Page 44 of Pearls of Salt and Sacrifice

The tunnel opened into a wider antechamber filled with cupboards and chests of all sizes. Belen stopped at a wardrobe to retrieve a cloak of midnight blue. She slung it around Reva’s shoulders and clasped it with a seashell pin just below her throat.

“Um, thank you,” Reva said, uncomfortable with the attention. At home, while she was treated with deferential treatment, her people knew she preferred to be treated like one of them and didn’t fuss over her unless she asked for help.

They followed another tunnel, and another, until they stepped onto a wide street leading into a huge chamber. Reva’s head tipped back in awe as she stared at the columns rising all around her to support an invisible ceiling high above her head. A school of neon-pink fish darted by just outside the invisible barrier.

Belen led her down a street populated by a half-dozen Argosan citizens. They gave the two princesses flanked by the guards a wide berth. Reva’s boots squeaked against the smooth stone floor as they crossed the courtyard.

At the far side, Reva skidded to an abrupt halt. A wall of sheer sea glass rose to her left, as tall as a three-story building. Through its wavy panes, she caught her first glimpse of Argos. Schools of fish darted around the other chambers carved from rock. Light spilled from windows and illuminated kelp wafting in the ocean currents through the inky black water. Turrets rose all around the seabed beyond the glass wall, guarded by elves astride glowing krakens, their brilliant hues ranging from soft pink to brilliant red.

“I never imagined the bottom of the ocean would be so beautiful,” Reva said as Belen joined her at the glass wall.

The elvish princess smiled. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I think you’re the first human to ever see Argos. And—” Her voice dropped a few pitches. “—you’ll probably be the last, I fear.”

Reva’s stomach knotted, her awe now tinged with guilt. But it wasn’t her fault Argos was in danger. Something moved at the far side of the seabed, beyond the kraken guards and watchtowers. Reva pressed her nose close to the glass and squinted. Something massive seemed to be stirring the waters just beyond the glow from the farthest tower…

“Is that…”

“Calypso,” Belen said as she splayed her palm against the glass. “The oldest kraken in the ocean. The last of the greats.”

“The one who’s dying,” Reva said as the water continued to stir in the darkness.

She thought she caught the flash of a pale sucker, so large it must have been the size of a building. If the suckers on the kraken’s arms were that big…. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth as she tried to imagine how big this creature must really be.

It was bigger than an entire city. Perhaps bigger than an island kingdom.

The ocean outside the glass seemed to press against it, closing in on her, making her feel small and vulnerable.

“Come on.” Belen tugged at her arm. “I want you to meet our little sister. She’s painting in the gallery in the next bubble.”

“Bubble?” Reva tore herself away from the glass wall with reluctance.

“That’s what we call the different chambers in Argos. They’re all connected by tunnels and grottos, but the main chambers we call bubbles.”

The gallery lay just beyond a wide, windowless passage, with thousands of gilded frames stretched in front of them. Reva had never seen so many paintings in her life—her tiny island kingdom had nothing of this magnitude to offer. At the far end of the chamber, a thin girl with short, raven-black hair sat before an easel. She held a plate in one hand smeared with globs of paint. In the other, she held a brush that she swept against a canvas.

“Ophelia, I’d like you to meet a guest,” Belen said as they approached.

The girl on the stool did not respond but continued with her work. Reva peered over her shoulder at the ocean landscape recreated by the girl’s painting. She’d never seen anything so realistically rendered. As she stared at the painting, she had the sensation she could walk right into it and swim away.

“Ophelia?” Belen repeated.

Still, the girl did not answer. That’s when Reva noticed that the elf girl’s eyes were not even open.

Ophelia painted with her eyelids shut, an expression of contentment on her face. Belen reached out and took the brush from the young girl’s hand. Only then did Ophelia turn to greet them. She glanced over them with only idle interest, her gaze unfocused and lost.

“Ophelia,” Belen said once again, with gentle patience, using her free hand to wipe away a glob of blue paint half-dried into Ophelia’s chin length hair. “This is Reva. She is the human princess Jareth told you about. Do you remember?”

Ophelia frowned at Belen without once acknowledging Reva. “No,” she said curtly as she reclaimed her brush and turned back to the canvas. “Go away.”

Reva wasn’t sure if she should laugh or feel insulted. Belen shot her an apologetic look and motioned for Reva to walk back toward the main corridor. “I’m sorry,” Belen said as they left the gallery behind. “Ophelia is special. She doesn’t exactly see the world the way the rest of us do. She’s sweet when you can pull her away from her paintbrushes.”

The guard to Reva’s left coughed quietly.

Belen laughed out loud, the unexpected sound echoing off the tunnel walls. “All right.” She shot an amused look over her shoulder before leading them down the tunnel to another turnoff. “I confess she can be irrationally grumpy when you interrupt her painting. She was exercising restraint today, to be honest.”

They entered another courtyard, this one much noisier than the last. Small elvish children darted around potted plants and vendors dragging small carts loaded with goods. An old elvish lady wearing a shawl that looked to be made of woven seaweed chanted about delectable sweet rolls that couldn’t be found anywhere else in Argos. Across the path from her, another elderly vendor barked back that her rolls were the best to be had.

They wove between the clusters of shouting children until Belen paused beside a large sandpit where children of all ages appeared to be practicing athletics. They spun and jumped and tossed one another high into the air. One girl who appeared to be around fourteen-year-old landed in a crouch close to them, wearing nothing more than a sleeveless tunic and knee-length britches. The girl’s black hair was pulled back in two messy knots on top of her head.

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