The Sea Witch (The Era of Villains Book 1) (19 page)

“
She
can’t be,” said Serena. Suddenly, the angry hiss turned
into a sob of despair. “She just can’t be! Oh, Hazel!”

The
sudden mood swing did not startle Hazel. That was just Serena now.
Her own daughters spoke quietly around her, as though loud noises
might trigger a change that turned a small smile into a furious
outburst and a magical shock to the backside over something trivial
like asking to go to a friend’s house. The number of citizens
lining up for audiences was shrinking. Athena was part of the
process now, and Serena often contradicted her decisions even if the
citizen was deserving of help. For instance, just last week she had
refused to help a farmer cure a disease in his red algae crop simply
because Athena had spoken first and said they would help. And though
Serena wouldn’t ever fully admit it to herself, she refused
some audience requests because she found herself wondering if the
merperson before her had cheered for Athena that day on the balcony.
She felt, deep down in a place she didn’t like to look at,
that her merpeople had betrayed her.

Serena
swam into Hazel’s arms, wailing. Hazel felt her own throat
tightening as she stroked Serena’s hair and tried to calm her.
She knew what this meant to Serena. Triton turned to Athena for
everything now. He backed her decisions when it came to helping
citizens and passing laws. He turned to her when he had a new idea
for improving some aspect of the kingdom. He regularly went out into
the city with her, while his once weekly outings with Serena had
become sporadic at best. Hazel couldn’t really blame Triton
for pulling away. Serena could become downright dangerous without
warning, and the perpetual gloomy scowl on her face wasn’t
very inviting. Even now, as she held Serena, Hazel was preparing
herself for pain if Serena’s mood changed again. She had been
shocked many times because she was standing too close when Serena
lost her temper. It was all about to get much worse. The only thing
Serena had still had that Athena did not, the only thing that she
and Triton could talk about without having a fight, was their
daughters. Now Athena was going to have a child of her own. She was
going to have everything. The thought made Hazel’s little
monster growl in outrage.

Serena
suddenly pulled back, and Hazel screwed up her eyes, waiting for
pain, but none came. She slowly opened her lids a tad and saw that
Serena had a wide-eyed look of fear, not fury, on her face.

“
What
if it’s a boy?” she whispered. “I couldn’t
give him a boy.”

“
Serena,
even if it is, Triton—“

Serena’s
hair stood on end and her eyes narrowed. Hazel could almost feel her
fury like a wave. “He’s going to love her child more.
He’s going to toss our babies aside.” Her eyes widened
again, but this time they had a mad sparkle instead of a dull terror
in them. “I won’t let it happen. I won’t let it.”

“
And
you shouldn’t,” said Moira, appearing so suddenly that
Hazel jumped. Moira’s jaw was tight. The violet flames were in
her eyes as she saw her life in the palace flash before them. “We
must get rid of her, Serena. I’ve been telling you this whole
time. At this rate, we’ll be back in the kelp forest by this
time next year. She’s taking over. You can’t let it
happen.”

Serena
locked her sparkling, mad eyes on her mother and gazed so intently
that Hazel was sure she was going to swim up to the cauldron room
and start on the poison that instant. But what Hazel didn’t
know was that Serena was holding on to a shred of hope. It was
tearing apart and becoming weaker by the day, but it was still
there, and she was clinging to it like a frail, fraying, worn out
rope. She wanted Triton back. She wanted it all back. And as long as
she saw any inclination that it could happen—a smile from
Triton sent down the dinner table, a brush of his hand as he spoke
to her, a gentleness in his voice when he said her name—she
refused to jeopardize it that way. The spell was broken. Triton’s
suspicions would not be held off by the love potion. She wouldn’t
risk it.

Not yet.

— — —

“
She’s
so cute!” Maren squealed, her hands pressed to her smiling
cheeks in delight.

“
Oh,
look, look! She’s looking at me. Hi, baby,” said Ariana,
waving into the stone crib where little Cordelia lay looking up from
a bed of lush sea grass.

“
Can
I hold her?” said Fiona, clasping her hands in front of her as
she pled with Athena. “Pretty, pretty please?”

Athena
laughed, making the large crystal necklace resting on her collarbone
bounce. “Sure, Fiona. Everyone can get a turn if they want.”

“
Even
me?” said little Rona, her face cherubic, big blue eyes wide
with wonder.

“
Yes,
dear.”

Serena
flinched and clenched her fist in an attempt to keep it from lashing
out at Athena’s face. She hated when Athena called her
children “dear” or “sweetie.”

“
It’s
not as if you can really drop her,” said Athena with another
laugh, gesturing around at the salt water.

Athena
bent into the crib and pulled the baby out. Cordelia’s sea
foam green tail flicked once as she locked her new blue eyes on her
mother. Athena slid her into Fiona’s arms.

“
Look
at her sweet little cheeks,” said Celine, hovering over
Fiona’s shoulder and running a finger down Cordelia’s
chubby cheek.

Serena
watched it all in silence with a frightening fake smile stamped on
for show. Her own children were smitten with the little monster. She
kept her eyes locked on Triton. He never took his eyes off the
child, even for a moment. He was as smitten with her as he was with
her vile, sweet-talking mother—even more, in fact. His
breathing was coming out in deep, uneven sighs, as though he kept
forgetting to breath, and when he finally did remember he needed to,
he forgot how. As Serena watched, he reached out with a fixed,
dreamy look on his face (as if he was aware of nothing but the
child) and plucked Cordelia from Fiona’s arms. Fiona blinked
once, staring at her forearms where the baby had rested just a
second ago. Then she looked up at her father cuddling Cordelia and
running his hand over the little tuft of bright red hair on the top
of her head, and she smiled.

Serena’s
fake smile vanished in an instant. Her mind was becoming more
fevered, cynical, and paranoid by the day, and it revolted at this
sight.
I knew it
, a
little voice whispered.
He will cast aside
everything in favor of
her
child.
They’ll take everything from us, take everything from my
children. Mother was right. Something must be done.

“They have to
go, Mother,” said Serena, gripping the edges of her cauldron
so tightly her knuckles shone white as pearls, “her and the
little brat. You were right all along. They’ll take
everything. If I didn’t know how utterly useless she is, I’d
suspect her of being a witch and putting her own spell on him. She
has power over him. It’s only a matter of time before she
drops her little ‘peace and harmony, best friends’
façade and decides she wants to be the only queen in Adamar.”
Serena closed her eyes, pain etched into the lines of her face. Her
voice was a cracked whisper as she said, “And he will give her
what she wants.”

Hazel bit her lip
against a coy smile. Moira was going to make Serena writhe. She had
warned Serena of this ever since Athena showed up. She would say, “I
told you so.” She would act as though she wouldn’t help,
saying, “How can I possibly conspire to commit an act so
dangerous with someone who doesn’t trust my judgement, who
doesn’t heed my warnings. Your plan will be foolhardy; you
won’t listen to anything I say. I cannot help.” And even
though she didn’t want it to, the idea made Hazel’s
jealous little monster perk up and cock its head to the side in
anticipation.

Casius looked as
though he expected the same. His eyes were narrowed at Moira as he
floated at Serena’s shoulder. He was always there lately, like
a strange, massive, many-limbed version of one of the hunting birds
that humans used. He and Serena had always been close, but ever
since Serena had begun spending less and less time at Triton’s
side, Casius had begun staying at hers, so close that he was almost
like a new addition to her body, a strange growth. And his skin was
rarely his natural bright red-orange anymore. Right now he was
blotchy—a mixture of deep crimson and ugly, bruise-colored
purple. Hazel thought he looked horrendous.

“Of course he
will, darling,” said Moira softly, a deep sadness in her
voice, her perfect lips etched into a frown. Serena’s grip on
her cauldron slackened as she looked at her mother, and her face
crumpled from hard, angry edges into soft, downturned curves of
sorrow. Moira held out her arms. “Come here, my love.”

Serena rushed into
Moira’s arms, and Hazel’s gut twisted in anger. Their
mother still had never embraced her that way. But with a great
effort, Hazel scolded herself and shut the feeling off. If Mother
and Serena’s suspicions were correct, they needed to be united
now more than ever. Hazel was fond of her grand, luxurious bed, her
delicious meals prepared by the kingdom’s finest chefs, and
her sparkling tiara. She was even more fond of being respected,
recognized, and appreciated when she went out into the city. She
wouldn’t give it up.

“Hush, hush now,
darling,” said Moira, her fingers in Serena’s hair.
“That’s enough of that. You must be strong. You must be
level-headed. Getting away with this will be no small task. Like
you’ve said before, some merpeople may very well grow
suspicious. Although, Triton is the one we have to fool; he’s
the only one who counts. But it will be hard. She’s his true
love.” Serena flinched and her lip curled in a snarl. “It’s
true dear,” said Moira, one scolding eyebrow raised. “You’ll
have to admit it sooner or later. He will not take her death well.
And now that he’s found his true love and she’s broken
the spell, he can never be reenchanted. Just her memory will be
enough to keep that from happening.”

“Then why even
bother!” said Serena, throwing her hands up to cover her face
in despair. “I will be as haunted by her memory as I am now by
her person.”

“Keep your voice
down,” hissed Moira, snatching Serena’s face roughly in
one hand and forcing her eyes to her own—as if Serena were
still a child and not a queen in the prime of her life. Serena
pressed her lips tightly together and cast down her eyes. “And
that’s a load of nonsense, and you know it. True, he will
mourn and remember her, but you will be the one he turns to for
comfort if we play this right. He will lament the child even more,
no doubt. And he will hold your children even more dear and love you
all the more for giving them to him.”

“Do we really
have to kill the child?” said Hazel, regretting it the moment
the words left her mouth.

Moira’s head
whipped around with violet flames already blazing. Despite the years
that had gone by, she still looked as beautiful and fearsome as
ever—not a grey hair to be found on her head, not a wrinkle to
blemish her fierce, angular face. It paid to know how to create your
own beauty products. Hazel cowered under her terribly beautiful
fury, but still, baby Cordelia’s sweet face nagged at her
conscience. To Hazel’s surprise, it was Serena who answered,
her voice a growl that made Hazel think of bared teeth and sharp
swords dipped in blood.

“The child must
go,” she said, her eyes dancing with blue sparks.

“I…I
understand that,” said Hazel, unsure why she was risking the
wrath of her mother and sister this way, “but do we have to
kill her? Couldn’t we just take her far away—drop her
off in another city?

“He will never
stop looking until he finds her,” said Moira, looking at Hazel
like she was a particularly nasty scale fungus. “The child
must die. He must see her body.”

Hazel blanched at the
thought and looked to Serena. Serena’s face had softened, and
the sparks had fizzled from her eyes. She looked as though she was
considering Hazel’s suggestion.

“I agree with
Hazel,” said Casius. “I won’t take part in the
murder of a child.”

“Let’s
figure out how to get rid of Athena first,” said Serena. “We
will decide what to do with her ugly little offspring later.”

Moira looked
displeased, but she didn’t object. Instead, she said, “I
believe you were right when you said poison is too risky, Serena.
We— ”

Moira cut off as a
servant swam past the cauldron room. After a few seconds, she
whispered, “We will have to come up with another way. I think
I know someone who can help us, but we’ll need doubloons. Lots
of them.”

— — —

Moira was tired from
her journey. She pulled herself up onto a rock not far from the
shore of an island and waited, breathing in the fresh air and
watching the sun dance on the surface of the pristine, royal blue
water. She dipped the tip of her tail in the water and leaned back
with her arms bent at the elbows and rested on the rock, sunbathing,
enjoying the warmth of the sun attracted to the dark surface of her
black tail and hair and tattoos.

The ship appeared on
the horizon, and Moira shielded her eyes from the sun as she watched
its slow but steady approach. When it eventually pulled up alongside
her rock, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and winked at the
pirates hanging over the edge, whistling at her, some of them with
their tongues lolling out past their yellow, rotting teeth.

The captain pushed his
way through his horde of sailors. The rim of his black hat was
almost ludicrously wide and floppy. A large, fluffy ostrich feather,
dyed blood red, was stuck into the hatband. His long, coarse black
hair was so matted it was almost dreadlocks, and Moira tried hard
not to wrinkle her nose in disgust when she saw something that
looked very much like bird poop in his bushy, black beard. He smiled
at Moira, one of his front teeth gleaming gold, the others almost as
yellow, and Moira gave him a come-hither smile back.

“Captain
Kaidan,” she crooned, waving her tail in a fan-like motion
that sent droplets of refreshing water splashing onto her chest and
face, “it’s been too long, darling.”

“Aye, it has,”
said Kaidan, his voice gravely, like he’d swallowed a handful
of dirt. “Perhaps this time I can convince ye to come aboard
and come abed?”

Moira’s laugh
was high and musical, and she threw her head back, her violet eyes
clear and lustrous in the sun. Kaidan eyed her hungrily.

“Now you know I
can’t be out of the water for
that
long, darling,”
she said with another wink.

Kaidan’s
returning smile was heinously large and lecherous. “Got your
message,” he said. “That hoodoo you do still amazes me.
I’m up for it, long as you got the gold.” His eyes lit
up at the word; he almost purred it.

Moira snapped her
fingers and a large, iron chest broke the water’s surface,
propelled up and held there by a jet of bubbles.

“Hoist ‘er
up, boys,” Kaidan said with an upward motion of his hand.

A net was cast, and
the chest was pulled aboard. Kaidan set it on the boat’s edge
and opened it up. He plunged his hand into the mass of golden coins
and laughed as he picked up a handful and let them run through his
fingers.

“You, my lusty,
buxom sea witch, have got yourself a deal!”

— — —

“Hurry up.”
Hazel’s voice was high and squeaky. Her hands gripped the
nursery doorframe as if a rip tide was trying to pull her out into
Deep Ocean. Her eyes were wide with fright.

“Hush, Hazel. I
don’t want to wake her yet,” said Serena in a hissed
whisper.

Hazel bit her lip and
then resumed peering around the doorway, watching for anyone
approaching.

The nursery was bright
and clear in the morning light. Sea horses were carved into the
stone walls. Bright coral and sea plants of all colors adorned the
walls. It was a happy place. It was where all five of Serena’s
daughters had grown from infants to toddlers. Athena’s
bedchamber was right next door so that she could hear the child cry.
Serena reached into the crib slowly, clenching her teeth as she
prayed the child would not wake and begin to scream for its mother.

Cordelia was snoozing
peacefully, one arm up beside her head, the little hand clenched in
a fist. As Serena wrapped one hand behind the child’s head and
one under the thickest part of her tail, Cordelia’s eyes
popped open. They were Triton’s eyes—big and sparkling
and the color of the ocean—and Serena froze, a knot in her
throat. Could she really cause him such pain? She scrunched her
face, waiting for the first cries, but they never came. Cordelia
looked up into Serena’s face, her eyes alight with her
mother’s curiosity. She reached out a small hand and grabbed
Serena’s wrist clumsily. The knot in Serena’s throat
tightened.

“Serena, what’s
taking so long? She could wake up any minute,” said Hazel.

Serena turned her head
to snap at Hazel, and the mobile strung from the ceiling brushed her
head. Pearls, crystal hearts, and white seahorses and sea otters
carved from limestone spun overhead for the baby’s delight.
Serena had made that mobile herself for Maren. She stared at it and
her jaw clenched. She lifted the baby out of the crib and rested the
little head against her shoulder, making soothing shushing noises.
Cordelia did not make a sound.

Hazel sighed out a
stream of bubbles in relief as Serena swam silently past her and
into the corridor. They swam together over the balcony after peering
over it to make sure no servants were in the atrium to witness their
exit. No one would question them now, but when the alarm was sounded
later, Serena did not want anyone coming forward to say they had
seen her with the child at all.

“Thank
goodness,” said Casius, floating just outside the palace
doors. He handed Serena a large picnic basket. “What took you
so long?”

Hazel raised her
eyebrows at Serena, who waved her hand at both of them as she made a
frustrated noise in the back of her throat.

“We’ll
still be right on schedule as long as the two of you quit
questioning
me
and start working on your parts of the plan,”
she said, and Hazel and Casius both edged back instinctively,
anticipating Serena’s newfound electric wrath. Cordelia’s
little head raised off Serena’s shoulder, and she looked at
Casius with her big, inquisitive eyes, but still she kept silent.
“Hazel, get going. Casius, get back inside; Athena will be
waking up any second.”

Hazel’s eyes
stayed on Cordelia for a moment, but then she caught Serena’s
angry look and was gone in a flash, headed for Deep Ocean. Casius
saluted, somewhat ironically, and pumped all eight of his tentacle
in a single, graceful movement that propelled him through the palace
doorway.

Cordelia made her
first noise of the morning as Casius swam away. It was a small,
quiet sound of disappointment. Serena held the child out in front of
her, looked her up and down as though she’d just remembered
she was there, and her face twisted in a look of disgust. From the
picnic basket, she pulled a bottle of milk laced with sleeping
potion. She lifted the basket flap again, placed Cordelia inside on
the bed of uprooted seagrass, and stuck the bottle in her mouth.
With Cordelia sucking down her breakfast, Serena headed towards the
coral reef, a malicious smile on her face. Soon, all her troubles
would be gone.

— — —

“TRITON!”

The call rang through
the palace, the stone sending it out in echoes:
Triton…ton…ton!

Triton shot into the
nursery like a harpoon, Athena’s panicked shriek making his
blood sing as it sped through his veins and pumped them full of
adrenaline.

“What? What is
it?”

“Cordelia,”
said Athena, barely keeping her voice in check as it threatened to
become a scream. “She’s not in her crib.”

Triton almost sighed
in relief and exasperation (he had thought she or the baby was
hurt), but something in Athena’s eyes stopped him. Instead, he
licked his lips nervously and tried to steady his voice as he said,
“Well, starfish, I’m sure one of your handmaidens has
her. She must have been crying, and we didn’t hear her.”

“I always hear
her,” said Athena, her words short and shrill. “Why
would my handmaiden leave the nursery with her without coming to
me?”