XIII. THE RIPPLE

  The Argenti soaked her bare feet in a tide pool as dawn reflected off the Semperimar. The sea was steady as the tide moved calmly ashore. It was beautiful. It was peace. Her fingers brushed over the slimy texture of a sea star. Admrilia ran the back of her hand along its calcified skin.

  “This island stirs thoughts long dormant.”

  Admrilia abruptly stood. “Emperor.” She kissed his knuckles quickly.

  The Conqueror eased himself down to the sand. He had changed from the evening previously and was wearing a light burgundy tunic. “You did not return to the Pontus last night.” No, she hadn’t. The stench of smoke still clung to her hair and nails. The Conqueror looked over, and she did her best not to flinch. “What hangs over you?”

  Admrilia selected her words carefully. “Your demonstration caused reflection, sir.”

  He patted the shore and Admrilia sat back down. “You question me killing him?”

  “No!” He cheeks heated. Admrilia bowed her head. “He was a traitor to our nation. I do not question your choice, nor the matter in which you ended it.” She paused, unable to get the image of Prodomni clawing at his throat as his windpipe was crushed out of her mind. “I’m unsure as to why you burned his body. Without connection to the wyrd, he would have no chance for the Skytops. Was it to insult him?”

  “Ah.” Atesh’s thin lips twisted into an unfamiliar expression. “That filth does not deserve to rest in this holy place. A body is a vessel, Argenti.”

  Admrilia ran her tongue along her teeth, unsure what to say.

  The Conqueror continued. “The wyrd is a spider’s web, connecting the entire continent. When you are a wyrdling, as a child of the gods you can access some of these threads.” He grew quiet for a moment as Admrilia’s fingers trailed along the volcanic surface of the tide pool. “Your wyrd is tied to the Semperimar. I was skeptical of your connection to the Stormlord’s dominance given your mother.”

  Given you’re half Ker.

  Admrilia may have shared the Conqueror’s dark eyes, but that was the resemblance abruptly ended. Admrilia had the course, curly hair of her mother, the stocky build of her father, and skin several shades darker than most Ashenians. Asho looked more like the Conqueror, more Ashenian, than she could ever dream.

  “I hope to put that skepticism to rest, Emperor.” Admrilia inclined her head in deference. “By the end of the Triumph I pray to have proven my aptitude as your successor.”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Her ambition was met with an unimpressed huff. The Conqueror was best as cutting people down by saying nothing at all. “Argenti, I have been blessed with many offspring, but few have taken root.”

  The comment took her by complete surprise. THe Conqueror never discussed his other children, her aunts and uncles and older cousins. All had perished in one way or another in service of the Empire. Her father Hortus, the youngest of the Conqueror’s seven children, was the only one left alive.

  The Conqueror reached beneath his tunic and withdrew the wyrdstone. He turned the star over slowly in his palms. “What I am about to tell you Argenti is only because I have seen firsthand your connection to the Semperimar. There is more our family can do than cast and cleave the wyrd of men.”

  “We can call upon the Semperimar.” Admrilia guessed.

  The Conqueror nodded. “Yes. But I advise you not to test the mercy of our god. This feat cannot be achieved without the presence of the wyrdstone— lest your drain your own lifeblood and perish.”

  Admrilia was struck with the sudden memory of her father bursting through the doors of their villa. Admrilia had been sitting on the floor with her tutor as her father ran to her mother panicked. “Marcus is dead.” Six-year old Admrilia had cried unconsolably. Her uncle had swung her over his shoulders on the beach the day before while Asho had eagerly awaited his turn. Sitting beside the tide pool, Admrilia realized she never learned how her uncle had died. Her eyes slid to the ethereal star, her gut clenching with dark certainty.

  “There is no greater power than summoning storms.”

  “Or stopping them.” She whispered.

  “Yes.” The Conqueror said. “I saved the Pontus by casting my wyrd to the Semperimar. Instead of me cleaving another mortal, like I did with Prodomni last night, the Stormlord latched onto my own wyrd and fed. This is why it is so deadly, Argenti. To call forth the power of the Stormlord you must be prepared to drown.”

  The Conqueror’s dark eyes assessed her. “Soak your feet in the water.” Admrilia did so. He slid over he wyrdstone. Admrilia accepted it gently, her fingers closing around the cold star. Numbness quickly enveloped her fingers and spidered up her arm towards her chest. She clenched her teeth.

  Admrilia strained to hear the Conqueror’s instructions as her body shook. “Feel for your wyrd beneath your sternum, between your heart and lungs. There is the beat of our godhood Argenti. Feel for that beat. Have you found it? Focus on it, hold it steady. Now, reach for the Semperimar.” Admrilia furrowed her brow, not sure exactly how she was supposed to accomplish that. “It is within you. The Semperimar is the salt and sea of your veins. Let it call you home.”

  Admrilia let out a choked breath. She felt her focus shift from her chest to her toes in the tide pool and the water around her ankles. It was as if her consciousness was folding inward on itself until she was the current and undercurrent all at once.

  “Release yourself to the Stormlord.”

  She inhaled—

  Wyrdling.

  Admrilia exhaled. Water, lazy and calm slid up along her calf trailing to her kneecap. Adrmilia’s eyes flashed open, at once she was back within herself. She was sitting on a beach, the sharp rock digging into her hamstrings, her toes burrowed int the volcanic sand. Admrilia abruptly dropped the wyrdstone. Her stomach lurched and she bowled over. She vomited the remaining contents of her stomach. The Conqueror reached into the tide pool and retrieved the wyrdstone. Admrilia wiped the black bile from her mouth and dared to look at the Conqueror’s godlike eyes. They glinted.