Salty Incubus

The Kingdom of Thalassara glittered beneath the ocean.

Pearl towers rose from the seabed, their pale surfaces reflecting the soft blue light of enchanted crystals. Schools of tiny, luminous fish swam between the palace pillars, while translucent jellyfish drifted lazily through the grand windows. Beyond the royal gardens, coral forests stretched into the distant waters like a colourful dream.

It was beautiful.

It was also, in Mael Cordelia’s opinion, an exceptionally inconvenient place to be summoned for a family meeting.

“Prince Mael, your parents are waiting.”

Mael looked up from the book resting in his lap. A servant stood by the entrance to his private sitting room, her hands neatly folded before her.

“Are they?” he asked pleasantly.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“How unfortunate.”

The servant blinked.

Mael offered her a perfectly polite smile before closing his book.

He was twenty-one years old, heir to the royal family of Thalassara, and the proud owner of an unfortunate reputation for being difficult to understand. He was friendly enough when approached, courteous when required, and perfectly capable of charming an entire ballroom if he felt inclined.

Unfortunately, he rarely felt inclined.

Mael preferred quiet rooms, uninterrupted afternoons and the freedom to decide how he spent his time. Royal obligations tended to interfere with all three.

And judging by the seriousness of the royal summons, his afternoon was about to become considerably worse.

He followed the servant through the palace corridors, his long silver-blue hair drifting gently behind him in the water. Delicate fins framed his ears, and shimmering scales caught the light along his neck. His formal blue robes were embroidered with silver thread and decorated with pearls from the royal treasury.

He looked every inch a prince.

He felt rather like a prisoner wearing expensive clothing.

When he entered the royal council chamber, his parents were waiting beside a long table decorated with seashells and crystal flowers.

His mother, Queen Nerissa, sat with an elegant smile. His father, King Thalor, stood beside a large enchanted map displaying the four lands of Shardiana.

Velmoria. Thalassara. Floravelle. Tsukimori.

Mael glanced at the map.

Then at his parents.

Then back at the map.

“Which kingdom have we offended?”

His father raised an eyebrow. “Why do you assume we have offended anyone?”

“Because Mother has invited me to a formal meeting, Father is standing beside a diplomatic map, and neither of you has mentioned lunch.”

Queen Nerissa laughed softly.

“Come and sit down, darling.”

Mael obeyed, although his expression suggested he was preparing for the worst.

King Thalor folded his hands behind his back.

“There is an important matter concerning the future of Thalassara.”

“Should I be worried?”

“That depends on your opinion of marriage.”

Mael went very still.

A moment passed.

Then another.

“I see,” he said.

His mother reached across the table and gently touched his hand.

“Your father and I have been discussing a possible alliance with Velmoria. Their noble houses have long maintained close ties with our kingdom, and the royal court believes that a marriage between our families would strengthen those relations.”

Mael stared at her.

“Marriage.”

“Yes, darling.”

“Mine?”

“Unless your father has been keeping a rather extraordinary secret from me, yes.”

He closed his eyes.

Wonderful.

Absolutely wonderful.

He had expected political negotiations, perhaps an uncomfortable diplomatic dinner or a few weeks of ceremonial appearances.

He had not expected to be informed that his future spouse had apparently been selected without his involvement.

“Who?” he asked at last.

Queen Nerissa exchanged a glance with her husband.

“Gremory Sinclaire,” she replied. “Grand Duchess of Velmoria.”

Mael opened his eyes.

He knew the name. Almost everyone in Shardiana’s upper circles did.

Gremory Sinclaire was known for her intelligence, sharp observations and remarkable ability to navigate complicated political situations. She was also a succubus, a member of one of Velmoria’s most prominent noble families.

Mael had heard that she was clever.

He had also heard that she could be rather outspoken.

Neither piece of information was particularly reassuring.

“Does she know?” he asked.

“Her family has agreed to the proposal,” said King Thalor. “Gremory herself has been informed.”

“And does she want this?”

His father paused.

“The marriage has been arranged with the interests of both kingdoms in mind.”

That was not an answer.

Mael’s fingers tightened around the edge of the table.

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

His mother watched him carefully.

“We do not expect you to fall in love immediately, Mael. We expect you to give the arrangement a fair chance.”

He looked away.

He understood duty. He understood that being a prince meant sacrificing certain freedoms for the sake of his people.

But the thought of marrying a stranger, sharing his home with someone he did not know and having his every emotion scrutinised by the royal court made something uncomfortable twist inside his chest.

He did not want a spouse who loved him because he was a prince.

He did not want someone who treated him like a political prize.

And he certainly did not want to spend the rest of his life pretending that everything was fine.

“Very well,” he said eventually.

Queen Nerissa looked relieved.

“You agree?”

“I agree to meet her.”

“Mael—”

“I haven’t agreed to anything beyond that, Father.”

King Thalor studied him before nodding.

“That is fair.”

The meeting ended shortly afterwards.

Mael returned to his private chambers, dismissed his attendants and stood before the enormous windows overlooking the ocean.

Somewhere beyond the water, in a kingdom of rose gardens and gilded palaces, lived a woman who was supposed to become his wife.

He wondered what she looked like.

Whether she enjoyed quiet afternoons.

Whether she would respect his need for privacy.

Whether she would expect him to smile constantly, attend endless celebrations and behave like the perfect prince.

Most importantly, he wondered whether she would even like him.

Mael sighed and rested his forehead against the cool glass.

“This is going to be dreadful.”

A tiny silver fish swam past his window.

He watched it disappear into the blue.

“At least someone is having a pleasant day.”

Far away in Velmoria, Gremory Sinclaire was having a rather different reaction to her own betrothal announcement.

She was laughing.

Not because she was particularly delighted by the situation, but because her aunt had spent the better part of an hour describing the proposed marriage as though it were the most romantic development in the history of their noble family.

“A prince!” her aunt exclaimed. “A royal prince, Gremory!”

“How observant of you.”

“A prince of Thalassara!”

“I gathered that from the first seventeen mentions.”

Her aunt gave her a disapproving look.

Gremory smiled sweetly.

She sat in a rose-coloured drawing room, surrounded by velvet furniture, gilded mirrors and vases filled with enchanted flowers. Afternoon sunlight poured through the tall windows, illuminating her rose-pink hair and the delicate horns curving from her head.

At twenty-five, Gremory was accustomed to being discussed as a political asset.

As a grand duchess of Velmoria, she had spent years attending court functions, negotiating with noble families and listening to powerful people explain what was best for everyone else.

She had learned to smile when necessary.

She had also learned to ask inconvenient questions.

“Have you read anything about him?” she asked.

“Prince Mael Cordelia is well regarded at court.”

“That tells me absolutely nothing about his personality.”

“He is a prince.”

“That tells me even less.”

Her aunt sighed.

Gremory leaned back against the sofa, tapping one finger against her chin.

An arranged marriage was not necessarily a terrible thing. She knew several couples whose relationships had begun with political agreements and developed into genuine affection.

Still, she had no intention of marrying someone she could not speak honestly with.

She wanted a partner, not a decorative prince to accompany her to royal balls.

“Does he know about me?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“And has he agreed?”

“He has agreed to meet you.”

Gremory considered that.

At least he had not immediately refused.

Perhaps he was sensible.

Perhaps he was cautious.

Perhaps he was already planning his escape.

The last possibility amused her.

“Well,” she said, rising from the sofa, “I suppose I should meet the poor man before deciding whether to pity him.”

“Gremory!”

“What? He might be perfectly lovely.”

She paused at the doorway and glanced back.

“Or he might be insufferable. Either way, I would prefer to discover that for myself.”

Later that evening, Gremory stood on a balcony overlooking Velmoria’s magnificent rose gardens.

The palace glowed with golden light. Enchanted butterflies fluttered between the flowers, and distant music drifted from a ballroom where the nobility had gathered for another evening of celebration.

She rested her hands on the railing.

Somewhere across the ocean, Prince Mael Cordelia was probably wondering the same things she was.

Would they get along?

Would he respect her independence?

Would he speak to her as an equal?

Gremory smiled to herself.

“Well, Prince Mael,” she murmured, looking towards the distant horizon. “Let’s see what sort of trouble we’re going to cause together.”

Neither of them knew it yet, but their carefully arranged marriage was about to become considerably more complicated than either royal family had anticipated.

After all, political alliances could be negotiated.

Reputations could be managed.

And royal duties could be fulfilled.

But the heart had always been a rather troublesome thing.

And neither Mael nor Gremory had the slightest idea what to do with theirs.