“Perhaps.”
“Sorry?” Yemi flinched.
“You are here by the witch’s magic. You could be anyone.”
Yemi twitched in alarm. If they weren’t convinced she was who she said she was—or perhaps worse, that she was an agent of Ursla’s… well. A prison cell was a type of chamber after all, wasn’t it?
“Does the queen share your skepticism?” Yemi asked as she looked around for signs of imminent danger.
“I am a skeptic for her. The Mer have not seen a Blackgate in the flesh for nearly a hundred years. Arielle’s likeness only exists in our queen’s memory. There’s nothing to even compare her offspring to.”
A lie?Yemi’s jaw clenched. The Mer had been following Ixia’s ships at least since she was a girl. Was it possible Minevra didn’t know?
It dawned on her then that that was how she recognized the one following them. They’d followed her ship into the harbor and waved that day.
“And yet you didn’t seem surprised to see me,” Yemi said quietly, looking for who she assumed now was a friendly face.
Minevra smirked. “I may be surprised when I know for certain who you are.”
It was possible she was being taken to interrogation. They’d done things similarly with prisoners at the height of the war: dragged them through the tunnels beneath the Rock to disorient them, make them dependent on guards and investigators if they ever wanted to see the sun again. More than the pathways now, she noticed the increasing presence of watchful eyes on her. Two mermen seemed to follow at some distance behind them, and still more waited at regular intervals in the corridor ahead. While Horus had been a mammoth of a guard outside, those inside seemed smaller and wirier by comparison.
Better for giving chase in a hallway,Yemi thought grimly.
She silently cursed Ursla for the paranoia she now felt, her openness to every way this could possibly end, and the world of Men for inflating her idea of what the Mer were capable of.
They passed a corridor of concentric, lotus-shaped openings ending in a golden door when Yemi heard the warbling of many voices and came to a halt. It had all the indicators of a grand hall. And no congregations happened in a palace without the royals.
“What’s that way?” Yemi asked innocently, wondering if she could outmaneuver so many at such a close distance. Was what waited on the other side of the lotus door worth breaking into?
“Nothing you need worry about. Your quarters are just this way,” Minevra replied.
Yemi made a split-second decision.
“Unfortunately, I do not have the luxury of time,” she said, flipping backward over the heads of her escorts and using their brief moment of confusion to zoom off toward the lotus door.
“Halt!Halt!” the doorman barked, taking a defensive position in front of the door. Yemi couldn’t stop now, though. She barreled toward him, aiming for a spot beneath his center of gravity, and braced for impact. At a violent speed, she wrapped herself around his waist, and they went crashing together through the door.
The chirps of conversation gave way to panicked shrieks as the gathered assembly darted for the room’s edges. The tackled guard wrestled himself free of her grip and caught her in a chokehold withher arm bent painfully up her back between them. Yemi grunted as she struggled against him, straining to see over his massive forearm. She was thankful in the moment that she didn’t need her nose free to breathe.
The throne room was at once bare and opulent. The queen stretched over a stone chaise centered on a broad, golden wall visually textured like rumpled silk. It shimmered in the sunlight filtered through the millions of intricate honeycomb holes in the other pale blush walls. Plankton and microbeings drifted overhead like ethereal glitter.
Over a dozen pairs of accusing eyes were turned to glare at her. She’d interrupted a symposium of some sort. A sea of merfolk with tattooed heads and an abundance of layered jetsam neck jewelry split to clear her line of sight to the queen.
Queen Helene drifted upright as they entered—jerkily, Yemi noted, as if she were being dragged into doing it. She was thin, almost waiflike, and a sand-brown color with her shark’s fin a mottled tan. Her eyes were large, her lips full and dark. Yemi saw her grandmother reflected in the freckles across her strong nose. Her blue crown of coral antlers mimicked sunrays and sat atop her skull, which was tattooed to look like some oceanic version of pin curls.
She lazily waved a hand to signal Yemi’s release. The guard’s reluctance was evident, but he finally let her go and instead clamped his powerful hands over her shoulders, ready to drag her from the room.
“Forgive me,” Yemi called, directing it to the entire room before focusing on the queen. “I am Yemaya Blackgate, queen of Ixia. We are cousins, albeit distant ones. I’d like an opportunity to speak with you.”
She was trying for charming but had no idea if it was landing.
The crowd’s attentions shifted silently to the queen. Yemi could feel them all daring Helene to grant her nothing more than a swift end. Yemi twitched subtly under the hold of the guard, testing him for weaknesses.
Helene’s arms stretched lazily before her in the gesture of dead saints as she summoned Yemi for an embrace. “Come, little fish,” shecooed in a dozen dark voices that bolstered Yemi’s instinct to flee. “You are no stranger here.”
The hands on Yemi’s shoulders hesitated before being lifted. Judging by the expressions around the room, this had apparently been unexpected. Yemi rose and made her way to the throne at a patient pace, one that spoke of her own royalty. She was strong. She was poised. She was more than her rapid-fire heartbeat or the impulsive battering ram of her first impression.
The queen gestured toward an antechamber along the left side of the room. Before Yemi could touch her, the queen turned away to head to the door now being opened for her. Yemi did not immediately follow. She glanced back at the entrance, past the swarms of frowning onlookers to where Minevra remained watchful with her hands folded in front of her. Yemi hoped she wasn’t the type to hold a grudge.
