Page 18 of Connal

Meg wore only a shift made transparent by the water. Everything about her, from her flame-colored hair to the pale skin covering her too-long, thin body, made her ugly in the eyes of the Selseus. Merrick had never liked her, either; the lady’s maid had always looked upon him with a faint wrinkle to her nose, as if some part of him were rotting. Yet seeing her like this, defenseless and almost naked, made him smirk with pleasure.

“Ah, a catch I neednae fight to take,” he said as he sat down on the edge of the lochan. He frowned when he saw the rope she had around her waist, which she had tied around a large stone on the edge of the lochan. “I must toss you back, however.”

Her shoulders stiffened. “Touch me and I’ll geld you.”

Merrick imagined she was jesting, until he saw the dagger in her hand. “We dinnae desire females of your, ah, temper.”

“For which I shall kneel before the Gods nightly in gratitude.” She used the rope to pull herself to the edge, and reached for a cloak she’d left on the rocks and wrapped it around her before climbing out. Only after she put her bare feet in her boots did she look at him. “You’ve no’ left yet?”

“Why do you bathe here?” he countered. “And why do you tie yourself to the rocks?”

Meg picked up her gown and draped it over her arm before she made her way to him, but instead of explaining she shoved him into the lochan.

“Go you mad?” Merrick demanded as soon as he surfaced. At that moment hot jets of water streaming up from the bottom of the lochan enveloped him. Although the cold of the sea never bothered him, he loved the heat. “Och, that’s good.”

“’Tis why I bathe here.” The maid gestured at the water. “’Tis one of the prince’s fairy pools.”

He swam to the edge, his mood mellowing as he gazed up at her. “Why do you hate me? ’Tis because I’m no’ dark and brooding like your lord?”

Her full lips curved. “I’ve never liked proud, pig-headed arses who regard females as property and possess no manners. Also, you smell.”

“Never.” Now he grew genuinely offended. “How do I smell, then? No’ like a fish.”

Meg crouched down, putting her face only an inch from his. “Why should you care what I think, King of Fish?”

In that moment Merrick nearly did something unthinkable. Nearly. “I dinnae.”

“And you’re a liar.” With that the maid stood, bobbed and left.

Duxor waited until he saw Merrick leave the palace before he entered through the rotting hull of a landcrawler vessel that had sunk during a violent storm. All that the creatures of the bay had left unscathed were some chained bones and chests of hammered gold and silver disks. He knew the king liked to gift such useless treasures to the young ones for their seeking games but kept all the pearls for himself. That Merrick never seemed to indulge in his own endless supply of bliss made Duxor hate him just that much more, but he’d heard a disturbing rumor that the king had just sent an outrageous gift to the MacMar.

He wouldnae send a single pearl to those bastarts without reason.

Duxor had to wait just outside the storage chamber until the king’s steward left, and only then slipped in through a concealed hatch. He could smell the pearls Merrick had hoarded, their tangy fragrance spilling out of the caches lining the walls. The king had been so distracted lately he knew a few handfuls would never be missed. One large cache had been completely emptied, however, and when he swam closer he saw the king had removed all of the rare dawn pearls Duxor’s uncle had paid in tribute after the failed rebellion.

As a young one he remembered his sire’s wails of terror as Merrick had dragged him from the sea and staked him out on the Islet of Death. His uncle had forced Duxor to join the silent vigil.

Watch and learn, the stern old fool had insisted. ’Tis the price of such treachery.

Once his traitorous brother had gasped his last, his uncle had cleaned out his vaults and presented the king with every pearl he had stolen from loyalists, some of whom he had murdered for their wealth. Duxor’s uncle had then left the settlement, never to return.

Merrick had feigned kindness toward him, for they were cousins, but Duxor knew the proud brute despised him as much as his sire. In turn he pretended indifference when Jamaran was chosen as the garrison commander, which had ruined his plan to turn their warriors against the king. Without an army Duxor had no hope of seizing the throne, taking his rightful place and ending the ridiculous truce with the MacMar.

With his uncle’s pearls he might have bribed a few of the surliest Selseus to murder Jamaran. He would then play the hero by capturing and slaying his own assassins.

Duxor left the storage room, and boldly swam into the king’s quarters, where two of his attendants busily scoured algae from the viewers. Making a rude gesture for them to go, he swam over to look out at the settlement, which now stretched beyond the bay. In a few years dozens of young males would reach maturity and experience their first spawning rush. Since the king had forbidden forcing landcrawlers to serve as their mates they would have to wait on Merrick to give them a willing female. Yet even now dozens of potential breeders lived on Caladh, ripe for the taking.

Unlike older males the wait would make the young so agitated it would be easy to sway them to Duxor’s cause. The thought of waiting for the next generation to mature infuriated him, but it seemed to be the only course now.

Lord Duxor.

One of Jamaran’s patrollers hovered outside the chamber, and from the smell of him he’d been hunting. I wished speak with the king, he told him as he came out into the passage. That was when he identified the type of blood clinging to the other male. Why do you stink of landcrawler?

A vessel capsized just outside the bay, my lord. We’re still searching for survivors.

Duxor told him to try the island for Merrick before he rushed out of the palace and tracked the blood that had spilled into the bay. Large sharks had begun to swarm for the same reason, and he increased his speed. If the boat had been carrying treasure, he might find enough pearls in the sunken wreckage to carry out the assassination plan.

He saw Jamaran’s bleached hair from a distance and changed direction, dropping down and skirting along the sea floor to avoid the commander’s notice. There he found the bodies of several landcrawlers who had drowned, but they wore the garb of simple fishermen. All their vessel had carried was fish, which made him wonder if the kind had ordered the outsider to deliberately sink the boat. He reached a broken section, from which bubbles of air still rose. One of them burst, emitting the sound of a landcrawler’s voice.