Tides of Tranquility Read online

  “I want you to know that I’m sorry for making a mistake back there, and saying we should run instead of fight,” Vachlan said softly. “If it weren’t for you, we would have been captured.”

  “Don’t worry—” She was cut off by a finger pressed against her mouth. He had more to say.

  “I got us into this mess,” he admitted. “I knew that it wouldn’t be easy to turn over a new leaf and go from being the destroyer to a creator. I knew my past would always find a way to catch up with me, and you knew that too when you married me.”

  “Vachlan,” she began, but he pressed his entire hand over her mouth to ensure she would keep it closed.

  “For most of my life, I thought that having kids would be unreasonable. It was whimsical, ludicrous fantasy. I was cruel, but I drew the line at being so cruel that I would subject children to this kind of life, and to seeing the kind of things I did. What godforsaken, ghost of a man like me would ever consider tormenting children by the simple knowledge of who their father was and what he had done? It was absurd. Vachlan, the Destroyer of Kingdoms, a dad? It was outrageous, even comical.” He removed his hand from her mouth and moved it to rest against the breastplate of her armor. “And then I met you.”

  Visola rolled her eyes skyward, emitting a bashful chuckle. “Shucks, I know I’m awesome. You don’t have to tell me.”

  “Yes, I do. What just happened back there—Visola, you’re the only woman on earth I would trust to be the mother of my children. If it weren’t for you…”

  “Pffft,” Visola said, turning away to look at the window to hide her blush. “Don’t be ridiculous. All I did was press a button. With the amount of… evacuating that you’ve done, there are probably hundreds of little… vacuum cleaners running around that you don’t even know about.”

  “No, actually. And you know me better than that,” he said seriously. “I don’t take very much seriously in life. I think the world is a fickle, changeful thing. Every person, every state of affairs, every emotion is fleeting and pointless. Why should we bother caring what happens or getting attached to anything? But you changed me. You showed me differently, because you have an undying loyalty and strength that I’ve never seen in anyone else—”

  “Okay, I get it! You think I’m hot and you want to do me. You don’t have to go on and on about it like this is a special moment in one of your plays or movies. There’s no audience here, just us. You can touch my boobs without asking permission.”

  “Ignoring everything you just said, I’m going to continue with my speech of gratitude—”

  Visola tossed her head back and groaned. “Sedna save me. Why did I marry a writer?”

  “I take fatherhood very seriously,” he said simply. “It’s very easy to be a military strategist, or a mercenary, or a king, but much harder to be a father. More than anyone I’ve ever met, you saw the best in me, and you had faith that I could be a good father. I failed you once, and I don’t want to ever fail you again. You deserve better than me, Viso. You didn’t deserve having your daughter murdered because of me, and you don’t deserve having to work so hard to keep the twins alive because I—”

  A sob shook Visola’s chest then, as she pushed her hands against her eyes to conceal a sudden waterfall of tears. Like a gunshot in the night, her emotions flared up, and just as quickly, they were gone. She reached out and hit Vachlan in the face. The satisfying feeling of her bone connecting with bone prompted her to hit him again. “I can’t think about this,” she warned him. “I can’t reflect and examine and remember like you—I just do. I think as quickly as I can, and then I do. Whatever needs to be done, you can be sure that I’ll find a way to get it done, however crazy or difficult that way might be. I don’t care. I don’t need anything from you. I don’t need your kind words, Vachlan. I don’t need your romance or your sweetness—I just need you to be here.”

  He rubbed his sore jaw, looking up at her in misery. “I want to be more than just here.”

  “You are,” she whispered, reaching out to hook her wrists over his shoulders in a relaxed way. “I realize now that maybe you always were. If something happens to either one of us, the twins will be fine. They won’t feel the loss so strongly, because as long as they have one of us, they will have both of us. So you shouldn’t worry, tough guy.”

  Vachlan smiled, grasping behind her calves and sliding her down off her chair. He caught her before she could land on the ground and kissed her bottom lip, tugging it into his mouth and holding it there in a long, serene kiss. They stared at each other from this close vantage point, conversing quietly with only their eyes. Vachlan finally pushed Visola to the ground between the rows of airplane seats, and began to hastily dispense with her armor.

  “Are you going to evachlanate me now?” she whispered teasingly.

  He growled in response.

  Chapter 8: Reconcile my Rage

  Varia sat on a pile of exercise mats in the gym, dangling her legs off the side as she watched her father fencing with Glais. They were using heavy training swords instead of the lighter sabers that would be used in competition. She knew that this was for the purpose of building muscle, and making it easier to handle the actual weapon—but she could not help wondering whether it would be better to train with the saber. Each weapon had a different feeling in the hand, and she did not think that using wood was anything like using metal.

  Squinting for concentration, she allowed her eyes to follow the movements of the blades. She felt her own body twitching when she saw that a parry or counterattack was necessary, and she flinched each time Glais was struck. There was something deceiving about Trevain’s manner. He did not seem violent as he stood there, poised with his wooden saber, but every time Glais tried to strike him, he defended himself with the speed of lightning. His guard was perfect, but he was not making a real attempt to attack Glais. Varia frowned.

  “Honey,” Trevain said to her as he deflected the younger man’s blows. His voice was muffled by his helmet. “You don’t have to watch if this is boring you. You can go upstairs and read.”

  “No, thank you,” she responded curtly. Why would her father think that the fight was boring her? She knew that Glais had big dreams of participating in international competitions, and she wanted to observe every single match.

  “Maybe you should go,” Glais said with an embarrassed laugh as he failed to hit Trevain yet again. “I’m not doing very well here. It might help if you weren’t watching.”

  “I’ll keep busy with my phone,” she said, pulling it out of her pocket. She went to Rolf’s twitter account, but was disappointed to see that he was no longer posting scandalous gossip. He had written about having roast manatee! Tweeting about food was boring, but tweeting about one of the most common sea-dweller meals was unforgiveable. She put her phone aside in disgust.

  “You’ll have to be faster than that if you want to hit me, Glais!” Trevain encouraged.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today,” the young boy said, sighing under his helmet.

  “I do,” Varia said quietly, looking down at her feet as she swung them. She tried to refrain from saying more and interfering in the battle.

  Both men, however, removed their helmets and turned to her. Glais was the first to speak.

  “What am I doing wrong, Varia?”

  “Nothing. Never mind. I’ll tell you later.”

  Trevain cleared his throat. “You can say whatever you feel in front of me.”

  Varia glanced up quickly before returning her gaze to her toes. She slammed her heels into the mats rapidly. “I dunno. Where is Uncle Callder? He’s always bragging about how he almost medalled at the Olympics. Wasn’t he supposed to be here to train Glais today?”

  “It’s still early in the morning,” Trevain said with an awkward smile. “He probably missed his flight from Atlantis.”

  “You mean he was too hung over,” Glais said with a grin.

  Trevain nodded in bashful acknowledgment of his brother’s behav
ior.

  “What about Grandma V?” Varia insisted. “Didn’t she arrive this morning?”

  “Yes, dear. She can help Glais train later on, but for now she’s… indisposed,” Trevain explained.

  “Also too hung over,” Glais explained again.

  “Oh,” Varia said in disappointment.

  Trevain sighed on behalf of the Ramaris drunkards. “It’s a family illness.”

  “Should I even bother asking about Grandpa?” Varia asked.

  “He’s in military meetings all day, and revving up the security around the palace. He’s a bit upset after what happened last night,” Trevain explained. “I would be too if my daughter got shot by people who are supposed to be friendly.”

  “Fine. Then you guys better keep training,” Varia recommended. “Any practice, even crappy practice, is better than none at all.”

  Trevain’s brow creased at this, but he pulled his helmet back down over his face. Bending his knees he held his sword out at the ready position. “Attack me,” he commanded.

  Glais nodded, lunging forward in compliance. This went on for several minutes, with Trevain easily batting away the boy’s sword. Varia began to glower at the clashing swords.

  “Oh, for Sedna’s sake!” she muttered to herself.

  Turning to her sharply, Glais threw his hands up in the air. “What? So do you think you can hit him?” he asked with frustration.

  “Probably not,” she answered, swinging her feet at different rhythms. “Not if he doesn’t play fair.”

  Trevain blinked. “I’m not playing fair? What do you mean, Varia?”

  She shrugged noncommittally. “In a real battle, or even a real fencing match, your opponent is going to try to hit you too. When he strikes out, that’s when he leaves himself open and vulnerable to attack. If you don’t try to hit Glais, it’s just not fair. He doesn’t have any openings.”

  “But that’s why it’s more challenging,” Trevain explained. “That’s why it’s good for training.”

  “It isn’t any good for training!” Varia argued. “Because his opponent is going to be trying to hit him too, and if he focuses too much on attacking without defending himself, he won’t be able to do both at the same time!”

  The men stared at her in surprise, as though processing this theory. Then they turned to stare at each other sheepishly.

  Varia pushed herself off her chair and reached forward to grab Glais’ sword. She shoved him aside and pointed the sword at her father. “Hit me, Dad.”

  Trevain hesitated. “Varia, you’re not wearing any armor…”

  “Whatever. Just try to hit me,” she said impatiently.

  Carefully, Trevain did as she asked, holding back most of his strength. He was startled when Varia dove forward, sidestepping his attack to drive the point of her wooden sword into his chest. She stepped back immediately, preparing herself in a ready position again.

  “Again,” she said, crouching low and preparing to advance or retreat as necessary.

  Trevain rubbed the spot on his chest she had struck, surprised at the amount of force and speed she had shown. Holding back a little less, he tried two tentative, testing strikes before aiming a blow at her side. He was startled when Varia not only blocked his each move, but was able to land a strike to the side of his face, hitting him in the cheekbone. He could feel the strength of her blow, even through his helmet. Varia stood frozen in place, her body poised with the striking thrust, holding the “blade” of the wooden sword lingering at her father’s face.

  “Where did you learn to fight like that, kid?” Trevain said, obviously impressed.

  “My mom taught me,” Varia explained as she lowered the sword, “but not for competitions or for the Olympics. She taught me to survive.” Turning to Glais, she handed him the training weapon. “Fight for real. Fight like every time, it’s your last time. Don’t treat it like a game with toys. We’re not children anymore.”

  He nodded as he reached out to take the sword from her outstretched fist, resting his fingers on the hilt beside hers for a moment. “I will, Princess Varia.”

  “Think about what it means underneath the rules and regulations of the international governing body of the sport. Think about what this used to be. Fighting to live,” she reminded him. “Use your anger and mix it with your skill. It’s a cruel world, and you either kill or be killed.”

  “Jesus. You’re a serious kid, Varia,” Trevain said, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “I know,” she answered, turning to look at Trevain grimly. “Glais doesn’t have a dad. You have to teach him as well as you can, as if he was your own son. He’s not a little girl!” She moved to grab her phone from the pile of mats and began walking away from the men. “Stop taking it easy on him, Father.” When she exited the gym and turned into the hallway, she saw her mother strolling alongside a man who was clad in an argyle-patterned sweater vest. She could tell from only his clothing and his glasses that he was the psychiatrist she had been hearing so much about recently.

  Aazuria smiled when she noticed Varia, and moved in her direction. “This is my daughter,” she told the man. “Varia, I’d like you to meet Dr. Dylan Rosenberg.”

  “How do you do,” Varia said politely.

  “A pleasure to finally meet you, Princess,” the man said, bowing forward from the hip while saluting across his chest. “I was just helping your mother to make sense of her nightmare. Would you like to join us for some conversation?” When the young girl seemed reluctant, the doctor pressed a little further. “Queen Aazuria tells me that you were born in Antarctica. I’d love to hear a little about your impressions of the place.”

  Varia’s facial muscles relaxed as she quickly nodded. She could never pass up an opportunity to reminisce about the peaceful place she had once considered home. Besides, she was curious to see if the psychiatrist would find anything that was glaringly wrong with her.

  “Mother Melusina, I have done all that you asked of me,” Elandria professed. “I have learned to shatter substances comprised of every element. I have suffered and meditated to sharpen my mind. I have been a faithful pupil, and all that I ask is that you allow me to see my family again.”

  The blind psychic descended deep into thought for a minute. “Is that really what you want, child?”

  “Yes,” Elandria said without hesitation. “Please. I will continue doing everything you ask—I will be a loyal servant of Sedna forevermore, but I can’t go on without seeing Aazuria. I deserve that much.”

  “You deserve?” Mother Melusina signed. “Why do you deserve special consideration? Because you were the daughter of the old king? Because you were the temporary wife to the new king?”

  “No,” Elandria said with a grimace, lowering her body in a respectful bow. “I don’t claim any rights or privileges due to my royal lineage. I only feel that I deserve basic human kindness because I have always shown compassion to everyone around me. I have never hurt anyone.”

  Mother Melusina raised her eyebrows, which curved above her deep green blindfold. “Self-esteem. What a quaint little trait for you to suddenly have.”

  “I have always had self-esteem,” Elandria corrected, feeling daggers of anger pierce behind her eyes, “but I have never been prideful or arrogant. I do not think you should mistake humility for ignorance.”

  “But you are ignorant, Thunderbird. You say you deserve something for never having hurt anyone. How can you fail to understand that everything I have taught you is to be employed in hurting others? The goddess Sedna was a good and gentle woman until her father left her for dead, cutting off her fingers as they held his boat, and sinking her to the bottom of the icy ocean. Only after this merciless cruelty did Sedna become the woman we now worship. Only then did she find her backbone, and so must you!”

  “Being gentle does not mean that one does not have a backbone,” Elandria insisted.

  “You have never had a backbone, little one,” the spiritual woman said mockingly. “I have known polyp
s and amoebae with stronger spines than that spindly, negligible thing running through your body.”

  Elandria narrowed her eyes. “I do not see the reason to retaliate when someone verbally attacks me, as you have just done. I am not here for the sake of my vanity, or to defend my skeletal structure. I came to you so that you would pray to resurrect my sister. Now that she is alive, how can you forbid me from even seeing her? How can you deny me that?”

  “Deny! Forbid! You should be grateful for my teachings, but instead you are thankless and wicked.” Mother Melusina moved forward, the fabric of her gown gyrating in the water around her. “We are your sisters now! I am your mother now! This is the holy sect of Sedna, and you need to be fully committed to Her will! How dare you insult me like this?”

  “I do not mean any affront…”

  “You! I had such high hopes for you. With a voice like yours, you could have been a true, pureblooded thunderbird, the likes of which the ocean has never seen in a thousand years. But you will never sing out in strength, for your soul is burdened with woe. You will never taste the valiant power of truth as your breath expels from your body, liberating us from the land. You cannot let go of your past life and move on to great heights. You are a failure.”

  “That is fine,” Elandria responded slowly. “I never wanted to be great; that was never my desire or my destiny. I know that you have to be alone for many years and sacrifice everything you have known in order to achieve greatness. But even having done these things, I did not become great. I did not want it badly enough, and now I was forced to follow a path that was not correct for me. Being manipulated into your sisterhood, my heart could never truly forsake my family and give itself wholly to Sedna.”

  “What are you saying?” Mother Melusina demanded, reaching out to grasp the back of Elandria’s neck, squeezing her spine between her fingers. “You are mine, and you shall not be disobedient.”

  A tremor of fear filled the small woman as the pain shot through her head, and she briefly wondered if the priestess was going to kill her. Ignoring the pressure on her cervical vertebrae, she forced herself to respond calmly. “As my old friend Visola—whom I have not seen in over five years—would have said: I have been half-assing this.” Elandria inwardly acknowledged that Visola would have also said something a bit harsher, and it was on the tip of her tongue, but she restrained herself.