Vicious Deep (15 page)

He leads me through a passage behind his throne. I let my fingers trace the walls. The rock is ancient and smooth, shaped by water and glistening with dew. Tiny lights float in the crevices of the stalactites, which hang like icicles.

The air is cooler here. I can even smell the sea.

We take a right, the lights ahead of us like tiny beacons, and I realize they're leading us. We're in a cavernous room. There's a natural pool of crystal-clear water that looks cold to the touch. When I get up close to it, I can see something behind my reflection, a dark shape taking form. Suddenly the surface breaks, and I hold up my arms to shield my face. I push myself backward.

“Easy, boy,” my grandfather says. I wish he wouldn't talk to me like a pet, but when I open my eyes, I realize he isn't talking to me at all.

“What is that?”

The king sits at the edge of the pool and holds out his massive hand to a creature I've never seen before. With bright yellow eyes and a long horned snout, it's completely familiar. A sea horse. But when it grunts, its arms come out like webbed paws and lead to a body that ends in a curling tail. It nuzzles into my grandfather's hand like a puppy and a horse all at once.

“This is Atticus,” he tells me. “He gets lost in the lower tunnels and ends up here instead of Thalia's chambers.

I still can't pull myself off the floor. “When Thalia said she missed her sea horse, Atticus, I was picturing something—smaller,” I say, careful of my words, because something in its yellow eyes tells me he can understand me. I have some food I've been stowing away in my pockets instead of eating, and I feed it to him.

“He is the last of his kind,” Grandfather says. “Just like us.”

“What do you mean?”

He walks across the room to the pool, where there's a tall golden chair with spikes that end in jeweled points. It doesn't look very comfortable, but he seems to like it. I notice the trident for the first time, softly glowing in its stand beside him. Not like the dinky little toy I'd pictured. It's practically as tall as he is. The fork crackles with lightning on its own. I want to touch it. I wish it were mine.

I take a step back and the feeling dulls a bit.

“It's calling to you,” says the king.

“It's strange. Like I know it's mine.” Then I look at his serious face and add, “Only it's yours.”

He takes the trident with one hand. Even from here, I can feel it humming. The lighting sparks start at the forks and lead down its body of twisted gold that ends in a jagged and long pointed white crystal.

“What do you want with me?” There. I said it. It's only taken me all day. “Why me? Why not one of your sons?”

He sighs. I hate when people sigh, like they're deflating and giving something up. “Because I don't have sons.”

“Oh.”

“I have scores of daughters. I had a few boys, but I've outlived them all. My daughters have sons, but your mother is my favorite.”

“You're not actually supposed to admit to that.”

“Why ever not? I'm the Sea King. Maia was my favorite. When she chose your father—I almost killed him.” The trident sparks some more, and I take a step back. “During our last visit, I let more of my people go on shore. The Betwixt Alliance had only just been born, a treaty establishing peace between the worlds, courts, and kingdoms. And everyone played on human soil. Maia always loved people. She'd lie on the beach and watch them. Their laughs, their loves, their deaths. We don't die easily, and when we do, we return to the sea.” He coughs, and when he does, I see him shiver from head to toe. It's like watching a great statue teeter.

“Kurt said you chose me to run for king or something.”

“To be king you must own the trident. The trident can be won during a championship, or it can be taken by killing the owner. You are my blood. And yet you are a stranger. If I simply
made
you king, I would be breaking the trust of my people. I would leave you with a broken kingdom. With a war you would not know how to fight. I cannot be like the kings of old.”

Championship. Kill. War.
The words are on the tip of my tongue like razors on their edge. “What—what if I say no?”

He scratches his beard, and I'm afraid something is going to crawl out of it and he's going to eat it. Instead he stands and holds the trident with both hands. He points it at the pool where Atticus was swimming minutes ago. “Do you know where you come from?”

It feels like a trick question. I come from my mom. I don't really want to have that conversation again in my life, ever.

“You come from the sea.” The trident hovers over the pool, and shadows dance over the surface, until the water is reenacting his words. “Poseidon owned the seas, and his sons after him. They mastered the waves, opened whirlpools, and buried the monsters as deep as they could. There were three Sea Kings once, and each had a separate piece of the trident. The fork, the staff, and the crystal spike. Each king fought against the others, the sea folk dying as the battles waged. We slaughtered dragons, gorgons, and the fair folk who would have us cower to their wicked games. Our magics ebbed like the tides. Our numbers were depleted. Until one king united us all. He merged the trident. He tamed the giants. He made us all one.”

“Was that you?”

The king laughs, and the sound echoes off the walls. He stands the trident up so the tip of the crystal hits the floor and leaves a tiny dimple in the rock. “That was my great-great-grandfather. His blood is mine, just as it is yours. If you don't do this, then our line dies with me. You can go back to your human life. You might even lead the same life as your mother. But you will always get called back to the ocean, to us. You are ancient, and you are of my blood, the way I am of the sea. And that, that is why I have chosen you to be my champion. My blood, my grandson, my young Tristan Hart.”

•••

I leave my grandfather in his chamber and return to the court, where the sky has burst with sunset colors.

Silks are draped over the tent openings, and lamps are turned on. Some merfolk dive back into the water and go below wherever it is they go. Others curl up on their boulders and sleep. In the distance someone is strumming a small guitar. I don't know the tune, but I find myself humming. My entire body is humming. I've never even touched the trident, and I can still feel its power.

Marty is sprawled on a bed of spade-shaped leaves. He's made a pillow out of a bunch of silk, his cap covering most of his face.

I find Layla and Thalia with their toes dipped in the pool. They stare up at me with sleepy eyes. “Where have you been, Tristan?”

“Yeah, you missed Marty trying to synchronize swim with his merteenies.”

Sorry, guys, but I was busy learning my family tree and being told officially that I was going to be a champion. I reach down to the lake and wash my face.

“I met Atticus,” I say.

Thalia squeals, then covers her mouth when she realizes she's about to wake the whole island. “Did you find your chambers? Kurt already went to his. You can stay in mine, Layla.”

“Do you snore?” she jokes.

Thalia leads us back through the passageway, the mini-firelights hovering over our heads. Layla reaches for my hand, and I take it eagerly. She's my rock, and I'm a balloon getting carried away in the wind.

Thalia runs into an opening to the left, forgetting about us and jumping into the pool with her recently well-fed sea horse. I don't exactly know where I'm going. All the tunnels look the same. The cluster of lights gets frantic in front of my face. I try to flick them away, but Layla stops me. “I think they want us to follow,” she says.

Oh, I knew that.

The light leads us right and then left again. There's only one opening here. I part the silky sheer curtains and walk in. It's a room, like any other room. The bed is made of more shipwreck parts, and when I touch the mattress, it is the softest thing in the world. Layla hits the bed first. The last time we slept in the same bed was when we were little. Before I knew we had matching parts, but maybe even then I sort of got the idea. She stretches her body, and the arch of her back lifts from the mattress and then sinks back down. I sit carefully. I'm afraid she's going to banish me to the floor. Then, her eyes flutter, barely awake, and she reaches her hands out.

“I thought you'd left me,” she says.

I lie down beside her. I trace her face lightly with my finger. The slope of her nose, the dip of her lips. I stop at her jaw and then let myself trace her neck. She whispers something, and I wish it were my name. Her eyes open suddenly, bright against the hazy light of the stone walls.

“What are you doing?” She doesn't move. Neither do I.

“You had something on your face.”

She smacks her cheek. “Is it gone? What was it?”

“This poisonous fly that you can only find on Toliss Island. Really, I killed it for you.”

Just then she smirks. She's caught me. She presses a hand on my chest and pushes me away, but grips my T-shirt at the same time. “Tristan.” I don't like the way she says this. No, let's just smile and stay in this moment, because whatever she's going to say, I'm not going to like it. “What's going to happen tomorrow?” She lies flat on her back, and I do the same. I follow the grooves of the ceiling with my eyes, trying to count the tiny chips that sparkle.

“I'm supposed to be a
champion
.”

“So it's not just a feast in your honor?”

I shake my head hard. “Nope. I'm going to be introduced as the king's heir. Apparently he has no living sons.”

“That's
so
sexist. Why can't there be a girl Sea Queen? Why—”

“Relax, it's not like that. He has daughters, but it'd be like making Hannah Montana president, you know? My mom was supposed to be queen. But she chose to stay with my dad.”

Layla gets on her side. Even though the room is cool, I can feel the heat of her body “So, what? You're going to be this king? You're not going to graduate? You're—” she chokes.
You're never going to see me again.

I didn't think of that. I mean, I didn't exactly get on one knee and accept, but when your grandfather is wielding a trident that crackles with lightning in your presence, you don't exactly want to disagree. “I can't exactly go back to the way everything was, can I? Now that I know what I am. How do I just sit in class and joke with the boys?”

“How are you supposed to be a champion? The only time you've ever fought is when Angelo and Jerry want to reenact WWF.” She's sitting up now. Her voice goes up a few octaves when she's stressed.

“Come here.” I pull her close to me so her head is on my chest and her hand is over my heart. I'm not as sure as I sound. Can she tell?

“Tristan,” she whispers. “The day of the storm, I cried from the moment the wave hit you till the moment I found you. Please don't leave me like that again.”

I hold my breath, because it's what I've wanted to hear from her since the moment I came back. My Layla, my girl. She's always been there; I just never saw her the way I do now. I kiss her forehead and feel her body soften against mine as she sinks into sleep.

•••

First I think it's a trick of the light. There are so many moving shadows in this room that I can't tell. But then I see it moving. A hooded figure past the entrance to my room.

As gently as I can, I pull myself off the bed without waking Layla. I part the curtain, my eyes adjusting to the low light. I take slow steps and listen. The figure is walking quickly, and I can tell it's a girl—her hood swishes in the wind. Maybe she's trying to hide from something. Maybe she needs my help.

The tunnel makes a break to the right into a room covered with floating orbs of lights. There's a pool like the one in my grandfather's chamber, but bigger. The rock around it forms a perfect circle. Leaning over the pool is the hooded girl. Her slender hand holds something silver and dips it in the water.

She sees me and gasps, jerks her hand back, and covers her face with her cloak. She runs to an opening to the left.

“Wait!” My voice echoes off the stalactites. I turn to the pool, where the silvery head of a fish floats to the surface. The water is clear and bright, as though there's a light all the way at the bottom. The blood around the torn flesh of the fish head taints the water with blood, but the trail thins out quickly.

Maybe she was feeding Atticus. But why would she need to hide and run from me? I can see a gray shape behind my reflection again. This time it isn't the sea horse. I trace my hand on my chest where she cut me once before, only I thought it was a dream. I can't force myself to move. The dark melody of her voice vibrates through the water and fills the emptiness of the room. I can see her face, the white of her eyes, her cruel razor-sharp smile. She grips the bottom half of the fish and waves it at me, blood trailing from its end like dripping paint. I take one more step back and feel something hit me hard on my skull.