Page 25 of Midnightsong
Could he make a difference? Though he had turned the throne over, Saeryn had not been coronated yet, delayed by the Mer-Queen’s funeral preparations. If he were to change his mind, this was his last chance as long as he could bring a compelling case to the council. He needed to speak his thoughts aloud, but Angie was on an airplane back to Seattle.
He had seen airplanes flying overhead. Such a strange human invention. A giant tube that could sail through the air?
When he reached his brother’s chambers he crossed paths with Raina who was swimming in with an armful of medicinal poultices. “Hello, Prince Kaden.”
“Hi, Raina. Is my brother faring well?”
She shook her head. “When I checked on him through high and low moontide, he appeared to be in restful sleep. But Princess Adrielle came to me at low suntide concerned that he appeared to be worse.” She bit down on her lower lip. “I am working with my colleagues to brew another poultice for him, but these will settle his symptoms in the meantime.”
“What symptoms?” His throat constricted and Kaden pinched the skin there.
“He awoke feeling much too hot and was shaking.” Raina sighed. “I will administer these to him and he will feel better.”
“I-is that normal? It doesn’t sound normal.” Kaden threw his hands at his sides, almost smacking the back of his hand against Cyrus and Adrielle’s door. “He seemed to be okay yesterday!”
“It’s normal.” Raina’s tone was calm, even, and it settled Kaden down. “Recovery can, at times, feel like two strokes forward and one tail flick back.”
Kaden allowed his head to fall forward, the currents preventing his chin from fully dropping to his chest. “I see.”
“I’m doing my best.” The mermaid knocked and, at Adrielle’s beckoning, Raina slid open the door.
From the doorway Kaden glimpsed the Mer-Prince and princess. Cyrus was in the same seat as yesterday, but his skin was awash with pallor, his head against the wall and eyes shut. Adrielle was at his side, Libbi in one arm and Hadrien in the other, both asleep and curled up like two small manyu. She tilted her chin up at him, acknowledging his arrival.
Kaden made a note to check on Cyrus later, so he returned to his own chambers and pulled his seaflute out. He should be resting, he knew, but he wanted to go out for a swim. He contacted Cassia as he left and made his way into a small cave where he and Cyrus played as children. From what he remembered of their schedule, Cassia and Varin would not be holding court now.
It was Varin who answered. “Kaden? Is everything alright?”
Kaden left the palace grounds, taking a slow swim around the palace first and allowing the currents to carry him, conserving his energy. “Uncle Varin. I’ve been having some thoughts about possibly ruling, and I wanted someone to talk to. Are you or Aunt Cassia busy?”
“Cassia is attending to some business, but I’m free.”
Kaden entered the cave, swimming through it until he reached the last corridor. He made a right turn into an empty room leading into a hollowed-out cavern.
A single rocky table sat inside with four short, pillar-like projections around it with flat tops carved of the stalagmites growing on the cavern floor—a unique rock formation he had only found in this cavern. They were seats and Kaden slipped into one, curling the distal part of his tail around the shaft to keep his balance. And from his mind to his lips, Kaden’s stream of consciousness came tumbling out; everything he had spoken with Angie about, and Adrielle and Cyrus, finished with, “I’m wondering if I made a mistake in not taking the throne.”
“Is that what you feel? That you made a mistake?” Varin liked to do that—bounce questions back at the asker. Kaden knew it was a way to encourage them to think about what they had asked, but at this moment, he didn’t have the patience or brainpower for it.
Kaden tapped his fingers on the table. “I’m torn. I feel like maybe I might not do a terrible job with it, but I’m not fit to rule.” He brushed away a lock of hair the currents had swept into his eyes. “I’m rethinking my decision. Saeryn’s coronation is in four tidesdays.”
“If you are asking what you should do that must be your decision, and yours alone,” Varin said. “We cannot tell you the right course of action.”
Kaden took in a long gulp of seawater in attempt to stay calm. He wasn’t there for non-answers, even if he understood his uncle’s intent. “That’s why I’m here. I don’t know the right course of action. I feel as if my heart is being tugged in two directions.”
“Sometimes we must do things we do not want as leader of our people,” Varin replied. “And should you like it or not, this was a role you were born into. You may not feel that way because you have a brother who is destined to rule, but you must always be prepared to swim into his place.”
A bloom of shui mu floated, peacefully, past his head, their disc-shaped, gelatinous bodies tickling his scalp. Kaden lowered his head and watched them pass. “I know,” he mumbled. Another shui mu floated into him, planting its soft body against his head, and Kaden shooed them toward a craggy rock face opposite him. When did shui mu invade this space? He didn’t remember there being so many of them.
“I understand your dilemma. Recall that a decade ago, your grandmother passed, and your grandfather abdicated the throne. Cassia did not have a choice in the matter, since her sister, Serapha, already ruled the North Pacific. She did it because my people needed her.”
Kaden thought back to his maternal grandfather who passed away last year. Kaden had gone to the funeral and it was the first time he had seen the merman in ten tidesyears.
“And because I was her lifemate, I did everything in my power to learn the role and take it on with her. This is both of our responsibilities now, and Calora knows when the time comes, the throne will go to her,” Varin added. “I watched Cassia flourish in her role as queen, and we grew into our positions.”
Kaden bit down on his lower lip. What he had said hadn’t helped him decide. “Did you flourish because you were forced into the role and had no choice? Or do you enjoy it now?”
“Sometimes duty supersedes personal desires,” Varin said. “We knew we could not forgive ourselves if we let another have the throne and our people came to harm.”
Varin’s words bit him like a moray manyu striking at its prey and crippling it.
