Out of Water

Chapter Seventeen

Ares had decided.

Almost.

He'd almost decided what he was going to do.

He rushed towards the courtyard as soon as the moon was high enough in the sky that he could reasonably assume the palace's occupants would be fast asleep in their beds.

In his hands, he clutched his chalkboard, the message he'd spent all evening working on etched carefully across its black expanse.

Lilaea would know what to do. Lilaea would help him. But first, he needed to explain.

Her eyes were trained on the colonnades he entered though, as if she had been waiting for him. Although if she had, she didn't betray it in her expression as he approached. She only watched him, her eyes burning like hot coals.

While there was precious little water for the merfolk to survive in, the tanks themselves were impossibly tall. Instead of sealing them at the top, Lance had correctly judged that two metres of wall above the water's surface would be enough to keep the merfolk from escaping.

He held up the sign when he was stood in front of the tank. I'm sorry. It said. I didn't mean for all this to happen. I just wanted to live on land. I didn't realise my actions could bring harm to so many others. But I'm going to get you out.

These past few weeks on land had been everything he'd ever dreamed of. He was thankful for them; they were easily better than a lifetime trapped below the waves. To have never had this time under the sun would have been to never live at all. The pain was worth it, even the loss of his voice was worth it. He loved Erica, but this was about so much more than her - about more than his guilt and his shame and his desire for acceptance. He'd wanted this life above the waves for as long as he'd been alive, and he never would have been happy if he hadn't been able to live it.

Lilaea rose to the surface, holding her head above the water with some difficulty, thanks to the chains that bound her. Watching her sent a stab of pain and guilt through Ares's heart. Lance may have been the one who trapped her, but Ares had still had a hand in bringing her here by daring to believe that he could ever belong on the shore. "There is a way," she croaked, unused to using her voice in the open air. "You could still live. You could keep the legs you love."

Ares's eyes widened, speaking for him.

"I went to Proteus," Lilaea continued. She fell below the surface again, contorting her body so that she could reach her hair with her hands. From her teal and blue curls she pulled a long pin which sparkled in the moonlight. Once she was back above the water she called to Ares: "Take this needle and plunge it into the heart of the princess, deep enough to cease its beating. Then spill three drops of her life's blood into the ocean as an offering to the old man of the sea."

Ares was already shaking his head, the violence unthinkable. He would never - could never - harm Erica. To even think about taking Proteus's needle and piercing her heart... It made his stomach heave.

"But she doesn't love you!" Lilaea cried, eyes wide with panic and confusion; she had been certain he would receive her gift with thanks. "Why should she matter?"

Ares shook his head again, wishing he had the words to explain. It was Erica's choice who she loved; he had no right to demand it of her, had no right to hurt her for denying it. He was not the monster Lance had claimed he was the previous afternoon.

"But I love you, little brother! Is that not enough? Will you not stay alive for me? For our people? For who will warn us of the wily ways of these humans if you do not live? Who will help our race survive if you do not? We need you."