Tides of Torment (Immortal Realms Book 2)
Tides of Torment: Chapter 7

Sereia could have easily plucked the pendant and paid for it herself. But she didn’t, and he wondered if it was because she warred with the two sides of herself: the lady and the pirate. He’d lived long enough to know that one could live with a dual nature and, in fact, if they allowed themselves to live in such a way, would be happier for it.

After his first month with Sereia all those years ago, he’d wished that he wasn’t a king. That he could leave his responsibilities behind and watch her experience life. But the fates were cruel, and he couldn’t relinquish his control of Midniva. And he learned rather quickly that co-existing with Sereia wasn’t meant to be. At least not in a permanent way.

“In all your travels, no beef stew or ale since your last time in Midniva?” Travion groaned and placed a hand on his chest. “That is a shame and should be a crime.”

“Well, that would be absurd, wouldn’t it?” Sereia countered with a sly smile. “But no. None tasted like Midniva’s stew. Maybe it’s the sweet grass, or the magic that has touched the soil. Either way, it paled in comparison. So why bother to eat it?”

Well, wasn’t that true enough? The honey cakes in Midniva were delicious, but they weren’t the same as Lucem’s, especially those of the Blossom Festival. Still, Midniva was known for many other things that were far superior that simply couldn’t survive in the tropical climate.

“Fair enough,” he said at last and led the way down the cobblestone streets of Caithaird. In the distance, the cathedral’s bells rang out a new hour. Even from where Travion stood, he could see the spire on the building rising above the other brick structures.

Children wove in and out of the busy streets, and some hopped up onto wooden boxes, hoping someone would take a chance and play a game with them—for coin, of course.

A little girl ran out in front of him, and he nearly tripped over his feet to keep from stepping on her. She had eyes the color of spring grass and hair the shade of night. When she looked up at him, tears stained her rosy cheeks.

“Sorry,” she murmured, ducking her head, and her free hair tumbled forward, revealing short, pointed ears. She tightened her fingers around a wreath of shells and tried to move around him, but Finn was blocking her, and she would have to shove past Travion.

“Oh, it’s nothing. But what is that in your hands?” He pointed to the wreath.

Sereia drew closer and peered down at the girl too. Yon sidled up beside her, silent but curious.

The girl shook her head enthusiastically. “I made it for my Da.” Her voice cracked as she spoke.

Travion’s heart twisted at the sight and he knelt so he was eye level with her. “Is he here?”

“No.” Her bottom lip wobbled, and she brushed away fresh tears. “A monster attacked his fishing vessel, and he died.”

Travion glanced over at Sereia, who frowned, and as he peered back down at the girl, sobs wracked her small body. He scooped her into his arms and ran his hand down her back. “I’m so sorry.” He pulled away and dipped his head to meet her tearful gaze. “What is your name, darling?”

“Annabelle! By the sea, there you are, child.” A breathless woman rushed up to them. It was clear by her gnarled fingers that she was a fisher and had spent years in the sun, weaving nets for daily catches. The old woman glanced up at Travion, and her weathered face paled. “Your Majesty, I’m so sorry,” she hurried to say, bowing her head. “She ran away on our way to the beach.”

Travion stood and shook his head. “My condolences to your family,” he offered. Now the wreath of shells made sense. It was a common gesture for the seaside folk to fashion wreaths of shells and send them out with the tide as a gift to their loved one who was lost at sea.

“And may I offer my sincerest condolences as well,” Sereia said softly.

This was what he’d wanted to avoid. His kingdom suffering once again in such a short amount of time. “I don’t wish to impose, but may we join you and pay our respects to your kin . . . I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Oh, we would be honored to have you present.” She touched her chest lightly, swallowing roughly. “Sophie. I’m her grandmother.”

It was clear that the woman was mortal. Age lined her face prominently, as did the days in the sun, and if Travion looked hard enough, he could discern that her hair had once been a dark shade, for it twined with silver strands. Like her granddaughter, she possessed sparkling green eyes, and even time couldn’t hinder their vibrancy.

“I wish we could have met under different circumstances, Sophie.” Travion set Annabelle back down on her feet. “Please lead the way, and we will follow.”

Annabelle stepped beside her grandmother and led the way down the cobblestone street. The pathway steepened as they drew closer to the water, and Travion could smell the rich, salty air once again.

The road continued on, but they strayed and instead stepped onto wooden planks that stretched all the way to the sand at the bottom of the wooden structure. Hip roses bloomed off to the side, permeating the air with their sweet fragrance, and in a few months, their fruit would grow.

When at last they stood before the receding tide, Annabelle turned to look at Sereia, who was murmuring something to Yon. “Is she a pirate?” Annabelle blurted. “She looks like a pirate.”

Sophie gasped in horror.

Pirates, no matter what coast they skirted along, were not kindly looked upon. They were thieves, lacked honor, and were filthy.

While it was true in some cases, Travion knew not all pirates were filth of the sea. And he knew Sereia enough to know that she had honor and a code she abided by.

Even so, she could have ignored the child’s outburst, let it float on the wind, but she spun on her heel and flourished a courtly bow. “That I am. But no ordinary scallywag, I assure you. I am a captain.”

Annabelle looked more impressed with the fact she was in the presence of a lady captain than the king himself, which utterly amused Travion.

He was glad for the moment of levity, and with one glance at everyone, he saw they were also thankful for it too.

“My boy was a fisherman just like me, and his father too. This was the life he always wanted, but to die how he did . . . ” Sophie cut herself off, as if remembering her granddaughter was there.

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“One of the crewmen survived and said there was a whale the size of the ship. Its fluke so large, one slap was enough to capsize their small fishing boat.”

Dread unfurled within him. Of course he knew this news already, but to hear it from the families affected by it was a whole other ordeal.

Finn swore beneath his breath and put distance between himself and the rest. Sereia, however, kept her eyes focused on the grandmother and the girl.

Annabelle took a deep breath and walked toward the shoreline. Travion didn’t blame her for exiting the conversation and decided to join her as well.

“May the wind always fill your sails,” she started saying as she placed the wreath in the water. “May your net never—” Annabelle’s voice broke and she couldn’t continue.

“Never be empty, but let it be so bountiful, you share it with kin.” Travion knelt in the sand beside her. Despite the turmoil in the sea, it was beautiful, and there was little wind to disturb the waters. If the wreath had any hope of journeying out to sea, they’d need a little help.

Velox, come to me.

His hippocampus surfaced just beyond the shallows. Travion stood and realized the others had joined them.

“Come with me,” Travion said softly, reaching for the girl’s hand. She held onto his, and together, they ventured into the water.

The cool water grew deeper, up to his waist, and Annabelle was starting to tread in place. She used her hand and pushed the wreath toward Velox. His blue scales glimmered in the sun, and although he couldn’t understand the girl, his soft hum came across as mournful.

“I’ll always miss you, Da,” Annabelle cried and leaned into Travion.

Velox scooped up the shells in his mouth and sped away through the water, disappearing into the deep.

Travion wrapped his arms around the girl, planting her onto his hip before he waded toward the beach. He deposited her beside her grandmother.

Sophie’s gaze remained fixated on the distance. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“Be well, Sophie and Annabelle.” Travion strode away, his feet squelching in his boots. His clothes chafed against him, but that was the last thing on his mind.

Sereia quickened her stride and followed him. “Trav,” she called out quietly.

He turned to glance at her, noticing Yon and Finn making their way toward the boardwalk. “I need to get back to the castle. I’m wasting time out here.” His words came out harsher than he’d wished.

Sereia flinched but shook it off. “You cannot just sit in your study beating yourself up for this.”

He clenched his teeth, anger rising. Not with her but with this entire situation. “Can’t I?” Already he began to withdraw from her, despite the fragile moment they’d just shared with Sophie and Annabelle. Travion didn’t want Sereia to see how much it truly bothered him.

She knew, of course, a fraction of it.

By the sea . . . Guilt weighed heavily on his chest, and it threatened to suffocate him. Travion didn’t want to come off as coarse with her, but what was the point? She was only going to leave once the battle was through.

Even he had realized they were better irregular bedmates than constant lovers.

Once they arrived back in the castle, Sereia didn’t linger long. Travion assumed she’d gone to find a sparring partner to take her frustrations out on. He wished he could do the same, but there was something that he needed to see to. But first, he needed a fresh outfit, for sand clung to him, and his skin had pinkened from the abrasive texture of his clothes.

He ventured to his room, changing quickly before he set off down the hall in search of Taimon, but the sound of metal clashing against metal gave him pause. Travion approached the window in the hall and pushed the gauzy drape out of the way.

There, in the training yard, Sereia lunged forward, sword outstretched as her opponent—Yon—leaped backward, narrowly missing the strike.

Seeing Sereia like this brought a wave of memories back. Of him, standing just like this, watching a fiery female learn her way with a blade. As he watched, there was no doubt she’d grown in so many ways—as a female and with a sword—all without him. It was a bitter thought, but without him, she’d flourished.

Travion’s attention flicked away as a door shut nearby. I need to find Taimon, not watch Sereia. He took a sharp right and nearly slammed into his steward. Travion took one step back so Taimon didn’t stumble.

“Just the one I was looking for,” Travion offered. “There is something I need to do for Midniva.”

“Your Grace,” he murmured and inclined his head. “How can I be of service?” Taimon’s brow furrowed.

“The families who suffered from the assault on Midniva have been compensated, but those who have lost recently have nothing. We’re focusing our resources into the army, increasing security, sending out fleets . . . We can’t spare anything at the moment, but after all of this, I want a monument erected in honor of those who have fallen. Let no one forget the sacrifices made.”

Taimon nodded. “As you wish, Your Grace.” He was quiet for a beat, then, “I was on my way to find you. A seahawk brought a letter from General Quillan. Our forces are in place and ready for what may come.”

“Very good. Let’s hope we can thwart the threat long before it comes to our shores. But mark my words, whoever is behind this better hope they die before I get my hands on them.”

Taimon’s lips twitched into a small, nervous smile. “Let us hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Sea help the bastard who orchestrated this discord, because it wouldn’t just be Travion in line to execute them, but the whole royal family too.

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