“Where are you taking me?” Neridia asked, yet again.

Just like all the other times, the Knight-Commander made no sign that he’d even heard her words. He strode on through the maze of corridors, never so much as glancing back to check that she was still following. Even with her long legs, Neridia was hard-pressed to keep up with him.

Despite his intimidating appearance, Neridia was starting to get annoyed.

“Look,” she said, panting a little. “I know you don’t like me, but there’s no reason to be rude.“

“I neither like nor dislike you,” the Knight-Commander said, without looking around. “You are a human. I have no more of an opinion on you than I would have on the personality of a particular sea slug.”

Neridia scowled at his muscled back. She stopped dead in the middle of the corridor, folding her arms. “Well, I don’t like you. I’m not taking another step until you tell me where we’re going.”

She immediately regretted her unwise show of defiance. She couldn’t help shrinking back as the towering sea dragon turned on his heel, his armored body dwarfing hers.

“We are going to find out for once and for all whether you are truly a sea dragon.” His powerful shoulders shifted a little, the pearl pommels of the swords strapped across his back glinting in the light. “Or would you prefer for me to simply assume that you are not?”

Neridia gulped, wishing with all her heart that John was by her side. “How—how are you planning to find out if I can shift?”

His foot tapped on the mosaic floor. “If you stop wasting time asking pointless questions, you’ll find out.”

Every instinct screamed at Neridia to turn back, to run and find her mate…but even if she knew where he was, she’d be caught before she went two steps. The Knight-Commander was fully capable of flinging her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and she had a nasty suspicion that he wouldn’t think twice about doing so if she didn’t obey him.

The Master Shark’s cold grey eyes and warning words rose from her memory. You must not go to Atlantis, he’d said. A powerful enemy awaits you there.

Neridia stared up at the diamond-covered, dragon-faced helmet sneering down at her, and wondered if she was face to face with her true enemy at last.

John, John, where are you?

“Your mate is recovering from his wounds,” the Knight-Commander said, as if he’d read her mind. “He was gravely injured, in your defense. If you want him to recover, you must not disturb his healing trance.”

When she still hesitated, the Knight-Commander heaved an irritated sigh. “You don’t need to look at me like that, human. I am not going to eat you. I give you my word, all I am trying to do is discover whether you are capable of claiming your birthright. There is one final test that will settle the matter for once and for all.”

The Knight-Commander might be rude, but he was still a knight, sworn to the same vows as John. From what she knew of sea dragon honor, Neridia couldn’t believe that any knight would tell a flat-out lie.

It can’t be him. He didn’t want me to come to Atlantis at all, until John forced his hand. And anyway, it wouldn’t make sense. He can’t have been responsible for my father’s assassination. He would hardly have sent John up onto land to search for the missing Emperor if he knew that he was already dead.

Neridia squared her shoulders, squashing down her instinctive fear of the intimidating warrior. “Okay then. If this will determine whether I can shift…I’ll come.”

“I did not require your agreement, or your permission.” The Knight-Commander turned away again. “Keep up. And stop broadcasting that irritating whimper. You will disturb your mate.”

Guiltily, Neridia withdrew from the mate bond. The Knight-Commander was right. If John thought she was in trouble, he’d race to her side even if he had to do so on four broken legs. She couldn’t let him sense her irrational bad feeling.

The Knight-Commander led her deeper into the palace complex, the corridors becoming ever grander. They were still in air rather than underwater, but the architecture had definitely been designed with dragons in mind. Even John could have walked down the grand, arched passageways without having to dip his horned head.

Yet despite the ornate stonework and lavish mosaics, there was a sense of mustiness in the air. There was no dust, but Neridia had a feeling that this part of the palace hadn’t been used for many years. Maybe even decades.

Maybe not since my father left the sea…

A huge, closed door blocked the way ahead. It was formed from carved planks of coral—Neridia hadn’t seen a single thing made from wood in the entire city so far—inset with gold in curling, abstract wave patterns. A single massive pearl the size of Neridia’s head shone from the exact center.

“The first test.” The Knight-Commander gestured at the door, light glittering from his diamond-encrusted gauntlets. “Only those of royal blood can open the way.”

There was no sign of a lock or keyhole. Tentatively, Neridia put her hand flat against the carved coral surface, pushing. She might as well have tried to open solid stone.

She glanced at the Knight-Commander, but the visor of his dragon-faced helmet just stared back at her impassively. It was clear he wasn’t going to give her any hints.

This is the Pearl Door, her inner voice whispered. And we are the Pearl Empress.

Neridia looked up at the huge pearl inset into the door. She stretched up on her toes, straining her arm as far as she could. Even with her height, she could only just reach it.

The moment her fingertips brushed the smooth surface, the pearl lit up with a soft, silvery glow. Neridia nearly fell flat on her face as the door swung inward under her hand, dividing in half. Without a sound, it opened.

Behind her, the Knight-Commander said something…but Neridia wasn’t listening. All of her attention was fixed on the Pearl Throne.

There was no mistaking it. Though the audience chamber was vast enough to hold a hundred dragons, the Throne still dominated the room. It stood eight feet above the floor, on a plinth formed from seven concentric circles that echoed the seven tiers of Atlantis itself. The edges of the circles were etched with images of the city. The lowest three tiers were carved from coral; the next three were gleaming silver; and the top dais, supporting the Throne itself, was pure gold.

And the Throne, oh, the Throne…

The Pearl Throne rose from the dais like a cresting wave. It was unmistakably designed for a shifter. A human could sit in the heart of the wave, shadowed by the great curving canopy, or a dragon could curl around the flowing form, resting its head and forefeet on the top. In either form, whoever sat on that throne would command utter respect.

It shone like the full moon at midnight. It couldn’t possibly have been carved from a single pearl—not unless the oyster had been the size of a whale—but the smooth iridescent surface was utterly flawless, without hint of join or crack.

Though on first glance it appeared perfectly white, as she drew closer she began to see the secret, shifting hues gleaming where the light struck the polished curves. All the colors of the ocean lay hidden in those translucent depths. The warm turquoise of a tropical lagoon and the dark indigo of ice-covered seas; the golden glitter of sunlight on the surface and the electric green flash of phosphorescence in the deepest abyss.

Our Throne! her inner voice sang out, like a whole orchestra playing a single bone-shaking note of triumph. At last, at last, our Throne!

“Are you going to stand and gape like a codfish all day?” Neridia stumbled as the Knight-Commander’s shoved her roughly forward. “Go on. Sit.”

Neridia had been so mesmerized by the sight of the Pearl Throne, she’d entirely forgotten what they were here to do. Now all her doubts and fears came rushing back like a tsunami. How could she possibly plant her fat backside on that gleaming treasure?

It is ours, ours by birth and blood, her inner voice insisted. Claim it!

“I-I’m not ready,” she stuttered. “I need more time.”

The Knight-Commander made an impatient sound under his breath. Seizing her wrist, he started dragging her up the dais.

“No! I’m not ready, not yet!” Neridia twisted futilely, his steel gauntlet biting into her skin.

“You claim to be the Empress-in-Waiting?” he snarled. “Then prove it. This is the Pearl Throne, the seat of the Empire, the very heart of the sea! If you have a drop of power in your body, then this will call it out.”

“Please, let’s wait until John’s better,” she begged. “I can’t do this without him. And he’d want to be here.”

“I cannot allow the Knight-Poet to witness this moment.” Unceremoniously, the Knight-Commander dumped her onto the human-sized seat. “Now. Show me if you are truly a dragon.”

Instinctively, Neridia cringed back from the cold touch of the gleaming Throne. Surely she would be struck by lightning for daring to defile it with her mere human presence. She expected it to crack in half under her weight, for an earthquake to shake the palace, for Atlantis itself to come crashing down…

Instead, nothing happened.

Cautiously, Neridia uncurled. Now that she was sitting on it, she could feel the shallow depression worn into the ancient seat by long-dead Emperors and Empresses. Her hands rested where their hands had rested; her curves fit perfectly into the Throne’s, as though it had been carved for her personally.

And yet still, nothing happened.

No great rush of power; no dragon surging up from her soul. Just the hard Throne underneath her, slowly warming with her own body heat.

She had failed.

Her head jerked up at a loud, repeated metallic crash. The Knight-Commander was clapping, slowly and ironically.

“Well done,” he said. “Very well done indeed. You are absolutely, unmistakably, and utterly human. Nothing more.”

Dismay fought with relief in her heart. “So I’m not the Empress-in-Waiting?”

“Absolutely not.” To her astonishment, he went down on one knee. “You are the Empress.”

Neridia stared at him. Despite his posture, he didn’t look at all humbled. Every line of his body shouted triumph.

“I shall back your claim personally.” The Knight-Commander rose again, looming over her even though she sat on the Throne. “With the Master Shark gone, no one on the Sea Council will dare oppose me. We shall announce the good news to the whole city tomorrow. Though we should delay the coronation and your formal presentation until I have coached you-“

“Why?” Neridia interrupted.

She couldn’t see his eyes through the narrow slits in his helmet, but she was certain that he was shooting her a withering glare. “So that you don’t make an utter flounder of yourself in front of the entire city. We must convince them that you are appropriately Imperial, regardless of the fact that you cannot shift. The Crown Jewels will help, of course, but I must teach you how to comport yourself appropriately.”

“No, I mean, why are you helping me?” Neridia was half-certain this was all some elaborate trick, that he was just toying with her like a cat with a mouse. “I’m human! You can’t possibly want a human Empress.”

“On the contrary, a human Empress is precisely what I want.” His chest swelled with triumph. “A helpless human Empress, unable to wield the sea’s power. Unable to wield any power.”

“You want a puppet,” Neridia whispered.

“Come now. Let us put it more politely. A ceremonial figurehead to appease the sentimental masses who are still enamored by royalty. The one thing I needed to make my rule here absolute. You will sit on the Throne, but I will stand behind it.”

Neridia sat frozen, mute with shock. She wanted to protest, to say that she would defy him, that he couldn’t force her to do his bidding…but they both knew that he could. He was the most powerful shifter in Atlantis.

And she was only human.

His deep chuckle echoed around the vast audience chamber. “Ironic, really. All that time and effort I wasted on ploys to keep you from reaching the Throne, when all along I had nothing to fear.”

Neridia gasped, his words hitting her like ice water in the face. “It was you! You sent the assassins after me! You’ve been my enemy, all along!”

“What a terrible accusation.” The Knight-Commander chuckled again, not sounding the slightest bit alarmed. “I would have to challenge you to a duel, should you repeat it in public.”

“I don’t care!” Neridia pushed herself up from the Throne, anger driving away her previous paralysis. “Did you order the assassination of my father too? How far back does your treachery go?”

The Knight-Commander’s shoulders bunched under his armor, his air of amusement falling away. “I am no traitor,” he spat. “Everything I have done, I have done for the good of the Empire. Atlantis needs a strong leader. Honor dictates that I must do whatever it takes to ensure that it has one.”

“You did kill him,” Neridia breathed. Her fists clenched. “You can threaten me all you want. I’m going to tell everyone what you did!”

He took one swift, angry step toward her, his armored body crowding against hers. She cried out as he seized her chin in one gauntleted hand, forcing her up onto her toes.

“If you do,” he hissed, right into her face, “then I will challenge you. I will demand a duel, as is our custom, to settle the slight to my honor. Who do you think will be your Champion?”

“John,” she spat back, as best she could around his crushing grip. “John will believe me. He’ll call you out.”

This close, she could see his shadowed eyes. She could make out the cruel curve of his mouth underneath his helmet.

She could see him smile.

“Yes,” he said softly. “The Knight-Poet would be your Champion. He is young and raw, so lacking in accomplishment that he still considers Firefighter to be a name worthy of pride. I am the Knight-Commander, Voice of the Emperor-in-Absence, First Seer of the Water’s Eye, and no-one has ever come close to defeating me in a duel. How long do you think he would last?”

He released her, casting her back down onto the Throne as carelessly as if tossing a too-small fish back into the sea. “I admit, he has potential. He is the only knight other than myself to have skill in the magical arts. I sent him on his fool’s quest in order to ensure he would not become a rival in the future. He was supposed to perish quietly and conveniently in some blaze or accident. It never crossed my mind that he would find something, for I did not learn of your existence until you removed that infernal pearl of hiding. No matter. As he is now, he is no match for me. I would cut him to ribbons and feed him to the sharks.”

Neridia huddled on the Throne, her defiance melting away in the face of his utter confidence.

I can’t tell John. If he knew, he’d challenge the Knight-Commander, no matter what the odds.

And the Knight-Commander would kill him.

“That’s better,” the Knight-Commander said. She didn’t know if he was reading her body language or her mind. “Your life here can be quite comfortable, if you submit to my will. You may live as an Empress, with every jewel and luxury your heart could desire, free from the trouble of decision-making and responsibilities. You may have the Knight-Poet at your side, as long as you do not trouble him with the details of our arrangement.”

The huge, dragon-sized hall closed around her like a cage. She was acutely aware of the unseen weight of water above her head. The air was stale and thick in her lungs.

“You may even have children,” the Knight-Commander continued, uncaring of her distress. “In fact, I insist upon it. Together we will found a dynasty—oh, not like that,” he’d caught her gasp of horror, and his own tone twisted. “What a revolting thought. I could never debase myself with a human. But I am certain the Knight-Poet will oblige.”

John, John! With her entire soul, she wanted to cry out to him, to call him to her side.

But that would be to pull him into certain death. She clenched her fists, her fingernails digging into her palms. She made herself breathe slowly and deeply, forcing down her panic. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t let her mate sense her fear.

“Your children will not be of my blood, of course, but they will be mine nonetheless. I will raise them to carry on my work. We will cut all ties with dry-landers, so that our noble people are no longer tainted by their filthy dirt.” The Knight-Commander’s voice softened. “We will make Atlantis great again. Future generations will revere me as the founder of a new Golden Age.”

He fell silent, gazing into space at some glorious vision that only he could see. Neridia gripped the armrest of the Throne for support. She closed her other hand around her father’s pearl pendant.

She prayed for his strength. More than she ever had before in her life, she needed it now.

Her pearl warmed against her skin…and so did the Pearl Throne. Her fingers fit so perfectly into the grooves worn by past Emperors, it felt as if her ancestors were holding her hand.

A sense of calm spread through her. It was like the comfort she usually took from her pearl, but magnified a hundredfold. The strength of generations of Imperial dragons filled her, lending her their courage.

She knew that she could do what she had to do.

“You said I could live like an Empress, if I obeyed you,” she said. She was careful to keep her eyes downcast, fixing her gaze on the Knight-Commander’s glittering boots as if she was too scared to look him in the eye. “I know I can’t bring friends from the surface here, but can John’s sister stay with me? I like her.”

The Knight-Commander started a little, interrupted from his contemplation of immortal glory. “Why should I care who you pick for your ladies-in-waiting? You may form your retinue as you please. I’ll have her attend you in your chambers. The Knight-Poet, too.”

Neridia’s heart thumped against her ribs. “I thought you said he needed to rest in order to recover.”

“Did I? Well, I’m certain he’s better now.” The Knight-Commander gave her a long, assessing stare, his eyes hidden behind his helmet. “I will send him to you. Consider it a test of your obedience and discretion. And remember what will happen to him if you fail, and he uncovers the truth.”

Neridia nodded silently. Her hand tightened on her father’s pearl.

I can do this.

I have to.

“I can see we’re going to get along very nicely.” The Knight-Commander tossed her a mocking salute. “My Empress.”