"BWAHAHAHA!" Aegir's laughter erupts, echoing through the room.
This is exactly why I don't want him to know. The truth is ugly, too ugly to even acknowledge. I cringe inside just thinking about it.
"I didn't expect you to figure it out so quickly," I mutter. It's not like it was an easy guess. Plenty of Elven nobles fit the bill.
"Who else in our generation has a resume like his?" Aegir grins. "Did I smack him too hard last Friday? Oh, Neptune, permanent damage! BWAHAHAHA! I need to see Muiren's reaction to this." He wipes a tear from his eye, still chuckling.
"Stop laughing—it's not Faelan."
His grin falters. "Wait... don't tell me..."
I swallow hard, my voice trembling as I manage to say, "A little help here?"
Aegir's grin fades as he leans back, eyes narrowing. "I trust Uncle Ronan... He wouldn't do that... right?" There's hesitation in his tone, something I'm not used to hearing from him.
"You should know better than that," I shot back. "There's a reason the Aitrionachs deal with diplomacy."
Aegir shrugs. "Yeah, well, they're good at it. But Uncle's as stubborn as a rock. He probably wouldn't even entertain the idea."
"He didn't throw away the letter, Aegir." I feel my throat tighten, and I clench my fist automatically. "He's considering it."
"Strategically, it's the perfect match," Aegir says.
"Not even going to sugarcoat it, huh?" I shoot back, my fists clenching at my sides.
He leans forward, "Do I need to?"
"Ouch! My life is at stake here, and you're just adding salt to my wounds." I take a deep breath, trying to rein in my panic. "But… you agree to help?"
"I'll be there with you,"
"Well, that's something, at least."
That's why I find myself sitting here with Aegir in front of my dad, who remains silent and unmovable. I've insisted that I want to learn and explore the world, yet it hasn't shaken my father at all.
"Dwarf realm is closer," my father says.
"Yeah, but the Human world is a slim chance to access. Not all elves have that privilege, which is just ridiculous," I counter.
"If you want to go to the Human realm, you must command the sea. Only then will I allow it," he declares.
"But that's impossi—"
"Three days. If you fail, you'll stay here and meet your suitor."
"NO!" I blurt, a knot twisting in my stomach, and my breath quickens.
"I've been lenient with you, but Thalassin's glory comes first," he says.
"Having two Marquess isn't enough, it seems," Aegir quips, trying to lighten the mood.
"It could be more. Seems like you forgot that yours cannot be passed down." My father replied curtly before rising to leave the room. My shoulders slump, and I stare at the floor.
"That's cold," Aegir remarks, smiling, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
"I've seen worse," I reply, trying to sound tougher than I feel.
"Looks like the pressure's getting to you, sunshine," he says.
"Right?" I agree.
"You've got three days. Good luck."
"Do you have any backup plans in mind? You do have one, right?" I ask, searching his face for reassurance.
"I always do," he replies confidently.
"If I fa—"
"You won't," he interrupts firmly, his conviction momentarily calming my fears.
Easier said than done. I step outside the mansion, a knight trailing behind me. I walk toward the sea, my heart pounding as I reach the shore. Calming raging waves is the easiest skill for a Thalassin. Every Thalassin can do it; I know I can. But commanding the sea is a different ordeal entirely. It's a bond forged in salt and storm, a connection so profound that only those deemed worthy can hope to wield its tumultuous energy.
"Father said the sea chose someone... months ago," Muiren materializes from the shadows, her footsteps silent as a whisper. I turn, startled, and roll my eyes, knowing her antics all too well. "The elders must have said something."
"Of course, they always have," I reply.
"Has the sea spoken to you?" Muiren asks, her gaze locked onto the waves.
"Not once," I admit. My voice quivers as I speak, and I blink rapidly, fighting to keep the tears at bay.
"Neither did I or Ondine."
"Isn't it easier for all of us if Aegir was suddenly chosen?" I say, grasping at the impossible.
Muiren's brow arches, her tone dripping with disbelief. "You do realize he's half-human, right? A fact that makes him an unlikely candidate for this…"
"I know."
"My prediction is you."
"I want to be chosen." A deep ache settles in my chest, a yearning that consumes me—what I wouldn't give to feel the sea's embrace, to hear its call beckoning me into a destiny I can only dream of.
"So you wouldn't get married off?"
I nod, my gaze drifting into the distance, staring at practically nothing.
"I'm glad I'm not from the main family," Muiren says with a wry smile.
"Really? Must you make this about yourself?" I shoot back, a hint of frustration in my voice.
"Hey, I'm counting my blessings here."
"Wrong timing, my girl," I reply, picking up a pebble. "I don't even recognize my father anymore." His features, once familiar and comforting, now feel like a stranger. I can hardly recall the warmth of his laughter, replaced instead by a cold distance. I toss the pebble to the sea.
"People change. Sometimes for better… or worse."
I let out a heavy sigh.
Muiren's arms dance gracefully through the air, fingers weaving invisible threads of magic. The waves respond, their fury dwindling under her subtle lead, transforming from chaotic whitecaps to gentle swells.
"I soothe him. Now you enrage him," she says with a mischievous grin.
"I can't," I reply, feeling the weight of her challenge.
"I've got a bet with Ondine riding on you. Don't let me down, racehorse. You're not giving up this easily, are you?"
"Who's Ondine placing her bets on?"
"No one."
"Wow, that paints a grim picture."
"To some extent, it makes sense. Someone has already been chosen. But none of the Thalassin can reign over the sea yet," Muiren says thoughtfully.
"Guess that spells the end for the Thalassin, then," I reply, a heaviness settling in my chest.
"Unless someone truly has, but for some reason, they're hiding it."
"If I could command the sea, I wouldn't keep it a secret."
"Yeah, I know. You'd blabber to Uncle the moment you figured it out."
"Do you suspect Ondine?"
"I'm not saying she's the one, but she definitely knows something."
"Can you imagine if she found the chosen one outside our family and kept it hidden all this time?"
"That's not out of character for her. She'd do anything to protect the Thalassin from falling apart."
The waves begin to surge angrily, splashing both Muiren and me.
"You know, I think the sea disagrees with you. Ondine wouldn't conceal someone like that."
The waves crash again, sending a spray of saltwater into the air.
"Yeah, I guess the sea still has a soft spot for us," I say.
The flapping of dragon wings startles us both, a rare and awe-inspiring sight. They're the only beings who rule the sky.
"That reminds me of the lost elven family," Muiren says, her eyes following the majestic creature.
"The one from the history books? The one that commanded the skies?" I ask, intrigued.
"Exactly. If we still had them, the war with the orcs might have ended by now."
"The Airtrionach managed to settle disputes with the humans in less than a decade. If we could reason with the orcs and goblins, we could end this war for good. Miss Eirene always says they're beasts driven by instinct."
"I despise them," Muiren says, her voice tinged with anger.
I nod, my jaw tightening as memories of bloodied battlefields flicker in my mind—each story of orc raids more gruesome than the last. Their laughter echoed like thunder over the battlefield, drowning out the cries of the fallen. Each swing of their axes painted the ground red, a trail of violence and savagery that left scars on the land, leaving bloodshed in their wake wherever they roamed. It was a universally accepted truth: orcs were savages.
Speaking of savages, the sea waves look unforgiving. I step closer to the shore, the cool mist of the sea spray kissing my skin as I stretch my arms wide. Closing my eyes, I surrender to the rhythm of the waves, letting their whispers cradle my thoughts. I envision a serene place, trying to feel the waves as they surge around me. I reach out with my mind, sensing the turbulent emotions swirling within the water—wrath, despair, confusion. I imagine wrapping them in tendrils of calm, soothing them like a lullaby to a restless child. It feels like untangling a multitude of knots; patience is essential. I need to pull the right string apart and watch it unravel slowly. When I finally open my eyes, I'm greeted by the vast, calm sea.
"Whom do you speak to?" I lean closer, my breath barely above a whisper as I speak to the sea, heartache choking my words. The waves remain silent.