Shattered by the Sea Lord - Starla Night Page 0,87
she was waiting for us to return. Unless you do something, she will come for you.”
“She will never come here.” He laughed, but the vibrations sounded harsh and forced. “You are so stupid, Ciran of Undine, or wherever you are from. So stupid. I have heard all about your plans from Nuno. Atlantis queens, and other fables. If you are so wise, then why are you in my prison?”
That was a really good question.
And it was one that Ciran had been thinking about for some time.
Like his plans to escape—which currently relied on the miraculous appearance of a friendly outside force, since he could not succeed on his own—he had reviewed every aspect of Nuno’s kidnapping.
He’d gone the wrong way.
Dannika was stronger with him. She needed him, relied on him. He kept telling her to have faith in her abilities, and he’d promised over and over that he would be her rock, her anchor, her pillar of support until she was ready to let that go and fly on her own.
And then, at the very first test, he’d turned away from her.
That moment when the patrol had dragged Nuno through the coral, Ciran should not have pursued them bare-handed.
No.
He should have turned and flown directly into Dannika’s arms. Where she could see, feel, touch, taste him. He should have helped her steady her power until her shield was impenetrable. With her total confidence and powerful shield, then they should have gone after the warriors together.
Itime should have taken Meg. Konomelu should have taken…well, he should have guarded Bex.
Meg would have made the shark attack the kidnappers. Bex would have pushed anyone who tried to attack. And Dannika would have shielded them just in case.
They would have rescued Nuno.
Yes, his problem was that he’d said he’d believed in Dannika, but he had dropped his faith at the moment it mattered most.
And now it was too late.
“You will regret underestimating our king.” Prince Lukiyo snarled at the prisoners. “You will regret it when we welcome new recruits and feed you to the kraken.”
He kicked away, leaving the prisoners alone with the howl of the kraken screaming for her lost young.
The women worked steadily on the base of the statue, occasionally trying the mallet again with softer taps. Bex traced the mechanism up and out of the water and peeled off vines. They could operate it above or below water. As they worked, the sound mellowed, then sharpened to a nice, solid high G.
Suddenly, Meg gasped. “Oh my God, guys.” Meg held out both hands, eyes wide. “We’ve been ringing this thing all afternoon. Did we just summon the kraken?”
Oh.
Uh… “The sound wasn’t quite right until the end…” Dannika matched the winces of the other women.
“No.” Bex gave a final soft tap. “If the mirror stones are in place, the kraken won’t rise.”
“Oh yeah. Hey, do you think that’s why it didn’t rise when the island got attacked by the conquistadors? The mirror stones were in place?”
Bex shrugged.
“Itime said they used to ring the bell at an annual festival.” Meg studied it. “His great-great-grandfather attended the last one. The kraken swam freely in the sea, and the warriors all got out and celebrated where it was safe on the land. After the kraken descended again, the warriors had to clean up after her. Of course, they stopped that festival after the brides were taken, so.”
“Does that mean she’s been trapped since the time of the conquistadors?” Dannika asked.
Bex shrugged again.
“I know, right?” Meg shook her head and gazed up at the base of the statue from the clean lower depths. “And I thought twenty years was a long time with family and friends. I hope it’s a big trench.”
They took turns swimming around and under the bell.
“Is there a secret here that can save my husband?” Angie tutted. “I feel silly looking for an answer in an ancient gong. But…” She closed her eyes and opened her palms. “Answer me, oh sacred brides. Ancestors, spirits. What inner strength do I need to rescue my husband?”
“The sacred brides wouldn’t know,” Meg said practically. “They were enslaved, victimized, killed. Modern history doesn’t know who they are. They were wiped out.”
“Just like the mer,” Bex said.
“But not even in legend, right? They’re voiceless. Gone, forgotten beside a historian’s footnote guestimating how many might have been lost in the carnage.”