Page 27 of Midnightsong
Their phones collectively dinged with an incoming text before they stepped off campus and Angie was the first to look at her phone.
“Dr. Williams texted us,” she said, opening the message her professor sent to the class group chat.
“We have an extra class tomorrow. Why is this guy making us come in on our day off?” Leo grumbled.
“He said it’ll be an official grade for the class, and all students must attend.” Reesa kept scrolling down. “The entire marine biology department is going to be there and he has a lot of news to share.” She pursed her lips. “He didn’t say what news. Talk about cryptic.”
Angie’s mind flickered through the possibilities. “Shit, I wonder what he’s doing.” She had been taking Dr. Williams’ classes for two years and he had never asked them to come in on their day off.
“Way to ruin a Friday night. Now we have to be there at eight in the morning?” Reesa muttered, shoving the phone back in her pocket. Their phones ding-ding-dinged with their classmates’ replies and Angie eyed each reply, looking for any clue of what Dr. Williams was up to. The stream of texts stopped with no answer from her professor and Angie put her phone on silent.
She chewed the inside of her lip, her mouth going dry. What in the nineteen levels of Hell was so important that they had a weekend class?
Eleven
Kaden
Kaden’s focus was singular as heholed up in his bedchambers, clutching a sharp rock piece, a carving tool. With precise movements, he curved it around the piece of seaglass he was working on. Smoothing the edges with his finger, he held the finished sculpture at eye level, proud of his handiwork.
It was a sculpture for Angie when he saw her again. He refused to believe he wouldn’t, even if his planned talk with Saeryn went well and he swam aside for Kaden. As monarch, Kaden could promote peace within the queendom, negotiate with the humans and ask for answers, and when all was well again, he could relax the order to keep humans out.
While he carved the haixiang–what Angie named a walrus–, he thought to the tidesday when he told her about his nostrils sealing shut underwater and she compared him to the formidable mammal. He spent the past tidesdays thinking over his talks with Angie, Varin, Adrielle and Cyrus, and addressing his own fears.
After flipping his tail and overworking his mind deep in thought, he concluded he might be a capable leader. He had Cyrus at his side, and if he dared to hope, Saeryn could help him as well, and he could even give his uncle the highest station under the monarch: high advisor. He still hadn’t prepared a ‘greetings, Uncle, perhaps I could persuade you to step down from the throne’ speech, but Saeryn was easy to talk to. He was the one who sat and listened, who reassured Kaden in his youthwhen he had conflicts with his parents, or with Cyrus, or any other mer.
He released his tail from his slanted rock seat and gave it a shake. His chest pains and fatigue appeared to have subsided, at least for now, and he clung onto a shred of hope that his condition was improving.
Kaden pulled open his heavy, rocky drawer, slid the sculpture inside, and gathered his resolve before he left his chambers.
He took another gulp of seawater to clear his mind before he entered the throne room. There were two sentinels he didn’t recognize stationed outside and neither acknowledged Kaden. Each day Kaden carried through the palace, he found less staff he recognized, from sentinels to sentries, to their cooks. Saeryn had even brought in cleaners.
No big deal, he assured himself. Saeryn would see his point of view.
When he entered the room, Saeryn stopped short, his tail straightening in tandem with his upper body. He was in the top corner of the rectangular room moving one of Serapha and Aqilus’ tapestries to the furthest corner, away from view, hanging from a frayed coral tack. The tapestries were ominously still, even with the sea’s sway caressing them. Where the tapestries once were, was an unfinished bust of Saeryn protruding from the wall, held in place with carefully constructed, sturdy rock.
Saeryn’s face split into a too-wide smile when he saw Kaden. “I was about to send a sentinel for you.”
The tips of Kaden’s caudal fins scraped the eelgrass and sea moss-covered sandy floor. “You were? Why?”
“I wished to offer you a proposition.” Saeryn glided to his throne, curling a tail around it. “I assume you’re not just here to say hello.” He held out a hand, urging Kaden to speak.
The gentle way Saeryn looked at him disarmed him, but Kaden forced the words out before he lost his nerve again. “I had a proposition for you, as well. I know you’ve been working hard on restoring the queendom, and I wanted to give you the opportunity to be relieved of the throne, and all the stress that I’m sure comes with it.” Thank the Goddess, the words came out smoothly, burying his inner panic. What if Saeryn said yes? Was he ready to serve at his queendom’s highest station? “And you could spend the time with your daughter.”
Saeryn put a finger on his chin and looked off into the distance, parting his lips. “And I presume, turn the throne over to you?”
“Yes. But if you wished, you could serve as my high advisor.” Kaden’s heart rammed his ribcage as he searched Saeryn’s face for a reaction, any reaction. He found none except for a twitch feathering along his jaw.
Enough time passed for a slow-moving, giant haichong to crawl across the throne room, bump their flat white body into the wall, and follow said wall to crawl underneath the throne room doors before Saeryn responded.
He cooked an eyebrow. “That is kind of you to relieve me of my station. If the time comes that I wish to abdicate, I will let you know.”
“You will not consider?”
“No.” Saeryn straightened his torso, folding his arms loosely across his chest.
“But what about—”
“I said no.”
