“Yes, there’s news, and no, Echlios is not back,” she says slowly. I can feel her sadness in the water rushing around in her body. I can see it in the shimmer of her melting green eyes.
“What is it? Is Lo okay?”
“Nerissa...”
Heaven help me, I already know what she’s going to say. I want to shake her, to smash my head into her side. I want to scream my fear and shed it from the inside of my skin. Instead I pull on a composed mask and deaden the emotion running rampant within me. “Just say it, Soren. Tell me. I can handle it, I promise.”
But I can’t handle it at all, not when her lips shape the words that make my bones thin to air and my heart crumble into unrecognizable fragments. “It’s not good. He’s dying.”
The faces of the six members of the Aquarathi High Council could be hewn from calcified rock. The lower-court kings and queens have already been briefed on the situation—I can see their varying reactions in the tilt of their heads and the rigid stance of their bodies. Their royal guards, including mine, the ever-present Nova and Nell, line the rear of the hall in a silent, ominous row.
Soren calls the meeting to order—she’s acting in Echlios’s stead since he’s still landside. I swallow hard and bury my grief deep. I greet each of the High Council in turn, all of them baring their necks to me in respectful deference—Queen Miral and her consort, Hevan, from the Gold Court, Queen Castia from Emerald, King Verren and Queen Aylis from Sapphire, and lastly, Keil, the new king of the Ruby Court.
I watch him surreptitiously as he takes his place in the circle. Keil, Ehmora’s cousin, is young but ambitious. He’s probably the only other Aquarathi on this council who’s around the same age as me. As if reading my thoughts, he winks at me and I blink, startled at the familiarity. I remember training with him when we were young, and have several memories of him being rebellious and funny, but it’s not like we’ve seen each other a lot since then, nor is he someone I would consider an ally. The other royals are all far older—and likely more worldly in the ways of ruling—than either of us.
I clear my throat—my job is to reassure and to calm, to keep my internal fears compartmentalized. And the last thing I want to do now is to appear weak. “Before we start, what is the update on the oil spill off Hawaii? Has it been mitigated?”
Hevan, Gold Court consort, nods. “Yes, my queen. Most of it has been isolated with booms and removed with skimmer equipment. We have done what we can to assist with more rapid biodegradation from below the surface.”
“Any more information on what caused it?”
Hevan hesitates, looking to his queen for guidance. Miral nods. “Someone hacked the ship’s computer, forcing it to capsize. We’re still working on it.”
I have my guesses as to who could forcibly cause an ocean tanker to capsize and have the means to do so—Cano, it seems, will do anything to prove that he’s still around. If we trace it back to him, maybe we can finally hunt him down and learn where he’s been hiding. “Keep me informed the minute you hear anything. Any news from our friends at NOAA on the proposed initiatives to mark up the bills on marine debris at the recent House Committee meeting?”
“Yes, the bill was successfully amended, and funding allocated.”
“Excellent. And the senate hearing on the offshore-industrial-waste issue?”
“Still on track for next month.”
“Good.”
I inhale deeply to counter my sudden inability to breathe, forcing the simmering dread out of my mind. Time to address the real reason the High Council had been convened. “As you’ve been recently informed, my...the regent has fallen ill. Echlios has been dispatched to further assess the situation. There’s no cause for alarm.”
“No cause for alarm,” Castia from the Emerald Court huffs. “You are bonded to the creature. We saw you collapse from whatever it was you felt during the coronation! You cannot underestimate the bond, even one as...unique as yours.” It’s clear from her tone that unique was far from her intended word choice. “If he is in fatal danger, then you are in danger. And we are in danger.”
“The prince regent is safe for the moment,” Soren interjects in a firm, respectful tone. “As is your queen.”
“Safe?” Castia hisses. “Look at her. She can barely focus despite the pretense.”
“If the regent is dying, then you should go to him,” King Verren says with a disgusted look at Castia.
“I cannot leave Waterfell,” I say despite the lurch in my stomach at his words. I eye the Sapphire Court king, who has always been a strong ally.
“You invite destruction,” Castia says under her breath.
Soren bristles beside me, but I shoot her a warning glance. Tensions are skyrocketing already, it seems. “Explain what you mean, Castia,” I say carefully.
“What about these hybrid abominations that Ehmora created?” She spits out the name in distaste.
“Most of them have been eliminated, Castia. You know that. Echlios made sure of it. We haven’t had any sightings of them in weeks.”
“And the human, Cano? What of him?”
I sigh. “We’re still looking for him.”
“So he’s still at large?”
“What is your point, Castia?”
Her eyes glitter like jade stones. “My point, my queen, is this—how do we know that this human isn’t working with your...prince regent? How do we know that this half-human hybrid son of Ehmora’s won’t lead him right to us? That this isn’t all some intricate ploy to infiltrate Waterfell...to expose us?”
I lift my chin and hold her challenging stare. “Lo is bonded to me. His loyalty is to me, and to Waterfell. He would never betray us to Cano.”
“Your duty is to your people, not a hybrid.”
King Verren and Queen Aylis share an anxious glance at Castia’s provocative words. He moves forward. “I think what Castia is trying to say and failing to do so is that even if he does not intend to be disloyal, the prince regent is vulnerable.” He looks at me with an almost apologetic expression, as if supporting Castia’s claims is the last thing he wants to do. “Which means that you, too, are vulnerable. What if Cano attacked him to get to you?”
“Attacked him? How?” I ask.
“The bond is enduring, and if yours is anything like ours,” Aylis murmurs, “you will feel every bit of his suffering as if it is your own, my queen. If the prince is dying, then you, too, are compromised.”
“You are the only one who can give him the strength to survive the journey back here, and bring him back safely,” Verren says. “You must go.”
“But how can I?” I whisper, my heart aching as if it’s being torn into two—love and duty clashing like titans—even as Verren’s soft words make a fragile, if unrealistic, hope bloom in my chest. As much as every cell inside me wants to go to Lo, how can I abandon Waterfell and expose my people with the threat of Cano still looming? But how can I forsake Lo, either? I swallow hard. “You suggest the impossible, Verren,” I say softly. “If I go, our people are at risk. If I don’t go, he dies. How can I possibly choose?”
“Your place is here,” Castia snarls. “That creature