He swings his arm, and the blade catches Fathom’s shoulder. Blood pours all over the sand, but Fathom does not fall.
“Father, if you kill me, the nation will turn on you. You cannot rule without a son,” Fathom says.
Minerva steps forward with a wicked grin. “Chop him down, husband. You have another heir. I am with child.”
The prime grins and rushes at him, but Fathom rolls away from his kicks. Finally, he leaps to his feet and punches the older man. The prime stumbles and falls awkwardly, rolling on his back like an upended turtle.
“What has happened to you?” Fathom rages over his father. His anger radiates, burning everything it touches. I suspect it is more intense than his wounded arm. “You prance through this camp, muttering to your voices, taking the advice of the piranha you call a wife, and dragging the rest of us into ruin. Now we find one who might help us reclaim our rightful home, someone who could take us off this filthy beach and allow a chance for your people to reclaim their dignity, and you would cut her down to satisfy your pride? You are a foolish old man and I am glad my mother was spared the tragedy of seeing your descent.”
The prime snarls, baring teeth like a rabid dog. “She should have thrown you into the trench while you were still a suckling.”
He leaps to his feet and lunges at his son. Their blades sing through the air. Fathom blocks the attack, then strikes out himself, only to have his father sidestep out of the way. The two violently slam into each other, testing each other’s strength, then tumbling backward. The prime backhands Fathom, and he falls to the sand. When blood bubbles on his lip, he wipes it with his fingers, looks at it, then punches his father in the gut with such force it sends him flailing out of the arena and onto the beach. With an incredible leap, Fathom soars into the sky after him, causing a stampede of followers to leap out as well, eager to see the fight.
I grab Bex’s hand and we rush to the steps, but my mother calls out.
“Stay here. It’s too dangerous,” she begs.
“I can’t, Mom,” I say, and continue my ascent. By the time Bex and I get to the top, we’re out of breath, but we force ourselves to push through the crowd.
Nor stands at the edge of the battle. “No! This must stop! There are no winners here. If the prince kills the prime, he cannot take the crown. He has no heir of his own.”
“I have no interest in this crown,” Fathom shouts as he stalks after his father. “I renounce my blood claim. If I cannot make the prime listen to reason, then the seat will go unchallenged to whoever will take it.”
“How kind of you to spare our people from the embarrassing fate of you as their leader, pup!” the prime shouts. He leaps forward and knocks Fathom down with his shoulder. I can hear the wind flying out of his lungs even from here. “You underestimate me, Fathom. Did you forget that I fought my own father’s battles, boy? That my worthiness was tested as well?”
“A couple of scratches,” Fathom shouts. “Your father died when you weren’t much more than a boy. No heir in Alpha history has tasted his own blood as little as you. I have fought endless battles for a man who has led our people to the very edge of extermination, a fool who antagonized the humans, a people who might have made war against the Rusalka by our side. You have forced a proud and noble race to live in squalor. Is it any wonder I have these trophies? Everyone in this camp wishes you dead.”
Fathom’s father buries his fist in his son’s belly, then sweeps his leg and knocks him off his feet. He kicks him in the ribs with such strength that Fathom’s body is sent flying over the crowd and into the water beyond. The prime springs off his heels and stomps in after him.
“My husband’s commands will be honored,” I hear behind me. I turn to find Minerva standing over me. She’s holding my spear in her hands. “If his worthless, disrespectful son will not complete this challenge, then I will do it for him.”
“You have no right!” shouts the high minister as she rushes between us.
“I am the prime consort. I make the right,” she roars, and slaps the old woman to the ground. Then she strikes, jabbing her weapon at me. I feel the point stabbing into my arm. Something warm leaks down my sleeve.
“Are you crazy?” Bex shouts, and snatches the weapon right out of her hands. It happens so fast, I can’t believe it, but Bex swings the staff hard and knocks Minerva in the back of the head. The queen falls to the ground, unconscious.
My mother forces her way to our sides. She looks at Minerva as the high minister commands two Selkie guards to arrest the queen.
“Did you do that?” she asks me.
“That would be Bex.”
Bex smiles. “You can’t come to Brooklyn and act a fool.”
“Fathom!” I run through the crowd toward the ocean, with Bex and my mother close behind. There’s no sign of him or his father.