Enchanted Ever After. Robin D. Owens

the better, as far as Lathyr was concerned. He didn’t know the last time that the royals had stayed at Mystic Circle or visited, but it was clear to him that the neighborhood was a treasure. If they couldn’t appreciate it, too bad.

      Then intensity replaced tedium in the king’s vibrations. I don’t want you anywhere near the Queen of Water, the king said.

      Lathyr’s nictitating membrane flickered over his eyes as he blinked in surprise. He backswam a space.

      I know you will have some contact with us eight royals, but do not come near my wife. You talk with her and you will find yourself more of a drifter than you are now, with no one offering you the hospitality of a stay space. The king grinned and dropped the illusion that his teeth were dull and humanlike. You may have to stay on land and in our weaker form forever.

      Lathyr remained motionless in the water. Everyone knew the King of Water was a volatile man, did not care for fools, but did not react well to aggression. I am unaware that your queen knows of my existence.

      She does not, and I wish to keep it that way.

      Chapter 5

      HEATING FROM THE inside in excitement, Lathyr strove to project calm, and subservience. There was a mystery here, but one he didn’t dare solve...not without powerful allies to stand behind him. I will strive to remain beneath your lady’s notice.

      Good. The king’s nostrils showed frills as he unfolded them in a sneer at the place around them. His gaze went to the

      naiader cowering near the bank and he nodded with royal condescension. We thank you for your service and will have gold nuggets brought to you.

      A squeal of delight and vibrations of awed loyalty emanated from Lathyr’s host. Lathyr let himself sink into the silt of the lake, his head significantly below the king’s, who pivoted with a hand twist toward Lathyr. We will allow you to stay in the Castle at Mystic Circle, during this time you are associated with those other folk and humans.

      Lathyr ducked his head, darkening his second eyelid so the king wouldn’t see that he still watched the royal man. My great thanks. But knowledge trickled through him. The king understood that Mystic Circle was balanced since Jenni had lived there for a decade and a half, but preferred pure water magic around him. Lathyr believed the merman hadn’t been often at Mystic Circle and experienced the difference, hadn’t spent much, if any, time at the Castle, owned by the Eight for over a decade. So he didn’t know the true boon he was granting.

      Denver was not a place the merman would care to be—landlocked with no beaches for thousands of miles, high altitude instead of the deep ocean depths where the primary water palaces sat. The city was very dry. And like the king had indicated, surrounded by humans and land animals instead of ocean fish and mammals and a large society of other mers. The naiads and naiaders here would be mostly isolated.

      So the king would not consider giving Lathyr leave to reside in the Castle much of a favor, if one at all, and would believe spending time human, on land, more like a trial than a pleasure.

      Just a duty, my lord king. Lathyr attempted a casual note with an undertone of pain, of wanting to please and thus putting himself at a disadvantage for the king.

      Since that aligned with the royal’s own ideas, the merman nodded. We have discussed reward for you.

      Lathyr wanted to bring up his need for his own home, a small valley in the ocean, but kept his thoughts tight, unleaking. This royal could be fickle, best to continue to hide his own needs.

      Again the king looked around and his lip curled. Some of my elder subjects, with a more scholarly bent, wish less responsibility.

      Meaning they’d rather live in a palace than run an estate. Excitement pulsed through Lathyr in a burst he couldn’t control. Yes! A tiny domain, even under the royals’ scrutiny, would do.

      Your reward will be commensurate with your success.

      As decided by whom? The king? The entire Eight? Lathyr did a lowly swirl.

      Someone will be by with a key to the Castle in Mystic Circle, where you can reside as long as Princess Emberdrake needs you. That was mocking. The king would not be able to conceive of taking orders from a Fire Princess, not to mention a half-human Lightfolk. Marin Greendepths had been born of a royal line, had moved into the position of King of Water long before Lathyr’s existence. The great mer paused. You will recall ALL that I instructed today?

      A definite threat.

      Of course, my liege, Lathyr said.

      Schlllluuurrrppp. A column of mud and detritus swallowed the king and he vanished elsewhere.

      Lathyr allowed himself a cough and swam fast out of the swirling mess. It would take days to settle. Somehow he’d make it up to the naiader who had offered him hospitality.

      Lathyr would move to the Castle, a lovely idea. He had no doubt it would be a mansion fit for the Eight, luxurious, matching the palaces he’d served in as a child and now occasionally visited. That would be a pleasure, luxurious surroundings, a pool of water of his very own. Living in Mystic Circle would also be very good. Wouldn’t being there help him develop and stretch his magic? He hoped so.

      Far from scorning the inhabitants of Mystic Circle, he was intrigued by them. Brownies would probably run the Castle; Princess Jindesfarne was friendly and interesting and easy to work with. What he’d seen of the Treeman, Aric Paramon Emberdrake, Lathyr liked.

      Kiri Palger was enticing.

      But what was important was that both Aric and Jenni worked closely with the King of Air and knew the other royals. And Lathyr might find out from them the answer to a new and urgent question. What was it about the Queen of Water that might affect him, the low-status Lathyr Tricurrent?

      * * *

      Kiri had stayed at the neighborhood party as long as she could manage. She’d made sure to talk with all her neighbors, and thought she was being accepted by them. Progress. She’d also conversed with some of Rafe Davail’s sparring buddies from the Denver Fencing Lyceum. Again thinking of her ass—and a better paycheck if she was hired on by Eight Corp—she toyed with the idea of taking fencing lessons.

      Now, though, she lay in her sweats on her thin yoga mat, on her living room floor. Her feet were on the cushion of the comfy chair-and-a-half she’d found at a thrift store. New age music drifted around her, sank into her. She loved the tonal progression of this piece, even though it was supposed to balance her chakras. Maybe it did.

      She was decompressing from the party.

      That she didn’t get the job developing Pegasus Valley wasn’t as much of a disappointment as she’d imagined. No sulking there. She could be in on the launch of a new game as a writer! How cool was that? Très, très kewl.

      She’d accomplished what she wanted—she’d met Jenni Weavers Emberdrake. The woman had impressed Kiri; she could only hope that she had done a bit of the same—and with Rafe and Amber Davail, too. She’d liked them, liked being in their company.

      Her muscles relaxed. Her mind floated on the music and she noticed undertones she hadn’t heard before, the slow, quiet beat that sounded heartlike, the crackle of flames.... Kiri turned her head to her empty fireplace—nope, the music was not reality.

      She rolled her neck back, delighting in the easing of knotted tension and shut her eyes. Yes, as a counterpoint to the fire there was the ebb and flow of surf...and the light whistle of wind.

      Nice, very nice. She’d thought she’d known the music, but had never heard this before.

      And in a few breaths sleep claimed her.

      Then, nightmares, glassy and bright, trapped her. She heard a dome thunder down, clamp around a twisted Mystic Circle. She was stuck in the terrible landscape. Like a game world. Or a horrible snow globe.

      Though Jenni’s backyard and the cul-de-sac looked the same, it had