Currents Converged: The Isla Emerged Series

By Deidre Sequeira

Peril. War. Power.

 

Isla has been queen for five years, but time has not made ruling any easier. It also hasn't erased the guilt she feels over her part in the pain her people suffered. But as queen, she has more important things to worry about than her feelings and some gruesome flashbacks. She must atone for her sins and help the merfolk of the Southern Pacific heal from the wounds her mistakes left behind.

 

Unfortunately, achieving that will be harder than she ever imagined. Theo, a prince from a faraway kingdom, arrives with a harrowing warning that a new tyrant has emerged and old enemies have risen from the grave—and they're working together to terrorize the mer world. Now, Isla must gather her friends, rally her army, and battle her own demons in order to protect her people and put an end to her enemies before it's too late.

 

War is coming. The survival of the seas rests on Isla's shoulders.

 

And victory is the only option she has.

 

Currents Converged is the final book in the Isla Emerged Trilogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Deidre Sequeira
• Release date: Apr 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201131210

Deidre Sequeira

Deidre Sequeira is resident of and teacher in San Antonio, TX. She enjoys reading, karaoke, and late night dinners and coffee at Jim's diners. She has her B.A. in English with a Concentration in Teaching Certification and is a great proponent of education, especially of the arts and humanities. 

Book preview

Prologue

The sea was red. A dark, horrible red that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Blood floated in wisps everywhere he looked, growing thicker and less transparent every minute as it continued to seep from the bodies scattered through the city. The scent burned its way up his nostrils, causing a sickening nausea that threatened to double him over.

Worse, still, was the sound. The dead, empty silence that echoed across the water would follow him for the rest of his days. He knew he needed to move—to get as far away as possible—for the sharks would arrive soon. They’d be no match for the temptation the sickly smell would create for them. It didn't matter that they were usually careful to avoid the populated city. It didn't matter that they were usually forced to steer clear of the merfolk that inhabited it by the guards patrolling the borders. There were no more guards to chase them from their prospective meals now. They were all dead. Everyone was.

Well, all but one. The merchild in his arms, no older than twelve years, was the sole survivor he’d found as he scoured the city. He frowned at the gash on the boy’s arm; it was deep and jagged, and the blood loss was no doubt the reason he was unconscious. He’d found the boy trapped under a demolished home, his groan of pain the only sound of life for miles. He’d rushed to help, pulling debris away and sending lighter bits of driftwood floating to the surface. Before long, any bodies that the sharks didn't devour would do the same, turning to seafoam and ascending to their final resting place.

He cursed himself for the boy’s wounds and for the horrors that surrounded them. He'd been too late. He hadn’t discovered the terrible scheme in time, and no speed he reached was fast enough to warn them, much less to save them. His muscles ached from the swim he’d just made, twitching as he held the boy close to his chest, and his heart ached as he drifted slowly over the wreckage. He'd arrived long after the rival army had abandoned this place, after they'd destroyed all life that had existed and raided the homes for riches that didn't belong to them.

The Atlantic Kingdom and its people were proud. He doubted that even one had bowed their heads and surrendered themselves to the king's demands. His eyes burned as he surveyed the destruction, the floating red. No. These people would not have gone quietly. They would have fought for their kingdom, their freedom. And from what he could see, it was clear they had fought to their deaths.

He sniffled, looking down at the child in his arms, so innocent and small compared to the horrors of this world. He couldn’t stand the thought that this was the world the boy would grow up in. Something had to be done.

Thankfully, the golden colors of the boy's clothing signified his relationship to an ambassador of the Southern Pacific, just the place he had to go next. And he needed to hurry.

The soldiers were on their way back home, now, no doubt cheering over their spoils and their victory, readying themselves for the battle to come. But he couldn't let this happen again. He'd take advantage of the time they'd spend resting and preparing themselves for travel and war. The king and his allies would need a few months to solidify their power over this blood-drenched empire. In that time, he’d be busy working to ensure they would never get the chance to spread their poison anywhere else.

Turning from the ruins of the once mighty kingdom, he took a steadying breath. His lungs filtered out water and salt through his skin and gave him the oxygen that soothed his burning muscles—albeit just barely—and cleared the headache that had begun to form. He pushed away with his tailfin, bubbles trailing behind him, tinged pink with the blood of the fallen mermen, -maids, and -children. His next and final hope was to reach the Southern Pacific before it was too late. He couldn't allow them to fall, too. If they did, there would be no chance for the rest of their world. Their entire way of life, their species itself, now depended on how quickly he could get the word out about the dangers on the horizon.

The queen across the world had no idea what was coming for her. But if anyone could help, if anyone could stop the power-hungry monster in the last-standing kingdom of the East, it was her. The warrior queen, the one who'd destroyed monsters before, while exiled and wearing their own skin, for that matter.

If she couldn't put an end to the evils now spreading across the seas, no one could.

And they'd all be doomed.

1

Liquid splashed against her face, turning the blood splattered there a watery pink. Baron’s eyes burned with hate, even as he frantically tried to cough up the water she’d forced into his lungs. But though she met his angry gaze, she couldn’t focus on its fire. Her true attention was on the man lying at her feet: her father. Blood still seeped from his wound, soaking her boots in vicious red. A gurgling sound escaped Baron’s throat, and his anger morphed into fear. His hands slickened as they clutched his throat, the water she was creating to drown him spurting from his mouth and sloughing down his neck.

Drowning was a horrible way to die. One’s lungs filled to bursting with water, and the body and organs seared from the inside out as they were deprived of oxygen. She knew Baron was in excruciating pain. It wasn’t enough. As royal blood inched across the tile floor, she knew it would never be enough.

A loud bark of laughter yanked Isla from her most recent flashback, and she felt as though she was snapped back into her own body like a rubber band. Pain spread through her skin and bones as she leaned against the windowsill in her towered bedroom and stared down at the merfolk setting up in the palace courtyard below. Preparations were well underway for the celebration that would start within less than twenty-four hours. Five years had come and gone since the defeat of The Order. Isla’s kingdom had taken to celebrating the anniversary in the form of a festival, complete with a parade. The first year, they’d surprised Isla with it. She’d smiled and nodded and thanked her merpeople at all the right times. No one had realized that behind her friendly smile and gasps of pleased surprise, she was fighting the urge to sob and empty her stomach.

Guilt ate away at her at all times, but that day, it was unlike anything she’d ever known. She felt sick at seeing the kingdom throw a celebration in honor of her saving them. It was as if they’d completely forgotten that she’d been the one who put them in danger in the first place. She’d betrayed everyone who had ever depended on her, who’d ever believed in her. It was her fault that their city had been found. That their secrets were revealed and their freedom was stolen from them. That their beloved king, her father, had died. How could they think to celebrate her? How could they even look at her? She definitely couldn’t stand herself.

But every year, the festival went on. Merpeople danced with one other and ate together and gave in to the carefree laughter Isla hadn’t managed in years. Little mergirls and -boys swam through the streets, letting their giggles ring through the kingdom, feeling safe in her care. The worst part was when her advisors made her ride on a platform carried through the streets by guards who volunteered to parade her around the city.

She hated it.

A frown tugged harshly at her lips while she watched the merpeople set up booths and decorations in the courtyard. At a booth near the palace gates, braided seaweed and shell crowns swayed from their place on a taut string due to the movement of the water around them. They were gifts for the merchildren that would arrive tomorrow.

The festivities would stretch all through town, but the palace grounds were the hub of the activity. Everyone wanted to make sure they got their chance to mingle with their queen—their savior—far more than what her small parade through the city streets allowed.

Bile burned up her throat.

It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate their love. Their forgiveness. She was simply all too aware that she deserved exactly none of it. She wouldn’t blame any of them for holding a grudge; she actually expected it. Even her own mind held grudges against her, plaguing her days and nights with painful flashbacks and flinch-inducing images. But never had anyone shown her any unkindness or anger. In fact, they all seemed to handle her with kid gloves, treating her softly and lovingly, as if she were worthy of such gentleness. She wasn’t.

She pulled away from the window, wiping a hand down her face in frustration. Many times, she’d contemplated canceling the festivities. The only thing that really kept her from doing so was that the mermaids that had been captured seemed so… excited every year. They danced and laughed and cried together—even Maryn. The festival was therapeutic for them, and she’d never take that away. She’d never allow anyone to take anything from them ever again. So, the celebration would continue until the people decided it was no longer needed.

That didn’t mean she had to like it.

Isla left her room, not wanting to endure more of the festival than was necessary. But there were other images she couldn’t escape, no matter where she went. Her mind was overwhelmed by the flashes that appeared there of the state the mermaids were in when they’d rescued them from The Order. Of her soldiers on the ground. Kaya’s wounds. Her father’s blood. She pushed the memories away as she swam down the hallway, searching desperately for a distraction. She released a relieved breath when she found one.

You’re not going. Alistair’s voice traveled down the long hallway, reaching Isla’s ears as she shot forward to meet her friends.

Excuse me? Isla winced at Maryn’s incredulous tone. You can’t stop me from going.

Wanna bet? Oh, boy, Isla thought. You’re in for it, now.

Isla popped up beside them, startling Alistair. Hey, guys, she said, breathing heavily from the exertion she’d put forth to get to them so quickly. What’s going on? Her eyes flicked back and forth between her friends. Alistair had on his General’s attire, a robust and menacing set of armor that adorned his chest and cuffs that rounded his wrists. His dagger was sheathed at his side and twin broadswords were strapped to his back. He looked like a force to be reckoned with. Still, in whatever argument was happening between him and Maryn, Isla was certain the one to come out on top would be the petite blonde wearing only a soft, flowy, white top and a string of pearls.

Maryn huffed, crossing her arms and setting her glare firmly on her husband. I told him I’m going with you to the island tonight, and he’s throwing a fit.

Oh. Isla cocked her head. She was surprised that she’d nearly forgotten about it. With all her worry over the festival, her visit to Isla De Los Salvadores had found its way to the back of her mind, but she welcomed the further distraction it would provide. She’d invited Maryn the other night and had been shocked when she actually agreed. Isla had extended the invitation many times in the past five years, but Maryn had never taken her up on it. I mean, there’s nothing t—

"Throwing a fit? Alistair hissed. Are you kidding me? I’m not ‘throwing a fit;’ I’m trying to protect you!"

From what?! The Order? They’re gone, Alistair. Gone. Maryn put a hand to her chest, over her heart. There’s nothing you need to protect me from. And in any case, I can take care of myself. Plus, Isla will be there the whole time. We’ll be fine.

That’s not the point, Mare! Alistair waved his hand upward, gesturing to the general direction of the island in question. You experienced something horrible on that island. A great trauma. Isla wished she hadn’t stumbled upon the two after all. Hearing his words made her queasy again. I’m trying to make sure you don’t have to relive it. His hand dropped to his side as his voice bit out, sounding as if he thought she was clueless. The merman was certainly readying his body for the float to his final resting place as sea foam.

Maryn let out a frustrated growl. It sounded odd coming from her throat, which usually only produced gentle sounds and kind words. "You’re right; I did. But Alistair, that trauma is mine!" Her voice bounced off the walls and stunned Alistair and Isla into complete silence. Isla couldn’t think of a time where she’d ever heard Maryn raise her voice, much less straight up yell at anyone. "I choose how and when to address and deal with it. She aggressively pointed her thumb to her chest as her ire mounted. Not you. Not Isla. Not anyone else. Me!" Isla and Alistair blinked, glancing at one another, unsure of how to proceed. Maryn’s chest was heaving with her breaths as she tried to calm herself.

Alistair opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The warrior was at a complete loss for words.

Look, Alistair, Maryn sighed, closing her eyes. She suddenly looked so tired. Isla cast her eyes down to her fins, guilt weighing on her. She realized, then, how hard it must have been for Mare to decide to go to the surface after all she’d gone through there. It was a testament to her progress after her ordeal. It was probably doubly difficult, though, to tell her husband about it. Isla had never met anyone as protective as Alistair; this conversation was never going to go well. No wonder Maryn had waited until the day they were meant to go. Otherwise, they’d have been arguing for days. I’m never going to fully heal from this if I don’t face that island. You know that I still have nightmares about it. Maryn shot an apologetic glance to Isla after her words, which only made the queen feel worse. I need to make new memories there, better ones. Otherwise, it will haunt me forever.

It seemed Alistair had gotten over his surprise at her outburst because he crossed his arms, ready to argue all over again. Isla needed to stop the situation before it blew up.

Why doesn’t Alistair come with us? Alistair’s breath left him in a gust as his words died. Maryn’s eyes widened. Both gaped at Isla. What? She said, folding her arms across her chest to ward off their judgement. You want to go. He wants to make sure you’re safe. It’s a win-win. She shrugged, relaxing her posture the more confident she became with her plan. Plus, the girls and I would love to have you both.

Mare and Alistair locked eyes, communicating silently in their gross couple way. Isla had to suppress the grimace her face wanted to contort into. Finally, the two seemed to come to some silent agreement, both looking to Isla and answering with a curt, Fine.

Fine, she parroted. Cool. Then it’s settled. No more fighting. It’s gonna be a great night. Alistair’s eyes narrowed at the gleam in her gaze. She knew he could read the mischief from a mile away.

What? He drawled, flicking his eyes to his wife.

Isla’s lips spread in an evil grin that Maryn matched, making him even more worried. It’s Mask and Movies night.

2

Kaya was waiting on the shore when the three of them popped their heads up from the water. Holy smokes! She grinned at Maryn and Alistair, who she hadn’t seen in years. What are you guys doing here? Maryn smiled shyly at the woman, eyeing her black ripped denim shorts and sandstone colored oversized sweater.

Hey, Kaya. I invited Maryn, and Alistair decided to, uh, she glanced his way, smiling at his quirked brow, tag along. The three of them moved to the shallows, and she instructed them to sit on the sand and watch as she transformed. I’m not gonna lie: It’ll feel a little weird. Like there’s a really tight… covering or something around your fin. Only, when you look down, there will be legs there. She shrugged. The couple glanced at each other, nervous, and Alistair reached for Maryn’s hand comfortingly.

Maryn nodded and turned to Isla. Let’s see it.

Isla watched her friend's face for any sign that this was too much, but although nervousness was present, Isla could also see eager anticipation. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she nodded. She closed her eyes, relaxing into the sand as water lapped against her arms. With a deep inhale, she felt her power shimmy its way from her heart and into her veins, reaching every part of her. Her exhale kickstarted the change, beginning with her fin first. An irritating tingle prickled just underneath her scales as her fin stretched and split. The scales seemed to shimmer as they disappeared, replaced by skin a deep tawny brown and the shadows of taut muscles.

Conscious that she wanted to avoid flashing her friends an unnecessary view of her new anatomy, she immediately covered her new body with a pair of soft cotton pajama shorts and changed her wrap top to a simple white t-shirt, her go-to for these nights of self-care and comfort. It took practically no effort to keep the water around her from soaking the clothing as she finished her transformation, altering her body’s need for water and salt so that she would be able to function outside of the sea. Satisfied, she stood, finally letting the water touch her skin again. It licked up her thighs as she opened her eyes and looked to her friends, worried about their reaction.

Maryn’s eyes were wide and her mouth hung open in a small o. Alistair watched Isla with an inscrutable expression. Their eyes met, both remembering the last time he’d seen her in this form. What had happened. What they’d done. Who’d caused it all.

Isla lowered her gaze, digging her toes into the sand as she awaited his judgement.

Well, his voice cut through the sound of the wind churning the sea. What are you waiting for? Change me next. Isla’s eyes snapped to his, and an understanding slid into place as they stared. He’d forgiven her, too. It broke her heart, but she nodded.

Maryn blushed beside him, no doubt at his blatant move to protect her by testing out the transformation process first.

Okay, Isla said, her confidence wavering in the face of this challenge. She’d never performed the transformation on anyone else. Close your eyes. His grey orbs watched her for a second more before he offered her his full trust, cracking her heart into even more splinters. She didn’t deserve him. She reached out, placing her hand on his shoulder, grounding herself there and drawing from his quiet strength.

Power flowed from her and into him, and he grunted as it invaded his body and senses. His blue scales shimmered beneath the water, and she averted her eyes as his fin changed into a pair of strong legs. Another pair of male legs flashed in her mind, clothed in soaking wet material and holding up a boy with a shy smile and a penchant for betrayal who haunted her to this day.

Clearing her throat, she quickly produced his own pair of pajama pants made of a soft, plaid cotton material. A black shirt covered his bare torso as his lungs and skin finished their alterations. When she was done, she squeezed his shoulder. His eyes popped open, and he let her help him up. She kept the water from his clothes, not letting it touch the fabric. The two friends eyed his new legs as he struggled to balance, his own grip on her tightening as he adjusted to holding up his weight. Tension hung heavy in the night air.

Cue Kaya’s never-failing ability to clear it. Thank you for putting a shirt on him. It was horribly distracting. She winked at Maryn, who laughed and shook her head.

Trust me, the blonde quipped, I know exactly what you mean.

Isla stretched her lips in a quick smile, pretending like she wasn’t waiting on pins and needles for Alistair to demand she reverse the change and drag Maryn back to the palace.

You were right about the tightness, was what he said instead. It’s not… painful, but there is a certain discomfort about it. He grinned at her, reassuring her with every word.

A real smile graced her features, and she squeezed his hand. You get used to it after a while.

With a nod, Alistair turned to Maryn. Are you ready, my love?

Maryn’s face lit up as she nodded, ready to take this next step to overcoming her own darkness. Absolutely. Isla wished she had her friend’s strength. It amazed her more and more every day.

Oh, oh! Put her in a cute nightie! Kaya called out, wiggling her eyebrows at Isla. Alistair glanced at her, brows furrowed. Chuckling, she held a hand up to him. Trust me. You’ll thank me for it later.

Isla laughed and rolled her eyes. I’m not putting her in lingerie, Kaya.

The woman sighed audibly and pushed out her lips in a fake pout, crossing her arms. Maryn let out another snicker at her antics, and Isla knew they’d be fast friends. She held her hand out to her friend, who gripped her fingers fiercely and closed her eyes.

Isla let the power flow once more through her and into her friend, using her own skin as a conduit for the transformation. Maryn gasped quietly as her fin became two toned legs, the fingers of her free hand tenderly tracing over the contours of them. Isla covered her bare skin in shorts that matched her own. Only, she smiled as she changed Maryn’s flowy top into a soft pink silk, spaghetti strap top, black lace lining the slight v-neckline. The front portion of the bottom of the top was tucked into her black shorts, making the outfit look effortlessly sexy while maintaining the comfort this night sought.

Isla squeezed Mare’s hand. Come on, Mare. She helped her up, Alistair coming to Maryn’s side to help her as she gained her footing. His cheeks were slightly pink as he took in his wife’s form. Maryn opened her eyes and smiled down at her clothes.

Ooo, she cooed on a laugh. Kaya let out a quiet whistle, drawing a round of laughter from the group.

Let’s get inside, Isla prompted, taking hold of Maryn and Alistair’s hands and leading them to the small house situated near the treeline. I’m so excited for you to meet Anita, Mare.

Mare grinned at Alistair, whose face was blank. His eyes darted around the beach, always wary. Isla knew it was entirely warranted, but she hoped he'd be able to relax a bit over the course of the evening and actually have some fun. She could hardly think of anyone who deserved that more.

Kaya skipped ahead in front of them in her youthful exuberance. One would never know she was in her thirties already. She acted younger than Isla and carried her heart on her sleeve in a way that Isla's own experiences had driven out of her. Kaya hopped up the stairs, opening the door for them with a smile.

Welcome to our humble abode, guys. Mare and Alistair shyly stepped inside, their eyes touching over every detail—Mare with awe, Alistair with careful scrutiny. It brought back memories of the first time Isla had entered the house. Every day she was with Kaya and Anita, she'd found something else to admire about their home: the soft comfort of the throw blankets, the various plants Anita tended to around the house, the feel of the rug in her old bedroom against her bare feet, the clink of their glassware as they washed dishes. All of it was a cacophony of new sights, sounds, and sensations that blew her away. Over time, those things still brought her comfort, but she knew that Alistair and Maryn would be experiencing them through new eyes, and she was excited for them.

Isla heard the sound of Anita's humming as she meandered in the kitchen, waiting for her guest—er, guests. Despite the two surprises, Isla knew Anita would welcome them with tender warmth, like Kaya did. Just with far less sass.

Anita! She called with cheer. While her mind was weighed down with her sins and the images that plagued her thoughts, her heart lightened with every step closer she got to the elderly woman.

"In here, mija! Isla smiled as she rounded the corner into the kitchen, finding Anita at the stove, warming up a brown, foamy concoction in a pot. I'm making your favorite: chocolaté con queso! She turned with a smile, and her eyes rounded as she took in the two extra people crowding her kitchen doorway. Oh! Alistair and Maryn! Isla hid her grin at Alistair's obvious surprise over her remembering their names. Anita stopped stirring the hot chocolate and turned to the couple, pulling them into her arms. I'm so happy to see you both."

Alistair blushed in his boyish way, earning a cheeky aww from Kaya as Maryn melted into Anita's embrace. Isla knew just how she felt. Nothing compared to Anita's hugs. Whenever she received one, it felt as though Anita was a conduit for all of her parents' love and support.

When the older woman released her friends, she turned her attention to Isla, placing her aged hands on the queen’s cheeks. How are you, Isla? Anita’s eyes bore into her as she conducted her inspection of Isla’s face. This, surprisingly, was when Isla had to have her guard up the strongest. It was almost… easier to hide her true stress level from the friends who had known her all her life than it was to hide them from Anita. She had to have a wall up around her heart and mind that was impervious, but it was becoming tougher as time went on.

Forcing a placating grin on her face and an eye roll meant to say Anita was being silly, she said, I’m doing fine. All is well under the sea.

Speaking of which, Kaya commented as she headed out the doorway, you’re going to love tonight’s movie. I honestly can’t believe I haven’t shown it to you yet. She winked and disappeared down the hallway, probably to go change into her pajamas.

Anita didn’t laugh at Kaya’s cheekiness. Her eyes still had their heavy gaze on Isla, trying, as she always did, to get past her shield. Clearing her throat, Isla tried to push the attention away from her.

So, what mask are we trying tonight? She looked at the ingredients lined up on the counter, obviously not a part of the recipe for Anita’s cheesy hot chocolate.

Oh! Anita looked down at them with a shrug. I’m not entirely sure. Kaya just got back from the store before she headed out to meet you. She bought the ingredients for it. They stared at the package of plain yogurt, a plastic bear filled with honey, and a small container of yellow powder.

Isla picked it up, turning it to read the label.

It's turmeric powder, Kaya called as she stepped into the kitchen, her oversized t-shirt and grey sweatpants making her look much different from the rest of their pajama party. She never liked to wear her real pajamas on these nights, not wanting any of their masks to stain them. It's a spice made from a plant. Today's mask is going to help with skin texture and tone. To help you underwater babies after exposure to the sun. She looked to Alistair and Maryn. You guys may have actually needed this mask if you'd come here before. Strangers.

Isla rolled her eyes and reached for the cabinets as Anita turned back to her chocolate mixture, stirring and crushing the dissolving chocolate tablets with a molinillo. Isla pulled out a large mixing bowl. Okay, Miss Skincare Expert. You make the mask, she pushed all the supplies to Kaya and set her bowl on the counter where they'd been, and I'll make the popcorn.

Maryn and Alistair were silent and stiff against the wall until Kaya ushered them into seats at the kitchen table. Anita pulled them into easy conversation as Kaya and Isla worked, asking them about their days under the sea, how married life was going.

Any plans for children? She queried.

"Ay, Tía, Kaya laughed when Alistair choked. So nosy."

"What? It's an