News of Sionna’s death spread quickly through the undersea world, devastating everyone. Adlivun chose to honor the doctor’s memory by explaining to the public that Sionna had, in fact, been responsible for the spread of diseases in Asia which allowed for the defeat of Zalcan. However, this information did not demonize Sionna; it made her more endearing to all the people whose lives had been improved by the victory at Damahaar. It made her a hero, and a martyr. It was especially bad in Adlivun; the entire country had been plunged into mourning.
But Vachlan knew that the sadness and devastation would be temporary. Already, grief was segueing into anger. The CIA had issued official press statements explaining their actions, and Agent Poole had spoken publicly about the situation.
Now, Vachlan sat by himself in his bedroom, playing a recording of Jackson Poole’s speech.
“According to our data, retrieved from reputable sources, Dr. Sionna Ramaris was the most dangerous woman in the world. An undersea terrorist organization led by a man known as The Leviathan has been causing problems in coastal areas across the globe. While we knew that Sionna Ramaris was a member of a friendly nation, an ally in fact, we feared her involvement with The Leviathan would threaten global security. As many of you know, Sionna Ramaris was a medical pioneer, constantly innovating and inventing products which improved the life of many Americans. However, unfortunately, we assessed that she posed a dire threat to our defense. In the same way that we would not allow a nuclear physicist to live if he was considering selling high-tech nuclear weapons to our enemies, we could not allow this biochemical and biomedical engineering genius to continue to produce lethal agents that could fall into the hands of our enemies. Dr. Sionna Ramaris possessed and used infectious diseases as weapons of mass destruction. Five years ago, due to her carelessness, 30% of the population of India was wiped out.”
Vachlan exhaled a gust of air through his nose. “Due to my carelessness,” he corrected. “And honestly, haven’t living conditions in India drastically improved since then? They were overpopulated. They’ve jumped almost thirty spots on the quality-of-life index. Even when Sionna did bad things, more good things happened as a result.”
“—acquired data linking her with the terrorist organization, and simply had to neutralize this threat before she could be used as a weapon by Leviathan. We apologize to the nation of Adlivun for our actions, but they were preemptive and necessary. We still consider you a valuable friend and ally, but this woman needed to be dealt with. We hope the public understands our actions.”
Vachlan closed his eyes. He had not spoken to his wife since the event in Cairo; Visola was presumably still hiding in New York. It was only a matter of time until she found out. When his phone rang, he dove for it, hoping and not hoping that it might be her. Instead, he was shocked to see that it was the same man who had been speaking on the television.
“You have some nerve calling me,” Vachlan hissed into the phone.
“I’m calling to apologize…”
“I have a bit of advice for you, Agent Poole,” Vachlan said in a dark tone of voice. “Run.”
“Are you threatening me, Vachlan?”
“No. It’s too late for threats. It’s time for facts.” Vachlan rose to his feet as he spoke into the phone. “The simple, straightforward fact of the matter is this: You’re going to die. Everyone in your organization is going to die. Everyone you have ever known is going to die. In fact, I believe I can say with some certainty that your country is going to die.”
“I never pegged you for one to make juvenile claims, Vachlan. I know you’re not talking about the United States of America.”
Vachlan smiled. “You have obviously never met my wife.”
Aazuria had been numbly going through the motions of her meetings in Atlantis and Helike. She did not know what else to do. She buried herself in her work, and tried to distract herself from the horrors of her personal life. At night, Trevain called her on the waterphone. She placed the headset over her ears and mouth in order to converse with him across the miles.
“Please come home, Zuri. Please come home.”
“I can’t. I’m needed here in Atlantis. Sionna is dead, and there’s nothing I can do about that, but Callder is still alive. I promised Brynne and Kolora that I’d find him. I promised you.”
“Fuck my brother,” came the harsh voice filtering through the line. “Honestly, Aazuria—I don’t care about him right now. I just want you and Varia to be home safe.”
Aazuria bit her lip. “Varia ran away, Trevain.”
“What?”
“She’s gone. I’m not sure where. She was angry with me for not letting her go to Sionna’s rescue when Glais had the premonition…”
“Aazuria! Why didn’t you tell me this? Don’t you think it’s important for me to know that my daughter is missing?”
“It was her choice,” Aazuria said quietly. “We shouldn’t interfere. She needs some time alone to deal with this.”
“No! She needs to be home with her family. We need to deal with this together. Find her and come home!”
“I’ll be home for the funeral,” Aazuria said vacantly.
“And then what, you’re going to leave again immediately?”
“Yes,” she said, “Probably.”
“Goddammit, Aazuria! What is this about? Is this about Elandria? Are you avoiding me again so that she and I spend more time together? I’m not sleeping with her. Just so you know—I’m not going to betray you. I love you.”
“I know,” she said in confusion, “and that means a lot to me. I don’t care who else you love. I’m not so weak that I need you to love only me to feel special. I treasure your attention and devotion, but there’s someone else who deserves it too. I’m sorry that I can’t be there for you right now, but Elandria is there. Don’t be foolish, Trevain. I understand how it is; I’m not upset about this anymore. I just want my sister to be happy.”
Aazuria shut her eyes tightly. Sister. All the emotions she had bottled up began to overflow, a bit too intensely and too quickly. The word sister was no longer innocuous; it made her think of Visola, and the unimaginable pain that her friend would soon suffer. Was she suffering already? Aazuria knew that twins sometimes shared a deep, psychic connection, feeling pain when the other felt pain. If there had ever been two twins in the world who loved each other, existing as halves of a whole and two opposite sides of a coin, it was Visola and Sionna. Not only because of their genetic link and shared development, but because of their shared values, ambition, and strength.
“Aazuria…” Trevain’s voice filtered through the line awkwardly. She had forgotten that she was still on the phone with him.
“Please be good to my sister,” Aazuria whispered before hanging up the phone. She ripped the headset away from her face and took several deep breaths of water before resting her head in her hands. She could not seem to restrain her tears. After a moment, she noticed that a shadow had moved into the doorway. She turned to see a slender young man standing there, and looking at her remorsefully.
“Glais,” she signed desperately. “Please find my daughter. Do you know where she went?”
“She didn’t tell me.”
“But you know. You must know,” Aazuria insisted. “You know her better than anyone.”
“I have some ideas,” Glais said awkwardly. “But I’m not sure she wants me to go after her. She kind of… broke up with me. She said a final goodbye.”
“Is that what you want? Do you want to let her go?” Aazuria asked with a frown.
Glais lowered his eyes in shame. “Truthfully, Queen Aazuria, it’s very complicated. I’m so sorry. I know that it’s my fault she left—it wasn’t just Sionna’s death. Please forgive me for screwing up. I didn’t want Varia to leave. I love her. I never meant to fall in love with your daughter.”
Aazuria studied him carefully through the dark water of the room. She swam forward toward the boy, seeing that he was having a personal crisis. She touched under his chin gently. “What’s wrong, Glais? Why would your love for Varia ever be a bad thing?”
“Because she’s so young,” he signed, and Aazuria could tell from the gentle rocking of his shoulders that he was crying. “I know I’m a horrible person. Varia has been… pressuring me lately for more than just friendship. But King Trevain said that she’s too young, and that I mustn’t be any more than her friend and her brother. Not until she’s old enough to know what she really wants.”
“She’s old enough to know what she really wants,” Aazuria told the boy. “A woman always knows—and I have taught my daughter to be open and straightforward with her feelings.”
“I didn’t want to hurt her. I didn’t want to lose her, but I did. I tried to do what King Trevain said. I tried to keep my physical distance—I’ve never even kissed her, although she’s asked me to at least a dozen times. But this made Varia pissed at me. She thinks that I don’t love her because I haven’t been affectionate. I want to be, but King Trevain said it was disrespectful. I don’t know what to do. She’s so angry with me. Why did she leave? I don’t want to be disrespectful. I don’t want to disrespect you, Queen Aazuria.”
“My dear boy,” Aazuria whispered, slipping her arms around Glais to embrace. She could feel his sobs against her body. As she held him, she thought of his father, the brave man that she had worked with on the bridge. The tattoo on Glais’ neck was precisely where Bain’s had been, and it brought the memory of the older man’s smile rushing back to her vividly. Glais had the same uncanny amber eyes as his father. Pulling away from the hug, she reached out to gently touch Glais’ tattoo, before allowing her hand to rest on his cheek. “You remind me so much of your father. You’re too brave, and far too gentle. You’re strong of mind, but too soft of heart. This will get you hurt, Glais.”
He nodded in confusion.
“Come and sit with me,” Aazuria said, pulling him over to the cushions in the corner of the room. She folded her legs, and rested her hands on her lap as she examined the boy’s face. “I’m not sure why Trevain is being so difficult about Varia. I suppose he’s just jealous of your connection with her, and trying to hold onto her for as long as he can. But the truth of the matter is this; you are only four years older than Varia. You are peers and equals. I am well over four hundred years older than Trevain! How dare he be so hypocritical? In the end, none of these numbers matter. You do not require a license to love someone; you don’t need to pass any complicated tests. Love doesn’t have age limitations, rules, or restrictions. Love is our birthright—it is the one thing that all humans know how to do, the one thing we all deserve. You can’t force it or fake it. You can know someone for an entire lifetime, and not feel a drop of love for them. And you can know someone for a single day, and give your heart to them completely.”
Aazuria smiled at the boy sadly. “Sometimes, I think I could have loved your father. I think of him often, as silly as that sounds. I knew him for such a short period of time, but he deeply impacted my life. And you know what? I never got to be with him. I never even got the chance to sit down with him for coffee. Because I was scared, and I was foolish.” Aazuria pressed her lips together, grateful that the water around them concealed her tears. Her white hair was floating around her head in wide, sweeping swirls, and she hoped that they would hide her sorrow from Glais. “Sionna loved a woman. Many people look down on that. Yamako was terrified of telling her mother, and perhaps if they had both been braver, they would have had hundreds of years together instead of only five.” Aazuria had to look away for a second, focusing on the wall to try and contain her emotion. “I thank Sedna that Sionna did not die alone. She knew that Yamako loved her; and Dylan too. Love does not have gender. Love is not exclusive! Our hearts have the capacity to love so many people. The only tragedy is when fear, cultural barriers, ridiculous misunderstandings, or arbitrary numbers prevent us from experiencing the joy we could have.”
“Trevain doesn’t understand this,” Aazuria explained to Glais. “He thinks he has to choose. He doesn’t understand love. He doesn’t understand that you and Varia need each other, and that by keeping you apart, he’s hurting you both. It’s unhealthy, unjustified, and unwarranted. What do you want, Glais? Tell me honestly, now. If you could be free and have anything you wanted, what would that be?”
“I want to be with Varia,” he said immediately. “I didn’t realize it until she went away. I guess she saw that sooner than I did.”
“Then go find her,” Aazuria told him. She leaned forward and grasped his shoulder, pressing a kiss against the boy’s forehead. “You have my blessing. Just bring her a message from me; tell her I miss her, and I’m sorry for not listening. Tell her that if she comes back, I’ll listen to her every single day.”
Elandria sat in the ice sculpture garden at the palace in Romanova. The palace courtyard was outdoor, and it had been raining for quite some time. Many of the sculptures were beginning to lose their perfect shapes as the rain beat down on them. The thin, elegantly curved neck of a swan, had been whittled away until a gust of wind was able to snap the bird’s neck clean off.
The courtyard was a good place for a cry. Elandria did not want the children to see how upset she was over Sionna’s death. She knew that she needed to be strong for Ivory and Ronan, for their mother was nowhere to be found. If Elandria knew anything about Visola, and she did, she anticipated that it would be a very long time before anyone ever saw Visola again. They would hear of her actions long before they saw her face. Even the twins seemed to instinctively understand this. The woman had unfinished business.
Kaito and Princess Yamako were inconsolable in their grief. Trevain and Vachlan were both quiet, agitated, and stormy. The men all seemed to naturally mask their sorrow in anger; even Naclana. Elandria had caught Trevain and Naclana physically brawling in the castle corridor for no particular reason. It seemed to help them relieve some of their stress over the whole situation. It seemed to be their chosen way of coping. In Elandria’s eyes, any method was valid. She had not found hers yet.
As she carefully observed those around her, understanding the different ways they all tried to cope, she could not help becoming introspective. She knew that she felt like something was missing in her life, and she knew exactly what it was. But she knew her obligations to be a good person. She knew that with Aazuria away, it was her duty to be the woman of the house. With Visola gone, and Sionna never returning, the role of matriarch fell to her. She could not make any more mistakes. The sound of footsteps alarmed her, and she saw Trevain walking into the courtyard with a giant sledgehammer.
“Do you find these ice statues interesting, Elandria?” he asked angrily. “Do you think they’re attractive and pleasing?”
She did not answer, but instead stared at him in puzzlement.
“Do you?” he demanded.
“Yes,” she answered softly.
“Swell! Just swell! Well, here’s what I think of them.” Trevain swung the hammer back over his head and smashed it down into a lovely carving of a wolf howling at the moon.
Elandria flinched as chunks of ice went flying everywhere. “Trevain,” she said in surprise.
First he demolished the moon, and then he demolished the wolf. “Does it still look pretty? How about this one?” He moved over to a carved polar bear with its cubs. He crushed the cubs first, followed by the larger polar bear.
Elandria jumped slightly, feeling a bit uneasy about his aggression.
“Do you like that, Elan? Are my improvements artistic enough for you?” Trevain moved over to the headless swan, and promptly made it body-less as well. Wiping the rain out of his eyes, he continued to swing his hammer. He tore through the ice sculpture garden, wrecking and shattering anything beautiful he could find.
Elandria squinted and shielded her eyes as he flattened the statue of an octopus that was closest to her.
“There!” he told her triumphantly. “Enjoy your fucking garden!” With that, the man marched back into the castle furiously.
“Well, that was random,” she mused to herself. She tried to determine the point of Trevain’s short burst of brutality, but she knew that it was futile. She sighed. Since Sionna had died, everyone had been acting in strange ways. It was normal for things not to be normal for a while. Elandria continued to sit in the garden, but it was now even more unsatisfying than before.
Her peaceful reflection had been disturbed.
With a soft growl of annoyance, Elandria pushed herself off the bench and marched after him. She followed his dripping wet footsteps, overlapping them with her own as she quickly weaved her way through the castle. She found herself standing before his bedroom door. She lifted her wrist and moved to place her fingers against the door, then she hesitated.
She knew that he was trying to rile her up. He was trying to get a reaction out of her. The smart thing to do would be to walk away. She should dry herself off, change out of these wet clothes, and get some rest. Instead, without her permission, her knuckles began to knock against his door. She gasped at their betrayal. Her fingers seemed to have a mind all of their own, and a muscle memory from so long ago when she had tried, time and again, not to knock on his door. Her knuckles slammed into the door, angrily demanding an answer. Finally, the door swung open.
“What?” Trevain shouted, rubbing a towel through his hair. “What do you want?”
“Me? What do you want! I want to be left alone!” Elandria hissed. “How dare you, Trevain? Parading yourself around in front of me like that! Making a ruckus and smashing things like a little boy seeking attention? Ronan and Kaito have more manners than you do! They’re acting more mature about this whole situation! Do you think this is what I need right now? Do you think this is what the country needs from her king? Smash something else, why don’t you! Is it satisfying? Does it soothe the ache inside of you? Does it make everything better?”
“It made you come and talk to me,” he told her. “So I guess as childish and ill-mannered as I am, I’m also effectual.”
“Sure! So effectual,” she said mockingly. “I’m glad Varia was not around to see your infantile display!”
“Don’t talk about Varia!” Trevain shouted. “You leave my daughter out of this!”
“And what is this, exactly? You’ve got my attention! So, speak. Speak! What do you want, Trevain? What the hell do you want from me?”
“Nothing,” he told her, tossing his towel aside and grabbing his door. “Just go away, Elan. I can see that you don’t remember what we used to have. We don’t even know each other anymore, so maybe I shouldn’t expect any attention from you. Maybe I shouldn’t expect acknowledgment, or a conversation. You don’t know me anymore. You simply don’t care.” He moved to close his door in her face.
“How can you say that!” Elandria cried, shoving her shoulder against the door. “I remember. I remember everything! I have tried not to bother you. I have tried to leave you alone to make it easier!”
“It’s not easier, Elandria. It’s not fucking easier.”
She pressed the door open wider and glared at him angrily. “I am not making your life difficult. I am not trouncing about before you in inappropriate clothing. I am not tempting you in any possible way…”
“Tempting me?” he exclaimed in disbelief. “You’re torturing me! Every time I smile at you, you look away. I feel like you’ve tossed me out with the trash. What did I do to deserve this treatment? Was our whole marriage just your way of killing time until Aazuria got back?”
“No,” she said softly. She felt suddenly very weak and tired, and she moved away from his door. She pressed a hand against her head as she turned and headed back to her bedroom. She began to breathe quickly as she entered the room and closed the door, locking it and placing her back against it for support. She wrapped her arms around her middle as tears began to slide down her face, mixing with the rainwater that had glued the dark curls of her hair against her skin. She cried softly, trying to push the painful memories out of her mind.
Elandria was startled by a soft knock on the door behind her. With a sob, she turned around and pulled the door open, launching herself tearfully into Trevain’s arms. He caught her easily, placing both hands in her wet, dark hair as he leaned down to kiss her. She allowed her arms to slide around his neck, flattening her body against his.
Trevain was stunned by her sudden passion. Her touch overwhelmed him—the unbearable softness of her small body encircled in his arms. Everything he had feared began to dissipate; all the clouds of confusion in his mind began to part, making way for a sunny, luminous clarity.
She did remember him.
“I’m so sorry,” Elandria was sobbing. “I love you so much, Trevain. I just didn’t want to hurt her…”
“Shhh,” he told her, wiping the wet hair away from her face. “This isn’t wrong. This isn’t hurting anyone. You’re my wife, and I am tired of wasting time. I need you. Now more than ever, I need you beside me. I need to hold you, and know that you care.” Trevain leaned down, pressing his face against hers, desperately trying to maximize his contact with his skin. “I thought you didn’t care.”
“I do,” she told him, pressing her mouth against his again and again. “These last few years without you have been unbearable. I wanted to die. Your letters were the only thing that kept me going.” She reached for her sleeve and rolled it up to her elbow, displaying long vertical scars. “When Mother Melusina told me I could no longer have your letters, I nearly lost my mind. The solitude was too much. I slit my wrists.”
“Elandria,” he said in dismay, clutching her tiny arm and placing his lips against her wrist. He held the scar against his face, fighting tears.
“And it wasn’t just my equivalent of you smashing the sculptures in the garden,” she added. “I didn’t want attention. I wanted to ease the pain of being alone. I was so alone, Trevain. But I believed I deserved it. The only reason I didn’t slit my wrists sooner was because I thought I deserved to live and suffer for what I did to Zuri more than I deserved quietude and peace.”
“I should never have let you go,” Trevain said furiously. “What was I thinking?”
“We were both in despair,” she whispered.
“You know, sometimes I think it doesn’t really bother Aazuria as much as we think it does,” Trevain told her with a halfhearted smile. “I think our mutual guilt far exceeds any anger that she feels toward us.”
“You are right about that,” Elandria said with a sigh. She placed a hand against his cheek. “Trevain, will you please just hold me? I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
He nodded, embracing her again. “I don’t want to be alone either.”