These Gilded Seas

Chapter Nine: Deals with Dark Gods

"That's too much!"

My voice carries through the cave as I back away from Zula. My magic snaps back to life, overpowering his for the merest second. The purple haze in the room shimmers, nearly fades. Shock shows on his face, but it melts away fast. I don't know how I broke through his safeguards, and I certainly don't know if I can do it again. But his magic's back in place. My warmth dissipated half a second after his grip on me returned.

"What you're asking me to do will require a lot of magic, even for a powerful warlock like me. Of course, I want to ensure I won't waste my energy on a doomed project."

He swims back to the boy to retrieve his glass and takes a long drink.

"But I can't give you my position. Papa won't allow it."

Zula looks around the room. "Odd. I don't see the king here. Is he invisible?" He laughs at my dark scowl. "I tease, niece, but seriously, the fact that you're standing in front of me reveals you care very little about what he allows you to do."

"But it's not possible."

"Trust me: anything's possible if you want it enough," he says with a shrug. "Plus, he won't even know. He'll be dead by the time you're called to succeed him."

The nonchalant way he says it makes me shiver. I've never thought about my father's death; I don't want to. Death's inevitable for everyone, even the king, as holy as he is, but... He's my papa. I don't want to think of a single day where he's not in my life.

Still. This is our future. I don't have a choice.

And Zula did say if I fail.

All I have to do is make sure I succeed in killing the prince. Surely I can do that much.

I nod, determination filling my chest like warm summer sunlight. "Fine. I'll agree to your price, but I'm setting the time frame."

He takes another drink, smiling around the edge of the glass. "You and I truly are related, aren't we?" he teases. "That's a fair bargain. How fast can you work?"

"A month," I say. "That'll give me enough time to gain his trust and get close to him."

"A bit long-term for my taste, but it'll do I guess. Boy!" The little merman jerks upright, eyes wide in fear. "Leave. Now!"

The color drains off his face, and he mutters a quick yelp of "yes, master" as he zips out.

Once we're alone, Zula begins to swim around the room fetching materials. He gathers them all in the center of the room: a large black cauldron, logs of white driftwood, jars of greenery and miniscule creatures suspended in sludge, and liquids of all different colors and consistencies. The eels circle the growing pile, sparking menacingly. I stand stock still, too afraid to disturb him.

Eventually, Zula returns to the center of the room and looks over the motley assortment.

"Just one more thing," he says, eyes snapping to me. I jump. "Your arm. You recently injured it, right?"

I glance down at my hurried wrapping. The bandage is partially untied, but the flow of blood seems to have stopped. All that's left is a light pink spot marring the white fabric.

"Um, yeah. I scraped it."

"Unwrap it," Zula commands. He swims around the pile towards me. In his hand is a small vial.

My nose wrinkles. "Why?"

"Unless you want me to do the traditional knife-drawn-across-the-palm maneuver, just do what I say. I need a bit of your flesh and blood."