“I am fairly certain I can come up with a magical solution,” Beka said, happy to be able to impart good news. “It will take me a little research and experimentation, but I believe that I should be ready by tomorrow afternoon. If Marcus and his father will agree to take me out in their boat one more time, I hope to cleanse and purify your old home of the toxins that were poisoning both you and the water.” She smiled at both of them, hoping that she wasn’t promising more than she could deliver. “If you like, I can meet you here tomorrow night at this same time and report to you on my progress.”
“That would be most acceptable,” Boudicca said.
“Now, about the one responsible.” Gwrtheyrn glared at Beka. “Please do not tell me you killed him in battle. I have been looking forward to having that pleasure myself.”
Marcus and Beka exchanged glances. “I am afraid that the Queen of the Otherworld has commanded me to bring him to her,” Beka explained. “She intends to pass judgment on him herself, for his crimes against both your people and hers.” She swallowed hard. “But there is something you should know.”
The King scowled. “What?” he barked, sounding more seal than man.
Beka bit her lip, and Marcus touched her lightly on the shoulder. “We’ll be right back, um, Your Highness,” he said. He and Beka walked back to where the Jeep was parked.
“The King isn’t going to be pissed that we beat up his son, is he?” Marcus didn’t sound all that concerned one way or the other. “Because I’d just as soon not get into another fight tonight if I can help it.”
Beka shook her head, opening the rear door. “Honestly, I have no idea what he’s going to say when he finds out.”
She pulled the slightly musty blanket off of Kesh, who gaped up at them, sweaty and disheveled. The additional time spent in the backseat of the car hadn’t been kind to him. One eye was swollen almost shut and turning remarkably vivid shades of green, blue, and purple. Other bruises and cuts decorated his face and arms, and his silk shirt was tattered and marred by bloodstains and dirt. He bore very little resemblance to the handsome, charming prince she’d first met. Under the circumstances, she couldn’t bring herself to feel sorry for him.
Apparently, neither could Marcus, who yanked him roughly out of the car, banging the Selkie’s head on the doorframe in the process. Probably accidentally. Maybe. Beka pulled out one of her knives and enjoyed watching the Selkie Prince’s eyes widen, but she just used it to cut the duct tape off of his arms and legs. He wasn’t going to make a break for it; after his cramped sojourn in the backseat, it was all he could do to hobble down to the beach between them, with Marcus holding one arm and Beka the other.
He was just starting a sputtering, indignant speech about their inexcusably rude treatment when they brought him to a halt in front of Boudicca and Gwrtheyrn. A couple of the Selkie soldiers pushed forward, then stopped, stunned, as they recognized Beka’s captive.
It took Gwrtheyrn a second longer, perhaps because his heart was unwilling to see what his eyes could not deny. Beka saw the moment when he realized the truth; the King seemed to waver between forms, both bull seal and man letting out a roar of pain and fury and agonized betrayal that echoed down the empty beach. Then he steadied, backlit by the setting sun as it blazed its way into the darkening sea.
“Kesh,” Gwrtheyrn said in voice thick with sorrow. “Tell me this is a mistake. Tell me you are not the one who rained terror and disease down on our own people.” Boudicca grasped his arm in silent sympathy, but her eyes glittered at Kesh with an anger not tempered by grief.
“Our people, Father?” Kesh spat, yanking his arms free so that he stood alone on the sand. “They ceased to be our people the day you stole my birthright and gave it to my younger brother.” He spat on the ground. “You are a foolish old man who allows puny Humans to lay waste to our seas and decimate the dolphins and the sharks who are our brothers. You and the other weaklings that follow you would have lost that land eventually; I merely accelerated the process.”
“For what gain?” his father asked, fists clenched in frustrated rage. “To what end?”
Kesh shrugged. “I thought at first that I would persuade many of the Selkies and Mer who had been forced to leave their homes to follow me instead. When they did not, I took the few who were wise enough to listen to be my new subjects, and sat back to watch the rest of you die. You turned your back on me, so I turned mine on you. It was only fitting.”
“Fitting?” Boudicca sputtered. “Fitting to kill babies and old people because your father decided that you were unsuitable to rule? He did not banish you from the kingdom; you did that to yourself, leaving when matters did not spin in the direction you wished. You are a spoiled child, for all your age, and you would never have been half the ruler Gwrtheyrn is, or your brother will be.”