To Kill a Kingdom(101)
I syphon more magic from my fingertips, ignoring the Sea Queen’s nefarious howls. The cyclones gather like spun sugar, merging as they devour her.
Something splinters. A heavy rumble that shakes the mountain. And then there is the distinct feeling of the world turning on its hilt.
Elian calls my name and I drop my hands, letting the cyclones falter. I don’t see where my mother’s body lands, but there’s a crack like no other and the trident hurtles to the ground by Kahlia’s fin.
“Lira!” she screams.
A shadow descends.
I glance up and see a summit hurtle toward us.
Slabs of rock roll from the waterfalls with frightening speed, molding with the blizzard air to form giant bursts of white smoke. Quickly, I clinch my arms around Elian’s waist and use all of my might to throw a blanket of energy over us.
The glacier rubble pounds against the magical shield. I don’t look, my eyes closed as I cling desperately to Elian, praying the defense holds. Grateful that the others are safe on the far side of the water.
Snow chokes the air and I cough against Elian’s chest as the ice crystals slip into my gills. He squeezes me closer to him, so tight, it should hurt. But my bones feel like dust already, and with every rock that hammers away at our shield, my skull bursts.
A lifetime spins around us before the crumbling finally stops and a weight lifts from my battered body. I search to make sure the others are unscathed, but the air is an expanse of white. Elian runs his hands over my shoulders and then down my arms. For a moment I’m not sure why, and then I realize that he’s checking for injuries. Making sure I’m okay until he can see it for himself.
His hand slides into my hair, and I want nothing more than for this feeling of total contentment to stay like a shelter over my heart. But as with all things, it seizes, wiped clean as soon as the world comes back into focus.
When the fog clears, my mother’s body lies broken on the snow.
I swim to her, Elian following behind. His crew heaves us both up from the water. Madrid stares at my fin, but her hand firmly grips mine. I want to explain things to her – to them all – but the words don’t come to mind.
Elian settles beside me, gathering me in his arms. When he lifts me, my hands curl around his neck as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. I don’t think about how it feels to have him hold me – to truly see every inch of me. I can’t focus on how much my heart knocks against my chest, because whenever I catch sight of the crippled tentacle before us, it stops dead once more.
The sirens gather around my mother, slithering away as Elian approaches with me in his arms. He places me onto the ground beside her and takes a step back to give me the space I need but don’t want.
The Sea Queen is a dent in the snow.
Her great piceous tentacles cross together like the silk of a spiderweb, creating a pattern of broken limbs. There’s no blood, and for a moment I think she can’t possibly be dead. It doesn’t seem right that she can look so pristine, like the sharply carved statue of a slain beast.
I stare in stunned silence, fin gleaming against the sleet, the weight of two armies on my back. I wait like the dutiful daughter, for the sea foam to froth from her bones and melt her like the ice she lies on. Seconds pass with nothing but her oddly jarred body and the red, shimmering light of her eyes.
Nobody speaks. Time becomes something outside of the mountain, in the world below. Here there is only silence and the infinity that comes with waiting. It takes a lifetime before I finally hear a small shuffle of movement and smell the fresh scent of black sweets on the wind.
Elian crouches beside me, his arm wrapping around my shoulders, enveloping me in his warmth. We sit like that for an eternity until, finally, the Sea Queen fades away.
43
Elian
THE RAIN COMES IN torrents, slicking my hair to my neck. The sun is still high, like a crescent half-hidden behind the clouds, creating a warp of colors in the air. My sister’s kingdom glistens somewhere behind me, though with our destination so near, it may as well be a world away.
In a sense, I suppose it is a world away.
“Not long now,” Kye says, clapping a hand on Madrid’s back. “Soon you’ll be able to enjoy me in my full glory.”
She arches an eyebrow at him, a smile well past coy on her lips. “Drowning, you mean?”
“No,” he says, with mock injury. “Soaking wet.”
Madrid eases his hand off with a frown. “I’d prefer the drowning.”
I grin at them and pull the compass from my pocket. The point spins madly in all directions, letting me know that Kye’s right. We’re near. Close to a place where truth and deceit mingle alongside each other like old friends. Where every word spoken is soaked in both and neither.
The Saad sprints through the water, and I walk to the edge of the ship as Torik steers a little to the left. Below, our guides keep the pace as easily as if we were trawling along in a rowboat. Their fins rainbow through the beaten water like prismatic arrows. Blurs and blends and hues creating a shield of color around my ship.
They swim with no effort at all, and I almost want to be insulted that the Saad’s pace is so easily matched. Instead I take it as a compliment. That the Saad can keep step with them is proof of her glory.
A few of the sirens break apart from the throng and head to the front of the ship, leading the way. As if I don’t already have it memorized. It’s a little funny to see them settle into these precariously carved roles so easily. Guiding sailors, rather than stalking their ships for signs of weakness. Helping, instead of hunting.