Page 47 of Depths
I grasped onto this immediately. It was exactly the sort of thing I could help with. “I can write to Evaness and set up a delivery if you need.”
Deacon clapped his hands together, delighted. “Well, that would be wonderful! Just wonderful!” He took my arm and swam next to me into a large, open cavern. He let go of my arm and swam in front of me, giving a grand bow and gesturing wide. “Your Majesty, I’d like to welcome you to the palace of Reef City.” At his words, a thousand jellyfish-shaped crystal chandeliers magically illuminated the grand cavern. The room filled with their soft blue light, and I gasped in awe as the crystals clinked gently together in the waves created by our entrance. Bands of blue light radiated out from all of the chandeliers, landing on stone sculptures of mermaids that served as the base for crimson-padded seats or were topped by stone tables.
“It’s beautiful.” The cavern walls themselves were made of intricate orange corals that had clearly been trained to grow in symmetrical patterns, creating a vaulted ceiling and intricate scrollwork that would rival any sculptor’s. I turned to look back at the mayor and had to blink several times before my eyes separated his figure from the peach-toned walls. His skin adapted rapidly. Too bad I had no frogfish competitors. His trick would be rather handy for an assassin. In fact, it made me wonder how he’d become mayor …
Assassin or not, Deacon was a charmer. He had me laughing when he took my arm once more and led us on a tour of the main rooms. It seemed every piece of furniture came with a story, and nearly every story featured his personal humiliation. True or not, the man wove great tales.
Eventually, he led us out to a massive arena, a gap in the coral city where the sea bed was actually visible and the water shallow enough that the sunlight penetrated, lightening and warming the space. The dirt oval was surrounded by color coded stands made of coral. Each of the ten floors for the stands was a different color: green, orange, blue, purple, and so on. I noted a canopy at the far end of the oval, several ship masts set upright with billowing white sails turned into an open-sided tent canopy. A throne and several chairs were visible just beneath it.
My eyes scanned the oval for any hint of what the tournament competition might be, but I saw no weapons, not even any footprints that might hint at sword battles or some such. My gaze drifted over to the competitors, and they were all studying the space just as intently as I was, possibly with a bit of trepidation from some of them, enthusiasm from others.
Mateo swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he clumsily circled the space. His curls bobbed, and his expression was grave.
I had to force myself not to go to him and not to look immediately over at Felipe for reassurance. I didn’t want to give up their ruse. I made my eyes find someone else.
Watkins merely crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, making me wonder what exactly he was thinking. The rebellious shark shifter seemed angry more than intimidated. Perhaps he was angry at me for forcing him to compete. For some reason, the thought of him being angry at me turned my insides molten. That was nearly as dangerous a train of thought as the one I’d had with Mateo. I fluttered my wings and did another quarter turn so that I faced some others.
Humberto and the shy siren, Stavros, spoke in hushed tones to one another. I wondered what their theories were. Humberto gestured widely, while Stavros’ eyes merely traveled the length of the sand and back as he chewed his lip. He gave a quick one-word statement to Humberto, making the portly man’s eyes grow to the size of saucers.
Curiosity burned. But it wouldn’t be right of me to join their conversation. I couldn’t appear to give tips to anyone, though I was as clueless as they were. No doubt, assholes like Watkins would fail to believe I was ignorant. He’d accuse me of favoritism.
My eyes bounced over the redheaded man and to Julian. The self-proclaimed scientist looked about with open interest, his clever eyes measuring and calculating. For some reason, I hoped he did well. I hardly knew him, wasn’t as drawn to him as I was to some of the others, but I did find him interesting. And apparently, some part of me wanted to learn more about him. Or from him. I wasn’t sure.
Keelan, of course, was surrounded by a wide circle of the other competitors, laughing and joking. The golden siren didn’t appear intimidated by the arena in the slightest. He wasn’t smug about it though, just enthusiastically unafraid. Which was damn charming, and I couldn’t help the little smile it brought to my face. On the edge of his circle, not laughing or talking, simply staring at me, hovered Valdez. His intense gaze made me tense.
Sahar, being her usual perceptive self, decided it was time to move on. “Alright, everyone! Time to freshen up and prepare for the parade. You have three hours!”
Mayor Deacon gave a nod, and several buxom mermaids emerged from archways on the sides of the arena in order to lead the competitors away. The mayor himself escorted me and my guards to my room. It was a grand, bright purple room with a tall ceiling. A small bubble fountain sat in the entryway, streams of tiny white bubbles emerging from a stone sculpture of a shell. They floated toward the ceiling and disappeared with soft, peaceful little pops. A bed with a thin white fishnet canopy sat against the far wall, draped in tufted silk covers that were the same bright purple as the wall.
Gita waited near a small dressing table and mirror, the tufted chair already pulled out and waiting for me. “Your Majesty.” She gave a bow and then lifted her head with a saucy grin, gesturing toward the chair. “Your torture chamber awaits.”
I sighed dramatically and turned to the mayor with faux fear. “Please, Mayor Deacon, help me escape this fate.”
The mayor’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, or at least, I thought they did. He’d turned nearly as purple as the room, though it seemed his pigmentation had met its match. He couldn’t quite achieve the bright shade of the walls. Surprise soon gave way to a chuckle, and Deacon patted my hand. “I’m most happy to host you, Your Majesty.”
“And I’m glad to be here. If I emerge alive from all this paint, that is. If I drown in it, please note, I’ll leave the glass palace to you, and Gita is to receive her own statue engraved with the following: Here lies the monster who killed the queen with hours of boredom. Beware.”
“Majesty!” Gita scolded.
“Only the truth,” I told her as the mayor left, chuckling, and I swam forward to sit on her tufted pouf. “I only speak the truth.”
“Majesty, forgive me, but you’re a royal. We all know you lie.”
“Never!” I mocked her with a gasp and a hand over my heart, my mood suddenly lifted. Despite the fact that I did indeed dread sitting for the next three hours straight, Gita was a good soul, and she’d grown comfortable enough to banter with me, which made everything all the more pleasant. “Love your hair today,” I complimented her.
Her hair was a mess from traveling. She’d put it in a simple braid, and more than a few strands floated loose around her face. Her eyes narrowed on mine. “You’ve just earned yourself an incredibly elaborate hairstyle. Lots of tiny braids, I think.”
“Evil.”
Her face split into a smile. “Just wait, Majesty. Evil is yet to come.”
* * *
I sighedand sat perfectly still as Gita painted sparkling blue swirls around my eyes and then added dots of green paint to accent them. It looked like stylized ocean waves cresting on the sides of my face. We were only two hours into the three-hour span of torture. “Isn’t this a little over-the-top?” I asked.
“It’s a parade, Your Majesty, there’s no such thing as over-the-top.” Gita gave me a wink as she grabbed a new paintbrush and started adding pink stars on my forehead near my hairline.
The pink paint pot made me think about the pink-haired man competing for my hand. My mind drifted to the man who’d been inside my carriage when it was attacked. His kiss and his self-assured public touch made me wonder. I struggled not to bring my hands up to touch my lips as I recalled that possessive look he’d gotten right before he’d pulled me into him. I hardly knew him, but damn … he’d made quite the impression. I realized, to my own embarrassment, that I hardly knew more about him than his name, or the fact that he was a rogue pirate. Did that mean he captured ships?
