Oceanborne (7 page)

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Authors: Katherine Irons

Tags: #Romance, #Paranormal, #Fantasy

BOOK: Oceanborne
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“You don't need to,” he said. “You're safe. I promise.”
Which was exactly what Howie McMann had said to her in the choir loft when he'd pulled out his teeny weenie and tried to persuade her that you couldn't get pregnant your first time. She hadn't believed it then, and she wasn't sure that she believed Orion now.
“Can you swim?” he asked. “I don't have much time.”
“You mean that I have to wake up?”
A dolphin came out of the darkness followed by a younger one. Elena had always been fond of dolphins, and she'd swum with them in the Caribbean. This one was large, over five hundred pounds if she was an ounce, with a network of scars etched into her head and back. The dolphin stared at her curiously before approaching and nudging her with its nose.
“Are you tired?” Orion asked. “Would you prefer to ride?” He tapped the dolphin's nose several times before swinging up on its back. “Come on,” he said. “It's all right. Her name is Nohea, and she's very tame. She won't hurt you.” He offered his hand.
It was a dream, and in a dream she could ride a dolphin. In fact, riding a dolphin was a secret wish she'd always harbored. She clasped Orion's strong fingers, and in an instant she was up in front of him and clinging to the big mammal's fin. Almost at once, they were flying through the water, through curtains of kelp and past pillars of stone. Fish and sharks and octopi loomed up and flashed past. The dolphin's skin was smooth and warm and soft. So fast did Nohea swim that Elena was certain she'd fall off, but Orion held her tightly around the waist, his strong body pressed against hers.
She had thought that the depths of the sea must be dark, but not in her dream. Iridescent lights glowed around her: blue and pink and green. The water felt like silk against her skin. Never had she felt so weightless, so free.
The dolphin was swimming toward the surface, or perhaps the water was becoming shallower, because Elena was certain they passed directly under the hull of a large ship. Fish were smaller here and quicker, darting away almost before she could identify them.
“Where are we—” she began, but Orion cut her off by leaning close and whispering in her ear.
“Good-bye, Elena. Forget me. Forget all this.”
“But I don't want to—”
In a burst of energy, the dolphin rose and leaped out of the sea. Elena saw the beauty of the night, no longer shrouded in clouds but star studded and moonlit. She felt the salt wind on her cheeks and then an all-encompassing blackness.
 
The boat was rocking gently on the waves. Elena sighed and turned, shielding her eyes from the rising sun. She was sleepy, so sleepy, and the motion of the sea soothed her like the rocking of a cradle. She gave in to the weariness again, and the next time she woke, the sun was high over the horizon, its rays warm against her face and exposed skin.
Elena sat up and looked around. The small wooden dory was anchored to a post driven into the sea, and to her right, no more than a short distance lay a harbor. People walked on the beach, going about their normal day-to-day activities. Two men were stretching a large net to dry in the sun while another smeared pitch on the hull of an overturned boat. She recognized the town, a small fishing village a few miles from her expedition headquarters. But how had she gotten here?
She began to feel her head, her arms, her legs. She wasn't in pain, but why were her memories so confused? There was a strong breeze but no storm, no choppy surf. And how had she gotten into this fishing boat? She didn't think she'd been drinking. If she'd tied one on, she'd have a hangover, wouldn't she?
She was barefoot, and she wore the tattered remains of the clothes she'd worn when she left the harbor this morning. But, by the position of the sun, it couldn't be later than ten or eleven o'clock, so this couldn't be the same morning she'd taken the Zodiac to check the wreck site. Had she lost an entire day? Or had taking the inflatable out in bad weather been the dream? No, she decided. That was too clear in her mind. She'd definitely gone to make certain that no one was intruding on her dive site.
She inspected the interior of the boat in an attempt to discover some clue to the mystery. The dory was old, obviously handmade, without oars or a motor. It contained nothing but a coil of weathered rope, two scarred bench seats, a section of torn fishing net, and a heap of seaweed. The bottom of the boat was dry and dusty; not a drop of seawater had trickled in. But the seaweed was vividly green and glossy with moisture. Odd. How had that gotten into the boat? If the waves had washed the seaweed into the dory, why wasn't the deck damp?
She reached to pick up a handful of seaweed. It was clean and free of motor oil or the flotsam that drifted onto the shore of a harbor. The seaweed felt as soft as satin, and the brilliant green reminded her of something … something she should remember but seemed just out of reach. She lifted it and sniffed, inhaling the sweet, salty odor, savoring the smell. As she did, something heavy fell to the bottom of the boat, something bright and glittering.
CHAPTER 7
D
eep beneath the surface of the Atlantic, Prince Caddoc retreated to his suite of rooms in one of the oldest levels of the king's palace, a section usually reserved for visiting dignitaries from outlying and not very important sea kingdoms. It shamed him to be housed as meanly as any barbarian diplomat, but he knew that he was lucky not to have been banished beyond the city walls to Neptune's villa.
Neither Poseidon nor Queen Korinna had forgiven him for his mother's attempt at overturning the throne. It was only his father's age and softening heart that had won him reprieve from execution or being sealed in an ice tomb for a thousand years.
None of which would have happened had he been treated as he deserved. He was Poseidon's eldest-born son and should have been heir to the crown. It was only his mother's position as concubine and later minor queen that had barred him from his rightful inheritance. All his life, he'd lived in the shadow of his half-brothers and sisters, and the ill will he bore them had been tempered and seared to a white-hot hatred. Gladly would he see all of them devoured in the bowels of a seraphim or ground to dust by the jaws of a pod of killer whales … all but one. His sister Morwena was too tasty a morsel to be wasted. He had other plans for her.
He was contemplating the details of those plans as he stepped into his entrance hall. But immediately, he sensed that all was not well. A feeling of dread swept over him, and the scales rose on the back of his neck. Since his return, he'd had no permanent servants attached to his service, and no naiad would dare to enter his quarters without his permission, even to clean. “Who's there?” he cried. His nostrils flared and he felt an urgent need to void his bladder. Instead, he drew his sword. “Who is it?”
“Where have you been?” Halimeda demanded. “I've been waiting for you for hours. I'm starving.”
Caddoc flinched, turned left into his high-ceilinged bedchamber and saw his mother lying in his great, curtained, shell bed. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. Quickly, he darted to slam and lock the outer door through which he'd just entered. “Are you mad? What if someone should hear you? Are you trying to get me killed?”
“Where were you?”
“Keep your voice down, Mother,” he cautioned. “The servants spy on me constantly.” His scales thrummed unpleasantly. Finding her here in his bedroom was his worst nightmare. Not only was she under a death sentence if she returned to Atlantis, but he was forbidden to have contact with her on penalty of having his own pardon revoked.
Besides, he'd had plans for the evening with a nymph that didn't include his mother. Now, he'd have to send Zephyr away. It had taken him days and the promise of a pearl necklace to get her to agree to meet him, and he'd already sent the jewelry to her quarters. His bowels knotted. His mother always made him nervous, and now more than ever. He definitely needed to seek out his elimination chamber before he shamed himself even further.
“What kind of greeting is this from my only child?” She languidly pushed aside a hanging and glared at him.
Caddoc felt like a small fish about to be devoured by a hammerhead shark. The cramping in the pit of his stomach intensified.
“Aren't you happy to see me?” His mother slid one long shapely leg out of the bed, and he saw that the soles of her feet were dyed as red as the palms of her hands. As usual, she wore next to nothing, a gown—if it could be called a gown—in the filmy Egyptian style, woven of the thinnest white seaweed and nearly transparent.
Caddoc's mouth tightened. His mother had always been a beautiful woman, stunning, some called her, alluring in the most sexual manner. It was her lush curves, her classic features, waist-length, midnight-black hair, and comehither eyes that had caused the king to lift her to a position of minor wife, or so Caddoc had always believed.
Well, that and her skill with poison
.
Smirking, Halimeda descended the marble steps and kissed his lips. “Foolish boy, you know you've been desolate without me.” Her long fingers threaded through his hair, caught and tugged hard enough to cause him pain in a mock show of affection.
Caddoc wanted to scrub away the cold taste of her, but he knew better. “Of course,” he lied. “I've been worried sick. But why aren't you with him?”
“Him?” The corners of Halimeda's mouth turned up in a sly smile, but her eyes remained as hard as obsidian. A scarlet octopus with yellow spots crept from her back onto one shoulder and undulated down her arm. She cooed and caressed it, pressing it to her breast, allowing the thing to attach its suckers to—
Gagging, he looked away.
“Him, who?” his mother asked sweetly.
“Melqart.” Caddoc lowered his voice to a whisper. “You've pledged yourself to him, haven't you? It must have been him who saved you from Poseidon's dungeon.”
She moistened her upper lip with the tip of pink tongue, and he squirmed inside. She was more beautiful than he remembered. No one could guess her age or that she was the mother of a grown son. Her own poisoning, arrest, and imprisonment seemed to have done her no harm. In fact, she seemed rejuvenated, as exquisite and perfect as any goddess.
“Do you doubt my powers? Do you think any cell could hold me?”
Someone tapped lightly on the door, and he glanced in that direction. It was too early for Zephyr, and he wondered who had come seeking him. “Who is it?” he called.
“Prince Caddoc,” came the thick and gargled speech of a naiad serving wench. “I bear a message for your ears alone.”
“Go away,” he ordered. “I'm busy. Come back later.”
“But my lady Zephyr bid me—”
“I said, go away. I can see no one until the next turn of the water clock.”
“He's entertaining his mother,” Halimeda said.
“Shh,” Caddoc snapped.
The maid at the door said no more, and he assumed she'd left.
“Answer me!” Halimeda said. “Do you doubt my powers?”
“I know you are a witch, Mother. You've proved it often enough. But sorceress or not, you are forbidden on pain of death to come to Atlantis. If Poseidon learns—”
“Hold your tongue, you whining coward. Leave your father to me. He's as weak and pliable as you are.” She traced his bottom lip with one curved nail, and the octopus stretched out one tentacle to imitate her. “I will deal with Poseidon. I have another task for you.”
He moved back, trying not to show his distaste, wishing she was anywhere but here … wishing he had gone to the Pacific islands as Tora had urged him. Each day he, Caddoc, felt more in danger here and seemed farther from the throne. He doubted if his father would ever forgive him, let alone name him crown prince over his half-brother Morgan.
So far his mother's plotting had come to nothing, and he was far worse off than before. His estates had been confiscated, his herds of sea horses, and personal fortune, all taken from him and redistributed to the masses. Even his allowance had been cut off. How was he to live in the style he'd been accustomed to?
“Aren't you going to ask me what I want of you?” Halimeda said.
“I'm sure you'll tell me soon enough.” He was sick of dancing to her tune. It had been a mistake for him to try to be reconciled with the king, his father. Alexandros would need only the faintest excuse to put a knife in his back. Far better to be a visiting prince off some tropical island surrounded by adoring females than a dead prince here.
“Morgan's wife is with child.”
“Rhiannon?”
His mother lunged forward and slapped him sharply on the cheek. “Yes, Rhiannon, you fool! What other wife does your brother have?”
He ducked away, his hand itching to draw the sword and cut off her head, but he knew he wouldn't. She was right. He was a coward. The last time he'd disobeyed her openly, she'd cast a spell over him, paralyzing him, filling his throat with nasty, crawling creatures. He shuddered. “What do you want me to do? Do you want her dead?”
She shrugged. “He'd only marry again. No.” She shook her head. “It's better to put an end to the child. Rhiannon is a changling. Lord Melqart has given me a potion that will drive her insane and shrivel her womb. That will end Morgan's line and keep his mad wife from spawning any more half-breed brats.”
“Easy enough to do,” he reasoned. “I have connections in the kitchens. But if she becomes barren and loses her wits, what's to keep him from taking a second wife?”
Halimeda laughed. “Your noble brother has sworn before witnesses to take no other wife while Rhiannon lives. You know he never wished to be high king. If he loses both the wife that he loves and the children he hopes to father—”
“The twins will become Father's heirs, not me!”
She flung the octopus. It smacked his other cheek and slithered over his head and down the back of his neck. He stood there immobile, quivering with rage while she ranted at him. “Never say that! You will be the next Poseidon! Lord Melqart has given me his word. You were the firstborn. You should have been crown prince from the first moment you drew breath.”
“Maybe I would have if your grandfather hadn't been a commoner.”
She hissed and extended a hand. Light shot from her fingertips, and he dropped to his knees as blood filled his throat and poured from his mouth and eyes. Searing flame ignited his skin. It peeled and curled as his screams choked in his throat.
Caddoc felt his body slam against a marble pillar. He slid down to the floor and lay there panting as the pain gradually seeped out of his battered flesh. “I'm sorry,” he sobbed. “I didn't mean it. I will do what you say … anything you say.”
“Good.” She rested her hands on her hips and sighed. “Get up! There's nothing wrong with you. At least nothing that a helping of courage wouldn't fix.”
Trembling, Caddoc looked down at his hands. He feared there would be only bone and blackened tendons, but to his surprise he found himself whole. He'd suffered nothing but loss of his dignity. Still shaken, he got to his feet. “Tell me what to do, Mother. I am your servant in all things.”
She looked down her pretty nose at him. “I should hope you are. I created you, and I can as easily rid myself of your incompetence. I'm young enough to have other sons, bold sons who are worthy to sit on the throne of Atlantis.”
His lower lip quivered and he felt the sting of salt tears in his eyes. “Give me another chance. I won't fail you again.”
“No, you won't. My patience has run out with you, Caddoc.”
“Give me the poison. I'll get it right this time.”
“Very well.” She settled onto a cushioned bench. “But first, I desire food. Order me a feast from the kitchens, the best they have to offer. I'm starving.”
“Whatever you wish, Mother.” Zephyr would have to wait. He was no longer in the mood for lovemaking. Halimeda would have to be appeased, and then he'd have to get rid of her before she was discovered. Doing her bidding was a small price to have her back in Melqart's realm and out of Atlantis. And as for Morgan's wife, he owed her for the death of his cousin Jason. She deserved whatever fate his mother had planned for her.
“My dinner!” Halimeda reminded him.
“At once, Mother. What do you desire?”
“Everything. All of it.” Drool ran from the corners of her mouth, and she wiped it away with the back of her arm. “And the sooner the better.”
“As you say, Madame. Everything.”
And the sooner you're away the better for me,
he thought as he pulled a braided rope to summon a servant.
The notion that she might be right this time lightened his mood. After all, the twins were warriors, and warriors died all the time in combat. Once Morgan and his wife were dealt with, his mother might have a plan for Orion and Alexandros… . He could picture himself sitting at the right hand of Poseidon, imagining the heralds announcing him as Crown Prince Caddoc.
There would be no need to give trinkets to women then. They would willingly throw themselves at his feet and into his bed…. Even Morwena. His half-sister had evaded him before, but this was another game. He smiled at his mother. With Halimeda's help, sweet Morwena might be the prize he'd sought for so long.
 
Elena stared at the heavy gold ring that had fallen from the seaweed. It was inscribed with strange symbols … not Linear B, but definitely writing of some kind. The workmanship was exquisite, but it was very old, certainly Bronze Age, possibly Minoan. This was a true work of art. How it had come to be in the bottom of this boat she couldn't imagine. Excitement made her giddy. She'd seen, even held treasures of the ancient world before, and that wasn't why she was so intrigued. She had the strongest hunch that this ring was familiar.
Her complete blank about where she'd been or with whom the night before was every bit as puzzling. She'd never done drugs, and although she enjoyed a drink or two, it wasn't like her to become inebriated. If she'd been the victim of some creep, it wasn't likely that she'd awaken feeling good with no evidence of having been attacked or robbed.

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