Chapter 247
The office Shoal has comandeered is as sleek and overly-futuristic as everything else in the facility. It’s all clean glass and gleaming chrome, tucked along one of the outer curves of the Marble so that it makes up one of the room’s walls. The tank stretches out before us in a sweeping arc, giving us a fantastic view of the seafloor flora that coats the edges of the tank.
From where they glide just out of view, the Elder Kin look almost beautiful. Almost. Their immense, alien bodies stay just outside of our field of vision, twining and winding so that their undulating shadows are really the only things we can see. Something about it seems so… deliberate, as if they know we’re watching. As if they’re watching back.
The table is already set when we arrive. A carafe of coffee steams between trays of tropical fruit and warm bread. There’s smoked fish, too, still glistening from the pan, and some kind of fluffy tropical starch that smells vaguely of ginger. It should be inviting. Should be.
Shoal stands to greet us, all smooth charm and effortless politeness. “Good morning,” he says, gesturing toward the two open chairs. “Please—make yourselves comfortable.”
I glance at Wake. His shoulders are squared, mouth set in a flat line. He doesn’t sit.
“Shoal,” Wake says by way of greeting. His voice is low and cool, edged like a blade dulled by restraint.
Shoal, unbothered, turns to me and offers a small nod. “Phoebe. Thank you both for accepting my invitation.”
“I figured if you were going to poison us, you’d find a less scenic place to do it,” I say, sliding into the chair anyway. I shoot Wake a look—soft, coaxing. He sits beside me, but I can feel the tension radiating from him.
Shoal pours us both coffee. “I assure you, if I wanted you dead, it would have already happened. But diplomacy has always suited me better.”
“That, for once, is the complete and honest truth,” Wake mutters, reaching for his cup but not drinking from it. “When did you start being forthcoming?”
Shoal smiles faintly. “Since necessity bred invention. You’d be surprised how… flexible the mind becomes when given a broader horizon.”
The back and forth already has teeth. I press my palm lightly to Wake’s thigh under the table, just enough pressure to say: we’re here for a reason. He doesn’t relax, but he doesn’t snap, either.
“I was hoping,” Shoal says, “that we could speak more openly now. No walls between us. Just us. Brothers. Family.”
Wake’s eyes flash. “Funny. My brother told me that I was a fool for straying too close to the surface, that I should be disowned for even considering stepping foot on land.”
Shoal folds his hands. “I know. And I deserve your anger. But I want to change it.”
The words fall into silence. My appetite vanishes. I try to think of something, anything, to shift the tone.
“You didn’t want Wake to go near humans?” I ask.
Shoal has the grace to look embarrassed: “I’m afraid that opinion was a product of how we were raised. I’m sure my brother has told you as much. While going between land and sea is fairly common in some Clans, in the Abyss, the practice is unheard of.”
Wake grunts in agreement. “Our people hold older beliefs. Among them is a deep distrust of humans.”
“Ah. So when you told your family that your mate might be human, I’m sure they were thrilled,” I joke. There’s silence. “What?”
“I never told my family why I was drawn to the surface. I thought it best not to mention that I thought my mate might be a human child.” Wake replies wryly.
“I can’t argue with that,” I say. “So, what? The two of you fell out because you got too curious about humans? Did you always fight this much?”
Shoal says, “The three of us, Wake, our brother Axel, and I were pitted against one another our entire lives. It was always known that only one would become the next Heir, and our family made a sport of testing us.”
Wake snorts. “More like the entire godsdamn city. There were rankings, people would take bets.”
“Axel had himself a tidy little fan club,” Shoal laughed. “Even so, I never held any animosity toward either of you. It was a strange upbringing, but one we shared. You and Axel were my closest confidants.”
Wake goes quiet, studying his brother. “Then what changed? You became distant long before you ever accused me of being a traitor for staying too close to land, brother.”
Shoal gives a melancholic shrug. “Perhaps I finally buckled beneath the pressure of trying to live up to the golden child.”
Heavy silence falls on us like stones again.
“When I was a kid, I used to tell everyone that my grandma was my best friend,” I say softly, surprising even myself. “It drove my mother crazy that I held her in such high regard. Of course, when I was little, I didn’t really get why she’d find that hurtful, especially when she was always there and Cora was… anywhere else. But she never failed to read me every letter Cora sent, and she never missed of our yearly visits. If I asked her, I’m sure she’d insist that it was for my benefit, but really, I think that there’s a part of you that never really forgets your blood.”
“You are very wise, Phoebe.” Something flickers behind Shoal’s expression. “Cora… I admit, I’m fascinated by her. Her choice to live among humans. To raise a family. To hide what she was. That’s not a path many would choose.”
“Maybe not,” I say, even though there was so much more to it. “But she made it work.”
“I’ve been trying,” Shoal says, glancing out at the Elder Kin drifting through the water. “Being between two worlds is harder than it seems. I’m sure you can relate, brother.”
Wake’s laugh is bitter, humorless. “Oh, absolutely. I relate to being trapped. To being paraded around like a specimen. To being electrocuted, dissected, drugged. I relate to discovering that my brother—my own blood—is working for the very same people who left me to rot in a tank.”
My heart’s pounding as my nervous system responds to the anger in Wake’s tone, but I don’t try to intervene this. He has every right to feel this way.
Shoal lowers his gaze. “I’ve done everything I can to make what was done to you right. Our kind will never have to fear Enigma again, I swear to you.”
“Right,” Wake says.
“I’m not proud of every avenue I’ve had to take,” Shoal says, voice quieter now. “But I’m trying to build something better.”
Wake doesn’t respond. He just stares into the aquarium, jaw set tight.
Shoal surprises us both by saying, “I’m sorry, Wake.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry,” Wake says. “I want the truth. All of it.”
Shoal nods. “Fine. But the truth has teeth.”
He lifts his mug and drinks. And beneath us, the Elder Kin circle like wolves in a pen—silent, watching, waiting.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
