Haelo Hunted: The Candeon Heirs, #2

By T.M. Holladay

Haelo Marley is a long way from high school. As a Candeon princess, and the key to the future of her race, Haelo's choices are no longer just about her. After learning that her father is still alive—and may know something about the traitor in Pankyra—Haelo is determined to find him. Hoping to win her affection, Prince Griffin grants Haelo the freedom to leave Pankyra's hidden Mediterranean palace to track down her father, with Dagger as her guard. But Haelo's journey will reveal more than she bargained for—like the truth behind her fated marriage; the motivation of the sociopathic villain Massaude who will stop at nothing to find her; and her true feelings for Dagger, which may run deeper than she wants to admit. With her heart torn in nearly every way, Haelo is faced with an impossible decision: a loveless marriage with Prince Griffin, or her own happiness. As Massaude closes in, Haelo's choice becomes more urgent, more complicated, and more painful than ever before. While others hunt for Haelo, Haelo hunts for answers. Whoever finds what they're looking for first will control the destiny of the Candeon Empire. No pressure.

 

Fans of paranormal suspense, ancient folklore, and slow-burn romance will love this epic, coming-of-age fantasy series about the battle between the things we love, the things we choose, and the things that are chosen for us. Haelo Hunted is the second book in the series. You can find the first book, Hiding Haelo, wherever you buy books. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: T.M. Holladay
• Release date: Nov 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9780997375923

Book preview

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First published by Naniloa Books, 2017.

Second edition print with cover by James T. Egan and new editing published in 2022.

Copyright © 2022 by T.M. Holladay

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

ISBN: 978-0-9973759-2-3

Edited by Jana Miller

Cover design by James T. Egan

Typeset by Naniloa Books

To Nick

For believing in me.

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And to Ellie

One of the bravest girls out there.

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Contents

1. Fire

2. Descending the City

3. Atlantis

4. Can't You Feel It?

5. So Close, So Far

6. If Ifs and Buts Were Candy and Nuts

7. Makole Mo'olelo

8. Daddy Issues

9. Domestic Bliss

10. Filí

11. Forbidden Fruit

12. Float Like a Butterfly, Sting Like a Ray

13. The Eleventh Hour

14. Blood, Sweat, and Tears

15. Bioluminescence

16. The Evergreene Liberty

17. Not A Mermaid

18. Home Sweet Home

19. The War Room

20. Horseshoes and Hand Grenades

21. Enough

Haelo Rising

Science Note and Pronunciations

Thank You

Books by T.M. Holladay

About Author

1

Fire

Y ou believe him, don’t you?

I continued packing. A few sets of clothes, a few utilitarian swimsuits . . .

You actually believe Sam, that your father is alive? Dagger’s questions sounded more like accusations.

I left the enormous dressing room and grabbed a few toiletries from the glamorous en suite bathroom. Shoes. I need shoes. Back in the dressing room rimmed with curtains of silk, chiffon, velvet, satin, and organza dresses, I froze in front of the wall of footwear, most of which were heels. I trust Sam. He’s my friend.

He’s a human.

So what? I reached for a pair of sleek athletic trainers on the bottom row.

"You’re willing to bet that this mysterious Beilstein⁠⁠—who sent Sam and a special ops team to kidnap you, by the⁠ way⁠—is your father, just because Sam, under the threat of imprisonment, says so."

"Save me, not kidnap me. And yes, I’m willing to go find out. I put on the shoes and zipped up my small duffle bag. How are we doing this, Dagger? Helicopter off the island, or are we going through the underwater city?" I needed to get out of this palace.

I think we need to think things through, Haelo. This could be a trap.

"Sam says there’s a traitor working for Massáude here in Pankyra. We could be in a trap right now. Besides, we don’t even know where Beilstein is. We’ll have plenty of time to think things through before we find him. Neo and I are leaving to go find our father; are you coming with us?"

He clenched his jaw. I’m your bodyguard. Of course I’m coming with you.

Good. Helicopter or ocean?

He didn’t move for a moment. Finally, he turned to the back of the closet and rifled through the drawers until he produced a black synthetic item. We’ll go through the city. Put this dive suit on under your clothes. Here. He tossed me another from the drawer. Pack an extra. And this won’t work, he added, picking up my duffle bag. Help me look for a dive pack. 

We both glanced around the room. He winced at the circus of excess before hunting through the shelves and drawers. Maybe in there, he said, closing a drawer full of scarves and pointing to the two doors of a massive cabinet at the far end of the room. It was big enough to be a closet in its own right. I opened the doors and gasped.

Hugging a padded, satin dress form was the most beautiful gown I had ever seen. The silhouette was simple, sexy, and elegant, reminding me of old Hollywood. The bodice was embellished with curving, wrapping rows of tiny sewn pleats, creating a form-fitting, feminine shape. It wrapped below the hips, ending in a perfectly oversized flowing feathered skirt and train. The entire dress was understated gold, almost champagne colored, with clusters of antique crystal, amber, and gold appliqués nestled into the intersections of the bodice wrappings and feathers of the skirt. If ever there was a dress worthy of royalty, this was it. My skin glowed beside it.

Oh my. I didn’t know what else to say. 

Dagger rushed to my side. That . . . is your wedding dress. Galana Cora designed it herself. She mentioned it every time we spoke last year. He looked at it, then to me. He quickly turned back to his hunt for a dive pack. 

I stared at the dress, my mind on the fiancé I didn’t want. I couldn’t marry Prince Griffin now. I wouldn’t. The thought of him still filled me with anger. Would Alcaeus and Cora understand that? Would the emperor and empress of the entire race of ocean-living candeon people let me walk away from over a thousand years of royal tradition? From my royal Galana birthright? No. They wouldn’t. Stupid magical genetics. I’d been told over and over again that the candeon world needed the stability my marriage would bring. Why? For the life of me, I couldn’t remember. But deep in my gut, I knew that though I was fleeing the palace now, someday I’d be back. The inevitable mocked me from behind the literal skirts of fate. 

Got it, Dagger said. He held up a silicone-looking backpack. Everything you want to keep dry goes back here. This front pocket can be opened in the water. He left, shutting the dressing room door behind him. 

I gave the wedding dress one last look before I shut the cabinet doors. Quickly, I unloaded my duffle into the dive pack and stashed the extra dive suit in the front pocket. I looked down to the remaining dive suit now scrunched between my fingers. It was made of thin material: strong and tight, like a mix between a wetsuit and a dance leotard. The legs ended at the lower calves, but the sleeves were cut like a tank top. It had two zippered pockets at the hips and another small one down by the ankle. 

I slid into it, then put my jeans and shirt back on. When I emerged, Dagger was standing guard inside the doorway of my queenly suite. 

At the desk, I reached for my old passport. Dagger stopped me. You won’t need that. I have identification for you. 

Figured. 

I didn’t have any family photos. I didn’t have any letters from Neo or Aaram. I didn’t even have a trinket. There was nothing to link me back to my home, to myself. I stared at Dagger for a moment of calm amidst the adrenaline pumping through my veins. Some week, huh?

He took a step closer. Some week. He studied me, his thoughts a mystery. What if he’s not real, Lo? What if your dad is dead? His voice was quiet, intimate. Someone could be playing Sam and you and everyone else. Can you handle that? Are you prepared for that?

He was right to warn me. I looked to the jade-green statue on a prominent side table⁠—the wedding gift I’d received from the mysterious Beilstein this morning. It was carved into the same design my father, Jade, used to carve into koa wood for us when we were kids: like an elongated, horizontal football with two holes, the whole thing turning in a half-twist similar to an infinity symbol. I’ve gone nine years thinking my father was dead. I can handle it if it comes to that. But . . . who else would have sent that? I pointed to the statue. I believe Sam. If it’s not true, I’ve lived through disappointment before.

He nodded. Neither of us moved for a moment. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.

He was referring to my dad being alive. Despite knowing that, my heart fluttered as I trampled down the thought that maybe⁠—just maybe⁠—Dagger was speaking of our relationship. His eyes never met mine. 

I’ll have Sam released. This doesn’t mean I trust him⁠—⁠he put a hand up⁠⁠—but I’m willing to use him. He reached for his cell phone and walked to the far end of the room. 

While Dagger conversed in Greek, I glanced around the lush suite. The sparkling sapphire and diamond engagement ring from Prince Griffin winked at me from a tray on the credenza. I picked it up and held it in the tips of my fingers, staring into the facets. I resented the beautiful ring. So much. But I couldn’t just walk away. This wasn’t a We’re through! sort of situation. I was marked with a royal birthright, and the entire city of Pankyra knew it. 

I held my breath. Griffin had agreed that I should leave and find my father, at the postponement of our wedding. Though the ring was a reminder of a marriage I wanted nothing to do with, leaving it behind might make Griffin question my shaky promise to return. I couldn’t risk losing my chance at freedom. I glanced at his note of remorse and apology sitting on the credenza tray and tucked the large encrusted diamond into my pocket.

Dagger hung up. He crossed the room and beckoned to the door. We need to get going. Your brother should be packed by now. He hastily took my backpack. 

Wait, I said. The statue.

Dagger jerked his head to the jade carving. 

If we find out who delivered the statue to the palace, we might be able to trace them back to my father. Unless you’ve got a better idea.

It’s worth a shot. He made another quick phone call in Greek, hung up, and strode to the door.

Well?

Information takes time. My intelligence officer is on it. We’ll know soon enough. He put his hand on the door handle but didn’t open it. He looked back at me. If Sam is right and there is a traitor in this palace . . . He ground his jaw. We’re leaving quietly. No goodbyes.

My eyes widened. Yesterday I’d come to Pankyra as a princess. Today I would flee.

Dagger swung open the heavy, ornate door and beckoned me out. A kitchen attendant was just coming down the hall. I recognized her as the one who had dropped off my breakfast tray earlier this morning. She hesitated when she saw us leaving, her smile tight. Miss? She looked back and forth between Dagger and me.

I nodded my leave and walked past her. Her aura twitched with nervous energy.

We approached another intricately carved door on the same floor, just around the corner from my suite. Dagger opened it without knocking. He was Basileus Alcaeus and Galana Cora’s favorite: they treated him like a son, complete with his own suite in the royal family wing. 

Once inside, Dagger hurried about packing essentials, including cash, passports, and the old pink envelope I recognized from his San Diego home into another waterproof backpack. The high walls of the room were covered in art⁠—Dagger’s art. From where I stood, I could see a portion of one of his bathroom walls reflected in a mirror. An angry painting hung in there, with deep reds, blacks, and grays. 

His furnishings were streamlined and modern, set in sleek materials of polished dark wood, buffed steel, and leather. Outside his windows, the massive cave’s bright pattern of faux sunlight burned with its own version of white midday light. I was still in awe of it all. 

We were in a palace. 

On the edge of a hidden city. 

Inside of a massive, magical cave. 

Who would have thought such a place existed beneath an unassuming island in the Aegean Sea?

Dagger removed his suit coat and loosened his tie, heading into his dressing room. Less than a minute later, he returned wearing a long-sleeved grey athletic shirt and jeans that made me blush.

A knock at the door pulled me from my inappropriate reverie. I stretched my frazzled senses beyond the room and felt Rebecca’s aura on the other side of the door. 

Enter, Dagger said.

In her official Krypteia soldier uniform with her brown hair pulled back tight, Rebecca entered and crossed the room with an efficient grace. Your Highness? she said, bowing to me with a question in her eye. Then, with more purpose, she directed her attention to Dagger. Sir, I just overheard the south wing residence attendants whispering gossip. They said you ran with Miss Marley⁠—again, she looked to me⁠—and Prince Griffin to the holding cell in the old dungeons after Miss Marley received a mysterious wedding gift. They seemed quite alarmed. 

Yes. Dagger’s countenance had changed from one of preparation to one of caution. We questioned the human prisoner, Sam Legend. You know how the staff finds drama when there is none. Do you need something, Rebecca?

Rebecca had been Dagger’s fiancée just a few years ago. He was currently her commanding officer. The awkwardness level in the room one-upped itself with each passing second. She squared her athletic shoulders, her darker, bronze skin betraying a slight blush. No, sir. She tipped her head and turned. It was all very professional. I would have bet a thousand dollars she didn’t believe Dagger for a second. Just before she reached the door, she turned back. I can help, you know.

Dagger debated his options while Rebecca waited. Help what? His voice stretched, leading.

I think you need help. And I think it has something to do with the human in the palace dungeon.

Neither Dagger nor I spoke. 

You don’t have to tell me anything, Rebecca said. But if you need something⁠—no questions asked⁠—I’m here, Dagger. 

She was halfway through the door when Dagger finally spoke up. The Fire Room. Rebecca stilled, her back to us. The guards at the Fire Room need to be temporarily reassigned. Personally.

Yes, sir. And she was gone. 

A silent moment passed. Dagger’s phone rang. "Naí?" he answered in Greek. "Póte? . . . Eínai akóma edó? . . . Efcharistó. He hung up. It was a woman from Atlantis who delivered the statue. We’ll start there. He held the door to the hall open. Let’s go get your ring."

I pulled the glittering engagement ring from my pocket, confused by what he meant.

He stilled, eyeing the diamonds he hadn’t realized I’d brought with me. Not that ring. Come with me.

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We descended past rooms and hallways filled with elegant furniture, gilded fixtures, shimmering chandeliers, and rich textiles. At the bottom floor, my brother, Neo, stood waiting beneath a wide archway, his own dive pack slung over his ready shoulders.

Ready? I asked him.

I guess, he answered. It’s not every day you find out your dead dad might not be dead. His hesitant tone didn’t match the joke of his words.

I knew how he felt. Up was down, and down was left, and left was yesterday.

Dagger looked around at the empty hallway beyond the archway. There are supposed to be guards here, he huffed. It seemed pretty lucky to me, but he didn’t look so enthused. His scowl hinted more toward the angry end of things. As the most senior-ranking Krypteia member next to General Stratos, lax security was apparently not something Dagger tolerated. How I ended up with Colonel Dagger Stravins, the commander of Krypteia special forces, as my bodyguard had less to do with luck and more to do with Dagger’s unique⁠—and necessary⁠—talents.

Neo put a hand on my arm. You trust this guy? he whispered to me.

I kept my eyes on Dagger. With my life.

We made our way through the lower north wing of the palace, careful to avoid being seen by others. This is the wing used for empire business. Alcaeus’s and Cora’s offices, the High Court, the Council table . . . Dagger explained as we passed by grand doors and entries, turning down a smaller, darker corridor. As we came around a bend, Dagger held us back with an outstretched hand. He put a finger to his lips. We stayed silent as we heard people leaving a room up ahead. I peeked around the corner and glimpsed Rebecca following behind two guards. Once they were gone, Dagger led the way into the room they had exited. 

The floor, walls, and ceiling were solid stone with no windows. It was as if the room had been cut out from the walls of Pankyra’s cave. With the faint twinkle of granite flecks, the room glistened under the dull lights of dim sconces. At the far end was a dark archway, fenced to its peak with an ancient iron gate, each post embellished with a different primitive symbol.

Dagger approached the gate first, holding his hand palm-up. When his gold ring passed in front of the lock, the gate eased inches apart with a loud, rusty clink. Dagger pushed it all the way open and beckoned us inside. 

Beyond, a short hallway curved in a bend where lights and shadows of vivid flames danced on the stone walls. Four fiery basins flanked the entrance to a sweltering, low-ceilinged room, where the middle of the floor rose upward forming a large, shallow pool of red-hot lava. The fire basins’ flames shot higher when we entered; the lava sloshed. Dagger quickly tossed his gold ring into the hungry red pool. 

Immediately, the basins’ fires quelled down to single floating flames, like four invisible candles were hiding below the humble lights. The lava pool hardened as cracks between the newly blackened patches hissed with steam. In the glow of the four small flames, I could just make out Dagger’s gold ring resting unceremoniously atop the black lava rock, slightly off to the side as if it were an afterthought to the whole process. 

Whoa, Neo murmured under his breath. 

The pool won’t work for intruders, Dagger explained.

And your ring proves you’re not an intruder?

Mine, yes. Only a few of us have earned rings that powerful.

Dagger took his ring back, walking confidently around the solid pool to the back, where garlands of gold medallions draped in swoops across the low ceiling. I followed, staring at the silver-dollar-sized medallions stamped with individual crests, crammed together hanging from hooks on gold chains. On one side of each medallion was a unique imprint of a candeon scale mosaic: our own form of a fingerprint.

Haelo, Dagger called, waiting for me to join him in the back. You too, Neo.

Even though the lava had cooled to a solid state, the heat emanating from the blackened, gritty rock felt dangerous as we tip-toed around to the flickering lights of the shiny medallions. Dagger stood behind the garlands, flicking through them as he briefly read something on the back of each one. 

You two sift through that strand. Look for your grandfather, he said without slowing his own search. 

I had to duck underneath some of them. Neo and I began the tedious search for Aaram Leonidas Gevgenis from among the hundreds of names stamped on the backs of the golden discs. 

Got it, Neo said, a hint of regret at his own enthusiasm. He was still suspicious of the unknown. 

Dagger nodded. Good. Hang on to it. Dagger left his garland, turning to the back, where some medallions hung from hooks in the wall in a sort of pyramid shape. He pointed to the two medallions at the top: These are Basileus Alcaeus and Galana Cora. Then to the four on the row beneath: And these are the rest of the royal family: Princess Hyacinth, Prince Griffin, Princess Penelope . . . and you. The medallions for Penelope and me were blank, with no mosaic etched into the surface. Dagger lifted Griffin’s and mine from their hooks. The nine on the bottom row are those needed the most for communication. There’s General Stratos; President Gregory Spector of the Council; Talos Tolomeo, Pankyra’s city manager; Alcaeus’ secretary . . . He trailed off, looking for one in particular. After grabbing the second medallion on the bottom row, he ducked under the golden garlands, headed back to the lava pool. I walked behind him, feeling claustrophobic, wishing for not the first time that I wasn’t so tall. 

Here, Dagger said as he placed the blank medallion in my palm. He was careful not to touch his fingers to mine.

I turned it over to the back side, where, in uneven typeset, Miriam Anhaela LaReym, my given name, was engraved as if a shaky hand had individually stamped each letter. 

Dagger took Aaram’s medallion from Neo and then stood beside me. We’re lucky⁠—your medallion has already been prepared. We don’t have to put in a request. Turning back to Neo, he said, I’m sorry. There’s no medallion in your name. If you decide to get a ring, you’ll have to wait. A request to the royal goldsmith takes a few days.

Dagger, I said, scowling. What ring?

Remember the message I sent to Alcaeus? 

I did. During our trek from San Diego to Athens, a ball of fire had erupted from the large gold ring on Dagger’s finger and hurtled through the Alaskan bay.

"That was my pola ring. It’s time to give you yours." He escorted me to the base of the lava rock pool with his hand on the small of my back. He didn’t release it at the pool’s edge. 

Haelo, he said solemnly, first you have to earn your ring. And you have to earn each person that your ring can message. Most candeons only get one recipient at a time. It’s painful. Not only that, but it takes a massive amount of energy. He opened his free hand, showing me four medallions. He must have pulled the extra one from a garland. Griffin, Aaram, me, and Hank. You have to prove to the pool that you have enough of a connection with the aura of the recipient for the magic to work. Prove it, and then earn it.

My fiancé, my grandfather, my bodyguard, and my bodyguard’s giant second-in-command.

Dagger interrupted. "Remember, this doesn’t mean that whomever you choose is the most important. It just means the possibility of absolutely secure pola communication with them is an option. There’re still secure cell phones and email. I would suggest starting with one. The first one is always the hardest; you have to forge the ring and your medallion’s mosaic. I glanced over Dagger’s shoulder as Neo squinted, trying to follow along. You can decide afterwards if you feel up to trying for another recipient. Later, when we get back to Pankyra, you can add more people to your ring."

I looked again at the names on the medallions in his hands. I’ll take the ones that your ring doesn’t work with. Then we have more possibilities, I reasoned.

I’ve earned all of these. We need to prepare for the unlikely possibility that you and I might get separated. If we do, who do you need to communicate with?

I spoke before he finished his question. You.

He nodded in agreement. Start with me. You know me well enough that proving our connection should be easier. He swallowed. Think of me⁠—my aura. It will help if you can visualize a moment when you felt close to me. His eyes squinted slightly. After, if you’re up for it, we’ll try for another. He tossed the medallion with his mosaic onto the dried lava. The medallions go in the pit.

I stared into the black rock, watching the medallion flicker with the reflections of the four flames on the far wall. The side with Dagger’s real name was facing up and the glints from the fire highlighted the fact that his name had been scratched out. I could see where Ridion used to be, followed by an indiscernible surname. They really did take their identity and privacy seriously. 

Dagger, or Ridion, released his hand from my back. Now yours. 

Neo came forward. Lo, you sure this is a good idea?

I didn’t answer him. I gently tossed my medallion⁠—Miriam Anhaela LaReym on one side and a shiny, blank surface on the other⁠—into the hardened pool.

That’s it?

He shook his head. With a hiss, the lava rock beneath our medallions glowed red as it melted, taking the golden discs below the surface.

Whenever you’re ready, Dagger said. I expected him to step back, but he stayed close by my side. Use your senses. Let the pool feel your aura. Let it see our connection. He blushed, but didn’t turn away.

I still didn’t quite understand how this whole process was supposed to work. The volcanic stone rim of the pool was just below my knees as I stepped to the edge. I looked Dagger dead in the eyes. 

I’m right here. Always right here, Dagger said, his voice barely above a whisper. Ever so slightly, he winced. 

Behind him, Neo nodded in support.

Here I go. I slowly exhaled, trying to relax. 

The bare skin above my V-neck collar grew hot; the heat emanating from the pool was intense. It was as if the walls of the room pulsated in toward me, closer and closer. I could feel the air around me condensing inward. Then the suffocating turned into something much worse. Each intense jerk of a pulse hit me with evermore searing pain. Dagger’s encouragement kept me upright. 

Let it see our connection, Dagger’s voice echoed in my head. I thought back to the night we’d shared beneath the Northern Lights, watching the colors dance across the sky. I’d never felt so close to him as I did on that ice shelf. I didn’t have to have him in the room to recall his aura; I could feel it with every memory of him. The memories dulled the heated pain radiating throughout my limbs and chest. 

Seconds, or maybe minutes, passed. Eventually, the scorching became overshadowed by the deep pain squeezing the muscles of my lower back. Right where my mosaic lay, every muscle, tendon, bone, sinew, nerve, and blood vessel was on fire. Not the hot, piercing kind of fire; the deep, relentless kind. The kind just painful enough to keep you aware. My body pleaded for the pain that would make me black out. Think of Dagger, think of Dagger, think of Dagger. The faster I proved my connection with him, the sooner this pain might end.

I could feel each molecule of energy taken from my body, like energy was evaporating, draining, dripping, reaching out. I thought I’d collapse, but somehow I stood firm, like one of the marble statues on display in the white mansion sitting atop Pankyra’s island. Be done, I thought somewhere between the relentless, impacting waves of heat and pain. 

Like the startling snap of the toy rubber domes from a grocery gumball machine, the searing pain enveloping my aura popped. Gone. I knew acutely that the fire had been quenched, but was this emptiness final? Was I gone? Fainted? Dead? 

There was nothing.

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"Lo? Lo?" Neo called from far in the back of my consciousness. It must have been a memory. There were no sounds, no feelings, no thoughts.

First came a sense of time. I could feel seconds passing, almost as if I was imagining the tick of an old clock. It wasn’t much, but I clung to the thought of time passing, knowing it was something within a world of nothing. 

Next, my sense of smell. Something roasted with a hot, metallic bite. I was alive, and I was somewhere.

A cool breeze on my face awoke my sense of feeling. Though my eyeballs were as dry as they’d ever been, my brows, lids, and lashes were moist with sweat. I slowly opened my eyes, hoping to see anything but red fire. 

Dagger’s face was inches from mine. By some miracle I was still standing. He held me, one hand grasping my shoulder, the other cradling my neck. He was bent over trying to assess me, his gray eyes flashing back and forth between mine. Finally focusing beyond Dagger’s hyper-observant face, I noticed Neo standing behind him, holding his breath and twitching with anxiety. 

I need you to relax, Haelo. You’re too tense. Dagger’s anxious tone clashed horribly with his intentions. 

Relax? I couldn’t feel a thing. How was I supposed to relax more than that? I watched Dagger’s chest go in and out with each of his breaths. Eventually, I felt my own. Then suddenly, like it was nothing more than the Pop! of my ears, reality hit me. I staggered one step backward. My arms and legs felt like noodles. My neck ached. Though my back was sore, it didn’t feel any worse than sleeping funny. Where was the searing pain in my mosaic? In my aura? In exuberant relief, I scoffed a laugh. 

"What!? Lo! You had me scared to death! You looked like a freaking zombie!" Neo was not taking my relief as well as Dagger, who was smiling ear to ear. 

Your reaction was quite different than I expected, Miss Marley. Dagger grinned. Funny girl.

Funny girl? What were you expecting? My dry throat cracked my voice.

He stepped up, ducking under the low ceiling to take the few steps across the blackened rock pool to where a shiny gold ring lay next to two perfectly intact medallions. The surface underneath the trinkets steamed with no sign of the red lava. He pulled a shirt from his dive pack to protect his hand as he picked them up. Even with the cloth, he shifted the hot gold back and forth between his hands, careful not to let his fingers burn. 

He blew gently on the ring then tapped it to check its temperature. Here. Put it on.

I hesitated.

It’s not hot anymore.

But it wasn’t the gold’s heat that bothered me. I took the ring and held it out in front of me. Something kept me from sliding it onto my finger. 

Or just keep it protected, Dagger said. With a second thought, he added, And accessible. He fanned his medallion before placing it back on the second nail of the bottom row of the pyramid of important medallions.

The pola ring reflected the flames in the room like a mirror. Its crest was etched with my own mosaic. My excitement clashed with my nerves. 

I didn’t want to wear it. It branded me to an empire I wasn’t ready to belong to.

The thought surprised me. I looked down at myself, thinking of where to put my newly forged ring. The safest and most accessible place was down the front of my dive suit, but I figured that was a mixed signal I didn’t want to send. I made a mental note to find a necklace chain for it and tucked it into my pocket alongside Griffin’s engagement ring. Dagger watched me knowingly. 

You’ll show me how to actually send and receive messages, right? I asked.

He nodded. Receiving’s easy, but you won’t be getting any pola messages unless someone else has earned the right with their ring.

So I can message you, but you can’t message me.

Not yet. Do I have your permission to earn that right?

Of course.

Okay then, Dagger said with a small smile. He stepped back, lifted his medallion from the nail in the wall, and placed both his and my medallions back on the surface of the cooled pool. He stood at the edge.

I stepped back to watch. 

Neo came up behind me. This is some trippy stuff, Lo.

I have a feeling things are only gonna get weirder.

He tilted his head to get a good look at me and scowled. Way to jinx it.

The pool hissed, taking the medallions beneath. Dagger closed his eyes; his hands fisted. The only sound was that of the steaming pool and churning lava beneath its surface. The room didn’t pulse like it had with me. Maybe only the person earning pola privileges felt it? After a minute or two, Dagger’s shoulders began to flex and tighten. A line of sweat dripped down his neck, another on his forearm. 

What was he thinking about? He had to prove to the pool that he knew me well enough to earn messaging rights with me. What memory would he choose? How would our connection feel to him? 

With a loud exhale, he stepped back. The pool crackled back into its hard form, leaving two perfect medallions on the surface. Dagger’s breathing had quickened, and his face glistened with sweat, but he seemed none the worse for wear. He didn’t black out. 

He took a moment to rest, then grabbed the scorching medallions from the black rock. He put his back, then turned to me, folding his arms. I knew what he wanted to know. 

I can do it again. I pushed back my shoulders in surety. The act reminded me of the toll the ring forging took on my body. I still ached. And I was so tired.  

Are you absolutely certain? Dagger asked. I couldn’t tell if he was proud of me or skeptical.

Yes.

He gathered the three medallions he’d left on a ledge in the back and held out his hand. The stamped names read Aaram Leonidas Gevgenis, Griffin Alexander Paramonos, and a third that had been scratched out just like Dagger’s. I hesitated. Aaram, Griffin, Hank. I knew I only had the energy for one more. 

Neo stepped closer, a hesitant grin on his face. Lo, you’re literally playing with fire and takin’ names.

I laughed. Hard. I couldn’t help it.

Dagger’s outstretched hand sobered me up quickly. I read the medallions again. Hank would be the most helpful in emergencies, though trying to remember his aura would be difficult. Aaram was my grandfather, guardian, conscience, and a wise sage in his own right, and of the three, he was far and away the one I had the strongest connection with. And then there was Griffin. Technically speaking, shouldn’t my fiancé be in the running? Fiancé. Husband. If Fate won out, I would one day have Prince Griffin for a husband. The word was no longer a romantic one.

Dagger fiddled with the medallions while I debated my options. The fact was, more than anything, I needed time.

Griffin. 

I’d said it on purpose, and still my chest tightened with shock. If I communicated with Griffin at a distance, if I kept him at the tips of my fingers, he might not pull me back. I was buying myself more time. Despite what little choice I had in the matter, Griffin had asked me to return. And I’d promised I would. Eventually. In the mean time, this might be my chance to warm him up to the idea of breaking a thousand years of tradition. A girl could hope, right?

Dagger paused. Something in his aura had changed. I couldn’t tell if it was anger . . . or sadness. Without looking up at me, he held out the golden disc etched with Griffin’s full name and mosaic. 

How could I explain my choice to Dagger? Did I even need