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  Now knowing it was the same time when she and Canry had been reunited… Her explanation clarified things, letting Sohm’lan see through the murky waters to what had been hidden from them. She was correct to worry about a civil war. If Valdor found out, there would be bloodshed unlike anything recorded in Atlainticia’s history.

  Sohm’lan could not keep from comforting her a second longer. She did not resist as he drew her into his arms. He lost control of his barbs as they stiffened and unsheathed with his rage. He searched the rolling sea, hoping for a sign of that worthless leech. How he would love to instruct the coward on the consequences of harming his family.

  “Come with us,” he urged, voice hoarse with all the emotions he shoved down. Right now was not about him, and she needed his strength and logic.

  “No, do not worry about me. Someone needs to know what happened so Canry can be protected.” When she looked up at him, her eyes were liquid, tears spilling over her cheeks, but her gaze remained unwavering. “Canry told me there would come a day when we would rejoin our family. What he said has come to pass, now it is my turn.”

  She wiped hastily to dry her eyes. Sohm’lan swallowed past the lump in his throat. His princess was so strong. “Zeus’s fight with Nethus garnered Poseidon’s attention.” Her watery voice firmed. “But I am not sure Poseidon knows what the Numina have done. No one has seen him in the Waters of Poseidon for a very long time. The oldest of the People of the Longing claim they have never seen or heard of him visiting. Canry has seen that Poseidon’s intervention will be instrumental in keeping war from breaking out between Mar’Sani and Numina. If someone told him, opened his eyes to what is going on in Atlainticia’s oceans, perhaps…” Her sigh was full of defeat. “I just want Canry to be safe. I want our people safe and ready for what is coming.”

  “Will you get in trouble for speaking with me?” Whether she came with them right now or not, Sohm’lan was making plans to have a capsule like Canry’s built that would allow him to transport Shaneva safely over land. She would not be punished again if he could help it. Just the thought of what Nethus had done made Sohm’lan want to roar and challenge him. But one did not run into battle blind. He would gather what information he could before he decided on a course of action to bring Nethus and the Numina to justice.

  “No. You are quickened and by law considered Numina, not Mar’Sani.”

  He held her close, her head tucked under his chin, and met Arion’s gaze. Had Canry’s new mentor overheard their conversation? By the blazing anger in that equine-shaped face, he would assume so.

  “Are you friend or foe, son of Poseidon?” he sent to Arion.

  Arion’s hooves churned the water and he shook his mane as he drew closer to them. “A long time ago, I lived in the oceans of Atlainticia, but I have not been back. This strife between the peoples of Poseidon was not even a whisper when I left. I am not your enemy, Warlord Sohm’lan. I have offered my help to Princess Shaneva over the last several days. Now I understand why she is hesitant to accept. I swear to you and the Vondorians, I will do what I can to help. I do not want war between the younglings of Poseidon any more than you do.”

  Shaneva stirred in his arms and he reluctantly released her. Warily, she waved Arion closer. Sohm’lan watched the male. He would follow Shaneva’s lead. If she could not place trust in Arion, then neither would he.

  “I am grateful you invited me along today, allowing me to see firsthand some of the problem,” Arion said to Shaneva.

  Her gaze brightened as if she had an idea. “Can you contact Poseidon, get him to come to Atlainticia?”

  “Unfortunately, no. What I have already done is send my personal runners to search for him.”

  At Shaneva’s doubtful look, Arion elaborated. “Father does not call any one Waters his home, nor is he, or any of the other Ancients, fond of carrying technology that allows us to contact him. He spends his time mostly among younger water races who are more volatile in nature, to instruct them, and then he withdraws once the people are more stable. He claims much more than the Waters of Andromeda Galaxy. He could be several galaxies away. Not even I know all the worlds he meddles. It could take moons to find him.”

  Or summers, Sohm’lan thought. It was time they did not have if the timeline was connected to the lost Bespoken.

  “Well, that was worth a try.” After a slight hesitation, Shaneva told Arion of Canry’s various farseeing visions of Atlainticia’s futures.

  “So, we need to unite the Mar’Sani and Numina.” Arion said more to himself, not looking for confirmation from Shaneva. “With the change in Prince Canry’s tutelary, Nethus will lose some of his power and influence. It is unknown if the Numina will regard me as an outsider or one of them, but I will find out as soon as they see I have relieved Nethus of his duties.”

  “And when will that be?” Sohm’lan inquired.

  “Since he has been ignoring my calls I will have to hunt him down. So, today, well…” Arion glanced at the night sky. “Tomorrow actually. That is my next stop.” He looked back to Sohm’lan. “Please tell Prince Canry that when he is ready to return, he only needs to call my name to find me.”

  Arion bade them a fair evening before turning, his forelegs churning the water, more of his upper body rising out of the water. He moved with surprising speed on the choppy waves. A shimmering dark circle opened and swallowed Arion. Was that a portal?

  With a promise to see Shaneva before he and the twins returned to Atlainticia, Sohm’lan left the sea. Her guard of People of the Longing surrounded her before they all disappeared under the foamy sea. On shore, his legs wobbled. It had been a long time since he spent so much time swimming. Exhaustion weighed down on him as he crossed the yellow sand to the dwelling that held his belongings.

  Surprisingly, a Monticore was waiting for them with a transport arranged made by Mestor that included baskets of various foods. Knowing his day would not be over when they arrived at Haven Palace, he devoured the treats. He had not eaten since midday, and the exercise had used up his energy stores. He offered a bag of dried meat to the Monticore next to him, and the foodstuff was passed around. By the time they reached the palace, he was more awake, his energy revived.

  Mestor hurried down the steps and met the transport as the doors opened. “Come. Canry and Zeus have awakened.”

  His heart skipped a beat, and he might have retreated to his suite if Mestor had not tucked Sohm’lan’s hand in the crook of his elbow, holding Sohm’lan in a vice grip as if he knew the flight instinct had kicked in.

  Later, he would discuss what happened in the sea with Mestor. On the morrow, they would attend the court martial of the Catalani who had attempted to kill Zeus. They also had a summons to attend the emergency meeting initiated by Timsah Gadrius and the houses that had followed him to Valespia. A special council had been formed and were requiring Zeus and Valdor to attend. Sohm’lan and Valdor suspected that it had to do with the suspicious inquiry regarding the Striker. In preparation, they had gathered as much evidence as they could. But that was tomorrow. The rest of the evening would be for family and reunions. He could not shake the nervousness that clawed at his insides as Mestor pulled him through the corridors.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Canry

  * * *

  Minnows flopped around his stomach like a pod of beached fish. Zeus had risen from bed and headed to the lavatory to shower, not noticing Canry was out of his capsule. Canry had been awake for an hour or so, and he had dressed in the clothing thoughtfully laid out for him, hyperaware that his family was in the next room.

  He was too cowardly to go and greet them, not wanting to see the disappointment in their eyes. He was not the youngling who was lost to them so many summers ago. His coloring was not even the same. Shaneva said it would not matter, and he wanted to believe her, but he had grown up around the Numina. They were an unbending people who hated change as much as they despised land dwellers. They coveted his ability but never had a kind word to say
about his origins. He worried his birth family were just as bitter and…

  Nethus’s head pierced the water of the pool outside his window. This pool caught the waterfall high up on the side of the cliff that Haven clung to. The distance from the ocean would not stop Nethus. He was one of the few Numina who could portal.

  Canry closed all telepathic links down tight, but not before he heard Nethus call his name. Guilt rose as he continued to ignore his mentor. Compared to some of the Numina, Nethus was almost liberal. His life with Nethus as his guardian was not terrible, for the most part. In his own way, Nethus loved Canry; at least Nethus forgot where Canry came from, until Shaneva visited.

  Watching Nethus through the window, he knew it would be the last time he saw his mentor—former mentor—for some time. The vision did not tell him much about his new tutelary. As a personal rule, he stopped looking into his own future, but when his future crossed or mingled with others, he could not pretend he did not see the possibilities. Despite his guilt over leaving Nethus, he was looking forward to the change Nethus was desperate to protect him from. Now that it was time for Canry to move on, he was equal parts sad and nervous. The life Nethus provided was the only one he knew, and he was unprepared for what would come next. Nethus was not the only one to blame for issues Canry had with the Siren’s Song. He could have been more assertive, independent, more outspoken, demanding, more…

  Zeus exited the lavatory, a fluffy towel around his waist. Canry pushed away his miserable thoughts, focusing on the present. Shaneva spoke often about the youngling their family had taken in. Between her and the farseeing visions he chased of his family, he had watched Zeus grow up, seen how the family reacted to a person so physically dissimilar that outsiders would never look at him and think Mar’Sani. And yet, the way he moved, the way he spoke, his deadly prowess on the battlefield, screamed Mar’Sani. Perhaps Zeus was born Fal’Amoric, but he had not been Fal’Amoric since the day Meme picked him up out of the military’s makeshift birth bed.

  Canry shivered. If Zeus could be transformed so completely in all but the physical form, what did that say about him? He had been raised by Nethus. Was he now Numina? Was it logical for him to cling to the idea of being Mar’Sani when he had changed so much in body? Had he changed too much?

  “I hung your uniforms in the armoire.”

  He barely got the words past his parched throat. There were reasons why he shied away from looking into his own future, but even though he stuck to his decision, the unknown made his stomach roll with queasiness. He hated how nervousness made his hands shake.

  He switched on the light next to him and moved out from behind the heavy black velvet curtain. Zeus’s extraordinary silver eyes lit with excitement and love. The first time Canry met Zeus at thirteen, Shaneva had brought Zeus into the Dream to separate Zeus from the pain the Chtichlians caused. Even blind, Zeus had reacted to Canry as if he… as if they were brothers by blood. He had looked at Canry with sightless eyes that showed every emotion clearly. That same adoration had been etched into his expression then, and after all the time that had passed, the battles fought, Zeus’s regard for him had not changed. He even tried to protect Canry from Nethus, in the Dream as well as after the battle.

  He was not sure why he had pulled Zeus into the Dream when he could have easily called upon Azaes or Mestor. Sure, the vision said Zeus had to be the one to meet with the Qrxzl, otherwise the outcome would have had dire consequences. But he could have given the message to one of the twins to pass along. Instead he had called the being who had been placed into Vondorian care and raised like any other Mar’Sani youngling. The one who had looked at him all those summers ago with love and acceptance.

  Zeus’s expression sharpened with worry, and he quickly crossed to Canry’s side. “Why do you sit in the shadows? You should have woken me.”

  Nethus ‘knocked’ at Canry’s mental shields. He could sense his mentor’s desperation to talk, and he glanced out the window to the oddly placid pool. Zeus followed his gaze and his shoulders tensed. Canry tried to manage his guilt, something he realized Nethus wielded against him on occasion. It would take him time to sort through his complicated relationship with Nethus and the confusing jumble of emotions that went with it.

  Canry pressed his palm against the glass, sending a final farewell to Nethus, holding Nethus’s gaze for several heartbeats.

  He finally answered Zeus’s question. “You gave me the strength to complete my task and needed the rest just as much as I did.” He dropped his hand from the pane of glass and tore his gaze away from Nethus to look at Zeus. The time had come for him to move forward. “Besides, it afforded me a reason to be a coward.”

  Zeus led him away from the window seat as if he expected Canry to run away. He had considered leaving while Zeus slept. He could have slipped into the water and portalled to a faraway water where none would think to look for him. Then he would not have to face the possibility that his family would reject him.

  “What do you mean?” Zeus asked with concern.

  All he knew was the Numina and they would hone in on his reaction and would hurt him verbally with snide comments. Often Nethus deflected the others’ attention. That was one of his first lessons as a youngling. Any sign of weakness or fear could be exploited. There were a few who loved to harry the foreign youngling who would never truly fit in.

  Canry glanced at the double doors. Beyond, the sound of voices tempted him but he had not the courage to go alone. “Meme is out there.” He pulled his trembling hand away from Zeus’s and shoved it into a pocket.

  “Do you not wish to see her?”

  Of course, he wanted to see her, to see Father, to be accepted into the family circle once again. But when they found out what he had done, and not done, they would shun him. He had just turned his back on Nethus and would have no home to return to. There was no going back, but going forward would mean facing his failures, and possibly the withdrawal of their love. His chest tightened and his eyes burned, but he worked quickly to school his expression into an indifferent mask. “Yes,” he whispered.

  “Then why are you still here? You did not need to wait for me.” Zeus’s innocent confusion, as if he saw no problem with Canry being gone for so many summers and then suddenly returning, was of no issue. How could he even begin to explain?

  He withdrew his hands from his pockets, flexing fingers encased in leathery-yellow skin, strips of blue-green scales on the back of his hand. At one time, he’d had scales black as night, just like his siblings and parents, then Nethus had brought him before the Numina, their disdain over what he looked like, of where he had come from had taken a toll on him. He had answered Nethus’s call, had needed Nethus’s help and guidance, and as such, he had searched for a way to fit in so he would not always face harsh, hurtful comments. None of the Numina had laid a hand on him, but their words had cut like knives, and they left his soul wounded every time he had crossed their path. He had wished so hard to look different until one day his scales sluffed off and his skin lightened. His transformation did not happen overnight, and the Numina had watched with interest that turned to smugness. They believed his changes meant he was never truly Mar’Sani.

  “I am not who she remembers. Once I looked the same as them, with their black scales and eyes the color of the rising sun.” And I changed how I looked, ashamed of who I was.

  If Zeus could have, would he alter his appearance to look more Mar’Sani?

  Zeus’s expression was one of understanding. He sat next to Canry and covered his hands. “And I am a soft-skinned, short, ridgeless, tailless human.” He smiled gently when Canry met his gaze. “Well, not as human as I once thought. They love me unconditionally and always have. Even when I was blind. You are their son, their brother, and you have been missed. You worry about a ridge when you have a red-tipped spiked crown instead. Any who glances at you will know you for the Prince you are.”

  Zeus made him feel… accepted. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
“Says the bull who killed a Hunter with one stroke.” Hope fluttered like a wounded bird in his chest.

  “And your voice ensnared hundreds of Terrens and encouraged our warriors.” Canry watched Zeus stand, his vehemence sending a shiver up Canry’s spine. “We are both worthy of the Vondorian name and well-loved. Now come. Let us dress and rescue Dargon from Meme.”

  Nervously, Canry fidgeted with the hem of his formal coat. Zeus stepped into his space, eye to eye with him, and rested his forehead against Canry’s. The gentle power surrounding Zeus enveloped him in soothing waves and he felt protected. For all his abilities, he had rarely felt safe, not since he first answered the call.

  “I will be by your side,” Zeus promised before crossing to the double doors, swinging one open on silent hinges.

  Meme’s voice was no longer muffled and sounded exactly as Canry remembered. No one noticed he and Zeus had entered the room, and he took in the picture before him. A sofa and four chairs were situated in a conversation circle in the center of the well-appointed room of cream and yellows. Three bulls sat together, the chairs obviously moved closer, probably so they could talk more easily. The older bull had graying scales around the eyes and mouth, mingling with the shiny black ones. Since Canry recognized Mestor and Azaes, the one between them had to be Father. Canry flashed back to old memories of a dark nursery and that face, though younger, watching him. When his father had noticed he had awakened, he took Canry from the birth bed to the swing where they had swayed back and forth, his head on his father’s chest as he listened to the strong and steady heartbeat under his cheek.