These Gilded Seas

Chapter Eight: Steep Terms

Zula's fingernails dig into my cheeks, puckering my lips together.

"The human prince is a menace," he growls, "and he's not easy prey. Do you have a plan?"

I swallow and ease my face out of his grip.

Up until this point, I've not actually shared my plan with anyone. It's all laid out in my head, though, like a rough sketch of a map. All the major landmarks are there, outlined in thick black—kingdoms, oceans, mountain ranges. Yet, the middle's blurry. There are no paths or cities or villages. It's all a gray mass, waiting to be pieces together and revealed.

That's where Zula comes in.

I nod, trying to squash down my growing nerves. The warlock has this aura about him that sets my teeth on edge. The constant pressure of his dark magic keeps knotting my stomach together and making me feel nauseous. He doesn't necessarily look evil, but he sure feels it.

"Care to share?" Zula presses with a small laugh. Then, he retreats back to his couch and reclines again. "Sit. Please."

I shake my head. "I'm okay here. Thank you, though."

"Suit yourself." He snaps his fingers and a spark of purple magic fizzes out from where they meet.

A second later, two young merfolk, boys no older than ten or eleven, rush into the room from a dark side passage. They could be older than that, but because it's so hard to tell when you live as long as we do, I have to assume. They're both shorter than me and have pudgy, youthful cheeks. One has red hair, a touch darker than mine and much straighter, and the other has a nest of brown curls atop his head. They glance at me before dedicating their attention to my uncle.

"Bring us food and drinks. Now." His voice is firm and demanding, lacking all the playfulness that he feigns when talking to me. They boys don't even nod; they just rush off in the same direction from which they arrived.

Zula looks back at me, and I notice his eyes aren't black like I originally thought. Instead, they're blue, like Papa's. They're just so dark—deep navy, really. When they catch in the eerie purple light, the colors show through and dance like a kaleidoscope. I briefly wonder what they'd look like in the sun.

"Tell me about this plan of yours," he says, petting one of the eels that drapes itself across his neck.

"Well," I begin, fumbling with my leaden tongue. "I'd need to get close to the prince to kill him. I'm sure he doesn't just walk around the shoreline without guards. So it would be easier to do that if I could go... on land..."

He laughs. "No wonder you came to me. Your father wouldn't dream of allowing that."

No mention of if it's possible. Is that a good sign?

"No, he wouldn't have. Plus, I don't think our magic can do that," I press, hoping he'll answer my unspoken question.

"You'd be surprised what your magic can do, Arielle."

At that moment, the two boys swim back in. One carries a tray of fresh lobster and cuts of pink fish. The other balances two glasses of black liquid on his platter, the kind you might see on land. The cups must be magicked because there's no lid on either of them.

Zula snaps his fingers again, and one of the boys sits down at his feet, holding the plate of food within his master's reach. Then, the warlock takes one of the long-stemmed glasses and waves the server towards me. I take one as well, mumbling a thank you under my breath. His cheeks turn redder than my hair, and he ducks out of the room before anyone else can speak to him.

"If you're wondering whether my magic can do it," Zula drawls, sipping at the liquid in his cup. It's thick, like oil almost. It stains his lips before he licks it off slowly. Chills of disgust race down my spine. After the drink, he continues. "The answer is yes. It is possible. The gods have given me such a skill."