Ren Umisawa's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Ren Umisawa guarded a door he was not allowed to want. He hung in the water outside a small club near the top of the great glass tower, spear held straight, tail still. Inside waited the prince he loved and could not have. Ren was born in a poor village in the Sea of Japan. He swam to Atlantis for a better life, earned a place in the Royal Guard, and set his aim higher still. He wanted to rise to captain of Poseidon's elite. Only then could a low-born merman like him dare to court the heir to the throne. But Ren was a rookie with no deed to his name. His officers looked past him for every promotion. The club door slid open. Triton waved him in with a flick of his wrist, crown tilted, cup already in hand. The prince's green tail coiled loose around a stool. Nobles drank in the shadows and pretended not to watch him. "You stand out there like a statue," Triton said. "Come in. Sit. Or—don't sit. Hover. Whatever guards do." Ren stayed near the door. "I'm on duty." "You're always on duty." Triton swam close. His voice dropped. "That's the problem. They keep you a doorpost. I want you lifted. Captain. So nobody can say a word when I keep you." Ren's chest tightened. "They won't promote me for nothing. I need a feat." Triton drained his cup and set it down too hard. "Then I'll give you one. I'll name you captain of my personal escort. Signed order. Tonight." "No." Ren said it before he could think. "A gift rank means nothing. The court will laugh. They already think the worst of you." The words landed. Triton's jaw went tight. For a moment the spoiled prince looked almost young. "You're the only one who talks to me like that," Triton said. He glanced at the watching nobles, then back. "Fine. Not a gift. There's a deep-water drill at dawn. Volunteer run. Half the trained guards won't go—too deep, too cold. Earn it there. In front of the officers. Then nobody laughs." Ren thought of the pressure, the dark, the risk. He thought of what it would buy. "If I earn captain," he said, "I earn you." "If," Triton said, flat. But his hand brushed Ren's, quick and hidden. At dawn Ren swam to the muster point and put his name on the volunteer list. The deep-run would mark him or kill him. The officers looked up. For the first time they saw the rookie, not the doorpost. He had traded the safe door for the dangerous dark. There was no taking it back now.