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The round, two-story door has ten medallions around the outside. I spot the Glyden Dome one right away. There’s a golden fluke on it. Pearls, emeralds, and three silver-colored medallions, among others, circle the door. It’s all a blur as I leave the few people out on the dock.
“Go in, Annabelle.” Castor waves me in.
I nod. The door rolls shut behind me, thudding into place. The sound rattles my bones. While out on the dock, people milled about, but the two-story atrium is empty. A male stands behind a podium in front of three Art Deco elevators. Tridents are engraved on each of the doors, along with mermen and a mermaid holding a trident in one hand, the scales of justice in the other.
“Name,” the male behind the desk calls out.
I suck on my lips, my shoes clicking with each step across the room.
He looks me up and down. “Glyden?” His voice is monotone.
“Yes.” I nod. I’m not sure why I just assumed everyone here would know who I am. It’s a huge city. From what I’ve seen, there’s no way everyone could know me. “Annabelle Portsmouth.”
His eyes narrow at me.
“Right. Arabel Portsmouth.”
“Mate to Nico. Third lift.” He doesn’t look back up.
When I realize that’s all he’s going to say, I head over to the third elevator. And wait. There’s no button. I turn back to him, not sure what to do, but he doesn’t glance back at me. I open my mouth—to say what, I don’t know—and the door opens.
It’s dark inside, with more of the same motifs. That’s the thing here. When the room has a glass window to the ocean outside, and it’s illuminated, other than jelly fish swimming outside, you can almost forget you’re underwater. But when it’s dark, or even dim in a room, it’s really bleak.
The elevator door glides open, and I’m not sure why I pictured a hallway like all the hallways I’ve seen in courthouse dramas. But the elevator opens up into a cavernous circular room. Three tall daises are on one side of the room. A flat wall bisects the circle behind them. A lone figure is in a chair facing the empty dais.
Nico Callis. The male who changed everything about my life.
Nico’s back is broad, his shoulders back with head bowed. The low light of the room makes his hair shine like mahogany. I step off the elevator. The ding of the sliding doors doesn’t make him turn. Neither does the click of my shoes.
But his shoulders flinch. He gets only one representative. One person related to him. And the clicking of my heels doesn’t belong to Alder or Muster. I hold my breath and step lightly to stop the echo of my golden shoes, which doesn’t help, but I continue forward on my tiptoes.
The neckline I’m wearing inches lower with every step I take. It’s lower than anything I would ever wear back home. But it shows off my mate mark. And between Ophelia and Bass, I’ve learned everything here has symbolism, from the braids in a mermaid’s hair to clothing color to the art in a space. I want to remind the judges he has a mate; it’s important now they realize they’re sending two to death. I drop my arms from around my waist. Walking the distance to the center of the room feels like it takes forever.
The walls are solid and go up nine feet. Dark panels have pictograms engraved on them. There are flashes of pearls and emeralds, steel and brass diamonds, and definitely gold. Above that, the dome is open. Wide glass holds the ocean back. Shadows swim past on the floor of dark marble. And above all, it’s quiet. Beyond still.
Here, I feel small and unimportant. Nico and I are just part of the masses. We are one of the fishes in the school. And those podiums in front of Nico? That’s where the power lies, where my destiny lies.
Seeing him like this? So small, his power drained away... I’m less furious. But love? That’s a long stretch.
“Annabelle Portsmouth.” Nico’s tone is deep, and there’s only one chair, but he doesn’t get up or turn to me. When I reach his side, I see why. He’s in shackles. His hands are linked to his feet.
“Nico Callis,” I say.
“That’s Nico Portsmouth here. And you’re...” He stands. A guard appears from a hidden door on the side of the room. He takes the chair from the courtroom.
“Arabel. I get it.”
He gives me a sly smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Annabelle. You will always be Annabelle to me.”
I narrow my eyes at him. Is he getting sentimental for real, or is there a camera in the room? He was kind yesterday, telling me how strong he thinks I am. But is it real?
“When we knocked on your door—”
“Before you kidnapped me?” I need to tone it down. This isn’t going to save him or me. “Before we were mated.”
He laughs. “Did Castor or Holter tell you to play nice?”
I roll my eyes.
