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    Beyond the shallows
    Beyond the shallows
    Beyond the shallows
    Ebook70 pages44 minutes

    Beyond the shallows

    By Kristy Nicolle

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    About this ebook

    Can she learn to look beyond the shallows?

    When English beauty and avid poetry lover Ophelia is holidaying with her two sisters in 19th century Blackpool, she finds herself unmistakably called to the water. Then, accidentally toppling from the railing of Blackpool's Victoria Pier, Ophelia unknowingly tumbles into the path of Dagon, a creature cursed by Poseidon for centuries with disfigurement and loneliness for his crimes against the goddess Atargatis.

     

    Will Ophelia flee in horror at what lies beneath the waves, or can she learn to look beyond the shallows of one of the sea's most unsightly secrets?

     

    This story is a short prequel to The Queens Of Fantasy Saga, but can be read as a standalone with no prior reading required.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherKristy Nicolle
    Release dateMay 30, 2018
    ISBN9781386926399
    Beyond the shallows

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      Book preview

      Beyond the shallows - Kristy Nicolle

      Prologue

      ATARGATIS

      ELYSIUM SHORES- THE HIGHER PLAINS

      The plati-sun is descending toward the horizon, which dances with dense bursts of magic froth, bouncing from the surface of the eternal seas that glisten, sapphire and pure beneath my knowing gaze. The silvery white rays of the orb, reflecting from deep within the platinum core of its spherical omniscience, fall through the diamond-tipped stained glass of my bedroom window.

      I inhale the air of the room and wish that breathing in and out deeply would give the same sense of relief as it had done when I’d been bound in mermaid form.

      I hear his tread and my entire being vibrates at his closeness, at the fury I know is coming. I know we will continue the argument which raged this afternoon once he returns from the Olympian Council Chambers, but I’d hoped to at least enjoy the plati-sunset first.

      You’re home early, I grumble, feeling the seas I rule turning choppy as my temper threatens to build. I take another deep breath, to little effect, and turn to face my husband.

      Well, I’d think you would be surprised. Especially considering you’re the reason I’ve been stuck in council most of this year. You can’t just go around splitting mortal souls, Atargatis. We’ve talked about this before. Neither mortals nor Kindred need soulmates. I made the decree. You went against my wishes, he spits, voice thunder and eyes backlit with lightning forks. The chandelier of our bedroom, carved from the finest Mortarian crystal - a gift from my brother-in-law - tinkles slightly as Poseidon’s fury mounts because my reply doesn’t come in an immediate and apologetic flurry.

      I’m not apologising for what I did. I stand by it. The Mer need soulmates. They need something to fight for. I blink slowly, once, then twice, watching his reaction as he sits down on the edge of our bedcloud. His body crumples the powder blue silken sheets, woven with luciferin by the Fae, to give them a comforting night time glow. I’ve clung to that when the universe and my fights with my husband leave me anxious.

      They have us to fight for. That’s all they should need. Is immortal life not enough? Poseidon asks. I step gingerly forward, toes connecting with the gold and silver flakes peppering the topaz of the floor. I slump onto the mattress as I reach my side of the bed, allowing the cloud of warm water vapour to hold me as I wonder how long we will have this same argument. Perhaps, in fact, we are doomed to repeat it for eternity.

      You have not been mortal — You have not felt the reliance on the senses that a mortal does, Poseidon. They need that which they can see, touch, taste — that which they can physically hold, I express, trying to make him understand.

      That’s not the point of soulmates, Tara. You know that. He uses his pet name for me and I melt slightly. You know you could go anywhere in time and space and I would find you. I would love you, whether you were in this realm, this form, or any other. Your soul is what calls to me. With mortals, it is merely the immortal beauty you have given to which they cling — they cannot see beyond that which is shallow. He turns, leaning down on our bedcloud, which bends beneath his weight, compensating for his mightiness.

      Well, it’s funny you should say that. I give him a sly smile and his eyes turn suspicious, staring at me like a mortal would gaze upon one of their puzzles.

      Tara, what did you do?

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      1

      OPHELIA

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      Blackpool, England.

      1891

      The open-top carriage trundles along the brick-paved street as we turn onto the seafront, jostling me as I continue to scan ‘Daffodils’ for the hundredth time this year. My eyes rise from the pages, yellowing at my hungry, private touch, to rest upon my two younger sisters as they exchange amused glances.

       What? I demand, irritated, as I’m brought entirely too fast back to the present moment. My ears fill with the sound of gaudy, too happy songs and the clash of horse hooves against road.

      Nothing. We were just saying how funny it is that you’re more interested in that silly old book than in the man who was just examining you as we passed. Ettolie giggles as Temperance shifts in her seat, her bustle rustling against the harsh leather upholstery. I sigh, wondering if the two of them ever have a thought that does not, in fact, involve a man.

      Oh, well, Wordsworth is more important than anyone you’ll find around here, I reply, shrugging and feeling my hairpin come loose as we hit a hole in the road. The entire carriage tilts slightly to the left.

      A long, dark ringlet of raven hair falls over my left shoulder from beneath my bonnet as I raise a hand to make sure my hat remains straight, not usually one for caring about my appearance but aware that reading in public as a woman is sin enough

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