Emily and Dorian looked at each other with wide eyes. With Emily fully painted and wielding the Stoneshell once more, there was no sense in causing more of a scene then they absolutely needed to. They silently agreed that it would be better not to give the eyes and ears of everyone in the inn any reason to focus on them.
"Room's already over-paid for," Dorian said. "Let's make a discrete exit." After hastily retrieving the Shard of True Reflection, he knelt by the open window, hands cupped to give Emily a boost.
Moments later, Emily's bare soles hit the grimy cobblestones. She already missed her sandals. Dorian swiftly followed, dropping lightly from the windowsill. They now stood outside the hotel, in a narrow alleyway. The sun had gone down, but the sound of festivities continued, though somewhat fainter than they had been.
"We should be able to keep a low profile if we travel in the opposite direction from the parade," Dorian said.
"Back to the city gates?" Emily asked.
Dorian frowned. "The gates will be closed for the night. There's no getting out that way until morning."
"I should have made a fire back at camp," Emily said. "Then we could just teleport back." A teleportation fire was usually the first part of any camp they set up.
"There's another way out of the city," Dorian said. "If you don't mind getting wet." He pointed down the alley. "There's a canal that runs under the north wall. It's not pleasant, but it will get us outside."
"At least I won't have to deal with waterlogged clothes," Emily said, shrugging. "Though I did like that dress."
They sprinted through a labyrinth of dark, deserted alleyways, the shouts of the inn's proprietor soon becoming inaudible.
"Are you sure you know where we're going?" Emily asked, becoming increasingly disoriented.
"Roughly," Dorian replied. "I'm trying to take a route that won't have the whole of Lirethel staring at you."
"Noted."
As they rounded a corner, a scene of violence stopped them short. In a small, dead-end courtyard lit by a single flickering lantern, a wealthy-looking merchant was pinned against a wall by three burly thugs. One held a knife to his throat while the others rifled through his satchel.
"Give us the rest, little man, and we won't slit your throat," the leader snarled.
Emily didn't even hesitate. She thrust a hand forward, and a searing, white-hot fireball streaked across the courtyard and exploded against the stone wall an inch from the lead thug's head. The stone glowed cherry-red from the impact, and the man yelped, leaping back, smoke rising from his unkempt hair.
The thugs spun around, their eyes wide. They clearly weren't expecting to encounter a naked, rune-covered firemage.
"Drop the coins and the knife," Dorian said icily. "She won't miss next time."
One of the thugs, recovering his nerve, decided to test his luck. He let out a yell and charged, brandishing a heavy club. At the same time, the one with the knife lunged not at Emily, but at the merchant, intending to finish the job.
A pile of rags against the wall burst into flame, and Emily teleported to it. She caught the knife-wielding thug's arm, and he howled in pain as his sleeve caught fire. The knife clattered to the cobblestone floor.
Almost simultaneously, Dorian side-stepped the charging thug with the club, putting a foot out to trip him. He wrested the club from the thug's hand and flung it into the fire.
The third thug, seeing his companions so effortlessly neutralized, dropped the satchel and fled into the darkness. They shouted curses after him, but quickly followed his example, the first thug still batting at the fire on his sleeve. Emily sent a fireball after them for good measure.
"Th-thank you," the merchant stammered, scrambling to gather his scattered belongings. "By the Founders, thank you!"
"Don't mention it," Emily said, crossing her arms over her chest.
The merchant's eyes suddenly lit up with terror. "You're... you're the Painted Lady!" He held his satchel out, legs quivering with fear. "Please, take it! Just spare me!"
Emily cast a confused look at Dorian. "What? I... I don't want your money. And I'm certainly not going to hurt you!"
"R-really?" the merchant stammered, lowering his satchel slowly, as if expecting a trick. "We just saved your life," said Dorian, his tone firm but reassuring.
The merchant blinked, glancing between them, his breathing still ragged. He took a cautious step back, but then paused. "I... I suppose you did," he said, his voice steadying a bit. "You could have let those brutes finish me off, or worse. Forgive me. I jumped to conclusions, based on those posters." He bowed deeply, though his hands still trembled slightly.
"Posters?" asked Emily.
"Y-yes, the, uh, wanted posters," the merchant continued, straightening up but keeping his distance. "They just started going up a few days ago. A powerful house is offering quite the reward for your capture—if you're the real Painted Lady, of course. But I don't suppose other ladies would be running around naked, tossing fireballs about." He chuckled nervously.
Emily bit her lip and hugged her arms tighter to her body. "I wouldn't either, if I had a choice."
"Where did you see this poster?" asked Dorian.
The merchant relaxed slightly. "I have one right here, as a matter of fact," he said, digging in his satchel. He produced a roll of brown parchment, which unfurled into a portrait of Emily, Azure Essence, Stoneshell, and breasts prominently featured.
"Wanted for crimes against magic," it read, "Painted Lady. Goes by Emily. Reward: One thousand gold. Present alive and with all artifacts at Odonata House, Lord's Quarter, Lirethel."
"Odonata," Emily mouthed. She looked at Dorian, and a cold chill ran through both of them. Elara was here, in Lirethel.
The merchant cleared his throat awkwardly. "Um, this may sound like a strange request," the merchant began, "but I was wondering if you could maybe, uh, sign it for me?" He produced an inkpot and quill and held them out to Emily, grinning sheepishly.
Emily chuckled. "Sure, why not?" She had infinitely more pressing concerns now, but how many girls from Greenville had ever signed their own wanted poster? Though she would have preferred if the artist hadn't felt the need to paint below the Stoneshell.
Once they had seen the merchant safely out of the alleyway, Dorian and Emily stood and looked at each other. They were both breathing heavily, their veins still spiked with adrenaline from the fight. "That was a rush," Emily said.
"We should get to the canal before we run into anyone else. I don't feel like dealing with bounty hunters tonight," Dorian said.
"Because of the posters?"
Dorian nodded gravely. "I put you in danger tonight. I'm sorry about that."
Emily touched his hand. "Don't be."
Two left and one right turns later, they reached the canal's edge, though they smelled it before they saw it. The water was dark and fast-moving.
"Ready?" Dorian asked, a grim set to his mouth.
Emily eyed the water nervously, but nodded, touching the Stoneshell. "I should be asking you that. Stay close, Dorian." Pressing her fingers to her nose, she hopped into the water, landing with a quiet splash.
The shock of it stole Emily's breath, but a moment later, the Stoneshell's magic activated. The suffocating pressure vanished, and she drew a lungful of water as if it were air.
Dorian soon joined her, having kicked off his shoes and removed his tunic. He gave her a thumbs up, holding his breath. She took his hand and pulled him under.
The world beneath Lirethel was a silent, murky maze. The canal flowed through ancient, moss-covered tunnels, the only light coming from faint glimmers filtering through grates high above. Emily swam with powerful, confident strokes, towing Dorian along. He was a capable swimmer, but his time underwater was limited. She focused on speed, her only thought to get them to the other side of the wall before his air ran out.
As they rounded a bend in the main channel that ran beneath the city wall, a strange, powerful light bloomed in the darkness ahead. Not diffuse moonlight, but a moving procession of small, underwater lanterns.
Emily slowed, pulling Dorian behind a thick stone support pillar. She peered around the edge. A regal procession of merfolk approached, their powerful tails churned the water. They were clad in pearls and precious metals, and each held a trident. At their head, a crown of gold and blue jewels resting on his golden hair, was a merman who made her heart stop.
Caelum.
He looked every inch the king. Gone was the exiled knight; in his place swam a ruler, confident and powerful.
He hadn't seen them yet. They could stay hidden, let the procession pass. But Dorian was running out of time. His chest was starting to heave, his grip on her hand tightening. They had to surface.
Squeezing Dorian's hand, Emily kicked powerfully upwards, towards the water's surface.
They rose through the murky water, breaking the surface in a small, enclosed grotto where the canal exited the city wall. Dorian gasped, greedily sucking in the damp night air, clinging to the stone edge of the tunnel.
"Was that...?" he began to ask, once he had recovered enough air to speak.
"Caelum," Emily said solemnly. "I didn't expect to see him again."
Dorian gave her an undecipherable look and then started to swim for shore. "I'll... give you a moment," he said, grabbing at a handful of reeds on the riverbank.
Emily started to say something, but the words didn't come. Instead, she nodded to Dorian and then dove back down.
The merfolk had seen them surface—Caelum's guard leveled their tridents at her, their faces hard and suspicious. But with a raised hand, Caelum motioned for them to stand down. His eyes locked onto Emily, and his face lit up with a triumphant, brilliant smile. "Emily!" he cried out, his voice rich and deep with affection. "How glorious to lay eyes on you once more! And how resplendent you look, shorn of those peasant rags."
"Caelum," she breathed.
Caelum kicked his tail and brought himself before her, his guards forming a respectful semicircle around them.
"You have succeeded," Emily said. It was not a question.
"The Kingdom of Nauticus pledged its banners to my cause," Caelum confirmed, his voice ringing with newfound authority. "Queen Nera's support turned the tide. Trilato's forces scattered. Aquius is free, and the great houses of Mer are united under a single banner for the first time in generations." His blue eyes shone with pride. "I have done as I vowed. I have proven myself."
He held out his hand. "I have traveled for many days and nights along these narrow waterways, venturing far from the open ocean, so that I might spread the good news to those who walk above the water, that I might forge powerful alliances between land and sea, just as Thurseus Irontail did before me. This day, I exchanged promises of support with Queen Fiora, outside her Lirethel residence. I had not dared to hope that I would meet a second queen."
Emily blushed, averting her gaze, allowing his hand to hang between them in the water.
"Our paths were fated to cross once more," Caelum continued, gesturing wildly in his excitement. "The legends are being reborn, Emily. A new age has dawned for the Mer, united once more by the name Irontail."
At this, he took her hand, pulling her towards him so that their faces nearly touched. "And at my side, as my queen, the heir of Evangeline will ensure peace between land and sea for a thousand years."
His proposal was sincere. Here was the King of Sea, offering her a kingdom and a crown, a grander life than she had ever dreamed of, one that seemed almost destined. But he knew not of the Nightmoss.
He hardly knew of Emily, truly, of the girl from another world who had just tried to help her friends and find a way home, who was now trying her best not to destroy the whole world. He saw her as the Stoneshell Bearer, a living symbol he needed to complete his own legend as the resurrection of Thurseus Irontail. He needed an Evangeline.
She glanced up at the surface of the water, where she knew Dorian was waiting patiently by the side of the canal.
She looked into Caelum's deep blue eyes, brimming with hope, and at the crown on his head. With a deep sigh, she found her answer.
"Caelum," she began, her voice quavering, but then growing firm. "You are one of the bravest men I have ever met, and you have done great things. For me and your people. Know that I am forever in your debt for introducing me to Zephyr's research, and for rescuing me from King Trilato."
Caelum beamed, proudly puffing out his chest.
"I believe you will be a good and wise king," Emily continued. "And the people of Mer will flourish under your rule." She imagined the life of a Queen of Mer. A luxurious life, at home in the coral spires of Aquius, constant attendance by servants, attending galas and royal events, below and above the sea. And standing by Caelum's side, letting him carry her through the waters, feeling his strong embrace. Yes, it would be quite a life.
Caelum's smile widened, and he looked deep into her eyes, so deep she almost felt that he could see into her very soul. Almost.
"But I... I'm afraid I can't be your queen," she said softly.
The smile vanished. Confusion, then hurt, clouded his features. "But... the legend! Our destiny... Was it not prophesied?"
"That's just it, Caelum," Emily said, her lower lip trembling. "It's Evangeline's legend, her destiny. Not mine. Indeed, I wear her necklace, but I am not her. And you are not Thurseus Irontail. You deserve a queen who chooses you for who you are, not for the part she has to play in an ancient story."
The truth of her words seemed to land, painful but undeniable. He looked at the Stoneshell on her chest, then back at her face, and for the first time, perhaps, he saw the distinction between the two.
"I don't know if I believe in destiny, really," Emily continued. "Things are different in Thessolan, but perhaps not so different."
Caelum was silent for a long time. For a moment, Emily thought he might yell or lash out in anger. But he acted like the king he was, straightening up and putting on an expression of resigned sadness.
"I see," he said, his voice clear. "I thank you for your honesty, Emily Stoneshell Bearer." He gave her a slow, formal bow from the waist. "May the currents of your destiny carry you to a safe harbor."
"I'm glad you understand," Emily said. In a move that was probably a breach of royal etiquette, she placed a hand against his neck and kissed him softly on the cheek. "Rule well, King Caelum."
A smile twitched on his lips, and then Caelum turned to his guards. "We are done here. We return to the sea."
Without another look back, King Caelum of Mer swam ahead, his retinue following in silent unison. Emily watched until they had disappeared into the distance. She breathed out a deep sigh, wondering for a moment at the bubbles escaping her mouth. There was a great release of tension across her whole body, but also a kind of sadness. Her decision was the right one, she hoped.
Above the surface, she spied Dorian sitting on the shore, twirling a thistle between his fingers. "What's news?" he asked, his tone carefully neutral as he offered her a hand.
Emily took his hand and scrambled up the bank. "He's King of the Mer now," she said quietly. "Was in the city to meet Queen Fiora."
Dorian made a low whistle. "And he offered you the other half of the throne."
Emily nodded, looking towards the woods. "He did."
"But you're here."
"I am." She squeezed his hand.
"So you said no?"
Emily nodded again. "He wasn't asking me. He was asking the Stoneshell Bearer. He wanted an Evangeline to his Thurseus Irontail." She let out a breath.
Dorian caressed the back of Emily's hand with his thumb. "They made me chief of a halfling village once, you know."
Emily giggled. "Don't be jealous now. Let's get back to camp. Talyndra and Aria are probably worried."
Dorian nodded, and the two headed towards the woods. Emily had not released his hand.