Page 15 of Waves (Tangled Crowns #6)

Avia

S taring down at a ritual as an outsider was a fascinating experience.

It made you appreciate the beauty of a tradition, the elegance of it.

You could even see the reverent emotions rising off people like sparkling wisps of steam.

But you didn't quite feel what they did, didn't have the connection that they did, and you ended up. ..wanting.

I watched the people of Kremos paint the names of those who've passed onto empty shells and then, one by one, swam to place that shell name-down in the sand and cover it.

Almost like it was a second burial ritual.

Almost as if they thought the soul existed in the name and the name had to be buried too.

Most people arose with tears running down their cheeks, emotion changing the flavor of the current around us.

The need for more pulsed inside my chest as a sense of lonely solitude washed over me. This despondent sense that I'd never quite be a part of anything, including this.

It was a ridiculous feeling because Valdez had my hand clutched tightly in his, Mateo and Felipe hovered nearby, and I'd always have my sister.

But my eyes rose and met Stavros's. He was floating apart from the rest of the group, a conch shell collar spiraling up around his face, which was painted black.

The rest of his body was draped in shadowy clothing, giving the illusion of an empty shell, except for those liquid blue eyes.

Eyes that were the color of crystallized melancholy.

Something in his expression bowled me over because it looked as though he was feeling the exact same way I was.

Or...were his emotions overflowing into me?

Was I right about his power?

Excitement trickled through me even as I pitied the way he felt so alone.

I was right. I'm sure of it. I’m not sure that I shouldn't check, though.

Giving Valdez's hand a squeeze, I pulled back, whispering, "I'll be right back. I need to go speak to Stavros." I swam off quickly, before the pirate could protest or charm me into staying.

The siren appeared slightly startled when I settled in next to him, and plain shocked when I took his hand. "It can be hard to watch," I nodded toward the line of shells, which had started to stretch off into the shadows. Kremos had clearly had a bad year.

"Many things are hard to watch," Stavros said stiffly.

"Well, you don't have to watch them alone anymore.

" Squeezing his fingers, I snuck closer to him until my head was close enough to lean against his arm.

My heart began to pound, and a crackling energy spangled and danced inside my chest even as my lungs froze and I forgot to breathe.

Overwhelming. It was utterly overwhelming.

With a jerk, Stavros pulled away from me. "I'm sorry. I have to—I have to go."

Like an onyx bolt of lightning, he sped away in a flash, ripping away all of the emotions sizzling through my torso. I stared after him as he lost himself in the crowd and Mateo clumsily swam closer. My closest friend and first love asked, "Is everything alright?"

Certainty flooded me then. The certainty that I would be including Stavros in my entourage, the certainty that I needed to rig these games to get him through it. The certainty that I needed to seduce him slowly and carefully so that he flew right into my trap like a bug into a spider's web.

“Yes,” I told Mateo, and my answer was almost true. Almost, but not quite. Because as these games continued, I was learning my dark side was much vaster and more ruthless than I’d believed.

The solemnity of soul-burying was followed by a drunken feast full of wild song.

Instead of pouring bubble into cups, the local mage created a river of alcohol, a flowing, winding, sentient trail of cherry red running between people's legs and spiraling up around their arms, teasing them—making them lean and reach, lips pursing to drink before it darts away, forcing them to give chase.

When people did catch it, they dunked their entire heads in, as if that would get them drunk faster. Perhaps it did, since it was magic.

I did sip at the ribbon of bubble, but only sip.

I was far too aware of everyone’s eyes drifting over to me, making an evaluation.

A group of squi-shifters and shark shifters huddled toward the opposite side of the celebration kept stirring up an uneasy feeling in my gut.

My hand went to my stomach, trying to contain the eel whipping back and forth internally.

Even though Kremos initially felt far-removed from the politics that plagued Palati, complacence was certainly a mistake.

Attacks were mounting faster than I'd ever thought possible.

Faster than I could topple or even prepare for them.

How would I ever prove to these people that I’d make a good monarch?

Sahar immediately found me and looped her arm through mine, though she had to beat back her cloak a bit to do so. “What did you think?” she asked.

“Beautiful ceremony. But my mind is already digging back into our problems. How do I get people to believe I shouldn’t join the banished?” How did I get myself to believe it when I was already learning to accept the fact that Watkins and Stavros would be sacrificed for the greater good?

Sahar gave a small nod as she stared out at the glowing stars that were slowly descending beneath us, back toward the depths. I watched with her for a moment with a dizzy head, feeling like the universe itself was ebbing away from me, leaving me alone in the vast dark abyss of the sky.

“How can I be their queen if they look at me and all they see is an enemy?” The phrase was quiet, but the question was not. The question was a large booming drum inside my head.

“Yes, and how can you beat this enemy within the people? Fight them and you’re a tyrant. Do nothing and you’re a weakling…”

“Exactly!”

I sighed as we made our way around a crowd of locals, greeting them and making small talk. As soon as we were able to wrest ourselves free of that tangle, our conversation continued as if it had never been interrupted. How to tackle the problem that seemed nearly impossible.

Sahar reached over and squeezed my hand. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

I chewed on my lower lip, digesting her words before giving a dismissive sigh.

“In theory, that’s true. But who is the enemy here?

Every landed monarch? Should I wage war on them solely to gain people’s trust?

Provoke a war to secure my own position?

” I might willingly change the lives of two men, but I'd make sure they lived in comfort and ease.

Starting a war would bring death and famine and suffering with each shift of the tides.

Evil though I was, I hoped that I wasn’t quite that evil.

My adviser’s brow furrowed, and my own lips pursed in distaste as I added, “That’s not the ruler I want to be.” A bitter laugh clogged my throat. “Bloss might have been right. As much as I hate to say it, I was naive thinking that I could bear the weight of this crown.”

“Don’t.” Sahar chided.

“People are dying for my arrogance right now. I have to at least consider the fact that perhaps I’m not?—”

“People are dying because of the hatred of others who decide violence is the right course of action.”

“Violence is the only course of action they know,” I contend. “My mother didn’t leave many avenues open.”

Sahar sighed. “She didn’t. But…give me a few days to think about this. I’ll come up with something.”

“The next tournament event is scheduled for the day after tomorrow,” I countered as we swam further from the crowd, toward a ledge cut into a floating iceberg.

Perching upon the frozen ledge, cold seeping into our bones, we watched the crowd, distant splashes of color, dancing and drinking and finding their joy.

“Don’t forget, Majesty,” Sahar reminded me. “The tournament is already underway. If you secede from the throne, you take all those men down with you.”

The pressure bearing down on me doubled, grew so intense that I thought my skull might crack. Something. I had to do something. Even if it was minuscule in the scheme of things.

“Excuse me,” I told my adviser, standing and fluttering my wings behind me.

It was time to swallow my pride.

Swimming down a few feet, it was easy to spot Ugo and Paavo hovering—just far enough to avoid eavesdropping but close enough to protect me.

They’d painted their faces skeletal for the evening but hadn’t otherwise altered their uniforms so that they were ready if need be.

I turned to Paavo. “Do you think you can send a messenger to my sister? The Queen of Evaness?”

His eyebrows shot up, but he merely nodded.

“I would like to propose we begin trading. Whale oil for grain.”

Ugo leaned closer. “Does this need to happen now?”

“Yes. We need trade established as soon as possible.” I forced my tone to stay flat and even, not to crack. It was probably a pathetic move, a pawn’s tiny diagonal attack in this chess game.

But it was the move I'd been able to come up with. Of course, Bloss would probably come barreling down here with her elder sister advice on everything from laws to breathing. But at least I wouldn’t be so alone.

Paavo gave me a nod and, without leaving his post, turned his head and let out a long whistle that immediately had two lower-ranking guards darting forward.

Neither one seemed quite sober—one had a terrible case of hiccups—and I decided that turning away and letting them avoid embarrassment was the best course of action.

Of course, as soon as I did turn, I nearly smashed into a purple-haired siren. Unlike everyone around us, she wore a simple everyday skirt and a small bundle on a stick was slung over her shoulder.

Ugo was immediately in her face, pushing her by the shoulders, barking orders. “Back away from the queen!”

“Queen?” Her maw gaped like a whale’s before she gave a hasty bow. “Sorry, I didn’t realize. I… I’m just passing through.” A little tremble went through her body as Ugo’s spear was perilously close to her throat.

“Ugo, it’s alright.” I held up a hand because the girl clearly didn’t seem like a threat. “It’s nice to meet you. You can call me Avia.”

“La..Laranda,” she recited hesitantly, eyes flickering back and forth between Ugo’s spear, which had only retreated a few inches, and my face.

“Looks like you’ve traveled quite a way, Laranda.” I indicated her pack, and she gave a stressed nod in response.

“Looking for work or…”

She shook her head.

“Leaving someone behind?” I guessed.

“There’s…a man. No. A djinni. He killed my friend.”

The mention of murder must have set Ugo off, because he immediately closed the distance between us and whistled so that Paavo left the messengers and hurried over.

“Guys, he’s not here right now,” I teased.

“Is he?” Ugo’s question held absolutely no humor.

“I don’t think so.” Laranda tucked a strand of floating hair back behind her ear, though that did little good. It just snaked right back out to waver at the side of her head like a sigil.

“You mean on the surface, don’t you?” I coaxed. “Djinn aren’t an underwater species?—”

“He almost drowned. But then she wished for him to be able to breathe—I wish she hadn’t. He killed her.”

The back of my neck began to prickle with a cold that had nothing to do with the current. A djinni underwater? “Where was your friend? Where did this happen? Maybe I can help?”

She shook her head, her hair changing from purple to midnight black as she vehemently denied my offer. “She’s dead. There’s nothing to help.”

“Tell me more about what happened, and I can?—”

Almost as if she’d tied the words back with a fraying rope, they toppled out of her, spilling all over us.

“At first, we thought it was amazing. I mean, a castle? Money? Color changing hair?” Her hand lifted toward her locks, which shifted from onyx to fiery orange in under a second.

“But then he just—” Her hand thrust out as a sheen of tears coated her eyes and she mimicked snapping a neck.

Something ticked the back of my conscious mind, a thought darted so quickly that I couldn’t quite latch onto it. Couldn’t quite grasp it. I needed more. “I’m so sorry. This male djinni…what did he look?—”

My question faded just as the gold in Laranda’s skin tone did, turning paler and paler until it was a stark, nearly bone white.

Her mouth opened, and a giant bubble erupted from it, followed by a flurry of tiny bubbles that obscured her face as it warped into a horrified scream garbled by glugging as she dropped her belongings and clawed wildly at the water around her, legs thrashing.

“What’s happening?” Paavo whispered the question racing through all of our minds.

“Get Lizza!” I screeched at him. “Get Lizza!”

But Laranda’s limbs were already growing weaker.

The panic in her eyes was already fading even as Ugo reached for her, latching onto her arm and pulling her into his chest. He tried to sweep a finger into her mouth to clear her airway, but she didn’t respond.

He hugged around her middle and squeezed at her belly, but her expression remained as vacant as a doll’s.

In horrified, helpless silence, my guard held this woman as she died.

And for all my supposed power, I could do nothing to stop it.