Rhode's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Rhode held her golden trident flat across both palms and offered it to the Atlantean court. "I want to end the war with the surface," she said. "I came to ask for your blessing." The nobles stared at the sunstone gems in her trident and said nothing. She was Poseidon's daughter, married to the sun god, able to boil the sea with a thought. For the first time in her life, that frightened a room instead of warming it. A merman near the front spoke. His family had drowned surface ships for three hundred years. "You want peace with the men who speared our kin," he said. "That is not peace. That is treason." The word passed down the rows like a cold current. Rhode felt the smiles she had spent her whole life earning drop away. Two dancers broke from the back wall and swam fast between the columns. Their flowing finery streamed behind them, blue and purple and silver. They were not performing. They came to warn her. "They are calling for the guard," the taller one whispered. "They mean to brand you before the Queen returns." A school of bright fish scattered through the hall, spooked by the rising voices. Rhode's heart pounded. She could burn them. She could prove how dangerous she was and lose them forever. Instead she lowered the trident to the mosaic floor and let the gems dim. "You lost brothers to the surface," she said to the old merman. "So did I. I lost the chance to know a sea without this fight." Her voice did not shake. "Brand me a traitor if you want. I will still swim up and offer my hand to them. Alone, if I must." The doors opened. Triton drifted in, late, a goblet still in one hand. The nobles went quiet, because the heir had finally bothered to appear. He looked at the trident on the floor, then at his sister surrounded by angry faces. "So," Triton said. "You're the traitor now. Good. Takes the heat off me, I guess." He set the goblet on a column and did not pick it back up. "My sister wants to try something new. Peace. I've watched her fix every bad mood in this city since we were kids. If she says the surface can be fixed—" He stopped, corrected himself. "I won't bet against her. And I'm the heir. So mind how loud you say that word." The old merman's jaw tightened, but he lowered his eyes. The whispers died. Rhode looked at her brother, stunned that he had chosen her over his own comfort. "Thank you," she said quietly. "Don't," Triton said. "Mother hears about this by morning. She'll want to know why her daughter's planning a truce with our oldest enemy. And she won't send dancers to warn you." He turned for the door. "Better have your answer ready."