“Who is she?”
“Why does she...smell?”
“She laughs?”
“She stands so close to the Exiled One!”
“Her tail...she is of the gods?”
“Never have I seen someone like her before...”
Ambrose heard all of the questions, and was more than positive that she heard them as well. He expected angry glares or angry comments, or something. Instead, all she did was stare.
A lot. And laugh. A lot.
She laughed at the fishes, laughed at the people, and laughed at the buildings. He had a feeling that it was almost a little too much for her, but at least she wasn’t crying. Or yelling. Or poking.
Thank the gods she wasn’t poking him.
They had only been out for a couple minutes, but already the whole entire city was flooding the streets to see her. Her tail was different than it had been before, but word must have spread quickly about her.
She had the tail of a minor goddess, yet the people had heard she was an actual god. He could only imagine their confusion—which he felt as well. Ambrose had no clue what was going on with her tail, and honestly, the thought of what really was happening?
Scared the shit out of him.
The gods were playing with something, and he didn’t know what. He was pretty sure that even they didn’t know.
Why Mari?
Why did they chose her? There was no doubt in his mind that they had chosen Mari, specifically. There was also no doubt that they had caused her ship to sink on purpose. She’d told him all about the cruise, how quickly it had sunk, and how she suspected that no one was left alive.
It had to be the gods’ doing. There was no other way or reason. They wanted her for something—but for what? Before this, from what Ambrose had gathered, Mari had been nothing but a teacher with a dumbass boyfriend. She had had a normal life, normal family, and normal...everything.
As she grabbed his arm and excitedly pointed at another fish, one of the rare species that they kept locked in Atlantis for their protection, he couldn’t understand what had made the gods pick her.
She was too innocent. Too sweet. Too kind. Too perfect. Too temperamental. He hadn’t had a chance to ask them why before H’Sai had started raging and demanding all of the attention on him, and he had been too furious to stick around once the gods had decided on something.
The throne.
Him. On it. Again. After two thousand years. That was no time for his kind, but after so long just by yourself, in a cave, being tormented like he had been? It seemed like the world was spinning in the opposite direction.
Especially because not only did he have himself to worry about, he had Mari—and because of Mari, he had Deimos. Who, at this moment, was staring at Mari like she had an invisible chain on him and was dragging him around as she went from site to site.
“Gods, what in the hell is that thing doing here?”
His head snapped in the direction of a voice, a wheezy sound that came from an old, haggard Atlantean. His chest was bare, showing how stooped his back was and the cave that was his stomach. Ambrose knew who he was talking about.
The old man had reached the end of his line. Rarely did an Atlantean reach the point that the man was at now, but it happened. Too many battles, too many addictions. He saw the spotting around the old man’s throat and knew instantly what had caused the aging.
Tiny, black spots. Only users knew about the addiction, besides Ambrose. As king, he was forced to know every single bit of information there was. Including the fact that Octopian blood was highly addictive.
It was normally only the older men, the ones that had been in battle, that became addicted. Disappointment made him shake his head at the man, carrying on. Mari was only a couple feet in front of him, groups of children beginning to clump around her. He smiled at the sight. Mari was—
“Ugly slut, too. What is the king thinking, bringing back that trash into the city?”
Ambrose tensed, forgetting all about Mari.
Slowly, he turned around and met the indignant eyes of the old addict. Rage flashed through him as the man opened his mouth again, showing what little yellow teeth he had left. “Think you can get protection just because you are around a whore god? We all hate you, you son of a bitch.”
Everyone within a couple of feet froze—Mari was too far away to hear what had been said, and thank god.
Ambrose felt his chest shift, hands clenching. He had to gain their respect, not their hate for killing an old male. He inhaled, closing his eyes. Don’t respond. Just don’t respond to them and get back to Mari and make sure the people like her at least.
“I would soon as kill that bitch god than be loyal to you!” he shouted, spitting.
Fury slid down his back like a cool finger brushing over his muscles. Don’t kill him—
He saw a flash of black hair before the man was shoved away from him, to the back of the crowd.
“This is your future king. As much as you don’t like it, it’s true. And I’d just as soon see you dead before you speak out against my brother.”
Erikos. His brother.
Standing up for him?
Rage still flowed through him, and he wanted nothing more than to take care of the sorry old bastard by himself, but Mari’s innocent laugh in the distance helped calm him. He glanced at her to make sure she was okay and saw hundreds of little merbabies swimming all around her, pointing out fish to her.
That was the only reason he didn’t attack the old man—and his brother. That bastard dare stand up for Ambrose after handing him over to Ceto?
Mari, his mind whispered. She would be devastated.
The echo of her cries from earlier, as he beat the holy hell out of his brother, rang in his ears. He couldn’t do that to her again, not when she was having so much fun. Besides all of the speculation, the children were entranced by her—which meant that the parents were equally accepting.
Atlantean children had a knack for knowing the difference from enemy and friend. It was the instinct that had kept their people alive for so many years. The older they got, the more diluted their instincts became. They were so used to the cushioned life that their ancestors genes were buried deep in their minds, locked away.
He had known Mari would be accepted—just like the gods would have.
“You sure are one to talk!” the man broke out, shoving back at Erikos. The black spots on his neck widened because of the strain, turning a deep purple on the edges, before going back to normal. “What kind of brother abandons his own blood?”
His dull brown tail whipped out, barely missing Erikos. He saw a flash of unrecognizable emotions flicker over his brothers face before the dark locks blocked Ambrose’s vision. He expected Erikos to lash out, to retaliate.
Shock held him still when he didn’t.
Erikos only cast the man a disgusted look, pointedly eyeing the splotches on his neck. “Would watch what you say, old man. Not too sure those spots can handle any more activity.”
A clear threat to the man that only the three of them would understand. Something like pride settled in his chest as the man before the two brothers began to pale, hand coming up to cover the dots. Atlanteans, other than the users and the ruling power, thought that they came with age. There were only a select few Atlanteans old enough to have reached the stage of withering away with visible signs of Octopian use, but those who had, had all been warriors at one point. Fighting with his father, arm and arm, and this is what had become of the warrior.
The man seemed to know a threat when he saw one, casting a glance at the younger Atlanteans around him. His face was devoid of color and the splotches were stretching again as he struggled to think of something to say.
After a moment of tense silence, he forced his way through the quiet, astonished crowd, and left the brothers to deal with the crowd.
Not like there was much to deal with though. As quick as a startled school of fish, they cleared away from him.
Ambrose didn’t realize he had been holding in a breath until they were all gone, water expelling from his chest forcefully.
“What the fuck was that?” he growled, rounding on his brother.
Erikos, the younger version of him, met his furious gaze head-on. “If I didn’t do something, you would have.”
“Why would you even bother? Last time I checked,” he said, anger beginning to course through his blood, “you left me high and dry in front of the council. What right do you have to come to my defense now?”
Ambrose watched a dark look pass over his brother’s face before he masked it. “You need to take the throne. If the people hate you, that won’t happen, no matter how badly you defeat H’Sai.”
He couldn’t stop the growl that rose in his chest. Erikos was acting like he cared, and Ambrose didn’t believe anything he had to say.
“You’re a disgrace,” he snapped, shoving Erikos’s shoulder, forgetting about Mari. Memories of all their adventures flashed in his mind, furthering his anger.
Erikos didn’t hit back like Ambrose had planned. He simply went with the force that hit him and stared at Ambrose. “I’m sorry,” he said, so softly that Ambrose almost missed it.
“Sorry? That’s all you can say to me? I was tortured for two thousand years because you couldn’t get your head out of your ass. I still remember how you took the spear and left. No words, no looks, no nothing.”
He heard Mari’s happy voice in the distance, something telling him he needed to stop.
But he couldn’t. Not when he was facing his blood brother—his betraying brother.
“I took care of you for so long,” he growled, hands fisting, pain flashing through him. “I got you out of trouble, I took care of you, I gave you everything you needed when I was on the throne. But when my loyalty to Atlantis, after all I did to protect it, comes into question? What do you do? You leave me,” he roared, surging forward.
Erikos didn’t move.
He forgot about the people that were beginning to watch them, he forgot about Mari. He forgot about the consequences and the tugging. All Ambrose could think about was how much he wanted to kill the only brother he had ever had.
Ambrose brought up his fist.
“What’s going on?”
He froze.
Mari’s confused, lovely voice floated into his ears and all motion stopped.
Erikos looked behind Ambrose’s shoulder, and he watched the transformation that came over his brother’s face.
The smile, the charm, was all too familiar to Ambrose. Erikos lost the stoic look in his eyes and grinned at Mari, slinging an arm around Ambrose’s shoulder.
He tensed, really wishing he could rip Erikos a new one.
“Is everything okay?” Mari asked slowly, giving his brother a dubious look before settling her gaze on Ambrose.
She knew.
Ambrose could have punched himself.
As her eyes took on the coolest, most stony look he had ever seen, he knew he had messed up.
“Everything’s fine,” Erikos said casually, trying to take control of the situation. The merbabies that had been swimming around Mari were several feet away, watching their new role model with wide eyes.
“You sure about that?” she asked. Her hand landed on her hip as her eyes narrowed.
Ambrose didn’t bother lying—he just stayed quiet. Mari knew that he had been about to beat his brother to the holy hell and she wasn’t pleased.
“Yes, ma’am. My brother and I were just talking.”
Her eyes narrowed.
Strike one, Ambrose thought.
“Really?”
“Strategy and all of that,” he continued, looking at Ambrose as if they shared a secret.
Strike two.
“Brother stuff,” he finished, flashing her another smile.
That one she didn’t respond to at all.
Strike three.
Her head tilted to the side. “Oh. Wow. For a second there, I thought Ambrose was about to tear you apart. I must have been really wrong—that, or you just lied to my face.”
Erikos shifted uncomfortably.
“Just so you know,” she hissed, leaning forward. Both Ambrose and Erikos leaned backwards, not daring to take go an actual step back, but wary of what she was going to do.
Her finger came out, and he cringed.
“I’m not much for being lied to. Actually, I hate it. And whatever was going on with you and Ambrose doesn’t even matter to me so long as it doesn’t affect him taking the throne, and as long as he doesn’t get into trouble for killing your dick ass!
“You can be a sleazy little shit all you want,” she continued, eyes flashing red. “But the second you start lying to us, we have a problem. A really big problem. Ambrose is going to be king, and what are you going to do if you lie to him? He isn’t too happy with you now, and I highly doubt he’ll be happy with you then. And I,” she said, pointing at herself, “won’t even care.”
By the time she was done, Erikos was red in the face, Mari was panting, and Ambrose could feel himself getting aroused. Holy god the woman was sexy when she wasn’t angry at him.
“Low enough to betray your brother, and low enough to lie. I dealt with kids like you all of the time,” she snapped, turning that finger on Erikos. He felt his brother flinch as she stabbed at his chest. “I watched their lives fall apart because of what you’re doing now. If you’re on some sort of fish-crack, tell me now. That breaks up families like nothing else. Was it jealousy that made you leave him? Greediness? That must have worked out well for you, seeing as you aren’t the king right now!”
All color immediately drained from Erikos’s face.
“Well?” she asked, shoving her hair away from her face. “Can’t say anything about it? Because you know what you did was wrong? Yeah, well—”
Erikos elbowed him sharply in the side, and she stopped speaking. “What?”
“If you really want to have this conversation now, we need to take it elsewhere.”
“There isn’t anything to talk about.” Ambrose broke in before Mari could open her mouth again. Her eyes flashed red.
“Actually,” Erikos murmured, casting a guarded glance around the area. Atlanteans were beginning to be bold, moving in close enough that they could hear the conversation. The merbabies had long flapped away, too scared off by the sudden hostility to stick around. “There is. I haven’t had a chance to talk to him—”
“If you’re talking to him, then I’m coming too.” Mari asserted herself, lips pursing.
“Mari—”
She cut off Ambrose with a hard look. “I have to make sure you don’t kill him.”
“I would appreciate that,” Erikos said around a sigh, shoving a hand through his dark hair.
“Not for you. For Ambrose.”
“I know this.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
Then she turned sharply on her tail and began swimming away from them. Ambrose watched her with pressed lips.
She stopped, hands clenching at her sides. “I’m going the wrong way, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, you kind of are.”
Erikos led them to a small alley, and after gesturing for his brother to open one of the glamors, they stepped inside of it. The strange girl that Ambrose brought with him followed behind them with her mouth open and her eyes wide, like this was all new to her.
She was of the gods, so Erikos could understand. Some goddesses were kept hidden for their own safety, and rarely saw the city that they originated from.
Mari, Ambrose had called her, muttered things to his brother as he led them through one of the tunnels. He didn’t hear what they were saying—which was odd. As an Atlantean, he could hear most of everything that happened around them.
He cast a glance over his shoulders and met the glowing white eyes of the demon that guarded Mari. Erikos jerked forward. Right. So the demon guy could shield conversations. That was great. He could probably rip them all to shreds if he wanted to. Which was also great.
How was he going to tell them? The thought kept running through his mind, tormenting him. He had thought of millions of ways to tell Ambrose what had really happened. Had thought of millions of ways to choke out the words he knew Ambrose would never believe. He had thought of millions of ways to try to make up for it, had he ever seen his brother again.
Great job he’d done of that, he thought, chest aching. First sight of his brother and they’d tried to kill each other.
Ambrose would never believe him. He would never forgive him. He would not even think of Erikos as his own brother anymore. Ambrose was loyal to a sharp point—but to leave him to that? To make him go through all those years of torture? Being held captive against his will?
Nothing could take that pain away. The gods hadn’t outright said anything to him, but he knew the story. He’d dreamed of his brother, been sent to his cave when his mind was most weak. The gods had tormented him, watching his own brother suffer because he hadn’t been fast enough to save him, to get Kai and sort everything out.
Along with the dreams of his brother’s torment, he’d seen so many things. About Atlantis. About the danger. Erikos prayed nightly for the gods to give him a break, to let him have a dream of peace...it never came. He was tired, devastated, and at the end of his life.
Why they did this to him, he didn’t know. But maybe by making peace with his brother, or telling him what had really happened the day of the trial, he could reconcile what had been done.
The room they entered was dimly lit and cut off, one of the escape tunnels of the palace. None of the citizens knew of them. It was only the royal family, and the only one who could open them, or summon them, was the heir.
Who, as he turned around and forced his nerves to calm down, was not looking very approachable.
“What?” Ambrose snapped. Erikos stayed silent for a moment, staring at his brother as the voice that held no love wrapped around his heart, squeezing.
The goddess moved closer to Ambrose, her hand lightly touching his arm.
Ambrose took one look at her and his shoulders instantly deflated, like she had popped a blowfish. Yeah, thank the gods she had come with them. Erikos doubted they would have made it this far if it hadn’t been for her.
“The trial.” His voice was short, abrupt. Suddenly, all of the played out conversations, all of the pre-thought ideas, were gone. His throat closed up. His tail had a hard time staying still.
He worked his jaw, trying to get something out.
Nothing.
“What about it?” the goddess asked, shimmering tail whipping back and forth. The demon that was behind her growled, pressuring him.
He shoved a hand down his face.
“The trial. The night of the trial. I need to tell you what happened.”