The sea shimmered in hues of violet and turquoise as shafts of sunlight pierced the surface, casting dancing mosaics on the coral floor of the arena. The water was warm today, as though the ocean itself had a pulse, a rhythm that mirrored her own heartbeat.
Princess Nerida sliced through the water like a blade. Her tail, a glistening fusion of sapphire and emerald, flashed in wide arcs as she spun, twirled, and struck against her opponent with practiced force. Her trident clanged against his in a clash that echoed through the coliseum. Spectators nobles, guards, and scholars watched from the coral bleachers, their eyes trained on the heir to the Coral Throne.
Sweat or was it seawater?beaded across her brow. Her breath came fast, though she hid it well. With a final twist, she disarmed her opponent, sending his trident spiraling to the sandy floor. She leveled her own weapon at his chest.
"Yield," she commanded.
Her opponent, Rykor, a tall warrior from the Eastern Shoals, raised his hands and bowed. "Yielded, Your Highness."
Applause rippled through the arena, but Nerida didn't bask in it. She lowered her trident, eyes already scanning the perimeter. Always alert. Always calculating.
"Enough!" barked Captain Vaelos, slamming the butt of his own weapon against the arena floor. The impact sent a brief shimmer through the water.
Nerida floated in place, panting lightly, her long obsidian hair swirling around her like a halo of ink. Her opponent bowed again. She offered him a respectful nod but didn't look away from Vaelos.
"You overextended on the last strike," Vaelos said, swimming closer. His armor, forged from obsidian and barnacled iron, creaked with age and wisdom. "Had Rykor been quicker, you'd be bleeding from the gills."
"I'd rather bleed than lose," Nerida replied, flicking her hair over her shoulder. Her voice was sharp, but not unkind. "There's no honor in being gentle when the enemy will show none."
A few chuckles rippled through the gathered nobles, though none dared laugh too loud in the presence of the crown princess.
"Still a warrior," Vaelos murmured, half to himself. "Not yet a queen."
"I heard that," Nerida said with a smirk. She turned away and began swimming upward. The training arena opened to the outer courts, revealing the high towers of the palace carved from living coral and adorned with glowing pearls. Shoals of silverfish darted between columns. The scent of seafoam and salt mingled with kelp incense drifting from the temple spires.
Beyond it all, past the outer reef, shimmered the ocean's edge. The surface.
Forbidden. Enchanting. Dangerous.
Her heart ached with a longing she couldn't name. Not yet.
"Your Highness," a soft voice broke through her reverie. Nerida turned to find Sela, her handmaid, holding a golden conch shell that vibrated faintly with magic.
"The Queen requests your presence in the Hall of Echoes," Sela said.
Nerida's stomach tightened. A summons from her mother was rarely casual. She nodded once and handed her trident to a waiting squire.
Sela followed her as they moved through the palace corridors. The architecture was grand and ancient, with arches grown from coral centuries old. The walls pulsed with gentle bioluminescence, illuminating carved murals that told the story of the merfolk from the Great Drowning to the founding of the Coral Throne.
"Do you think she knows?" Nerida asked quietly.
Sela blinked. "Knows what, Your Highness?"
"That I've been to the surface."
Sela paled, her fins flickering nervously. "I… I couldn't say. But if she does, you'd best prepare yourself."
The Hall of Echoes loomed ahead, its double doors etched with the names of every ruler since the beginning. Two royal guards stepped aside. Nerida entered alone.
The Hall was cavernous, its walls lined with singing shells that hummed softly with the voices of past monarchs. Queen Thalassa sat on a throne made from the skeleton of a leviathan, crowned in living coral that pulsed with slow light.
She was tall, regal, with piercing sea-glass eyes and silver strands woven through her midnight-blue hair. Her presence commanded stillness.
"Daughter," she said, her voice as cool as the northern currents. "You are of age now. The time has come to speak of duty. Of alliance. Of the crown."
Nerida straightened her spine, though her pulse quickened.
"Yes, Mother."
"You will be bonded to Prince Orin of the Northern Shoals during the next full moon tide."
The words struck like a spear through her chest.
"I beg your pardon?" Nerida said, her voice barely a whisper.
"There is no pardon. Only tradition."
Nerida floated forward. "But I do not love him. I barely know him."
Queen Thalassa's eyes narrowed. "Love?" The word was almost spat. "A queen marries for the realm, not for herself. Love is a weakness. One you must unlearn."
"So I am to be bartered like a pearl?"
"You are to be crowned," Thalassa said, rising. Her height and presence were formidable. "With Orin beside you, we strengthen our ties. We protect our borders. We preserve peace."
"Peace built on chains is not peace," Nerida murmured, but loud enough to be heard.
The Queen's eyes flickered with something fury, perhaps, or fear. But it was gone in a blink.
"This discussion is over. Prepare yourself. The betrothal will be announced at the Moonlight Ceremony."
Nerida turned sharply and left, her fins cutting the water behind her like daggers. She didn't speak as she passed the guards, didn't stop for Sela, didn't pause until she reached her private sanctum a grotto hidden behind a curtain of seaweed.
There, she allowed herself a single scream. Muffled by water, but raw and real.
She touched the pendant around her neck a shard of sea glass from the surface. The first thing she ever found above. The first secret she ever kept.
Her reflection shimmered in the polished pearl mirror across the chamber. She didn't look like a princess. Not now. Not with fire in her eyes.
She would not be silent. She would not be sold.
The sea was vast. The rules were many. But so were the currents.
And somewhere, far above the waves, the storm was gathering.
She didn't know his name yet. But the ocean was already singing of him.
And nothing would ever be the same.