Droplets (DROPLETS Trilogy Book 1) (15 page)

15. Resentment

Within a few minutes, a small structure became visible. We walked past this white-washed house without pausing, but I stared at it. Its design was similar to a home from ancient Greece, flat, white walls creating a square with a courtyard in the middle. The longer we walked the more we saw these houses.

     Rounding a corner, the trees gave way to a breath-taking view. A city of white spread across a large hill. The houses began at the bottom near where we stood, and a stone pathway wove through the bleached buildings leading to the very top where a large structure rested ominously. Thick columns surrounded its sides, making it seem powerful and beautiful.

    
Trying not to seem too astounded, I continued to follow Nixie as she led us along the shadows of the trees. She was careful to not step into the moonlight.

     Rather than walking along the stone pathway through the city, Nixie led us around to the left, keeping the houses within view on our right side. We came upon another dirt pathway which led directly up the hill to the largest structure. After swallowing a lump in my throat, I followed Nixie as we clambered up the hill. I tried not to think of how much harder this would be for Patrick who had his hands tied together.

     Reaching the top, we stood before the large columns which looked even more immense and powerful up close. They seemed to reach toward the heavens while holding up a pointed white roof far above our heads. Stairs led into the open structure and we glided up them easily after the climb on dirt. The cold marble sent shivers up my spine.

     We pressed forward, silently moving through an archway into what appeared to be a throne room. Gauzy, white fabric hung in the wide, low windows and blew gently into the room from the cool night breeze. Along the walls were intricately carved figures, slightly larger than life, but their faces as real as any portrait. Each statue was scantily clad, the marble carved fabric draping perfectly over the chiseled bodies. The figures were both male and female, and some were merfolk with marble tails curling about a pedestal. But every face had the same expression. Their eyes were clear, honest and real and turned toward the end of the large room.

    At the end of the chamber was a small set of stairs and more columns. These columns were different from the ones we had passed upon entering; not as many and they were not as thick. Three small columns stood on either side of the gliding stairs, further pointing the eye to focus on the exquisite marble throne which sat in the middle of the raised platform.

     Somehow the sight did not fit with the picture I had concocted in my mind. When I thought of Morven, I only thought of darkness. I couldn’t think of anything pure or artistically beautiful, but before my eyes was the proof. Still something nudged my mind, keeping me from believing this reality. The memory of Morven standing on the
Lady Marie
with his mermen behind him sent a round of goosebumps over my flesh. What was to become of this?

     “Where is everyone?” Patrick’s deep voice broke through the hushed reverence of the room and startled me.

     “We aren’t meeting here,” Shaylee spoke from the other side of the throne room. She had just entered from a large hall. “Come,” she said, as she gestured with her hand and beckoned us to follow her through the arch she had just exited a moment ago. We followed wordlessly, passing through the intricately carved pillars and into a long white corridor with a high vaulted ceiling.

     My heart was still pounding out a disjointed rhythm, but the sight before my eyes made me forget it. Turning back slightly I voiced my suspicions.

     “Your father is the king isn’t he?” Without breaking stride, Kryssa came up beside me and nodded her head in answer.

     “Yes, he is,” her words confirmed. I was in the presence of three mermaid princesses. Shocked, I wondered what role Morven would play in all of this. If there was a king, than who was he?

     “You are in Lathmor,” Kryssa spoke with a hint of pride in her voice. She opened her mouth to say more, but then shut it quickly. Catching my eye she smirked. “Best not to say something I’m not supposed to.”

     I nodded my head while turning my gaze back to Nixie who was continuing to lead the way next to Shaylee. A large wooden door painted in a faded blue, to the point of almost being turquoise, stood at the end of the hall. With trepidation I followed, unsure of what would meet me on the other side of the door.

     Nixie knocked gently, and we waited until the door opened, revealing an oddly shaped room. Three sides were straight; the fourth wall, and opposite from where we stood, curved outward in a large arch. Near this wall was a massive desk with thick stump-like legs, each one intricately carved. The top of the desk was sleek black stone. Throughout the room were plush cushions, antique chairs, and wooden benches, but they were all pushed up against the walls creating a wide open space in the center of the room. Torches hung along the walls and an oil-lit chandelier hung from the middle of the ceiling. Gray marble squares created a jigsaw of lines across the floor around a large black diamond shape in the middle; directly in front of the desk.

     I took all of this in in a matter of moments. It was not until we stepped into the room that I realized how many eyes were upon us. Standing and sitting along the sides of the room were men and women who all had their gazes latched on our group. The weight of their eyes bored into me while I frantically searched the room, looking for the one pair of grey stormy eyes that I knew would seal my fate.

     “Daughters,” a man who was standing behind the desk looking out one of the large windows, spoke calmly. His voice did little to calm my nerves as I waited for Morven to appear at any moment.

     The man’s hair was light red; streaks of subtle grey wove through the shoulder-length strands and gave him a sense of dignity. The wind from the open window blew his white shirt against his arms showing how powerful he really was, and the black pinstripe pants made him look more human than I knew him to be.

     He turned slowly and his eyes alarmed me. They were a sharp green and seemed to convey intelligence. In some odd way I felt as though he recognized me, as if he had seen me before. Trying not to fidget, I met his gaze calmly. There was neither hostility nor friendliness in his eyes—my fate had yet to be decided upon. 

     “Father,” Shaylee spoke up. She walked to the center of the room where the black diamond was located. With a small tap on my wrist, Nixie beckoned for me to follow her over to the center of the room. My fear increased, but the sound of Patrick’s steady feet helped to soothe me. I remembered that he was an outsider like I was.

     “May I present to you, Lissie,” she requested. With a hand she acknowledged my presence.

     Once more the king’s eyes met mine. This time there was a trace of melancholy in his gaze. He closed his eyes for a moment as though planning what he should say next.

     “Lissie,” his voice said, strong and filled with authority. “What is the reason for your presence here in Lathmor?”

     The whole room seemed to hold its breath waiting for my answer. I had the feeling my answer was important, but I had no idea what would be the appropriate thing to say.

     Gathering what little nerve I had, I spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear: “I am here for the sole purpose of meeting you, sir. Your daughters kindly brought me here.”

     A smirk formed on the face of one of the merfolk near the king’s desk. His hair was a dark curly black, his eyes jovial. He leaned toward a merman beside him to comment, but the look on his companion’s face silenced him. The rest of the merfolk did not seem as amused with my response.

     “Let me restate my question,” the king said with a glint in his eye. “How is it you came to be on the island with Patrick?”

     Upon Patrick’s name being spoken, the room fell even quieter than before; this time the silence was hostile. In the faces of the merfolk I saw fury and hatred, but it was not focused on me. Their eyes were on the person just behind me. I now realized why the princesses had hoped to leave him behind—it was obvious he was an unwelcome guest. Why he was unwelcome was a mystery. 

     “A little over a month ago I was thrown overboard. I had been on a boat with my father and brothers. Sometime after this I happened upon the island and met Patrick there.”

     The king pursed his lips slightly, and I knew he did not believe me. I wouldn’t believe me if I was in his position, there were just too many open holes in my story. But what was I going to do? I had already told the princesses that I remembered what happened between my accident and how I had found the island. If I lied here, they would only counter my statement. For the time being, I wanted to keep it a secret. If Morven was here then he would reveal me eventually, but I wanted to hold off the inevitable as much as possible.

     “You just happened upon the island?” The king asked raising a skeptical eyebrow. He knew I was lying.

     “Yes, sir.” I would say nothing more.

     “Father,” Kryssa spoke up beside me, “she does remember everything that happened between her accident and her arrival on the island. But she has said she cannot tell us because it would risk our lives. I believe her.”

     Shocked by Kryssa’s loyalty, I stared at her and wondered how she knew I had told the truth.

     “As much as I appreciate your input,” the king began, his eyes softening as he spoke to Kryssa. “I cannot take the risk.”

     Knowing I was playing with fire, I butted in. I had been able to convince others before, why not these merfolk? “But what if being told the truth runs more of a risk than not hearing it?”

     Silence filled the room and the king’s eyes focused on me once more. His approval was evident this time. Slowly he walked out from behind the desk and my heart began to hammer in my chest. His stride brought him closer to me, but still in a place where he was at the head of the room.

     “We are at war, Lissie.” His statement confused me. “Whether you are human as you claim to be, or something different, I need you to understand this. I will not place my people in danger only because your word tells me otherwise.”

     His admonishing only made me more self-conscious of where I was and who I was standing before. “Have you ever heard of the Hyven?” He asked calmly, his hands slipping into his pockets. Behind me I heard Patrick’s sharp intake of breath.

     “No,” I said.

     “Years ago,” the king began, “we Lathmorians were one people. We were peaceful and there were no battles. I am presuming you understand who you are in the presence of?”

     Again he raised an eyebrow, but Shaylee scoffed. “Father, she has no idea.”

     The king, however, did not take his eyes from mine. “Oh, she knows plenty.”

     At his words everyone looked at me once more; the heaviest gaze came from the eyes behind me. How much I wished I could have seen his face to know what he was thinking. With every moment the king only further revealed my betrayal to him.

     “You do in fact know what we are?” the king asked.

     I let my silence be his answer, and a collective gasp filled the room.

     “Finish her now!” The harsh words rang in the large room coming from a man who stood with his arms threateningly at his sides.  The stance was all too familiar, each one of the mermen Morven had had with him on the night of my transformation had stood in an identical manner. The speed of the now unseen blades could lash out at any moment. The very thought sent my blood racing.

     “You make one move, Voon,” Patrick’s voice was almost unrecognizable, every word spoken with precision and malice. He never finished the threat, but instead left it hanging in the air as he stepped forward and came into my line of sight. His stance was every bit as hostile as the merfolk around us. Though his wrists were still tightly locked together, I couldn’t help but think he would be able to hold his own regardless.

     The merman named Voon widened his stance, ready to attack. My eyes moved over to the king, wondering what he made of it. Rather than interfere, the king was looking at Patrick with a burning curiosity.

     “What are you going to do about it?” Voon spit. I couldn’t help but notice that others were looking at him with approval, as though what he was saying was necessary. Turning his eyes away, Voon addressed the king.

     “All I ask, King Oberon, is that we find the truth. As you said yourself we are at war. Those who withhold the truth are not welcome here and nor are those who put innocent lives in danger.” His last phrase sent a shiver through my soul, but he was not looking at me. Instead he looked at Patrick with disgust.

     Patrick’s jaw clenched, and he shifted toward me slightly. I realized he was cutting off any approach Voon could make toward me.

     “You remember what happened the last time we let something
foreign
slip into our midst.” The hatred Voon had for Patrick radiated off his body.

     “Yes, I remember well.” The soft words spoken by King Oberon sounded ancient, revealing the lines on his face. He was older than he appeared. “Yet, he is not the reason we suffered and you know that.”

     Voon’s mouth snapped shut in anger, but he did not speak against the king. For a moment the muscles in Patrick’s shoulders loosened, no longer standing taut and ready for action.