Airlean Tales S2E12: Voyage (2)

Sethis watched the mystifying display of ocean life dance by, spiriting him away to another world. He smiled at the spiraling patterns of fish, the colorful wreaths of coral, the curious dolphins arcing overhead.

Around him bumbled the delegation in full force: the sages perched silver contraptions on the windows to measure the outside waters, Captain Raymond Bannister regaled an old ocean myth with a booming voice, and nobles chatted idly from behind fans or cards.

Sethis had gotten what he’d wanted—many pieces on the board from many echelons of society. Yet in the enclosed space, he realized for the first time how much they also resembled a bustling flock of sheep. And they were a flock under his care. One wrong move or word could endanger them all. The pressure of it weighed heavily on him.

“Enjoying the view, Your Highness?” said Simon Kourios.

Sethis’s eyes darted to the envoy, who had stepped next to him and was regarding the ocean view with his ever-present, mild-mannered smile.

“It’s impressive,” Sethis said. “I would not imagine the ocean to be so vibrant, were I not seeing it with my own eyes.”

“Then you will be pleased to behold the majesty of Atlantis itself,” said Simon, looking satisfied. “I believe that this excursion will prove beneficial for both of our countries.”

“Indeed,” Sethis said. But even surrounded by immeasurable beauty, he felt discomfort pricking at the back of his head like an old itch. He hadn’t forgotten the initial purpose of this trip. To smooth things over with Atlantis was part of it, but the other part—

Their offspring were promised to each other in marriage when they came of age.

A wife. His wife, allegedly. Sethis would soon meet a complete stranger and be expected to—well, perhaps not marry her immediately. Perhaps she wouldn’t wish to see the betrothal through once she met him in person. But some sort of wooing or courtship would be expected, Sethis imagined.

The more he thought about it, the more it unnerved him. He thought he had come to terms with his fated match, but perhaps he hadn’t. He had spent so much of his life in the thick of battle, whether in the politics of the court, or on the frontlines embroiled against beasts. King Asher’s cling to the throne gave no urgency to siring an heir, either. The sudden arrangement with a more-or-less princess of a foreign nation had left him discombobulated and flailing.

Perhaps at heart, Sethis was a romantic. He had always wished to marry a woman who was the love of his life. To marry for choice, and not political gain. But perhaps those were only the naive fancies of a boy who had yet to accept the reality of the world.

“May I ask, Lord Envoy,” Sethis said carefully, “what the senator is like? I admit that I find myself curious.”

Simon glanced over. “Senator Vascea?”

“Yes.” All Sethis knew, given the arrangement, was that they were moderately close in age. Perhaps he was a few years older or younger.

Simon mulled this question over in silence for a long moment. “The senator is…hm. If I must choose a word…she is delicate.”

That was surprising to hear. “Yet the Vascea family leads the Warmonger’s Dominion.”

“They do.”

Sethis waited for further explanation, but Simon supplied none. Such seemed to be the Lord Envoy’s way—supplying only answers that led to more questions, and proposing only solutions that bred more mysteries. Sethis would have been aggravated, had he not already been accustomed to such behavior from the Airlean gentry.

Still, he wondered. He’d done his due diligence and read up on the Vascea family, though even the palace archives contained limited and outdated information. Atlantis had been governed by a senate of twelve Seats, each representing one of the city’s ancient founders. The number dropped after the tremendous civil war that left the city at the bottom of the ocean. Xiphia Kairhea Vascea, his potential betrothed, would be inheriting the long and bloodied history of the Warmonger’s Dominion—all of its strife, its carnage, its dealings in the dark. Would she really bear the waifish and demure temperament that Simon so claimed?

Well, not that breeding determined disposition. Sethis would be the first to hope that people would not equate him with his father, though they often did.

Delicate, he mused, looking back to the window. He wasn’t sure what to think of it. Nothing, perhaps. He would be meeting the delicate Senator of the Warmonger’s Dominion before long.

Halcyon sat utterly still.

He had approached a doe once, out by the Talebloom Woods. She’d been a lovely, graceful thing with big, watery eyes and a tawny coat. He’d found her drinking from a stream, dappled with sunlight and framed by shrubbery in an idyllic grove.

He still remembered the way he’d immediately dropped on his heels and held his breath, afraid that she would spook at the slightest whiff of air.

This day was no different.

Karis’s head slumped on Halcyon’s shoulder. A bit of her hair tickled his jawline, and flecks of blue ocean light gathered on her lashes where they lay on her cheek. This close, Halcyon could see the curve of her brow, count the wisps of hair falling out of her pristine updo, study the pretty slope of her nose.

He held his breath, as if she would spook. As if she would flee.

Although he’d been the one to suggest it, Halcyon hadn’t actually expected that Karis would fall asleep. Certainly not on his shoulder. Both of them were usually light and distrusting sleepers, awake at the sound of a single footfall—and beyond that, they were prideful, unwilling to show even a hint of vulnerability to any possible witnesses.

But Karis had surprised him multiple times on this trip. Confiding her suspicions. Treating him like a partner. Even holding onto him like he was an anchor in the midst of her fear. It had been endearing and disarming to see the humanity that lay beneath her cold, immovable mask. In her undoctored features, he could read the same insecurities that plagued him.

Karis shifted, and Halcyon promptly looked away, fixing his gaze on a meandering fish that had somehow been estranged from its school. He expected her to wake and detach herself, or perhaps find a more comfortable angle for her neck.

Not so.

Karis…snuggled into him. There was no other way to put it, how she slowly curled into his side, tangled her fingers loosely in his cloak, pressed her head right in the crook of his neck. A kick, a rush of adrenaline, hit Halcyon square in the chest like a rearing horse.

She smelled nice. Sugared plums and lotus petals. A touch of cooling mist. Her frame was a soft curve in the crook of his arm, slotting perfectly against him.

Moron. Get out and let her rest.

Halcyon took her hands, trying to extricate them from his cloak. He faltered as her fingers settled in his palm. Beneath those gloves were calluses of a warrior, bones broken and reforged by endless combat. He knew that. But in his hands, she felt…precious. It filled him with a fierce warmth, a flicker of fire that would never extinguish.

He did his best to squash the feelings, but they only rose, embers trailing to his fingertips until they threatened to consume him.

Stop, he chastised himself. You know exactly what you’re about to do. How you’re about to lose her.

The thought sobered him. He released Karis’s hands and tried to lean her against the opposite wall. She only shifted closer with a sleepy, protesting murmur that made him melt.

He sat there helplessly, captured by his own weakness, and stared into the blooming ocean life. Cradled in the privacy of the navigator’s pit, there was no sound to distract him from the erratic thump of his heart or the soft breath wafting over his collarbone. Time was tangled up in his spinning thoughts, too many and too vague to count, and passed in an amorphous, indistinct mass.

He’d just noticed a dim notch on the opalite rail that marked the halfway point when Karis stirred again. Her nose brushed his neck as she slowly raised her head; the brief contact sent his breath stuttering like a schoolboy. He watched as she blinked sleepily, her gaze sliding around the navigator’s pit.

“Good morning,” Halcyon said, unable to stifle a grin.

Karis made a faint noise and—to his shock—laid her head back on his shoulder. Not fully awake, she slowly absorbed her surroundings, one hand tracing a hypnotic pattern in the silk of Halcyon’s tunic.

Then suddenly, like a bolt of lightning hit her spine, she jerked away, pressing herself to the wall. Open horror etched all across her features.

Halcyon nearly laughed aloud. Cute.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked.

“Ah.” Karis’s hands flitted around her hair, carefully smoothing it back into place. “I, I slept well. Yes.”

“We still have about an hour.”

“I’m alright.” She cleared her throat delicately and looked out the window, avoiding his gaze. “I’m awake.”

“Are you sure?”

She sent him a sharp look. “Yes, I’m sure.”

He rolled his shoulder. “Well, if you need a pillow again…”

She promptly looked mortified. “I will not. Most certainly not.”

He decided not to say that he hadn’t minded. More than hadn’t minded; he already missed her weight on his shoulder and her frame curved in his arm, but it was for the best. Now he had no excuse to delay what needed to happen.

He took a slow breath to ground himself, then turned to face her. Their knees bumped in the confined space.

“Karis,” he said.

Karis blinked. Then slowly, a pretty flush spread over her cheeks. “Yes?”

“There’s something I have to tell you.”

“Now?” she breathed.

She was nervous. Did she already suspect the truth? Cold sweat began to bead on Halcyon’s palms, and he surreptitiously wiped them on his tunic. He was brutally aware of the fact that the next few words could change everything between them.

“Karis, I…” Words failed him. He felt like he was trying to speak past a ball of sand in his mouth.

“Take your time,” Karis said warily.

He gained some meager comfort from the fact that she looked more nervous than he did. Halcyon breathed in and steeled himself. His words began slow and fumbled.

“I’m of Atlantean birth,” he finally said. He hesitated. “I was born in this country, and…fled, while I was still a child. If the guards recognize me, it’ll be bad. Very bad.”

Karis stared blankly at him. He waited for her shock, her fury, the righteous fire that he knew was coming.

“Oh,” she said.

It was sudden. Sudden, and ill-timed. No doubt she was gobsmacked; why would Halcyon have kept his secrets throughout the entire journey, only to spill them right before they entered a new country? He was beginning to feel more and more like a fool.

You made a promise, he told himself. A promise to bring her home safely. No matter what happened. No matter the cost.

Even if it meant following her into the bowels of hell.

Karis was still staring. Unblinking. Utterly silent. Halcyon fully expected that she would strike him. A hard slap across the face, perhaps, or a punch right into his jaw. He already determined that he deserved it and would not impede her.

He waited. She did not move.

“Say something,” Halcyon said, rougher than intended. He forced his tone to soften. “Please, Karis.”

The name seemed to rouse her briefly. Karis blinked, and her fingers knitted together in her lap.

“Your surname,” she said. “I thought you were from Yuerai.”

“Nana was,” Halcyon said. “My godmother, the woman who adopted me, Nali Yuden. She gave me my name. Halcyon Yuden.”

“I see.” Karis was silent for another moment. “Then the robes…”

“Her husband’s. A legacy she passed onto me.” He quieted. “A part of me is Yueraian…but it’s not relevant.”

“Why not?”

“My birth mother was from Yuerai. But I never knew her well.”

Karis nodded and fell back into silence. Halcyon wished that she would strike him across the face sooner rather than later. Waiting in anticipation was becoming rather agonizing.

Scream at me. Strike me. Be angry, be wrathful, as long as you need. Just not forever. He desperately hoped that she would forgive him one day. Some day.

“If it is a problem for Atlantis to recognize you,” Karis said suddenly, making him jump, “then you’re not just anybody.”

He grimaced, waiting.

“You’re a fugitive.”

Of course she was intelligent enough to piece the story together. Mutely, Halcyon nodded.

“What was the charge?” Karis said.

He exhaled. “Murder.”

“Did you do it? Did you kill someone?”

“Yes.”

Surprise briefly flickered across Karis’s face. She raised her hand, and Halcyon instinctively flinched.

But she simply laid her fingers on his cheek, the smooth fabric of her gloves warm with the heat of her skin. Halcyon’s breath stuttered at the unexpected touch.

“I’ve never seen you look afraid,” Karis murmured.

Her thumb brushed over his cheekbone, sending sparks skittering down his neck. “There’s a first for everything,” Halcyon managed.

Karis withdrew her hand. For one bewildering moment, Halcyon was filled with the urge to catch her wrist and pull it to his lips.

Madman. Control yourself. He clamped his fingers behind his back until the impulse passed.

“Don’t fear me, Yuden,” Karis said. How gentle she sounded—her voice like a hearth’s flame, like crushed velvet. He did not deserve such gentleness. “I’m grateful that you told me.”

Grateful. The word nearly broke him apart. He hadn’t realized just how vulnerable he was to her every word. Not until this moment.

“I really shouldn’t have come,” he said hoarsely. “My presence could put all of you in danger.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have,” Karis agreed, “but I will share in some of the blame, for I did my best to convince you. And…” Her gaze shifted away. “I cannot quite regret it. It would have been difficult for me to handle these challenges on my own.”

She reached out, and for one delusional moment, he thought she would take his hand. But she paused before her fingers touched his, and instead, bumped his arm lightly with her knuckles.

“Whatever happens,” Karis said, “we will face it together.”

“Together,” Halcyon echoed numbly. It was such a rare word for him. People didn’t stay long enough for together. They ran, they died, they turned him away. It was why he didn’t speak much to others. Why he didn’t let himself put down roots. Because when people left, they tore up a part of his heart with them.

“That being said,” Karis continued, “I think that the crown prince deserves to know. This development could strain our already tenuous relationship with Atlantis. He cannot afford to be caught by surprise.”

“Reasonable enough. I’ll inform him.”

“We shall inform him together,” Karis corrected. “I shall accept my part of the blame in this matter.”

Together. He had to get used to hearing that word. To not melting whenever it passed Karis’s lips. That she would be the one to stand with him, to be his ally—he couldn’t be any more grateful.

“Thank you,” he said, labored. “I don’t…You shouldn’t…I don’t deserve this kindness.”

“What kindness?” said Karis, looking genuinely puzzled.

“I’ve lied to everyone. To you. For so many years.”

“Ah.” She smiled faintly. “Everybody lies to each other about who they are. You forget, Hal, that I was once involved with the nobility.”

Hal. The old nickname didn’t rankle him like it usually did. It still sounded silly and boyish, but when Karis was the only one saying it, well—that made it special in a different way.

“Nobles lie about an achievement or two,” he said. “I doubt it’s on the same scale.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised.” Karis hid her mouth behind a hand. “There’s a saying that all the layers of a gentlewoman’s petticoats are for hiding her secrets.” She rose to her feet and pushed open the pit door. “Stay here. I’ll be back with His Highness.”

“Karis,” Halcyon blurted. “You’re not…You’re fine with it? With me? I mean, I killed someone.”

Karis hesitated beneath the doorframe. “I know you, Hal, and I know your patience. If something drove you to kill someone”—and here, her mouth flickered into a ghostly smile—“then likely, it was a more merciful end than what they deserved.”

Sethis seemed completely unsurprised by the revelation of Halcyon’s origins.

In the safety of the navigator’s pit, the crown prince only sighed and pressed his fingers to his temples, brows knotted in consternation. “I was aware that you were of foreign descent,” he mused, “but I assumed it was Yueraian. Would that I had been aware of this earlier.”

“The fault is mine, Your Highness,” Halcyon said, staring somewhere between his shoes and the slots of the flooring. “I never should have joined the delegation with such a risk.”

“No,” Karis interrupted, suddenly seizing Halcyon’s arm. “The fault is mine. I trust Yuden more than anyone else at the Guild, and I persuaded him despite his reservations. If a punishment is to be meted, it should be upon me.”

Sethis looked between them, a wry smile on his lips. “The Atlanteans will set the blame on our entire country, I’m afraid.”

Halcyon bowed his head silently, and even Karis lowered her gaze in contrition.

Sethis sighed again. The invisible weight on his shoulders appeared to have doubled. “Whatever your sins of the past, Lord Yuden, you have made them right tenfold by your tireless years of service as a Hunter. I am well aware of this.”

Good, Karis almost hissed. Because in the throes of the Storm, Airlea’s defenses would have crumpled several times over without its First Hunter.

“With that said, I cannot understate the importance of this delegation. Atlantis is a nation we can ill afford to offend.” He regarded Halcyon tiredly. “Perhaps if you had informed me while we were still on the surface port, I would have sent you back to Airlea.”

Halcyon said nothing, and Karis had the distinct feeling that he had withheld his explanation until this moment for that very reason. For all he apologized, he seemed gripped by a strange, grim determination to set foot in Atlantis—no matter the cost. The need for vengeance, perhaps? What reason could possibly warrant such a reckless endangerment of his life?

“What are the chances that someone recognizes you?” Sethis asked.

“Are there family who might know you?” Karis pressed. “Old friends?”

Halcyon hesitated.

“Compile a list of who to avoid,” Karis said. “I think that would be safest.”

“Avoiding public functions may only draw further suspicion,” Sethis disagreed. “Would it not be better to confidently attend and, should someone bring accusations, claim a mistaken identity?”

“Well…” Halcyon grimaced. “I might…be recognized. My family is well-known.”

An uneasy silence descended over the pit. Karis stared openly at Halcyon.

“Lord Yuden,” Sethis said slowly, “you weren’t, by any chance…born to a senate family, were you? The heir to one of the Twelve?”

“No,” Halcyon said immediately. “Not a senator. A military family.”

Sethis did not look reassured. “A military family of high status,” he guessed.

Halcyon lowered his gaze.

“A general’s son, or equivalent.”

He said nothing.

“Then you are a fugitive with deep knowledge of Atlantean security.”

A single, ominous nod.

“Mercy.” Sethis rubbed his temples again. “That may be worse. They will not see it charitably if you are discovered.”

Even Karis had to admit that this was very likely to end in disaster. “We shall just have to claim he is of Yueraian descent,” she said firmly. “His garb and appearance make that believable enough.”

“Yes, and few people will think to associate the Airlean First Hunter with Atlantis,” Sethis said. “So long as we prove to be fine guests, all will be well.”

He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anybody else, but Karis would not be one to discourage him. The situation was dreadful enough without any additional commentary.

A military lineage. Little wonder that Halcyon was so capable in martial affairs. He had been born and raised in it, perhaps bred for it. They had profited from it during the many Storms that waylaid Airlea’s doorstep, but now, it only served to place the delegation at terrible risk.

Well, she was at fault for dragging Halcyon into this mess. She would see to it that they all got out safely.

A horn announced the diver’s imminent approach to Atlantis. Without further deliberation, the three Hunters quickly gathered their composure and pushed out of the navigator’s pit, showing no sign of dismay. Where they were going, there was no room for weakness.

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