Page 55 of Waves
Wasn’t it already?
A broken laugh bubbled up at my lips, but I swallowed it down because we were crossing a pebbled bridge, and the people were cheering. I warped my sad revelation into a smile for the children who waved and shouted, bellowing their excitement.
Fervor pinked their cheeks. But fear hollowed mine.
Because as much as I adored some of the men in my tournament, I was uncertain that any of them would ever understand the polluted nature of my mind. My soul.
Could Mateo handle the heartless things that floated through my head if I ever voiced them? Could Felipe, who was loyal to a fault, handle my judgmental fear of some of the people of Okeanos? Could Keelan and his light-hearted jesting handle the cruelty that my instincts sometimes wanted to hurl? Could Stavros, who was so soft and sweet, handle my more bloodthirsty side?
Valdez had been one of the few morally gray men in the tournament. Now, he was gone.
Only Watkins remained, and my skin prickled at the very thought of him. I had no clue if the rebel I’d forcibly recruited was sincere or not in his desire to change. I’d been relying on Taft to tell me.
A sense of melancholy pervaded me then, brought on by the idea that I might be surrounded by love that was conditional.
It was unfair of me—I hadn’t spoken with Mateo or any of them. But emotions are rarely fair, and I had been wracked by too many feelings today to be able to sift the good from the bad.
Ominously, I also started imagining tragic endings to this event as we headed toward it. Why should it be any different from the prior events? Why should it go off without a hitch? Without an attack? Without more bloodshed?
A desperate pang of longing hit me then and I wished Bloss had come down with Ryan. I wished she’d been able to come and stay. I wanted her to hold my hand and make light of the situation. I wanted her ferocity and her spark. Her protection.
I wanted her reassurance that the men who were loyal to me were as good as her own kings.
Perhaps they were.
Maybe.
But depression has a way of leaching the color even from bright things, making them feel dull and lifeless. And as we crossed the spiderweb of bridges toward the edge of Kremos and the island man hunching there like a giant black shadow, the love I had didn’t feel like enough. The number of hearts I’d won versus those who still distrusted me seemed vast. Insurmountable.
Negative thoughts swarmed like crabs upon the shore.
No. No, Avia. Stop.
It took all my effort to draw in a huge breath and let it out slowly, releasing those notions one by one. Four more breaths before my lungs no longer functioned as if they were about to collapse.
The smile I plastered on my face as my guards and I reached the crowd was fake. But I pushed it wider and forced myself to notice the little siren girl wearing a cloak of polar bear fur. Her golden cheeks were bright with excitement as she bounced upand down on her pet sea lion, a good-natured fellow who only betrayed his discomfort with a twitch of his whiskers.
Tall squi-shifters raised their arms, waving at me. Tiny tentacles dangled on the undersides of their forearms like a fringe. I hardly mustered up enough enthusiasm to wave back.
That’s when I tried to stop thinking, stop thinking at all, and simply soak in the joyful shouts around me.
The laughter and smiles gave the space the feeling of a carnival. Of a joust.
Two shark shifters linked their elbows and swam in a bobbing circle. A pair of sirens sold foaming cups of bubble. I saw a pennant with Mateo’s name on it and that brought the first true smile to my face.
Strolling people laughed and chatted all around as they entered a giant field set aside for the evening and paid for floating seats, which were long planks of wood tied to the seaweed at varying heights, all facing an island man who cast the space into shadow.
A huge, hulking relative to the giants, the stone figure was colossal. He sat cross-legged in an open space where the ocean floor was merely a series of dunes. His body filled every inch from the ocean floor to wave caps and beyond. With skin the dark shade of lava rock and his side was dotted with barnacles, he was unlike any other magical race I’d met before. Strangely, his feet were the bit of him I found most fascinating. They were as long as two men laying prone and his toenails were as large as my face. Glancing upward, I couldn’t even peer beyond his chest.
“Where are his eyes?” I wondered aloud in a faint voice.
Beside me, Sahar arrived, looking calm and confident as ever. “Near the cresting waves. His scalp serves as a small island home for a few elves who’ve managed to escape from Sedara. Hence the delay of the competition. He had to move slowly so they wouldn’t slide into the sea and drown.”
My lips pressed together at this revelation. This kingdom was full of more oddities than Evaness. Or perhaps it seemed odd because I hadn’t grown up here as I should have. We arrived at a platform built out of giant clamshells and Ugo took my hand to help me climb up the stacked shells to stand in the center shell. Sahar ascended to my right.
Glancing over at my adviser, I found her eyes on the line of remaining contestants, which was much shorter than it had been last time.
I followed her gaze until I spotted her son, his turtle swimming about his head in a lazy halo. Keelan swatted at Mr. Whelk’s fins before he turned, clapped Felipe on the back with his good hand, and took a few steps away as if he were going to stand and watch from the sidelines. Mr. Whelk followed of course, but not before cuffing my former guard. Felipe didn’t even bother to relax.
