Page 24 of A Kingdom Restored

“They were outside the barrier when they died,” he said heavily. “I didn’t even know they intended to join the harvesting expedition, although I can’t say it surprised me.” He shook his head ruefully. “It was just like Elric…and his wife was no better. Not that they deserved to pay such a price for their recklessness.”

“What price?” Merletta pressed urgently.

His eyes, which had seemed to be gazing back across the years, refocused on her face. “Their lives,” he said simply. “They strayed from the harvesting group, and ran afoul of a fever of rays. They were both stung through the heart. I saw the wounds myself.”

Merletta ran a shaky hand over her forehead. The last tiny particle of hope drained away—the head of the charity home’s assertion that her parents had dried out had just been another lie, it seemed. There was no longer any reason to hope, however foolishly, that they’d found their legs and escaped to safety somewhere on land. It had always been the slimmest of chances.

“How…how awful,” she managed. “I’m sorry.”

“It was awful,” Elfin acknowledged steadily. “But like I said, it was a long time ago.” The frown grew on his face again. “But not so long it should be lost to memory. All these young folk, giving weight to the nonsense being talked in Tilssted, acting like no one’s ever thought of expanding outside the barrier before. Elric and Merminia were obsessed with the idea, and they weren’t the only ones back then. And look where it got them!”

His face had grown angrier as he spoke, and he cut off abruptly, sucking in a mouthful of water.

“My apologies,” he said stiffly. “It’s just got me frustrated, all this foolish talk. As if no one learned a thing from those deaths twenty years ago—it isn’t as though Elric and his wife were the only ones. And when you showed up asking about him, I thought you might have been one of these young rabble-rousers…” He trailed off, inclining his head. “I wish I could help you more, but I don’t hold any records pertaining to the Mer line. We didn’t keep contact with Merminia’s family after her death, I’m afraid.”

“It’s all right,” said Merletta quickly, her own emotions barely under control. “Thank you for your time, and I’m sorry to trouble you, and to reopen old wounds.”

With a respectful nod, she turned, swimming swiftly over the coral barrier and back onto the street. She needed to put some distance between herself and her oblivious uncle before she succumbed to the storm of emotions building inside her.

Chapter Eight

Merletta struggled more than ever to focus on her classes that week. Andre was equally distracted, with his second year test upon him at last. Merletta knew that he and the others thought her own nerves arose mainly from concern for him. And that was part of it, of course. She’d been kept awake at nights by the fear that Andre’s open support of her would mean his test ended as hers had been intended to—with masked Center guards waiting to murder him when he emerged from the maelstrom.

But that was only one cause of her abstraction. Elfin’s revelations consumed her thoughts so fully, she’d almost stopped looking for August and Eloise’s return. The hearty cry she’d had when she reached the privacy of an abandoned back alley after fleeing the El residence had done her good, but she was still struggling to come to terms with all she’d discovered.

If the record of her parentage was accurate—a fairly significantif—then she belonged to a wealthy and influential Hemssted family, one with living members within her reach. It was quite an adjustment to think of herself as the daughter of a well-respected couple who died in a tragic accident, leaving behind a family who loved and missed them, even if they considered their recklessness to have led to their deaths. She’d grown up being told that she’d come from disgrace and ignominy.

But if she was truly a daughter of this noble and wealthy house, how had she ended up abandoned in a charity home in the slums of Tilssted? Perhaps it was all some cruel joke of the Center’s, intended to rattle and distract her.

But then…Elfin had said she looked a bit like his brother’s wife, hadn’t he?

“First and second years, divide into groups by city of origin.”

Wivell’s cool voice broke into Merletta’s thoughts. All of the trainees were in together, and the younger ones hastened to split as instructed. The two groups—Hemssted and Skulssted—were fairly even in size. There was no third group.

“You will complete this exercise in teams,” Wivell continued. “Each group will be led by a junior record holder.” He nodded to the two mermaids floating behind him. “Sage hails from Skulssted, and will lead the Skulssted group. Bridget comes from Hemssted.”

Wivell paused, glancing over as if he’d only just remembered the presence of Merletta and Lorraine. Andre wasn’t present—it was his test day. His absence brought Merletta’s thoughts back to him, her anxiety spiking, along with a dose of guilt that she’d temporarily forgotten where he was.

“Third and fourth years, you may proceed to the scribes’ hall. An educator is waiting to instruct you, Lorraine. Merletta…” He hesitated over her name just slightly, as if reluctant to address her. “A record holder will commence your introductory sessions regarding the duties of the position.”

Sage sent Merletta a small smile—her own distraction on Andre’s behalf evident on her face—as the two older trainees moved toward the door. Merletta returned it, but the expression slipped away as she looked at the two groups of young trainees, eyeing each other calculatingly.

Us and them, Ileana had said. Even with Tilssted out of the picture, the Center—the one place in the triple kingdoms supposedly outside of city loyalty, where everyone was supposed to come together—was still encouraging its trainees to see those from other cities as opponents.

Her thoughts were heavy as she swam to the scribes’ hall alongside Lorraine. It was sobering to see so many young trainees, and not a one from Tilssted. She thought of her angry words to Ileana, about the residents of the city being trapped inside as if to subdue them ready for a massacre. Ileana had called it overblown drama, but Merletta wasn’t so sure. Tilssted’s workshops and homes were being cleared in order to allow expansion by the other cities. Were the merpeople next?

When she reached the scribes’ hall, resigned to a morning of unalleviated anxiety as she waited for the record holder who would probably fail to even appear for her lesson, Merletta received a pleasant surprise. Emil was floating inside the doorway, watching the group’s approach with his usual calm gaze.

“You’re late,” he informed Merletta.

“Don’t tell me you’re my assigned record holder!” she said, not trying to hide her delight.

“It was more a case of volunteering than being assigned,” said Emil, with a faint smile.

“I’m surprised they allowed it,” Merletta told him frankly.

“The record holder who oversees the group of juniors asked for a volunteer,” Emil said. “I don’t believe it would have occurred to him to report back to the program’s instructors on the identity of the volunteer.”

---