller as well?” I guessed.

“I am.”

Only the most powerful Thalassarians could become Stormcallers, many of whom worked at and for the palace. Of those, I guessed very few had the skill which was so difficult, not even the Keepers had seen it performed.

I’d have asked another question, but a knock on her door was followed by two servants who hardly looked my way. Putting trays of food and wine on the table, they left without so much as a cursory glance.

“They are trained to be discreet,” Nerys said, answering my silent question. “You must be hungry.”

I was more curious than hungry, but when we sat, my stomach disagreed. From salad to fresh fish, both platters were filled to the brim, reminding me that I hadn’t had a proper meal in days. Nerys poured us each the sapphire-colored wine Thalassaria was known for, though its sweetness, followed by a smoky aftertaste, took getting accustomed to.

“You are extremely powerful,” I said between bites.

“One of the women who trained me is descended from a line of highly skilled water-wielders.”

“Will you tell me of her?”

Nerys lowered her wine, the pewter’s intricate carvings a reminder of the sea, as if one were needed here.

“The Great Seaquake. Have you heard of it?”

“Of course,” I said. “Though I was not alive myself.”

“My parents were nobles, both a part of the palace’s diplomatic circles, and were on a ship headed to Aethralis when the quake struck. They were both lost to the sea.”

I lowered my fork, sad to learn my suspicions were right. “I am very sorry, Nerys. That must have been incredibly difficult. You are young haranya, I assume?”

Immortals did not track years as humans did. Haranya appeared, much as Nerys, my own age, for many years. An Uninitiated human, like Mev, who was unaccustomed to being around immortals, might believe Nerys was between twenty-five and thirty-five years of age, when in truth, haranya had celebrated their one hundredth year. Most stopped counting until the telltale signs of slow aging appeared once again, at approximately five hundred years, when they were then marked as thaloran. For five hundred more years, they would appear as a middle-aged human until reaching one thousand years old, or vaelith. Those elders were, in all clans, revered.

“Very young: one hundred and twenty, I believe. And thank you. It was difficult, as Lirael had just become queen and the after-effects of the quake took precedence over finding a role for an orphan who could not seem to control her abilities. A healer by the name of Aneri, a friend of my mother’s, took me under her wing. Years later, I passed the Stormcaller’s Rite and began to work at the palace, as my parents had before me.”

“You were brought to the palace for your skill?”

Nerys sighed. “That, and one of Lirael’s men, an old friend of my father’s, had been petitioning for me to come here for some time. But it was only after the Rite that I received the summons.”

“Aneri,” I said carefully, “must be quite skilled.”

Nerys visibly relaxed. “She is, though some may consider her views unconventional.”

“Unconventional? In what way?”

As Nerys finished chewing, I tried not to notice her tongue darting out to catch a bit of sauce on her lips.

“Like the Aetherian king, she has been fascinated with humans her whole life. I grew up hearing tales of them. How they first came through the Gate King Galfrid opened. The skills they brought with them that Elydor’s magical properties intensified. To see glimpses of the future… or even feel others’ emotions, as you do… it is fascinating.”

So that was the reason Nerys had dropped her guard more easily with me than I’d have expected from a Thalassarian.

It felt like an appropriate time to tell her, to ease Nerys’s mind, “I have the ability not to sense emotion, too.”

“Are you sensing my emotions now?”

“No.”

“But you did, when we met?”

“I did. I’ve found it useful, when first meeting people, to better understand their intentions toward me.”

“To ascertain if they are a threat?”

“Precisely.”

“I am not a threat to you, Rowan. It is my belief the humans should be recognized as a legitimate clan in Elydor. Your people have been here for hundreds of years.”

I held her gaze, wishing there was a way for Nerys to know I was not a threat to her either. “Your beliefs are not in line with your queen’s.” I spoke the obvious.

She said nothing. Instead, Nerys raised a hand. With a gentle swipe in the direction of a fountain in the corner of her chamber, she lifted her hand and swirled her hand through the air. Expecting the water to move, I saw nothing, at first. Slowly, a fog began to appear, filling the space with a gentle mist that became thicker with each movement.

Though accustomed to the gentle sweep of an Elydorian’s hand and the wonders they produced, there was something about hers that was more… elegant than most. I ignored the erratic beating of my heart at such a sight.

“We may speak more freely now,” she said.

“A silencing mist?”

Nerys nodded. “Likely unnecessary, but I would not say these words in the absence of one. Not here, in the palace.”

Waiting, I pushed away my platter, picked up the wine glass, and took a sip.

“There are many who believe as I do. That the isolationism which has come to characterize our people makes us weaker, not stronger. Those who do not mistrust humans but believe their gifts can complement Elydor, just as the other clans’ gifts do. There are many of us, in fact, but the queen is highly mistrustful of outsiders, even more so than her predecessor.”

I would not have expected to find an ally in my palace escort, but it seemed that was precisely what Nerys was to me. I just had to find a way to earn her trust. And quickly.

There was one way.

Though I disliked doing it after implying I would not, the stakes were too high. The secrets I kept, too valuable. Opening my mind, I allowed her energy to comingle with my own.

Hope.

She was feeling hopeful, which could mean many things. Hope that I would believe her? Hopeful for Thalassaria?

But there was another emotion too, not as obvious. Beneath that hope, a steady undercurrent of sincerity resonated. It wasn’t forced, but genuine. Nerys believed the words she spoke, even understanding the risk she took in sharing them.

I made my decision, and would not look back.

“I am here to speak with the queen on King Galfrid’s behalf,” I said, never intending to speak these words to anyone but the queen herself. “The lost princess has returned and wishes, as the king does, to reopen the Aetherian Gate and reunite her parents along with all other families who were separated when it was closed. I am here to gain your queen’s support, and aid, for such a purpose.”

I closed my mind to her emotion but could easily read Nerys’s surprise on her face.

“The queen’s support,” she murmured. “To open the Gate?”

I waited for the full import of my declaration to hit her, which it seemed to do just then.

Nerys sat back in her chair as if defeated. Shaking her head slightly, she took a deep breath and said, “Your quest is a futile one. She will never give it.”